#serendipitousdescent

Word Count: 1897

Original Prompt: Prompt 3: Witches/Wizards for @sumigakure ‘s Halloween Event

Characters: Hatake Sakumo, Orochimaru, Hatake Kakashi

Genre: Fantasy

Rating: Teen

Summary:

A witch is the only thing that can help Kakashi now.

And Sakumo is more than willing to carry his infant son to wherever or whoever that witch may be.

“Shush, sweet kouhai, it won’t-”

Hanamaki is quick to shut his mouth at the incoming sound of an argument, and turns back to Matsukawa. It’s hard not to snicker at the elaborately done makeup. But the amount of time they spent picking out that particular shade of red lipstick is more than worth it.

The wedding march starts up just before the gym doors swing open with a bang.

Kindaichi clears his throat. “Matsu… uh, Iwaizumi-senpai! Do you take Oikawa-senpai to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Matsukawa smirks and steps forward, tilting his head to the side. “I do.”

“And Oikawa-senpai, do you… take Iwaizumi-senpai to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Hanamaki can’t feel the rose petals falling onto his suit, but he knows that Kunimi wouldn’t let him down as he cups Matsukawa’s face in his hands. A loud, offended scream echoes from the door, just as they planned.

There aren’t any words to the scream. But the particular note it reaches makes him laugh as quietly as he can manage while he leans into Matsukawa. Maybe this will finally be the hint that Oikawa and Iwaizumi need to stop dancing around each other. Hanamaki can really only make so many jokes about it before it just turns out sad, and honestly, he’s tired of Oikawa moping whenever he even tries to make a joke.

Really, this is just as self-serving as it seems.

Neither him or Matsukawa have ever tried to hide that.

The scream abruptly cuts off as their lips touch, his smirk fading away. But Hanamaki is hardly paying attention to the boom of the closing doors or the announcement that Oikawa is going to scope out the other gymnasium. Just Matsukawa’s lips against his are enough to make all that fade away.

“Can we stop now?” Kunimi tries asking for the second time.

Hanamaki pulls back, satisfied. “They might come back.”

“I give them five minutes,” Matsukawa adds.

“You do want the point to sink in, don’t you? Otherwise, we could go tell your teachers just why you didn’t show up to your last class.”

“Your makeup work will be commended though, Kindaichi.”

Kindaichi perks up, a sincere smile spreading across his face. “Thanks!”

“Uh-huh. It’s a shame I have to mess it up by doing this again,” Matsukawa says.

Hanamaki blinks, but his surprise fades away when Matsukawa smirks and leans in for a second kiss. Self-serving is always an understatement when it comes to the two of them.

(“I still can’t believe the two of you got together because you were bothering me and Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grumbles, years after the fact.

Hanamaki glances over at Matsukawa and smirks. “Really?”

“Yes!”

“Actually,” Matsukawa says, as if he’s stumbled over a revelation somewhere between his fourth and seventh drinks.

Hanamaki nods, knowingly. “Ah, yes, that.”

“You guys are finally doing it then?” Iwaizumi asks, hiding a smile.

“Well, you know Issei’s mother. She’s been waiting for this forever now.”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes. “You wanted to get married too.”

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru Characters: Yahaba Shigeru, Kyoutani Kentarou, Watari Shinji, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Yahaba Shigeru's Mother, Yahaba Shigeru's Father, Kyoutani Kentarou's Parents Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Romantic Soulmates, Emotional/Psychological Abuse Series: Part 2 of heart Summary:

"You know, you could always talk to him."

Shigeru shakes his head before Watari even finishes. "What would I even talk to him about?"

His hand drops down to his hip. Both of them know his Mark is right there, not quite the same as it was a few months ago. It started out as an oval, once upon a time, an oval filled in with yellow that rested low on his hip. Now a long, thin triangle extends out from the oval and curls around to his hip.

Mila squeezes her eyes shut and rolls over, burying her face into her pillow. Maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge the soft-looking flakes of inconvenience, she’ll be able to get to the rink without trouble later. Hell itself could freeze over and Yakov wouldn’t cancel morning training, after all.

Though, if she can convince Sara to show off her almost-perfect quad toe, maybe he’ll order them out of his sight. Mila groans, immediately casting off the idea. The only thing that would get her is either in trouble or more hours of training. No curling up on the couch with her girlfriend and a cup of hot cocoa as she whole-heartedly ignores the weather outside. It’s bad enough that she wasn’t allowed to take any time off training.

