#( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clubkira · 5 months

Text

MARY ANN.

── HAJIME IWAIZUMI. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

“Ginger or Mary Ann?” A common question referring to the old American sitcom from the 1960’s “Gilligan’s Island” that essentially asked what type of girl you were into.

content. childhood friend!iwaizumi / f!reader. fluff. cali!iwa. longterm pining. vv short. LDR (kind of?).

haikyuu!! masterlist.

❥ love letter from vie. i shit this out last night and i can’t bring myself to make it into a full oneshot rn so i just refined it a little . . .

Culture shock is a funny thing.

Iwaizumi has no idea what his California classmates mean one day when they walk up to him after his lecture — new to the country and knowing only the bare basics of english when they ask him;

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

Not knowing the implications of their question he shrugs unsurely, “Ginger” he says, thinking of the warm spice he uses when cooking meals, reminding him of his home back in Japan.

They click their tongues, patting him on the back and jeer about how he has good taste and invite him out to a bar that weekend. And Iwaizumi — still as unsure as before, accepts.

It’s now been a few years overseas. Iwaizumi is on his way to finishing his degree in Sports Science, eager to finally be rid of university and all the gripes that comes with it.

California took some time to get used to, it’s a lot more different than Japan in every way possible, only amplified by the reverse culture-shock that occurs whenever he visits Japan again for school breaks.

When he is reminded of you.

Standing at the airport, waving him over with a sign in his native tongue his feet move just a little faster than before, tired eyes lighting up as his carry on bag’s wheels drag on the floor and skid to halt when he reaches you.

Big, strong and tanned arms envelope you in a hug, Iwaizumi smells of hot sand and sea water always when he comes to visit, you’ve only learned to grow more fond of the scent each time you greet him.

You always make sure to visit the same areas you and Iwaizumi used to hang around at when you were little — as if Iwaizumi will never come back to Japan again. “For old times sake,” you say, even if Iwaizumi has told you he’s already planning to come back when summer hits because California summers are harsh.

Watching you wade around in that old creek searching for salamanders like you always do when he flies over brings Iwaizumi back to a simpler time in his life, and he is again reminded of that one question from several years prior by his friends.

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It took some getting used to, but Iwaizumi soon learned from his American friends, the ones he made by accepting their bar invite, what that peculiar question meant. Originating from an old sitcom, containing the names of two characters in the show — each displaying a different character archetype.

He’s even watched a couple of reruns of the show with them, where it was then they had told him it was the equivalent of asking what kind of girls he was into, and that his initial response, “Ginger,” did not mean of the spice but instead that he was into a more sophisticated type of woman.

Glamourous even, they’d say.

But after every school break, when Iwaizumi is forced to endure another 12 hour long flight back to California and back into the little pocket of sun and heatwaves, his friends ask him again with knowing smirks, “Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It’s a running joke at this point with their friendgroup, since Iwaizumi had no idea of it’s meaning the first time they always bring it up in conversation, cackling at how red he turns with embarrassment before the next topic is brought up.

But their little tease ignites something in Iwaizumi.

He thinks back to you, all the way in Japan, who is probably still going to that same old family run convenience store the two of you have been raiding of their snack stock since you were seven.

Thinking about how you probably still take that old shortcut behind the forest he found when he was eight to make it to the bus on time for work.

How you’ve always lived two doors down from him before he flew to California, always coming home from his house late into the night because you two were trying to catch fireflies during late spring in your teenage years, hoping to jar a few as a night light while camping out in his backyard.

Iwaizumi asks the same question thats been brought up several times before, once as genuine curiousity and others as just a tease.

Ginger, or Mary Ann?

And despite telling his American friends “Ginger” the first time they met, every subsequent question, jeer and laugh has been met with the same new response without fail.

