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not-neverland06 · 8 months ago

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I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you.

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help.

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott.

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look.

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together.

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it.

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way.

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you.

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely.

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself.

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain.

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off.

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse.

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells.

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often.

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.”

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him.

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong.

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple.

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back.

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different.

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience.

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do.

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself.

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything.

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home.

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you.

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry.

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy.

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag.

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do.

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet.

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do.

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him.

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you.

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?”

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong.

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief.

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care.

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful.

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is.

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped.

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing.

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone.

It feels so wrong.

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you.

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face.

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low.

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation.

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism.

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch.

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself.

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself.

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you.

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other.

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new.

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great.

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable.

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting.

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily.

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you.

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging.

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut.

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you.

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair.

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets.

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other.

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore.

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone.

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on.

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy.

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine #wolverine fic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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yuuchama · 3 months ago

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Asking Lilia Vanrouge to tutor you in history sounds like a great idea, doesn't it? He seems to know a lot about historical events due to living through them and there's even a picture resembling him in your textbook. History is his best subject. What could go wrong?

You leave the tutoring session more confused than before. Lilia's knack for history is no joke, though his knowledge is all over the place.

Hardly any of what he says gets covered in class. It's probably not going to be on the test. He brings up the names of random people, common folk with no impact on the grand scheme of things. He drones on about these people for longer than necessary. He rambles about insignificant bits of their daily lives like an old man reminiscing about old friends and you don't know how to stop him.

"Patricia really hated when they implemented the new calendar system, khee hee hee! Said it made her miss a date with this lad she fancied, but it all worked out in the end. He came to find her after a while and they went steady. Never met him. Heard he was a paper boy. The kind that makes paper, mind you. Word has it that he made fine paper but I never much cared about the quality of paper."

Lilia starts floating off his chair as he becomes immersed in his own tale. He crosses his arms in thought. You stare at his exposed forehead as he turns upside-down, your pen hand at the ready in case he says anything actually useful.

"Ezekiel, though? He was a lad who was mad about paper. Oho. This was, oh, roughly 350 years ago. He penned a letter to the Shaftlands government to petition for lower taxes. About a decade after that blight incident that wiped out their food reserves. More than half their crops were being taxed and it was a brutally cold winter, he could barely afford firewood, but he still used the best parchment he could find. Said it made a stronger point to those in power. Oh, and his daughter was so angry about it!"

Lilia laughs. Three hours pass in this manner. He wafts through the air absentmindedly and bumps against your shoulder, sending him floating back in the other direction. When he drifts too far, he magically pops into another spot and makes you jump. He has a smile on his face, this is genuine fun for him.

You manage to fill in half a page with notes that seem kind of useful. You don't know how you'd source them in an essay, though, aside from "Lilia told me." You ask if he knows anything about the legendary Queendom of Roses Revolt and he launches into another unrelated story that happened around the same time about some really good chicken he once ate.

When you've had enough and the study session is over, Lilia thanks you. He gives you a piece of hard candy, its wrapper somewhat disheveled like it was in his pocket for a week. "It's important for kids like you to study hard," he says with a thumbs up. He pats you on the back before leaving. You consider asking Riddle for help the next time you have questions.

#old man you need to cite your sources.#lilia please. the next test is multiple choice.#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland writing #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x you #twst fanfic #twst hc #twisted wonderland drabble

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mullermilkshake · 7 months ago

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What type?

Eliminating.

Satoru is an eliminating Yandere. Yeah, he’ll kill everyone who tried to touch you, because he’s possessive and has the means to kill without suffering the consequences.

He’s too powerful and overwhelming for you to ever get away from so it’s easy for him to keep you where he wants.

Though, at times, he can grow bored, so he is known to flit form darling to darling, whenever they break. But he always comes back to you. Always.

Because you refuse to break.

Manipulating.

Suguru is manipulative by trade, his words hold so much water a lot of the time you don’t know which way is up.

Like water drops, if he says something enough times, you start to believe it.

Why you’re here.

