Wow, it’s been forever!!! Sorry about that–life and all. Sadly, this got really long, so I skipped Iwa-chan for now, but no worries, I will give everyone some buff hedgehog prince soon!! Enjoy
~Admin Emma
Daichi
“You really make that suit work, Sawamura-kun,” your friend, Miki, slurred. She was definitely drunk–like, well past tipsy and straight into sloppy drunk–and she was leaning heavily on Daichi.
When you’d invited him to your best friend’s wedding, you’d warned him about three people. Your cousin Ri-chan, who liked to make her husband jealous by flirting with other men; your mother, who was so ready for you to be married, she’d likely try to strong arm Daichi into signing a marriage license that day; and Miki, your extra-flirty college roommate who tended to get even worse when martinis were involved.
“Thank you,” Daichi said stiffly, shifting subtly away from her. Sadly, she followed.
“No, but for real, Sa’mura-kun,” she slurred. “You’re like… so hot. Like, rockin’ dad bod hot… like a post-Oscars Leo Dicaprio!”
He should probably have told her that wasn’t exactly a compliment, but really, all he wanted to do was disengage and find you. You’d disappeared and left him alone with Miki to go see someone. He shifted uncomfortably, because Miki was close enough that he could smell the six or so cocktails she’d had since the champagne toasts, and he couldn’t find you. How? How could you see how he was being treated and just… say nothing?
Granted, he’d liked that chill energy when you two had met. He’d had his share of clingy, jealous partners, and the fact that you wouldn’t flip your lid over someone taking a harmless peek at his ass once in a while was refreshing. But sometimes, it niggled at that little sprout of anxiety that told him he wasn’t good enough for you. That you didn’t want him…that you were just waiting for someone to steal him away so you could move on without guilt.
It was stupid and irrational, but who said anxiety was intelligent or rational?
“So what do you say, Sawamura-kun?” Miki said, putting extra emphasis on every syllable of his name, walking her fingers up his tie in a move that was probably supposed to be seductive. “I have a room at this hotel… care to join me?”
He rolled his eyes and took a definitive step away from her; “Um… I should probably find ____.”
“Oh, please,” Miki said. “I can offer you way more than ____! Did you know–hic–that I am a very successful–hic–event planner? I planned an event for the damn Prime Minister!”
Yes, as you’ve said… about a dozen times…
Just as Miki seemed ready to lunge, though, you swooped in to his rescue and wrapped a companionable–if restraining–arm around Miki’s waist; “Whoa, there, cow girl, give the man some space.”
“____, your boyfriend is very cute! Are you sure I can’t borrow him?”
Daichi balked when you giggled; “Maybe some other time. Right now, I think you’ve caught that very cute bartender’s eye, and he’s single and looks like he can bench a truck.”
“Oh! Beefy man! I am there!” Miki squared her shoulders and sauntered (well, more like toddled, but she probably thought it was a saunter) over to the bar.
“Thank you,” Daichi said, grasping your hands gratefully.
“Don’t mention it, babe. You looked like you were drowning out there.” You were laughing a little bit, but when you squeezed his fingers and tugged him towards the dance floor, he felt a bit more settled. “Sorry about her, but in my defense, I did warn you.”
“I’ll take your mother’s overt wedding planning over that any day,” Daichi said with a shudder. He led you in a slow dance, letting you rest your ear against his chest. He bit his lip… he’d just have to bring it up. It would only get worse if he let it fester. “Weren’t you… I don’t know… jealous?”
You straightened and gave him a concerned look; “Not really.”
“Oh.” He visibly wilted. He could feel it.
“Daichi, baby,” you said, stroking his cheek. “Come on. Talk to me.”
“It’s just… you never seem to get possessive or jealous or anything… and I know that that’s sort of why I love you. You’re just chill and you trust me, but… do you even want me?”
Your expression crumpled and you stopped dead on the dance floor, taking his hands in yours; “Of course I want you, Daichi. I love you. I love you more than anything!”
“Then… why?” He felt stupid, but he had to air it out. “Why don’t…” He trailed off, unable to finish.
“Because I trust you.” You smiled at him, brilliantly and brightly. “Because I love you, and we are adults, and I’m not going to get crazy because a woman looks at you cross eyed. Besides, even if I was the jealous type, I would never get jealous over Miki. I mean, you should have seen your face. You looked more like you were getting accosted by the symbiote from Venom than a reasonably attractive woman.”
Daichi snorted, feeling a bit silly; “I love you… even if you’re a nerd.”