“Mary Ann.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

#im not american btw so #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 )

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clubkira · 5 months

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okay but!! childhood friends to lovers shoyo where whenever the two of u wld play house at school, he’d always insist that u two get to be mom and dad… he thinks uve forgotten it once u get too old for playground games but its always been his dream to marry his childhood sweetheart n actually make his puppy crush reenactments a reality…

ANON HOLY SHIT I LOVE YOU RN FOR THIS… I ACTUALLY SOBBED HAPPY TEARS JUST READING THIS I’M SUCH A SUCKER FOR CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS… AND WITH SHOYO? PASSES OUT AND DIES!!!

and i wrote a lil blurb abt this:3

content. jealous and puppy lovesick shoyo <3 childhood crushes and established relationship (in highschool). timeskip takes place third year of hs. lowercase intended. not proofread bcs self indulgent and i’m writing this as i go hehe I WANT TO TURN THIS INTO AN ACTUAL FIC

“nooo,” shoyo whines loudly, pulling the little barbie doll out of your classmate’s tiny hands, “i want y/n to be the mommy!”

she whimpers when he rips the toy away from her, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, “but you always let her be the mom though, i want to play too!”

shoyo looks around the toy bins nearby and picks up a dog toy halfheartedly before handing it to her dully, “here, you can be our doggie.”

“that’s not fair!! i’m not a doggie!”

“but me and y/n are the mom and dad!!”

in between them sits you, sitting cross legged on the floor while pretending to cook a dinner for your dysfunctional family as the kindergarten teacher begins to seperate the two bickering kids to your sides. the plastic toy eggs are starting to burn by the time she realizes your two friends are fighting.

“aya, shoyo! stop fighting!”

shoyo refuses to let go of the barbie regardless of how much your teacher pleads with him to let aya have a turn, and when she scolds him he huffs, plopping down beside you angrily after tossing the doll away to aya’s feet.

he looks so upset, normally shining eyes now downturned and staring at the carpet floor. you turn off the little kitchen playset’s stove and wrap your arms around him in a hug, his fluffy hair tickles through your sweater.

“we can still play house, sho,” you comfort him to the best of your four year old abilities, “i can be the doggie this time so aya can be mommy and daddy with you!”

“but i don’t want her to be the mom..” shoyo pouts, leaning into your touch. “i want you.”

his stubbornness isn’t anything unusual for a kid his age, but shoyo’s always been very insistent on playing house with you and never letting your other classmates join. and if they did they were only ever miscellaneous side characters such as a couch or various pets.

“hey, y/n..” shoyo brings one of your hands into his, looking up at you with a hopefull look in his eyes, “we should just get married when we’re older, so we can always be mommy and daddy when playing house.”

you smile, not noticing the way shoyo’s cheeks flush when you hug him closer. “of course, sho! that sounds so fun!”

a little hesitant, shoyo’s stiff posture slowly relaxes once again, returning with a bright grin of his own to match yours. “yeah!”

that was years ago; and now you’re both in highschool, where you and shoyo’s old toys you’d use to play house with have now been replaced for videogame consoles and volleyballs strewn across his room whilst laying atop his bed in his chest, using his remote to scroll through the channels on his t.v.

it’s comfortable, just as it’s always been between you and shoyo.

“hey, y/n” shoyo mutters into the crook of your shoulder, his hands wrapped loosely around your waist tighten a little. “do you remember back in kindergarten when i said i’d marry you so we can always play house?”

“mmm,” you hum, still absentmindedly flipping through the different channels (mainly comprising of volleyball and sports, because it’s shoyo’s t.v of course) “yeah, why?”

“oh, you do?” he sounds surprised, shifting to sit up in bed and pulling you in with him, “i sort of figured you’d forget all that.”

“well, when my best friend keeps fighting with our classmates over playing house with me everyday how can i forget?” you chuckle, letting a comfortable silence overtakes the room once again but this time it seems a little different.

normally shoyo would’ve responded with a teasing quip of his own, but no such thing comes.

you turn around, tearing your eyes away from a volleyball highlights reel to notice shoyo’s downcast eyes, leaning back into his plush pillows and staring at the ground beneath his bed.

“sho?”

he gulps unsurely, still adverting his gaze. “just uh, forget i said that.”

that response definitely makes you suspicious, coming from shoyo who wears his emotions on the sleeve of his shirt. your boyfriend, who is never afraid to say what’s on his mind now seems hesitant.

“what is it, sho?” you ask softly, bringing a hand to his cheek to turn him towards you, “you can tell me anything, sho.”

shoyo eyes soften when seeing your concerned features; and like from when he was a child he leans into your touch once more, the only difference being your childhood friend turned boyfriend is all grown up now, and realizes the implications of what his words really mean now.

with a gentle kiss to your palms, shoyo brings you in closer by the waist, placing your head right above his chest, allowing you to hear his quickening heartbeat.