How he’s the only one that loves you.

How no one else will match up because he is the one who is most equipped at looking after you.

He expects nothing in return but your love.

And that’s a big ask.

Delusional.

Kento wants nothing more than see your affections towards him made public. He knows you feel a certain type of way about him and are only keeping it to yourself in some twisted mind game you've convinced yourself he wants to play.

He doesn't. He just needs you come clean about your feelings towards him soon because it's driving him crazy. The silent treatment and harsh words are only a way to keep him interested further, and that won't change.

But every now and then, when he finally gets you to sleep in the same room, he prays you'll give in and at least give him a smile or lingering touch to set his heart ablaze to let him know you love him.

He knows you do, but perhaps you're just too shy to come out and say it.

Eliminating.

Sukuna will strike anyone down who dares to come near you, to even think about touching you.

It's not that he loves you the way he's been told he should, it's just that you are a play thing he enjoys toying with, and he's grown... an attachment. Your pretty little cries are something he enjoys listening to and they play on his mind more and more whenever he is apart from you.

He actually tells himself that he doesn't love you, that you're just a pathetic human who holds not one candle to him in his presence, but it does not stop him from making sure no one else has you in their sights.

You're his to play with. Nothing more. So he thinks.

Isolating.

Toji finds that its easier for him and less hassle just to keep you held up at his place. He managed to maintain it so there was no chance of your escape.

Sometimes he does think about it. Escaping, just the two of you somewhere where no one will find you. Living the boring domestic life and getting comfortable with just your company.

Yet other times, he wonders about a scenario where you do escape. How would you do it? The mere thought actually excites him, like a sudden movement enough to make a cat's pupils dilate into hunt mode.

The chase seems a little more interesting. He wants to know just how intelligent you are.

Submissive.

Choso does anything for you. If you ask him to sit in the corner like a little scolded puppy just to make yourself feel better, he will.

He dotes on you twenty-four-seven just to see a glimmer of a smile ghost your lips. One blink and he would miss it. So he doesn't blink. It makes his eyes burn for as long as he can keep it until he has no choice.

If you told him to break his own heart, he would find a way. Though you do that perfectly when you try to leave, and every time it takes a little part of him with you.

But he still loves you because it's you.

Because at the end of the day, he is yours.

Isolating.

Hiromi keeps you. He knows what damage you can cause utilising the legal system in your favour. The rate of conviction in Japan is at 99%.

That isn't good if you manage to speak to someone, who by unfortunate luck may believe you. Hiromi is sure he would have no issue in convincing them otherwise given his risk taking in court to defend people in precarious places.

But there's no way he can look at you from across that court room if you were to get out.

So he keeps you where no one can get to you. That way you'll be with him forever.

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plethorawrites · 2 months ago

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I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

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It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

#headcanon #x reader #plethorawrites #dc comics #roy harper x you #roy harper x reader #roy harper imagine #roy harper #roy harper x gender neutral reader #gender nuetral reader #x you #x gn reader #lian harper

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bitter-me · 1 year ago

Text

Well Deserved Rest

Dr. Veritas Ratio | M. Reader as Medicine Pocket [Reverse: 1999]

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Tsundere Ratio will forever live rent free in my head. That was totally canon!

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"Hey hey! Veritas!"

That annoying voice again.. how many times has he heard it today? It's so annoying.. so high pitched and loud, like a dog, happily barking at their favorite person.

"For the last time, it's Dr. Ratio! Don't call me by name so casually!" He groans at the other's enthusiasm and seemingly endless energy. For the past few years he had known the researcher. [Name] never fails to get on his nerves. Be it the constant teasing or the dog-like demeanor. The only thing he ever decided to tolerate the man is because of his reputation for being a genius amongst geniuses and gaining his current position when he was a mere teenager.

"Look look! I made this serum that presumably—" "I swear if this is one of your unauthorized experiments!"

Not only is he a genius amongst geniuses.. [Name] seems to have a reputation of doing whatever the hell he wants. Paperwork? That can wait! Research? Why should he care about following the status quo? Only when something had caught his attention, that's when the researcher began to actually do his work.

