#simps.requests

Kuroo Tetsuro was a physiotherapist who worked at the same hospital as you did. You had been working with him for the past six months as you two were in charge of the same patient, a little girl called Hana. He was her physiotherapist and you, her neurologist. She had undergone a neurosurgery that had left her lower body weakened and semi-paralysed, hence putting her in need of physiotherapy. You and Kuroo have been really proud of her progress thus far, and would often check up on her together, even keeping her company during breaks.

You and Kuroo had clicked instantly, becoming close friends despite the working environment. You had started texting each other during breaks and such, sometimes calling, too. Once in a while, he’d even give you rides home from the hospital. Unfortunately, due to both of your busy schedules, you never got the chance to hang out apart from the occasional meal at the hospital cafeteria.

That didn't stop you from garnering some sort of feelings for him, though.

Of course it didn't, you thought bitterly.

It wasn't that you didn't like liking him. You just refused to admit that you had a big fat crush on him. Periodt. (smh, y/n)

Honestly, who wouldn't have a crush on him? he was funny, bright, easy to get along with, caring, and, not to mention, a heck of a good view. (like damn, sis)

Kuroo's back was against the far wall as the shorter girl basically pressed herself against him, with only centimeters of space between their bodies. their tip of their shoes were already touching, but you noticed Kuroo subtly moving his away from hers.

It was quite comical, really. Seeing a 6'2 man blushing to the tips of his ears while shuffling uncomfortably in front of a much younger, much smaller sized woman. Her smile was so wide it could have split her tiny face in half, her voice raised a little higher than normal as she spoke to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Of course, she'd fall him. He's Kuroo Tetsuro, one of the hottest richest most successful most eligible bachelors (y/n, stop it) best physiotherapists around.

You realised that you had been staring at the scene for a bit too long, but just as you were about to turn away, his eyes met yours.

They seemed to brighten and he stood a little taller when he saw you. His eyes momentarily flickered to the nurse in front of him, who was still batting her thick lashes at him, babbling something about her favourite snack.

He looked back to you and mouthed a "HELP. ME." all while plastering a fake smile on his face.

You blinked, looking around to make sure there was no one else he could have been signalling to.

You turned back to see him scratching the back of his neck, looking even more unsettled as the nurse in front of him pressed her face impossibly closer to his.

What kind of friend would you be if you didn't at least try to save him from a creepy-touchy-feely nurse going all up in his face just to get his attention?

Then you saw her hand reach up towards his face.

It was as if it were in slow motion - his wide eyes looking up at you as the distance between his face and her hand slowly decreased.

The next thing you knew, her wrist was grasped tightly in your palm as you snarled, "hands off my boyfriend."

She stared at you for a good two seconds. You stared back.

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as she glanced between you and Kuroo, wriggling out of your hold and sputtering out an apology before scrambling away with pink cheeks.

You watched her disappear round the corner, till her blue scrubs no longer in sight. You smirked to yourself.

"Boyfriend, eh?" came a smug voice.

Shit.

Now it was your turn to turn pink.

Oh no. This was not happening.

“Uh- I mean, you know I was trying to-,”

“Yeah- Yeah, of course. ‘Course I’m not your boyfriend…”

Y/n, what were you thinking? Now it’s gonna be embarrassing for you-

“Do you have a boyfriend, though?” Kuroo asked, eyes darting everywhere, looking at anything but you.

You should’ve gotten backlash with how fast your head snapped up at his question.

“N-no- nO, no of course not, pFFT- why would I- nahhhhhhhhhh…” you reached up to rub the back of your neck.

Wow. Smooth, y/n. Real smooth.

“Oh. So you wouldn’t mind if I was your boyfriend?” he asked slowly, scanning your face for any sort of reaction.

At this point you felt like you had shut down entirely.

He was standing so close you could smell his heavenly scent cologne. He had bent down so much so that you could feel his warm breath fan your cheeks, in contrast to the normally cold hospital air.

You shuddered.