“… what if i said i was serious about marrying you?”

#shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #shoyo fluff #hinata fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 )#𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒷 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓁!#⊹₊ ⋆ sent by anon.

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clubkira · 6 months

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FIREWORKS.

── SHINSUKE KITA. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list. // hq. masterlist.

premise. the perfect fireworks display ending to your first date with kita gets cancelled due to unforseen weather changes; and he seems more upset about it than you are.

content. shinsuke kita / f!reader. somewhat established relationship (first date). set pre-timeskip.

word count. 2k-ish

soundtrack. rainy tapestry : lamp.

19:57

“Attention all park-goers, the fireworks display for tonight is cancelled due to the untimely weather.”

The overhead speakers loudly declare several times to the entirety of the amusement park of the recent development, with a few still turning their heads in confusion at the sudden announcement.

“Please make your exit out of the park, and have a great rest of your night.”

Kita’s hand is grasped firmly in your own as he leads you out of the designated fireworks viewing zone, in tow behind you both are the several hundreds of other disappointed families making their way out.

Unclear at first glance in the darkness of the night, rain clouds have already begun to form over the park. Light trickles of rain start to shower above, quickly increasing in intensity at an alarming pace and drenching those caught in the downpour.

Dozens of children can be seen and heard crying into their mother’s laps across the viewing area, covered in hastily bought clear ponchos while holding their extinguished sparklers. Some quietly trudge behind their parents in sadness, their sneakers and socks getting soaked by the puddles of water that have begun to form on the ground while they walk.

Passing by a small girl sitting on a bench crying to her parents about missing the fireworks show, the slight dip in Kita’s usually relaxed expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly the more saddened families he walks past, the pace of his footsteps quickening with each puddle he unintentionally splashes in.

“.. I’m really sorry,” He manages to speak after some time, the exit of the amusement park becoming clearer in the distance with a sigh.

“I didn’t know it’d rain so hard tonight that they’d have to cancel the fireworks display.”

Your head perks up to meet his own as you give him a sympathetic smile, “no, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known this would happened in advance.”

It was true, nobody had prepared for this outcome at all. The weather forecast for the night said it would only be a light drizzle; with the park’s staff not even being aware of the cancellation until fifteen minutes before the viewing, when they were told to rush out the emergency ponchos and begin handing them out to the guests who were waiting for the fireworks show before one of the staff got on the loud speaker to address the viewers.

“I know, I know,” Kita runs a hand through his hair disheartenedly, eyebrows knitting in frustration when he pulls the both of you underneath a nearby overhang to shield you from the ensuing rain. “it’s just, awful that our first date ended up like this.”

Kita’s pristine, cleanly pressed and ironed white shirt is now stained with little specks of rain, wrinkled with splotches of water lining the chest area and his watch decorated in tiny droplets that slide off and drop to the ground. Eyes shifting around the entrance, the other families slowly begin to trickle out group by group just as disappointed as before.

The crease in his eyebrows becomes more prominent than before, his frustration clearly showing with how he stares angrily at the soaked stone tiles beneath your feet with a huff.

“I can’t believe this..” you hear him mumble underneath his breath, looking up and around at your surroundings when the rain begins to pick up, several families standing around nearby as some are looking at signage for bus routes or getting into their cars in a hurry.

“Our first date, and I’ve already screwed it up.”

Your stare quickly hardens at his words, “You didn’t screw this up,” comes a sigh, eyes flickering to meet his.

Even in the chaos that surrounds the two of you, your quiet words manage to reach his ears when you notice the way his gaze visibly softens upon seeing the concern your eyes hold for him. His shoulders relax, untensing as his arms fall to his sides.

You’ve never seen Kita so frustrated before, and over something he has no control over. He’s always been levelheaded no matter the circumstances, usually being the type of person who doesn’t go undeterred when things don’t go his way or how he intended.

But you can’t deny the annoyance displayed prominently on his face and in his body language when it’s presented right in front of you. The way his knuckles tense when he feels the rain beginning to come down harder around you two, bouncing off rocks and soaking into the grass below.

The calm mask that Kita normally wears seems to slip off for a brief moment as he visibly swallows, shoving his hands into the damp pockets of his pants. An awkward laugh bubbles it’s way up his throat in his attempt to soothe over the situation.