Sometimes Ratio feels like he's babysitting a child—or rather a dog. Given the other's background.

How many times has [Name] decided to chew on the ends of his robe? How many times has [Name] licked his cheek without a second thought?

Honestly...

"Aw come on, Veritas! Can't you live a little?" [Name] asked teasingly, tilting his head to the side, acting all adorable in order to persuade the doctor. Which didn't work. Or so he told himself. "It's not living if you constantly experiment on dangerous unauthorized things! It's called being foolish!"

This earns a chuckle from the other. He sure knows how to get on Ratio's nerves like it's merely looking at the back of his hand. It seems like second nature to him. "You're so boring! Didn't take you to be a stickler to the rules!"

"It's called self preservation!"

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How did this happen..? How in the galaxy had he managed to land himself in this position..? What is it? Nap time? He's out like a light!

Earlier, [Name] had decided to annoy him again, typical, but Ratio was having none of it. So like any other sane person, he ignores the genius in favor of the book he's currently reading. But of course that didn't stop [Name] from teasing and poking him. Trying to get a reaction.

But as time went on. The researcher seems to have worn himself out and started to doze off. Now, Ratio sits there with a book in hand but despite that, his mind was in other places as his gaze shifted towards the sleeping genius who had his head on his shoulder and his right arm being hugged by the other in his sleep.

He's out like a light! What time even is it? Nap time? Maybe it's [Name]'s constant all-nighter he pulls whenever he's so absorbed by his research and experiment? Or is this a by product of his dog-like nature?

Either way, this can't continue!

But when Ratio tries to wake him up, [Name] doesn't seem to respond to it, at all. Sleeping like a rock. So... Ratio decided to just.. let him rest..

Maybe he needs it?

Every time Ratio tries to focus on the book he's reading his mind would always drift towards the sleeping researcher that's using him as a human pillow.

He could feel [Name]'s warm breath hitting his exposed biceps, his shallow and calm breathing, it never fails to send a shiver down his spine. He's so.. comfortable.. so.. at peace..

He's far different than the usual hyperactive, seemingly endless energy researcher he's known for! And that.. makes him feel.. warm..

To think he'll have the honors of witnessing such a rare, vulnerable, and.. intimate side of [Name].. it's..

Ratio snapped out of his thoughts once he felt the other began to stir and slowly woke up from their nap. A nice and comfortable nap. [Name] blinks, once, twice. Before letting out an adorable yawn.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Ratio spoke up, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I assume you've had a nice nap."

"Oh I did! It was sooo nice~" [Name] took the chance to tease the other as he hugged Ratio's arm closer to his chest with a huge grin plastered on his face. The doctor huffs as he begins trying to shake the other's hold on his arm. "Then get off of me, you damn dog. My arm is tired."

[Name] chuckles in response as he tightens his grip. He hums softly and rests his cheek on Ratio's shoulder, looking at him with big puppy eyes. Trying to act all cute and adorable. "But if your arm's tired, why didn't you just shoved me? You could have done that earlier, right doctor?"

This caught him off guard for a few moments. What is he supposed to say to that? [Name] let out a gasp upon seeing his hesitation. "Don't tell me that you actually enjoy it! Aw~ Ratio you could have just said so! I could have been your cuddle buddy from the start!"

"Cuddle buddy!? How absurd! You dare think that I—Dr. Veritas Ratio. Would ever need such things!? Especially from you?!"

"But your face is red~ I'm right aren't I~?"

"?!"

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 medicine pocket #medicine pocket #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr ratio #dr veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader

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junedenim · 3 months ago

Text

knackered converse

a tea & a donut

warnings: fluff monster, smut, piv, fingering, blowjob, the works

word count: 10.1k

His Converses stick against the beer-soaked wooden floors. His plastic cup of his own beer has run to the bottom leading him back to the kitchen-turned bar to fill it up to the brim. The place has already been fairly trashed and he's just thankful he doesn't have to clean it up, even if that means he has to avoid the packet of smashed Jaffa Cakes all over the tiled floors and the bottom of his shoes will be left with a beer residue for the next month.