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest, you could hear your pulse ringing in your ears and your hands were turning clammy. You almost felt a bead of sweat roll down your back.

As soon as he leaned closer, though, he stood back straight again, stripping you of any warmth from before.

“Uh, I- I gotta go for lunch, so I’ll uh… I’ll see ya around, I guess-,”

“No,” you blurted.

He blinked at you.

“I mean… No, I wouldn’t mind you being my boyfriend,” You mumbled, voice growing smaller as you spoke.

He blinked again.

Was this really happening?

You felt a warmth blossom in your chest as you watched him reach for your hand, engulfing it in his bigger one.

“I wouldn’t mind being your boyfriend, either,” he chuckled lightly, winking at you when your eyes met. You didn’t miss the red that tinted the tip of his ears.

How cute, you thought.

Giggling, you threw yourself at him. He hugged you back, holding you against his man boobies tiddies pecs chest (phew, there we go) as he rested his chin on the crown of your head. (AAAA now i want a Kuroo hug too 😭)

“Dude, finally. The flirting and the sexual tension was starting to get exhausting, you know,” you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

You pulled away from Kuroo to see another good looking man. Kuroo punched him lightly on the shoulder. The man’s name tag read “Iwaizumi Hajime, Physiotherapist”.

Ohhhh it’s the hot physio guy your friend had been telling you about for the past month or so.

“Thanks, Iwa. I’m looking forward to saying the same thing to you soon,” Kuroo smirked.

Iwaizumi chuckled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, I doubt it,”

He congratulated you before turning back to Kuroo.

“You got a good one, bro. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

After bidding your goodbyes, you and Kuroo turned to head towards the hospital cafeteria for lunch.

It wasn’t exactly the confession you had in mind - let alone one you had planned - but hey, it worked out, didn’t it?

You had better not see that stupid nurse anywhere near your boyfriend again - your actual boyfriend, Kuroo Tetsuro.

a/n: hi again, it’s Lyssa :) hope you liked the fic! and i sure hope it was what @shine-sushi had requested hehe,, again - my writing isn’t that good, i’m still learning, so feedback and tips are welcome! thank you for reading and hope you have / had a good day!! ily <3

The ache in your heart could no longer be ignored. You missed him, and you would be willing to bet that he missed you just as much, if not more.

Even two months after your mutual break-up, with the both of you agreeing that it was for the best, you still found yourself reminiscing about the things you used to do together, the feelings you felt when you were with him.

You didn't know what overtook you in that moment, but you guided his palm to rest on your waist as your other hand reached up to pull him in by the collar.

His grey eyes widened in shock as the distance between your lips and his shortened by the millisecond.

The next thing you knew, you were both rendered breathless from the kiss.

A blizzard of butterflies was flurrying in your stomach. A million thoughts were running through your mind. You looked up at him to see his eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and you felt your own heart palpitate as you gazed deeply into those eyes that you missed so, so much. You felt his heart beating rapidly beneath your palm.

He looked as if he was going to say something, before ripping himself away from you, and muttering an apology and something that sounded like "Suna should never hear of this".

"Let's keep this between the two of us, then. No one has to know." You caught yourself blurting out, suddenly reminded of your boyfriend who was in the house just several metres away. He was probably too caught up in the flurry of music and partying to realise that his best friend and girlfriend were missing.

Osamu was breathing heavily. He couldn't do this to himself. He couldn't do this to Suna. Yet he found himself giving you one last kiss on your forehead.

You heard two words leave his lips as he pulled away. The same two words he said two months ago.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't register his form turning away and slowly walking further and further away from you. You didn't notice the heavy tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks as he pulled away from you, nor your own tears flowing down your face. But you definitely noticed how he had left you all alone and cold that winter’s night.

a/n: i'm sorry </3

tagging: @tearofvenus @scintillatingshine @sunkeiji @chifemi

He had been trying to track down this serial killer for a heck long time now, but it seems he was too late. The killer had struck.