The smile he gives you doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sorry things had to turn out like this.” He apologizes again, like he’s been doing repeatedly in what only feels like the past fifteen minutes; an attempt to assure you that he genuinely is. “I really am, is there anyway I could make this up to you?”

You shake your head, “I told you it’s fine, you don’t need to keep apologizing for this, Kita.”

“But it’s not fine,” he laments, grimacing when the rain from his hair trickles and drips down onto his face, wiping the raindrops away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wanted to do something special to end off tonight,” his voice is tinged with disappointment, a reflection of his own self-frustration.

He looks away from your eyes, staring off to the paved parking lot ashamed, “Someone like you deserves a better first date than.. this.”

You scoff at his statement, huffing when he keeps depricating himself, “Kita, what’s so bad about this first date, hm?”

Kita’s face morphs into something of somewhat confusion, stuttering lightly when he turns back to face you. He chuckles unsurely like you’ve just told a good joke, “What do you mean? Do you not see what’s happening around us right now?”

He gestures to the still remaining families surrounding the entrance of the amusement park nearby, the children having calmed down but still visibly deflated by the rain and cancellation of the fireworks. Most are preoccupied with a device or toy of their choosing while being shielded from the rain by coats, signage or the strollers of their younger siblings.

Disgruntled parents stand just out of reach trying to figure out the best routes to take home, arguing with the park’s staff about refunds for the fireworks show while heckling them about the poor management and lack of communication with the staff and park-goeres.

The chill of the wind can be felt through your soaked clothes, goosebumps rising all over your arms that cause you to shudder. Everything begins to slow down to what seems like a barely moving standstill; anything from outside of your little bubble with Kita being reduced to a snail’s pace in your eyes.

The movements of those surrounding you become like smear frames in the distance, the raindrops still raging on even more heavily now serving as the only remainder of reality; the only constants being the sounds they make when they fall from the darkened sky up above onto the two of you.

“Does this look like a perfect first date to you?”

Kita’s question snaps you back momentarily, the pace of the world resuming in an instant. He turns to face you; arms crossed over his damp shirt and wearing a skeptical expression on his face that is mixed with something else that you can’t quite discern otherwise.

Confusion, frustration, desperation?

Your lips purse in thought for a brief moment, which he takes as his answer as he rambles out another hasty apology before you can even respond. “See what I mean? Look, I’m so sorry about all this. I swear, if you let me take you out again next time I can do better—”

“Shinsuke.”

The sudden use of his first name shocks him into silence, gulping as he waits for your reply. A sense of worry envelops him when you don’t respond immediately, uneasiness in his voice when he speaks again.

“Yes?”

Stepping towards him, the feeling of the soaked soles of your shoes slosh around in the puddles underneath make shivers shoot up through the calfs of your legs. Kita’s gaze follows you expectantly, eyes afraid to leave yours when you reach for his hands from deep inside of his pockets.

They’re cold to the touch from the cold rain and wind chills of the night when you hold them in your own, thumb brushing over his dry knuckles and settling into the folds of his palms.

“You haven’t even asked me about how I felt about the date yet.”

Kita blinks owlishly, his eyebrows unfurrowing as confusion settles into his face again at your response before letting out an unsteady laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth.

And the timid smile he shows you this time does reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologizes again, this time more freely before pulling you in closer by the hip. His head settles into the crook of your neck with a hum, “What do you think of the date then, hm?”

Kita’s breath feels hot against your skin, a sharp contrast to the chill that circulates in the air around, carried through the rain and wind in it’s journey. Bodies swaying blissfully in the darkness, hidden away from the blaring headlights of the cars pulling out of the parking lot underneath the overhang.

Sparkling specks of water drip and fall down around you, pooling into that puddles that have for sure already begun to ruin the bottoms of your shoes. Rainwater has begun to seep through the soles, your socks becoming victim to the nature of your circumstances.

The wet fabrics of your clothing clings to the sides of your figures, the image of Kita’s collarbone and upperhalf of his chest glazed underneath his shirt.

Kita’s hair is fully drenched, now clumped and pushed to the side from when he ran his hand through it. Droplets of water litter his cheekbones and eyelashes in perfect spheres, cascading down the edge of his jawline in a resemblance of tears.

Even when soaked to the core, like a housecat who was caught in the sudden rain; Kita looks as handsome as the day you returned his feelings.