A guy he doesn't know fills up his cup. This place is filled with people Alex doesn't know, which is mainly the reason he came. It's the whole "making friends" part of university. He has a few mates here helping him not feel completely gangly and awkwardly alone but still he's gangly and awkward and currently alone, even if he's being smushed up against the refrigerator.

He shimmies his way out without spilling any liquor and manages to make it over to the open window for some fresh air. The place feels like a furnace and he's been charged with keeping it burning. He knocks his fingers against the plastic of his cup, listening to the rhythmic beats, memorizing them, and the strange way it makes things feel a little quieter.

The creeping autumn breeze brushes on his back in a gift of relief that prevents a giant sweat patch on the back of his shirt. His shoulders curve forward as he gives into his bad posture in favour of some comfort. He knows that in order to meet people he actually has to talk to them and seem approachable. Right now he probably gives off the appearance of a hunchback with his night off from the bell tower.

He gazes outward to the crowd of people as he tries to find someone to latch onto. There has to be another weirdo here. A person who doesn't knock his insides and intimidate him with their steroidal muscles or caked-on make-up. Honestly, he's just insecure and he knows it. He's still trying to figure out how to live within his skin and meanwhile, it feels like everyone else has.

Alex looks down at his shoes. The front of the left one is about to split open and his mum told him to get new ones before school started but he didn't. He should listen to her more often.

"Did you go to the kitchen?"

"Huh?" His eyes snap up to see where the contributing voice came from. He thinks there's a mere possibility he made it up when his eyes find you standing before him. You have your own plastic cup in hand and a smile that he would definitely deem "approachable." The kind that people gravitate toward.

You giggle at him, probably finding him goofy with his bug eyes and the way his ears stick out with his new haircut. "I stepped on the Jaffa Cakes in the kitchen. Messed up my shoes."

You stick out one of the orange-chocolate-covered messes. You're wearing Converses too, the same kind as his, and he thinks that makes me a bit cooler just by association. They're just as knackered as his pair. Graffiti-covered by friendly scrawl and shoelaces that are missing their aglets.

The bottom cuffs of your jeans have denim threads ripping out of them. You wear a black leather belt that seems to be the only thing that oozes luxury off of you. Your shirt advertises Great Heights Space Camp with a tiny astronaut sitting on top of your left breast.

"Oh." He chuckles with you and lifts his shoe with the slow sound of stickiness. "I've only got beer on mine."

"Yours?" You take a step closer to him, refreshing yourself with a sip of beer.

Alex scoots over as an invitation for you to sit beside him. He watches as you lower yourself. With your face now right beside him, he grows nervous of you seeing him up close and personal. He can't stop thinking of the pimple on his flaming cheeks. "No, I haven't been that clumsy yet."

"I once fell down the stairs when I was drunk. I think I've still got a bruise from it." You spread your knees and sit the same way his dad does when he watches football. You turn your foot out and knock the rubber lining of your shoe with his. It's clearly intentional, enough to make his cheeks flush from the recognition.

"I rarely have control over my body," he tells you. It makes you laugh and his stomach contorts itself at the thought that you found him funny. "And that's not even when I'm drunk." You laugh harder and it's one of those contagious laughters that grabs everyone in the room and makes them want to laugh too.

"I like your shirt." He points to the little spaceman before sipping his drink to hide the embarrassment of having just pointed at your boob.

You gaze down on it and shake your head in shame. "Thanks. I've had it for years. When I was younger I thought I might be an astronaut or a pilot."

"Why aren't you?"

"I'm terrified of heights."

He shares a laugh with you. He feels infected. You've contaminated him from here on out. "I've always liked space. Looking out at the stars with me dad. So close yet so far." It's the way he feels with you now. How easy it could be for him to reach out and touch you but what a terrifying idea.

"We're looking at them and they could already be gone, bursting into a supernova." He doesn't want you to go. Please don't go.

Outside the Eastman building, there's a coffee shop where Alex sits and reads—attempts to read. He often gets off-course. Sometimes with more productive things like writing, sometimes with less productive things like doodling. It helps kill time between classes. They also have good donuts but that's neither here nor there.