“I love you, too,” you said, rocking onto your toes to kiss him. “Precisely because you’re a nerd.”
Asahi
You’d insisted that him taking a train all the way to your apartment to pick you up just to take a train all the way back to his apartment was a total waste of time. He’d insisted on coming to get you because he was a worrier and you knew this, so let him be chivalrous, ____! You’d come to a compromise; he would meet you at his favorite cafe between his apartment and the station. He was early, as per usual, and decided to get a coffee and dig out his reading for his literature class while he waited. The air was too cold and too dry for his contacts, so he was stuck with his librarian glasses. Still, it was rare he got to get out and just have a cup of coffee anymore, and after that, he got to see you. So it worked out.
“Excuse me?” Asahi looked up from his book, his eyes widening when he saw a slightly giddy high-school girl. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but… are you Keisuke-kun?”
“Eh?” Asahi blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. Keisuke-kun was an up-and-coming idol that had just gotten a big endorsement deal with NUMBER (N)INE, dropped a new single, and had announced a new drama, so even pop-culture-stupid-Asahi knew who he was. While they bore a striking resemblance, Keisuke-kun was definitely more attractive.
Still, the girl was convinced, and his lack of immediate response did little to convince her otherwise; “Oh, my God! I’m just… I’m sorry to bug you on your day off, but could I shake your hand? I’m a big fan!”
“Um, I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.”
“Asahi?” Of course you chose now to come save him and not, say, five minutes ago. “Sorry I’m late, doll. You ready to go?”
“Oh,” the girl said in a small voice. Her entire face turned red. “You’re… you’re not him?”
“Not who?” you asked.
“You’re just a regular person…” The girl turned even redder, and she looked at Asahi with something like awe. “I see… I’m… I’m so sorry.”
She bowed deeply and fled. You cocked your head at her fleeing back; “What was that about?”
“She called me Keisuke-kun,” Asahi replied, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Aw, she thought you were cute,” you laughed.
“Only because she thought I was an idol.”
“Nah, did you see that face? She was having ‘hot college punk, innocent high school girl’ fantasies.”
Asahi turned beet red; “Are… you jealous?”
“Not really,” you said with a shrug. “I got coffee. Let’s head out, yeah?”
Asahi threw his arm around your shoulder, walking you back to his apartment. He really should have just let it go, maybe just smiled along sheepishly if you chose to tell Daichi and Suga the story. But he couldn’t let it go. He should have been OK with the fact that you weren’t jealous. He should have liked this fact. It showed that you trusted him. He couldn’t really deal with an overly-jealous partner… but what if you just didn’t love him enough to be jealous? If someone tried to steal him away… would you stop them?
“Asahi, doll, did you hear me?”
“What? Um, no, sorry,” he said, staring at his boots.
“Asahi, you’ve been somewhere else today,” you said, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your face was crumpled with concern. “Are you OK?”
“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. “Not important.”
“If it’s bugging you, it’s important.”
He took your hand in his, squeezing a little tighter; “It’s just… I don’t know, I don’t want crazy possessive jealousy, you know? But… why weren’t you jealous? Of the girl having a crush on me?”
You went silent. Not a stunned silence; more of a contemplative silence. “I trust you, Asahi. And I know that I won’t lose you without warning… at least I hope. But if it’s a question of me being jealous to show you how much I love you–”
“That’s so gross, I know!” Asahi interjected. “I’m sorry. I’m just… being dumb.”
“You’re being cute,” you laughed, bringing his hand up to your lips to gently kiss his knuckles. “But I do love you, Asahi. More than anything.”
“You promise?”
You kissed his hand again, trailing your lips to his wrist. Your eyes were full of dark, heated assurance…a look that made it hard to wait until he got you back to his place.
“I promise.”
Oikawa
It wasn’t uncommon for Oikawa to be surrounded by squealing girls. Sometimes they were from his school, sometimes they were from other schools, and one time he got held up by a group of housewives out shopping for the afternoon. It was just… sort of a part of his life. You understood that. You didn’t get mad when he was kidnapped by a group of girls at matches and held until someone came to fetch him (usually Iwa-chan), and you didn’t hold it against him when he was nice. What was he supposed to do, be cruel? He thought that’s what made you perfect.
Sometimes, though, sometimes his fans got… a bit out of control.
There was that one girl who threw her bra at him, and you just laughed. There was another who baked him a cake every day for a week, and you both got a little uneasy about them, but you didn’t seem all that upset about it. Then there was the girl who showed up to his dorm room in nothing but lingerie and a winter coat, and you were concerned for his safety (and her sanity), but little else.