Your voice is low, settling into the background sounds of the rainfall. “I think, that our date was wonderful;” you reassure him, “even without the fireworks.”

Kita looks unsatisfied with your answer, confused and asking you questions in rapid-fire succession. “But the fireworks were the whole reason you came here—” He begins to say, “Aren’t you, disappointed..? That you didn’t get to see them?”

“No, Shinsuke,” you chuckle, “I didn’t come for the fireworks, I came for you.”

As wonderful and flashy as fireworks are, and indeed what could be considered major highlight of a trip for many of the visitors of the amusement park, your heart was never dead set on seeing them.

Fireworks can be seen anytime, but your first date with Kita can never be repeated.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to get rained on at the end though,” he chuckles, bringing a hand out of his pockets to cup your warm cheek. The warmth radiating from your skin defrosts the chill in his palm almost instantaneously, “I wished to have a very dry end to our date, preferably,” his choice of words makes you snort.

“You wanted a dry end to our date?” You repeat jestingly, “Maybe you don’t actually like me in that case, Shinsuke.” His head drops in quiet laughter, “Fine, fine. I’ll rephrase what I meant then.”

His fingers smooth over your jawline tenderly, eyes soft and heart full of love. “I wished to kiss the most beautiful girl underneath the fireworks as the perfect end to our date, how does that sound?”

“Who said it had to be under the fireworks?”

“No one,” he smiles, “But it would’ve been very romantic if we did.”

A grin of your own tugs at your lips, “We can still kiss right now if you want.”

“While we’re soaking wet?” He laughs, drawing his face closer. His hands itch to grab hold of your face and pull you in, but he holds himself back in fear of overstepping his boundaries.

“Are you sure?”

Kita looks to you for permission, lips barely an inch away from your own. The steady rising and falling of his chest is accentuated by his sopped shirt clinging to his frame, hot breath fogging up in the cool night air.

You nod, without a doubt in your mind, finally connecting the distance between you two. Kita smiles into the kiss, eyes closing in satisfaction while his hands stay planted at your hips, never straying away from their hold.

The taste of rainwater is evident on both of your tongues, the two of you giggling as the twinkling sounds of rain and ripples of the puddles flow through the atmosphere around.

Kita’s the first to pull away, hesitating when he chases your lips one final time before reeling his head back to catch his breath.

Even in the darkness, only illuminated by a street lamp several feet away; Kita’s cheeks are rosy with euphoria, eyes crinkling with sparks of happiness flying throughout.

His forehead leans against your own, the wet strands of his hair sticking to his head. The whites of his teeth gleam when he smiles, quietly whispering for your ears to hear only.

“Maybe I should make sure it’s raining when I take you out on a second date.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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clubkira · 1 month

Text

POWER OUTAGE .ᐟ

── TETSURŌ KUROO. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list // haikyuu!! masterlist.

premise. thunderstorms scare you greatly. but thanks to your cute neighbour, you know you’ll be okay after all.

content. tetsurou kuroo / f!reader. fluff. reader is a scared of storms, mainly thunder. power outage. set ambiguously post highschool / university. neighbours to lovers.

word count. 3.1k

soundtrack. show me how : men i trust.

¹new message from jia ෆ hi i’m not dead yes i do still write !! @tetzoro @tetsuskei i hope i did your man justice ^_^

03:24

You manage to catch the flickering lights of your dining room’s lamp glitch out repeatedly from the corner of your eye, the lights inside your dingy apartment appearing to go haywire as constant streams of raindrops pound against the glass of your windows.

With each passing second they seem to multiply tenfold of the previous, their impact upon crashing into each other sometimes merging with one another in sync to form a continuous stream of running water trickling down the brick walls of your complex instead of the constant buzz of millions of tiny water droplets.

The soft glow from your lamp dims momentarily before coming to a complete halt. Your hopes are quickly dashed when you see it attempt to start back up again before going dead, and after a few seconds of the darkness swallowing your apartment whole a begrudging sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook.

“Ah, damn it . . . not again . . .”

You slowly stand up from your seat at the dining table, cautiously pushing your chair back just a little as to not hit the rest of your furniture and carefully maneuvering your way through the dark of your living room.

“Where the hell did I put that flashlight . . . ?”