The most important thing is that on Thursday after the party, you walk over to him. He's doodling by that point with the closed copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man sitting across from him. His head is down so intently paying attention to his pen drawing across the page that he doesn't see or hear you approaching.

"Are you taking that Joyce class?" Once again your voice snaps his head up. You're dressed the same except for the light hoodie you wear unzipped and the backpack hanging off one of your shoulders. Your fingers quickly flick through the book's pages.

He closes his notebook full of nonsense and devotes himself to you. "Yeah, yeah, but I'm kind of regretting it now."

"I almost took it but I went with the Virginia Woolf class instead." You drink out of your cup and warm both your hands on the cardboard. He imagines a world where you two share a class. You'd sit by one another and Joyce wouldn't seem so boring anymore. You could liven up any discussion and you'd make fun of the way the professor spat every time he tried to say Künstlerroman.

"How's that going?" He asks.

You shrug. "Considering I finished Mrs. Dalloway last night and you're here ignoring Joyce, I think I made the right choice."

"Do you want to help me ignore him some more?" He reaches across and clears Joyce away from the table, dropping it into the deep end of his bag.

You accept the seat, placing your cup where the book once sat. "What else are you doing?"

"Just killing time before the Joyce class," he explains. "I forgot about the fact that I would actually have to do work at uni."

"Yeah, they never tell you that," you joke, leaning your head on your hand.

He laughs embarrassingly. "I don't mind it for the most part but I'm terrible at time management."

"I'm the opposite. I hate being late, especially to class. I feel like everybody watches you when you walk and you're the loudest person ever. It makes my skin crawl."

"You would hate me then."

"I doubt it," you reassure with a smile.

You do these things to him. Things that make him feel all funny inside and question what he was thinking and what he was doing before you sat down in front of him. He felt that way at the party too. And after, when you had left with your group of friends and he questioned why he didn't ask for your number. But then you cropped up here. You fell into his lap. He can't help but think that means something.

"I've got a planner and everything but, I don't know, my internal clock is off or something."

"Hm. Mine is perfectly aligned. Biological and the moon and all that."

"You mean like your period?" He read about that once. How women's menstrual cycles are connected with the moon or tides or something.

You laugh into the palm of your hand. "Yeah. I guess so." Your face is red. It's nice to know that he isn't the only one on edge. "I didn't mean to get on that subject."

"That's fine. I'm not afraid of blood or anything."

You double over, completely shielding yourself from his view. "Don't worry. I won't free bleed on you." You lean back with pink cheeks. "Is this the modern equivalent of Joyce writing about shitting for 20 pages in Ulysses?"

Alex shrugs. "I don't know. I never read it."

"Neither did I."

He smiles without a care for how wide it looks. "What else are you reading?"

"I'm taking this Shakespeare class. My group has been assigned to put on a production of Hamlet. Since I'm the only girl I'm both Ophelia and Hamlet's mother."

"Sounds like Hamlet has a complex."

"Yeah, we're going to lean into that whole Oedipus thing. I'm just hoping that I don't butcher the whole thing. I'm not very good at memorising things. Do you like Shakespeare?"

"I love the guy," he fibs. Alex hasn't ever bothered with Shakespeare. Not even in school. "I'm sure you'll be great in it. You'll at least be there on time." He's about to be late for James Joyce. It would be worth it too. But this teacher has already scolded him twice and Alex can't give him any more reasons to hate him. "I have to go to class but if you'd like to give me your number."

"Yeah." You're smiling, which is a good sign. You grab a pen out of your bag and snatch a napkin. "I have to go to this student production of Romeo & Juliet if you'd like to go."

"With you?"

"Yeah. If that's alright. It's Saturday at 7. We can meet outside Neumann."

"That'd be perfect." Alex stands up nervously, swinging his bag over his shoulders.

You stuff the phone-number-covered napkin into his hand. "Good luck with Joyce, Alex."