Ducking beneath the barricade tape, Atsumu ran towards the blue tent covering the body. Breathing heavily, his throat tightened with every step he took. Fellow investigators shouting at him to stop, some coming towards him to hold him back, but they were no use.

Atsumu only saw the cold, still face of the woman who was the light of his life, laying on the hard ground. A pool of blood around her abdomen and chest, her once luscious hair now matte and sprawled on the ground beneath her head. A loud sob escaped his trembling lips. Falling to his knees, he reached for her face and held it in his hands. The face he had woken up to every morning for the past eight years of his life. The face that once held the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

He didn’t care for the blood soaking through his shirt and staining his hands as he held her body close to his. He didn’t care for the cold raindrops piercing into his skin like knives. He didn’t care for the tears that flowed down his cheeks and onto his wife’s body.

Rocking back and forth, he cried desperately, “Wake up… Wake up… Don’t leave me, babe, you can’t leave me, please… I should never have left you alone.. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault… P-please, come back, I love you…”

He had failed. He couldn’t protect the love of his life, the one who taught him what love felt like, the only one he had ever wanted to spend forever with. What use is a detective who can’t even protect his loved ones?

— MIYA OSAMU

Osamu's heart was pounding.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the mile-long sprint from his car to the crime scene or the face of his dead wife being held gently in his hands. His hands, shirt and pants were dyed scarlet, but he only saw the memories and dreams he had of his life with her.

He remembered their high school days, when they’d volunteered at the police department with Atsumu during the holidays, helping to patrol their neighbourhood and sometimes cordon off areas where a crime had taken place. Both of you had taken an interest in detective work during your teenage years and have worked together on so many cases since then. Osamu still remembered the suicide case that the two of you were assigned to right after your marriage. He had wanted to continue discussions about it even at home, but you had firmly denied his request, in a bid to segregate between work and family life.

Now he just wanted you to return to him. His resolve to believe that the officers had identified the wrong woman crumbled faster the longer he held onto you.

His lips wobbled as he tried to contain his emotions. A single tear escaped, but it only unleashed a wave of tears streaming down his face. Holding your lifeless body in his hands, Osamu no longer felt the warmth he had once felt around you.

He no longer felt your heart beating for him and him only. Your delicate face remained void of expression.

Osamu felt... cold and empty.

His colleagues pulled him away in a matter of minutes. He struggled, trying to resist the firm grip around his arms.

“No… no, let me hold her. Please,” He begged. His eyes were swollen and red, breathing ragged. He sounded like a broken man.

Osamu felt his heart ripping into a thousand pieces, pounding painfully in his chest as he watched the officers place a blue tent over your body.

He crumbled to the ground, his head in his hands, crying as he mourned the loss of you, his precious wife.

— OIKAWA TŌRU

His eyebrows were furrowed deeply together that the crease looked permanent. His chest was heaving, choked sobs and laboured breaths were the only sounds heard in the small room. His fellow investigators respectfully left the room to let him grieve privately.

Oikawa let out a lifeless chuckle. With his tears flowing endlessly down his cheeks, he uttered, "Princess... stop acting already... this was a really good prank of yours, it almost seems real. You got me real good... I know that you're still here with me, please wake up... please. I know you're still there..."

His weariness was palpable, the entire atmosphere gloomy.

He cradled your face gently, his fingers tracing your now pasty white complexion. He remembered all the happy moments with you, from high school to university to being a newly married couple in your twenties.

Why were you taken away from him so soon?

It seemed that every promise you'd both made to each other was but a dream. A dream that was now shattered by the harsh reality of your circumstance.

Oikawa's lips trembled, and he was soon overcome with pain, the agony prevalent in his sobs, his muttering of partially delusional words.

You were gone, and he was now a man, void of everything he had ever known.

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

It had been four months since that day. The day he finally caught the psychotic serial killer.

The same day his wife was murdered.