You really should’ve thought to charge your phone and powerbank ahead of time when you heard a thunderstorm was making it’s way to your city on the news earlier. Now with a dead cellphone battery and empty powerbank you’re left to fend for yourself amist the unknown layout of your apartment without a light source.

Scuffling around in the dark, you take a step forward, miscalculating how much distance there is infront of you as you find yourself accidentally ramming your shin against the side of your unusually hard bookshelf, sending you reeling in agonizing pain stomach first and flopping right onto your couch.

Ouch.

Your teeth grind against each other as you hold your shin, wincing while rocking slightly in an attempt to alleviate the pain. “God, that did not sound good . . .” You can’t see through the near pitch black lowlight of your apartment, but you’re almost certain a nasty bruise may have begun to form on your skin from that.

A few more minutes of stumbling finally merits you to where you had originally intended to end up in the first place— the supply closet. Feeling around for the door’s surface your hand manages to find it’s grip onto the smooth metal handle, twisting it open and carefully reaching out into the darkness.

“It should be on the second shelf . . . or was it the third? Fuck, I really can’t see anything right now . . .”

Your fingers brush up against the elastic wrist tie of the flashlight (it was on the third shelf after all, go figure) and you impatiently snatch it from off the pile of other assorted junk you’ve haphazardly thrown in there throughout the years.

All you hear is a soft click as you turn on the device before your eyes are bombarded by a bright flash, the sudden overload causing you to stumble back a bit, blinking repeatedly to soothe the burn in the back of your retinas.

Maybe it’s not the best idea to hold a flashlight so close to your face while it’s aiming (or pointed) directly into your eyes.

Using your newly gained lightsource you make your way to the fuse box in your kitchen, now being able to easily navigate your way through the dark you give yourself a moment to stop and glare at the corner of your bookshelf that you’d run into earlier, “Asshole.”

Opening the fuse box, you shine the light onto the many circuits housed within, eyes trailing down and scanning each one for the labels of what light they control. You experimentally switch the one for the living room on, glancing outside of your kitchen into the hall to check, only to be met with disappointment as you see the nothingness of the night staring right back at you.

Just as a confirmation (and because you’re stubborn), you switch a couple more of the circuits on and off repeatedly, disappointment mares your features when they yield no results. “No power at all . . .”

A deep crackle of thunder booms from the sky outside, startling you as you nearly drop the flashlight in your hands if not for the wrist tie securing it. A few seconds of heaving and checking outside your kitchen’s windows— only to see more rain than you could ever possibly need in three lifetimes —causes you to ease up a little. You feel a chill run down your bare arms though, the short sleeves and pajama shorts you chose to wear tonight not doing much with the raging wind howling just outside your apartment.

The sudden sounds of gentle knocking at your door cuts through the silence of your empty apartment, the hairs on your back shooting straight up in surprise. You cautiously make your way over to the door, uneasy as your hands hesitate to lay on the knob. Who else could be up at this late hour?

Your eyes squint through the tiny peephole of your door, zoning in on a familiar head of messy black hair, donned in a worn out old highschool volleyball hoodie. With noticeable bags underneath his eyes matching your own, you can tell he’s been staying up as late as you have.

You can’t quite see much or well for that matter through the tiny peephole’s space, but he patiently waits outside with an uneasy look on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and pacing around anxiously on the small space on your door mat.

With your heart rate spiking back down to normal levels, you slowly open the door to him. He jumps back a little when he sees you in front of him, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually be awake. You give him a polite smile.

“Hey, Kuroo.”

He chuckles a little, bringing his hands out of his pockets. You notice the pearly whites of his canines poking out from his lips when he grins. It suits him well. “You know it’s okay to just call me Tetsurou.”

“Right, right. My bad.”

“‘You doing alright?” He asks you worriedly, craning his head aside to check the dark of your apartment. “Heard the entire building’s power just got wiped by the storm. ‘Was told it won’t be back for another few hours.”

Of course it won’t be back for awhile, the electricians can’t really do much while the thunderstorm rages outside. You doubt anyone in the building who was asleep by now would even notice there had been a power outage tonight, most people aren’t awake at the acceptable hours of 3AM working on their overly procrastinated capstone assignment anyways to even care about the torrential rain pouring outside their windows.