Shakespeare is funny, at least this production is. It lies somewhere between an attempt to retell Romeo & Juliet as a comedy and tragically awful and that's without the whole death part. He tried to keep his laughter under wraps because you seemed engrossed in it but then you let out a snort in the middle of the nightingale and lark scene. Or he should just say sex scene with the way the two actors maul each other.

Alex and you give the production a standing ovation because A for effort. You start whooping cheers just to make him laugh, which he joins in on. Every other attendant gave questionable looks but the cast members looked pleased as they gave their final bows.

"Do you think we encouraged those poor kids too much?" You ask as you leave the theatre. You swing your purse around your finger. You've dressed far too nicely for a production so poor. Your dress falls just above your knees with flowy fabric adorned on it that only the last few days of warm weather will allow. "They're going to go home and think they're the next Laurence Oliviers."

Alex walks with his hands in his pockets. He wore a dark pair of khakis because they are the only trousers he owns that don't have holes in them. "They won't make it far. We gave them one night of glory."

You flash him a smile. It charms him, shooting arrows through him, endearing him to Cupid's uncontrollable spell. "Thank you for coming with me," you tell him. "Sorry that it was so bad."

He shakes his head. "No, no. I had fun."

"Good then you can come with me when they do Macbeth," you joke. "No, I wouldn't do that to you. I'll let you pick what we do next time."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"It can't be much worse than what we just watched. What do you like to do for fun?"

You're staring at him with eager eyes like he's expected to say something like skydiving but for the life of him, he feels like the most boring person alive. "I don't know," he says with a weak chuckle.

You take your eyes away with a nod. "Okay. I'll let you think on that. This is me." You point to the building behind you, inching away, out of his reach. "Thanks again for coming. Text me if you think of anything. See you 'round, Alex."

"Bye." He feels dull and foolish. You looked like you were trying to escape his grunts and indecision. He supposes that it's his fault for feeling so nervous for no reason. He needs to be put at ease. He sighs and walks back home.

On Monday he spots you reading To the Lighthouse in the corner of the cafe. You look up and wave with no hesitation. He walks over with his donut and copy of Dubliners. "I've got something for you," he says. "If you'd like."

You stare up at him with a smile. It’s like lightning with the way it leaves him feeling singed and searing and hollowed out. "Is it a gift?"

"Maybe. It's an invitation." He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out two pieces of paper. "I don't know if you like them but Nick Cave is coming in on Wednesday and I was looking for someone to go with and, well, this is what I do for fun."

"I love Nick Cave."

You're in the swell of the crowd, pressed up against one another and about 2,000 other people. The music is good but all he can concentrate on is the vicinity of your body to his body. Half his chest touches half your back, which means half his crotch touches half your ass. He shouldn't be expected to pay attention to whatever the fuck Nick Cave is singing about when that's occurring.

"Can you see alright?" You turn around and ask.

"What? Yeah, yeah. Can you?" He can't see for shit but he could give less of a fuck right now.

"Uh, kind of. It sounds good. I guess that's all that matters."

You're moving, you're shimming, you're beating on his bones, knocking on his soul, inviting yourself in. Sure, there's a tall, smelly guy pushing up against his ass but that only pushes him closer to you and you're not inching away. There's no attempt to escape. You lean back into his chest and smile like this was all part of your plan.

He reaches for your hand when the show ends. It's under the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the crowd but you're two blocks away from the venue and still holding hands. "Did you have fun?" He asks. "I thought they were great."

The street is clear but you lean close to him and knock your shoulder into his with only pleasure on your face. "It was wonderful. Thanks for taking me."

"Thanks for coming with me." He looks over at you and feels like he's been knocked off his feet. He's not letting things slip through his fingers again. "Do you want to get a drink or something? Are you hungry?"

You pull from your soda by the straw without lifting the cup to drink, leaning forward with your burger still in your grip. Alex finds it, quite honestly, adorable. He is irrevocably fond of this girl. It's hard for him to believe that he got you here, sitting across from him in a tacky red booth at some shitty 24-hour diner.

"So, Alex, how often do you go to concerts?" You ask before taking a bite out of your burger.