Understandable, sure. Worlds is just over a month away and both of them need to be at their best.

Enjoyable, not as much.

Sara tentatively touches her shoulder. “Mila, get up. You have to come see the snow.”

“It’s not snowing,” she says, words muffled by the pillow.

“It is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Mila rolls back onto her side and loops an arm around Sara’s waist. There is enough force behind it to tug her downwards, however awkwardly. Either way, it works because Sara lets it happen, giggling while her head nearly misses the pillow.

“No,” she says again.

Then she is forced onto her back, legs straddling her hips. And Sara is above her, awash in light reflected off of the still-falling snow. She is always gorgeous but right now, she is more than that, more than her ability to take Mila’s breath away, more than her full lips and strong legs. It draws Mila inwards, rests her hands on the curve of Sara’s waist.

The sunrise should have stretched out for a few minutes longer, given her the opportunity to say something. Clearly, it hadn’t. Ino can already feel the warm, summer sun against her back as she perches in the window, looking inwards.

A beautiful sight still greets her. Maybe she missed her chance, maybe the Guardian of Night has started her daily sleep without so much as a good morning. She won’t tire of watching her regardless. The sun washes out everything and she always realizes it in moments like these, where all the colours she sees are deep and dark rather than bright and colourful.

Ino enjoys the deep purple of the carpets the most, can almost feel its comfort when she steps down from the window sill. A tailor back home is working on replicating the dyes, but he won’t have anything ready for another month at the very least. It will be a surprise for Hinata when it finally happens.

Getting dressed in each other’s colours could be nothing less than the greatest gift Ino has ever received.

It would even be worth all the teasing from Sakura and Naruto.

Her fingertips brush the hair from Hinata’s face. It isn’t quite enough, not when Ino wants to see her eyes or perhaps hear her cute stammer. That will have to wait for hours, though until the minutes before the tug of night pulls her into sleep. She spends her days as filled with longing as she does acting like a lovesick fool, though she knows of a few who would call it one and the same. If Shikamaru knew she was here right now, it would be a disaster.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Ino doesn’t turn, leaning down to rest her forehead against Hinata’s. “Has that ever stopped me before?”

Shino is silent.

Then again, he’s always silent. Silent and half-hidden in the shadows, like he’s just waiting for her to screw something up and kick her out for real. Ino isn’t entirely certain what that something could be. Both her and Hinata are close to indestructible.

“She misses you,” he finally says.

She hums, not really expecting the answer. “And I miss her.”

“Good.”

It is the closest thing to approval that Shino will ever give her and he all but melts back into the shadowed frame of the door. That gives her enough privacy to reach under Hinata’s pillow and exchange the letter there for one of her own. Ino’s letter is always short and sweet, especially compared to the effort Hinata puts into them. But it is enough, for now.

Except that these letters and stolen moments before they fall asleep are only enough with the promise of the next eclipse. A count of the nights and days is inscribed in their letters. A count of how long they can truly speak to each other, truly love each other, truly be together, if only for an hour. Then they will begin counting down the time again, desperate for any contact this life will grant them.

Ino lets out a low breath as she tucks a letter into her skirt and presses her lips against Hinata’s forehead. If she lingers here for much longer, someone will come searching for her.

One day, she might risk it.

Disgusting.

Just, ugh.

Yuri needs to scrub his eyes out with soap. Or bribe some pathetic mage into removing his memories of the last few minutes. The latter option would really be more effective.

If only Yuuri weren’t the only mage who comes anywhere near these parts. Asking him would mean returning to the sickening scene he just left. It would mean trying to interrupt them to convince the pig to poke around his head while Victor laughs his dramatic ass off in the background. Next to nothing would convince him to do that to himself. He’s not a masochist, thanks.

The woods move past in a blur, leaves blowing up into the air around him. It makes a couple dryads shout in protest, their eyes like precious gems before their branches shudder and they shift back into obscurity. Whatever. If they knew what he just went through, they would understand. Not that it’ll take more than a few hours for them to find out anyways, not with the way that Victor gossips.

Then Yuri will wake up tomorrow morning to Mila laughing at him, the old hag. She’ll just laugh and laugh and laugh until he finds a way to make the wrong type of flowers grow on her branches. That might not even make her stop. Her newest lover has some almost impressive skills. Almost. Say anything more and he’ll hear about it for the next hundred years, if not longer.

Thoroughly enjoying Conduct Our Hearts by @serendipitousdescent