“Can I come inside?” Tetsurou asks before stopping himself, backtracking hurriedly while making funny hand gestures. What was that sign he just made? It might’ve meant Apple in JSL. “I mean, if it’s okay with you. I know it’s late and all, and that you probably want to sleep but I—“

You cut him off with a giggle of your own, “Tetsurou,” his cheeks dust a light shade of pink in the darkness. Your laughter. It sounds like bells to him, akin to the raindrops that hit your windows with a light tinkle each time they fall from the clouds above. Wind chimes in the raging storm that falls around you two and lighting crackles behind him, illuminating your bright face for him.

“I don’t mind, you can come inside. You must be cold standing out here, I know I am and I’m just in the doorway.” You take him by the hand, his skin’s cold just as you expected from the frigid air as you guide him into your apartment.

He stumbles a bit through the front door “H— hey!” trying to remove his shoes by the entrance and lay them by the door mat, bringing with him two large blankets tucked under his arms you hadn’t noticed him carrying in the darkness.

Tetsurou’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, squinting and zoning in on the little stack of books piled up at your desk, the flashlight you were using placed just beside an open notebook. “You’re still trying to work on that assignment?” He asks, setting the blankets down on a chair as you slide into your own, clicking the flashlight on and shining it down on your pages.

“Yeah, it’s due soon.”

“There’s a storm outside.” He comments on matter of factly, chin folded into the crook of his hands as he leans on the backside of the chair. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obviousness of the situation.

“And?”

“Just, come here.” You feel his hand reach out into the darkness, standing you up from the table with mild disagreement from you, “Relax with me a little, let’s go sit on your couch together. I brought blankets for a reason.”

“I can use one while working at the dinner table.”

The frown that tugs at Tetsurou’s lips is barely noticeable in the dark, but he whines audibly. “That sounds uncomfortable, though.”

“It’s fine.”

“Isn’t it better to huddle together for warmth?” He suggests playfully, “Y’know, no power n’ heat.”

You think his compromise over for a moment, and he senses the hesitation brewing inside your mind. “I promise it’ll be good.” Lighting flashes outside your window for a split second, followed by the loud seismic boom of thunder that causes you to flinch in his hold. Instinctively he jumps, pulling you into a hug as your heavy breathing fills the silence of your apartment. Seconds tick by on the clock hanging on your wall, as it seems like the heartbeats of both you and Tetsurou meld into one beat.

“Are you . . .” Tetsurou looks out the window for a moment, his voice drawls on low and quiet even though the only two people here are you and him, as if he’s about to ask something he shouldn’t. “Are you scared of thunder?”

“. . . No.”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

“I’m an adult,” You huff, trying to break out of his hold and back to your pile of due papers, “I don’t get scared by thunder like a little kid.” Tetsurou barely catches the “anymore” you mutter underneath your breath. His hold on you not only tightens but he drags you to the couch, much to your protests and complaints.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he grins, plopping you down beside him before reaching over you to drape a thick blanket over your shivering body, were you always this cold? You try to move your hands to lift the blanket off, to stand up but it’s heavy. It traps your arms underneath it, feeling like he condemned you to the couch.

“Is this blanket weighted?” You ask and he hums, draping the other one he bought over himself with a relaxed sigh. “Yeah, I’ve found they’re really good for rainy nights.” You can’t deny that now that you’ve gotten a taste, having this is almost like having a barrier from the cold rain and air outside, and you’re already warmer than you were just a few moments ago.

You wrap it tighter around your body, the fabric smells like him. “Thanks, Tetsurou.” Another crackle of lighting blasts inside your living room through the window, peeking through the gap of your curtains as thunder follows closely in suit. It’s louder this time, and seemed to be a lot closer to your apartment than the others. Your hands slam over the cups of your ears to shield them from the thunderous booms, they feel weighed down by the heavy blanket as you bury your head into the thick material, closing them as like an extra precaution from the storm outside.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until you feel a hand smooth over you back. Tetsurou’s.

You can barely make out his voice with your hands blocking your hearing, “Are you okay?” It’s muffled and quiet, and his hand rubs soothing circles into your back as you barely manage to move your head to a nod. More thunder comes and Tetsurou’s eyesbrows knit together as you frantically switch to shaking your head no, feeling it drop further into the blanket in shame. Your heart in sync as the storm outside won’t stop taunting you.

