that you all voted for? Well here is a preview :D I’m going to roll that concept into an idea I had last night and it’s probably going to be at least three chapters!
The preview is (regrettably) sfw but rated T for naughty language and I wrote it in like twenty minutes so it’s not the best, I’m sorry. But I needed a little boost after the last couple days.
I hope it gets you excited!
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“Fuck… fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck—” Hinata laments in front of his laptop before flopping down dramatically with his face mushed against the table. “What are you looking at?” Hinata asks.
Kageyama scowls over his mug from where he’s leaned against the counter in his loose pajama pants and ratty old black t-shirt that he keeps at Hinata’s place. It’s sexy as hell and Hinata can’t help but let his eyes wander. The doctor sets the coffee cup behind himself after taking a sip. “Such a filthy mouth on such a cute face.”
“Funny,” Hinata chips, perking back up and clacking his fingers rapidly over the keys. “That wasn’t your attitude last night when I was begging you to fuck me.”
Kageyama sighs. “Sorry, Kenma.”
“It’s not like I couldn’t hear you,” Kenma says, spooning cereal into his mouth without looking away from his PSP.
“Still—”
“What the hell am I supposed to do!?” Hinata cries. “Paris! What about Paris!? Have you been there!? That’s supposed to be romantic, right!? Or what about--”
“God, stop freaking out.” Kageyama interrupts. He snags his coffee and joins the two roommates at the table. “It’s not a big deal.”
“What do you mean it’s not a big deal!? I can’t believe I waited this long to even ask!” Hinata whines, sticking his elbows on the table and putting his hands over his face. “What if your birthday had been in, like, November!? Would you have even said anything!?”
“I didn’t ask you when your birthday was either,” the doctor says, unfazed.
Hinata drops his hands. “Tobio. You were my doctor. You had my chart—”
“Yeah, and didn’t you stalk him?” Kenma asks to his video game.
“I didn’t stalk him.”
“I still think it’s dangerous to have him around here—” Kenma ducks when Kageyama winds up to throw a piece of toast at him. The doctor sticks it in his mouth instead.
“Guhhh,” Hinata goes back to whining. “You’ve given me no time to plan anything. Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”
“You have two weeks.”
“I have only two weeks! Oooo, what about Jamaica!?”
“We’re not—“ the Kageyama rubs his face tiredly with both hands, “why do we have to go somewhere?”
“Because I’m making a grand romantic gesture.” Hinata mutters, eyes scanning the screen wildly and fingers flying over the keys.
“Hey,” Kageyama says softly, placing a hand on the back of the laptop and shutting it slowly. Hinata looks at the doctor with wide, panicked eyes as he takes Hinata’s hands. “Cut the shit.”
“But,” Hinata whimpers, squeezing Kageyama’s fingers. “I want your first birthday with me to be special!”
“It will be—”
“And then it’s Christmas!” Hinata jumps to his feet and grips at his hair. “We have to do something amazing and romantic and it has to be perfect—”
“You’re not going to win,” Kenma says to Kageyama over the sound of all the theatrics as he stands to put his bowl in the sink and then walk out of the kitchen without another word.
“I know,” Kageyama says after him.
“Please let me take you somewhere?” Hinata pleads in his sweetest voice, stepping up to Kageyama and sinking into his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Come on. I have a bye on the Saturday before Christmas,” he pecks a kiss to Kageyama’s cheek, “and I don’t have another game until the thirtieth.”
“What makes you think I can just take all that time off?” Kageyama asks with a frown, bringing his hands up to cup Hinata’s ass, nonetheless.
“You have like ten years worth of vacation days,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes. “Come ooon~ we can fuck like every day,” Hinata lowers his voice at the end.
“We already do,” Kageyama reminds him, mocking his tone.
“Well we didn’t two nights ago!” Hinata points out. He squeezes his thighs around Kageyama’s waist and wiggles his butt. “So you owe me!”
“I don’t owe you shit,” Kageyama says, but he’s smiling and he leans forward to speak against Hinata’s lips. “It’s my birthday, after all.”
Hinata hums happily when Kageyama kisses him; it’s deep and long and so full of affection it makes Hinata weak in the knees. Good thing he’s sitting.
“Mm… so,” Hinata says once they pull back. It’s a struggle to raise his heavy eyelids and look his boyfriend in the face after a kiss like that, and he knows damn well he’s red in the face. Whatever, he’s used to it. “Paris?”
Kageyama shakes his head.
“London?”
Kageyama shakes his head again.
“Stockholm?”
“Too cold.”
“Where do you want to go, then?” Hinata asks, making the cutest pouty face he can muster. The one he knows Kageyama can’t resist.
And it seems to work, because Kageyama’s mouth curls up at the side and he looks away.
Then he suddenly looks back with eyes so serious it makes Hinata jump. And he says,
So it’s in that spirit that I’d like to say this: Phil Hoffman, this kind, decent, magnificent, thunderous actor, who was never outwardly “right” for any role but who completely dominated the real estate upon which every one of his characters walked, did not die from an overdose of heroin—he died from heroin. We should stop implying that if he’d just taken the proper amount then everything would have been fine.
Aaron Sorkin, in "Philip Seymour Hoffman's Death Saved 10 Lives".
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