Why did your nonchalance bother him so much?
It came to a head after practice one afternoon. He was headed to your place to study and watch a movie and maybe stay the weekend. It had been a while since he’d been able to just hang out with you. You were walking home together. Your hands were tucked in the pockets of his team jacket–he loved it when you wore it–and he was spinning a volleyball against his chest, enthusiastically recounting practice to you.
“____, we should get dinner!” Oikawa suddenly exclaimed, high on post-practice adrenaline.
“Sure, babe,” you replied. “Wherever you want to go. My treat.”
“Nooo, I want to pay! My allowance came in and I have some extra money!”
“Add that to your savings, Tooru,” you said with a laugh. Your boyfriend could be a bit on the ridiculous side. “I’m the one with a job, remember?”
“Please, let me spoil my precious ____-chan!” Oikawa threw his arm around your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek.
“Gross, you reek of sweat!” You shoved him away playfully. You didn’t hate his smell. Quite the opposite, actually…
“Oikawa-kun?” A girl was waiting at his normal crossing that would take him to his apartment. “I’m sorry, Oikawa-kun, but can I have a minute of your time?”
He wanted to say no, tell the girl to get lost, he was obviously on a date, ask her if she was stupid… the whole nine yards. Having a fan club was tiring. But he was honestly too nice and (he hated to admit aloud) his self-worth was too dependant on the love of others to risk hurting her feelings. But if you refused…
Please refuse! Get mad! Get angry! Tell her to back the fuck off, please!
But instead, you smiled up at him. He grimaced at you before turning his fakest, most plastic smile at the girl; “Of course! What can I do for you?”
“I’m so sorry to bother you…” she repeated, shifting from foot to foot.
Then go away! He thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “Now, now, don’t be shy. Just say it!”
“Oikawa-kun, I know we don’t know each other very well, but… but I’ve always admired you. I… I’m in love with you! Please… please accept my feelings!” She dipped into a deep bow.
Oikawa wanted to blow his fucking lid. He looked back at you, expecting you to fly into a rage, maybe push the girl into traffic. But instead, you just rolled your eyes indulgently, like you were saying ‘get a load of this one; funny story for later.’ He turned back towards the girl, who was shivering under the weight of his silence.
“I’m sorry. That’s very sweet but I can’t accept your feelings. See, I’m seeing someone,” he said through gritted teeth, taking a half-step back to take your hand in his.”
The girl at least had the decency to look sheepish before she bowed again and ran off. You waited until she’d rounded the far corner before bursting out laughing; “That was a new one. Confessing out of the blue like that. Does that happen often?”
He ignored your question; “Why didn’t you get mad?”
“Because you turned her down,” you said simply, squeezing his hand slightly. “Please, Tooru, I knew about your fans from day one. I knew what dating you entailed. I’m not jealous or anything.”
He turned that statement over and over in his head. He was sullen and quiet until you got to his apartment. He was so sullen and quiet, as a matter of fact, that you ordered take out instead of going out to a restaurant. He slumped on his couch, glowering out the window.
“Tooru?”
“I want you to be jealous,” he grumbled.
“But you said–”
“I know what I said!” he snapped, hugging his throw pillow tighter. “I know I was all ‘you can’t get jealous when other people love me,’ and I thought you were perfect for understanding, but…”
“But… what?” You ran your hand over his knee, revelling in his teeny little sigh at your touch. “Talk to me, baby.”
“I just feel like… you’re wasting your time with me. That I’m not good enough for you. That you don’t… really want me.”
You grimaced at him, pulling him close and running your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch, burrowing into the crux of your shoulder. You held him tight, pressing kisses to his temple. You had no idea how to fix it, or how to reassure him. So instead, you held him, and hoped that would be enough.
Ushijima
Ushijima was no stranger to random confessions.
All through high school, he was weirdly popular among the girls at Shiratorizawa, and his blunt honesty was often taken as intimacy. He didn’t mind it so much. He wouldn’t openly admit to preening a bit under the attention (even taking a small, perverse amount of pleasure from Tendou’s seething jealousy over it) but he rather enjoyed it. He just didn’t have time for romance.
But after he confessed to you (in his own special way) and you started going out, the random confessions started to grate on him a bit. He was taken. You two weren’t exactly shy about expressing affection, and even when he told people that he was taken, seeing someone, not looking for anyone else, the confessions still came. It was annoying at best.
The worst part was that you didn’t even seem to care. You often slipped away or waited nearby for him if and when he was randomly approached by the girls he went to school with. He handled his admirers with less and less grace as time went on, because he didn’t know what was worse. The utter disrespect his peers seemed to have for his relationship, or your utter nonchalance.