The small raindrops that crash against your window feel like they’re right up against your ears, the bright lighting that races across the sky’s edge stings your eyes to look at it, even if you shut them as tight as can be. And that god awful thunder, the thunder that makes you feel like your dingy apartment might crumble underneath it’s roar, crashing to the floors below as the trees outside cave in on you from above.

“This is so embarrassing . . .” Tetsurou hears you mutter as you lift your head to the side to face him, fear is written all over your features and you look like you’re about to cry in the presence of your next-door neighbour. Your voice cracks, and you think you’d prefer if the floor underneath you did fall through after all. “I just really hate storms . . .”

A weak chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away the tears that prick at your eyes, attempting to lighten up the situation for Tetsurou. You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by crying in front of him when you were the one who invited him in, “I guess I really am still a little kid, afraid of thunder and lighting like I’m still four.”

Tetsurou doesn’t laugh at your self deprecating jab, and you feel your stomach drop at the lack of a response. Would you have preferred if he laughed? No, not really— but it felt awkward to have only silence between the two of you in the heat of the moment. His hazel eyes seem to twinkle in the darkness when he blinks, and he wraps an arm around you before pulling you into his chest, you let out an alarmed squeak involuntarily from his actions, and the heartbeat in your chest magnifies to the sound of the thunder that you’re so scared of outside.

His own heartbeat is loud too, now that he has you leaning on his chest like this. The wild thumping and beating, is that from you? You feel stupid for getting excited over that possibility, but as you look up from your spot you catch his eyes, tired and still beautiful as both his arms envelope you in a deep hug. He covers your ears with the palms of his hands, red crawls up the skim of his neck and ears in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you quietly, flinching when you snuggle deeper into his chest, the scent of his home shirt being the same as the one on the blanket he brought over but stronger. The smell of clean linen from his laundry detergent sticks to the material of his shirt, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out “Did you just do the laundry before coming over?”

This time it’s his turn to laugh nervously, “Yeah . . .” his head rests atop yours, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It fills his senses, it’s not overpowering or overwhelming at all.

Maybe because it’s you.

“I didn’t want to smell bad when I came over . . . Is that— is that bad?”

“. . . No,” you decide, a content smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not.”

Suddenly the loud sounds of the storm that had you once afraid and cowering in fear seem to drown out from Tetsurou’s cupped hands over your ears, but you know they’re just as strong now than they were earlier, and perhaps even stronger as the night drags on. But in Tetsurou’s embrace, underneath the blankets he brought from home that smell just like him, wrapped up in his arms and snuggled up against his chest; you think you’ll be okay.

“Stay with me,” you eke out without thinking, and a part of you hopes he didn’t hear because you’re worried you’ll ruin the tranquility of whatever you have now— that this moment is only temporary, all will be over by tomorrow morning when the technicians come to fix the apartment’s power outage at 6AM, and you’ll both go back to treating each other as just neighbours. That you’ll pretend you never snuggled together when you had no power and no heat, and you never said the words you’re about to say to him now. “Please, don’t go . . .”

To your surprise, a soft kiss is pressed to the crown of your forehead as Tetsurou’s wild hair tickles at your skin, the erratic beat of his heart thumping wildly in your eardrums. He looks just as nervous as you do, lips suddenly dry and throat closed up when he tries to speak. After a disgruntled groan, the two of you laugh as once more does lightning flash across the sky, with thunder coming in it’s place moments later, hand in hand as always. Just as you expected.

But this time you’re not scared, not when he next whispers out the words you’ve longed to hear since you were a little kid during these storms, not when he cuddles you closer to his chest and brings his lips close to yours before tilting your chin up and capturing you in the sweetest of kisses, his lips perfectly molding to fit yours as he mutters in between the short breaths of air with a smile that rivals the brightness of the lighting you were so scared to gaze into from outside the windows.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

Raindrops continue to fall from outside, thunder and lightning work as a terrifying duo in sync as they torment the nature. But it all seems significantly less scary now. Underneath the onslaught of rain, the continuous lightning and thunder you’ve feared since childhood, the annoying lack of power— you found something able to strike against even the worst of thunderstorms, and something better to indulge your night in than your assignments that lay long forgotten beside your flashlight on the dining table far away from you and Tetsurou on the couch, warm underneath the blankets together bundled up to escape the cold air.

You found Tetsurou Kuroo.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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