Iwaizumi remembered it as clear as ever. The slashes on her throat, and the multiple stab wounds that littered her abdomen and lower body still haunted him in his sleep. The cold, lifeless face of his beautiful wife, now mere ashes in an urn.

Iwaizumi had been deteriorating ever since. The guilt, hanging heavily on him every second of every day, ate at him slowly. It chewed up his insides, clawing it’s way up from his heart to his head, rearing its ugly head wherever he went. He saw her everywhere. His nightmares and daydreams all revolved around her and that fateful day.

Iwaizumi wasn’t exactly a religious man, but every night, he prayed. He prayed to any god listening to him from above, that heaven would take him too, so that he could be reunited with his beloved. He couldn’t take it anymore, not in this hellish world with no light to guide him, no love to heal him.

Angry cries and anguished shouts became a normality to his neighbours. The pain had never once left him, never once relinquished its deathly hold on his heart. The guilt, the shame, the anger - it was an endless stream. Nobody could help him. Not his parents, not his friends, not even Oikawa. His voice had become scratchy and hoarse after months of yelling at nothing. His throat was constantly burning, but Iwaizumi had never once felt it.

At least she never got pregnant, he thought bitterly, his sullen cheeks as tear-stained as always. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had let both his wife and his baby die such horrible deaths.

He didn’t care for the slump he was in, neither did he care for what had been happening around him since. He couldn’t even think about revenge. He had lost his wife. The love of his life, his forever, his universe. The hole in his heart only grew with each passing day, with each memory of her and each reminder that she wasn’t coming back.

— YAKU MORISUKE

“Yaku-san, the deceased… Is believed to be your wife. Please make your way to the crime scene now.”

The second he heard his wife mentioned by his colleague over the phone, his heart seemed to stop beating.

Yaku managed to sputter out an “okay, i’m coming right now,” before hastily grabbing his things and running over to the apartment building a few blocks away.

His head was spinning the whole way there. The only thing on his mind was you. He chanted your name in his head like a mantra, praying that they had misidentified the body, that he’d reach the crime scene only to confirm that the deceased was, in fact, not his wife.

To say that he was nervous was an understatement. By the time he burst through the apartment doors, hastily flashing his ID card to the officers guarding the perimeters, his entire frame was shaking. Unshed tears stung his eyes and his heart was pulsating rapidly.

His stomach dropped at the familiar sight of his wife, now dead on the floor of her friend’s apartment. His throat threatened to cut off his air supply upon seeing the strangulation marks around his wife’s neck.

He knelt beside her unmoving frame, strained whispers of “no, it- it can’t be… come on, it’s not y/n… baby, wake up, please…” leaving his lips. He slowly reached out to grasp your hand in his, now shaking with unparalleled fear and grief. Your eyes remained closed, your lips now pale.

He tore his eyes from you to look up at his teammates, who stood a few feet away. Kuroo’s eyes were red and puffy, yet still rimmed with fresh tears. You had known Kuroo first, before he introduced you to Yaku, but Kuroo couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose his wife. (wow-) Kenma looked like he had something to say, but eventually decided to keep quiet, realising that no amount of words could comfort Yaku at that moment. Yamamoto hung his head, not offering much more than a look of sorrow and pity.

Yaku turned back to his wife’s body, suddenly hit with a round of flashbacks from when he had first met you, to your first date, his proposal, your wedding day, and everything between and after that.

He knew the physical pain he felt in his heart would be temporary compared to the emotional one.

He wanted to hurl, to yell, to scream and curse. y/n wouldn’t want that, he thought bitterly, the mere thought of you plunging yet another (metaphorical) knife into his already shattered heart.

Everything after that seemed to go by in seconds. He didn’t process when or how they brought the body out, when he went home, when he met your family and broke the news to them.

He felt dead. Dead, cold and lifeless. For what was his life without you?

a/n: hi again! didn’t manage to write a part for daichi, but we wrote iwa’s. hope that’s okay :”) and let us know what you think! (comment or send an ask <3) thank you for readinggg :>