He didn’t expect a shoujo manga freak out–he didn’t want that–but he expected… something. Maybe you stepping to his defense, or possibly you just… staying close. But you didn’t. You just left him, and he didn’t want to admit how much it hurt. It was like you didn’t want him.
When he brought it up with you, though, he got a wholly unexpected reaction.
“Do you want to break up?” he asked one day.
You froze, nearly dropping your snack to the ground. Your eyes went wide with horror; “What? Why? Do… did I do something wrong?”
He felt a pang of regret at his poor wording, but he soldiered on; “No. You did nothing wrong. But you don’t seem to like me very much, so I assumed you didn’t want to continue our relationship.”
He would never admit that it killed him to say it. He would never admit that part of him always believed that you were biding your time, waiting for him to find someone else, or someone else to take him off your hands.
You took his hands, your eyes wide and watery; “Toshi… how could you say that? Of course I like you. I love you!”
Your expression and the catch in your voice gutted him, and he couldn’t even look you in the eye, he was so ashamed; “Then… why don’t you care? When people try to take me away from you?”
You balked, but you didn’t let go of his hands. That comforted him more than he would admit; “Toshi… do you want to leave me for these other girls?”
“No,” he said definitively. “Never.”
You smiled, stroking your fingers along his cheek; “Then I have no reason to be jealous. I love you, and I trust you, and I knew about your popularity going into this. You may not believe me, but you’re a catch, Toshi.”
He flushed, but could feel the hints of a soft smile at the corners of his cheeks; “Thank you, ____. That… means a lot.”
“If you’re uncomfortable me leaving you alone when you get these confessions, I’ll stop,” you said. “I’ll stand by you, and defend you, but I don’t own you. You’re your own man, and we’re equals. But if you want me to, I will protect you. No matter what.”
Futakuchi
Futakuchi was ready to tell this waitress exactly where she could stick her inappropriately low cut top and too-wide smile and her stupid hair twirling. He hadn’t seen such blatant hair twirling in his life–even when you couldn’t keep your cool around him with your stupid-obvious crush. Back then, with you, he’d found it endearing. But this fake, hyper-sexual flirting? He hated it. Especially considering he was very obviously on a fucking date.
“Is there anything else I can get you, sir?” She blatantly waited for you to excuse yourself to the bathroom, and Futakuchi had to fight the urge to eviscerate the woman on the spot.
“Just our orders, thanks,” he grumbled. He pointedly ignored the waitress until she left, effectively tearing his napkin into confetti.
“You know, she’s going to have to clean that up,” you said, fixing him with a stern stare.
“Welcome back,” he growled.
“Don’t ‘welcome back’ me in that tone. I leave for two minutes and you’re making a mess for our poor waitress?”
“Serves her right,” he said, resisting the spiteful desire to throw his napkin mess on the floor, Lonely Island style.
“Come on, Kenji, we were having a good time,” you said. “What brought this on?”
He’d have continued to fight you, but your gentle touch always melted him; “I told her I had a girlfriend. She didn’t care. It… pissed me off.”
You smiled; “Kenji, that’s sweet, but you’re kind of a catch, babe. I should commend her for her good taste.”
His scowl deepened, and he twisted his lips into a petulant pout; “You… you’re not jealous, or anything?”
“Not really.” You shrugged. “Now, what did you order me, and it better have been a lot of it! And if it is a kiwi parfait again, Kenji, I swear to God–”
“Why aren’t you jealous?”
He felt stung. He hated that he felt that way, because the fact that you were so cool was… sort of the best part about you. Sure, you had your crazy moments, but those crazies were really endearing and he loved it about you. He loved listening to you yell about the things that excited you, or made you mad, or made you think… he loved your big, brilliant brain and all it’s wonderful thoughts. He also loved your fiercely protective streak.
Maybe it was a little petty to want that protective streak turned against people he disliked.
“Because I had no reason to,” you said. “Baby, I love you. But you are so obviously upset by this, I have nothing to worry about. I am so mad on your behalf, and if I sense a bitch coming for you, I will cut her with this spoon–don’t test me–but jealous? Nah. I trust you too much to fuck with that.”
He had to laugh at that; “That was a very long-winded way of telling me you’re cutting a bitch with a spoon today.”
You flung your napkin at him; “Shut it, Kenji, or I’m spitting in your coffee.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He teased and sniped, mostly to cover up the soft glow that bloomed in his chest. He was… so loved. And so, so happy.
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