"Depends," he replies. "I've got friends who've knocked about in bands and I go to their shitty little gigs sometimes. Doesn't cost much and makes for some fun nights."

You've already vowed to pay for the meal since he paid for the tickets, though he might insist on paying for his half of the receipt because it's the gentleman thing to do and his mother told him to always be a gentleman.

"Do you work?" You ask.

"I had a job back home, but I haven't found anything here. I'd like to. What about you?"

"I work in the school's mailroom."

"Oh, so you're the one who's been stealing all my mail."

You laugh into a napkin, trying to prevent spitting your food out. "I've done no such thing. Half of the mail is junk anyway. I'm saving you from all the adverts."

"I like the little adverts. Seriously," he says when you pull a face. "I like the bad slogans they have and sometimes they come with a coupon."

You squint at him all playful, elbows on the table, not even close to prim and proper. You are messy, in the way you move, in the way you speak, in the way you eat, and he loves it. "I'll be sure to stuff your mailbox full of them next time."

He wonders if you've noticed how close you've gotten, how you're both leaning across the table. He can see directly into your eyes—into your soul. They are earnest, all intrigue, bright and reflecting light the way the moon does. He thinks he could stare forever and never get tired of the sight. Cars streak past, the city bustles, and he is oblivious to it all. It’s just this, just you.

The next time he opens his mailbox it's flooded with adverts, most not even addressed to him. In the middle of the mess is a postcard of the Virginia Woolf quote "I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful." Written on the back of it in beautiful cursive penmanship is "Do you really go through all the adverts? Next donut on me if so."

He slides the postcard across the table to you on Monday morning. He crosses his arms with a smirk as you pick up the card. You roll your eyes and slide the card back over to him before standing to purchase him his signature glazed donut.

"I think you're single handedly keeping this place in business," you say as you drop the donut in front of him.

He unwraps it with a shit-eating grin. The glaze melts in his mouth. "They're good. Here. Have some." He breaks off a piece and hands it to you.

You try to refuse but he pushes it closer and closer to your mouth until the sugar flakes are brushing against your lip. You finally oblige, taking the piece into your mouth, the tip of his thumb rubs against your bottom lip. It feels like he's touched the forbidden fruit.

Alex plays it as cool as possible and focuses back on the donut before him. You hum, "Okay, it's good."

"I have good taste. Is that hard to believe?"

"Maybe," you hold your thumb and index finger a hair apart from one another, "just a little."

"You're the one who took me to that shitty Shakespeare production."

"Hey, that was for a class and Shakespeare is classic no matter the form he is done in." It's cute how you get all wound up over this as if it's anything more than a joke. It's in the same vein as you drinking that scalding hot tea with no care for your tongue. All these perplexities about you that he finds deeply entrancing. If there is an end to this fascination, he hasn't found it yet.

"Do you know what classes you're taking next term?" You ask, licking your lips clean of the glaze. The pink shine of them smacks against one another. They are staring him dead in the eyes with no remorse. "'Cause there's this British literature class I was thinking about. I thought, maybe, it would be cool if you took it too."

You look nervous. He's never seen that before. You hug your arms around yourself, leaning on your elbows, and staring down at the black tabletop. "I'm not very good at reading," he says like a dope. Like he's five years old and you're teaching him the alphabet.

You anxiously giggle. "Then you can cheat off of me."

"Sounds like a good plan."

Friday nights Alex tends to end up drinking with his mates. It's sloppy and informal, stuck in someone's dorm with a pack of beers snuck past security. Sometimes someone rolls a joint. Other times they stink up the room with cigarette smoke. One day they'll probably get caught but it hasn't happened yet.

Matt's room tends to be the best. He's got the most chairs and this bean bag chair that the guys fight over who gets to sit in and, with the lifelong advantage of knowing Matt, Alex tends to win the claim over it.

He slouches down in it with a beer can wetting a circle into his jean-clad thigh. The guys are having some pissing contest that he can't follow but laughs along with anyway. Matt spins around in his chair and faces him. "Alex has got a bird," he says. "Don't ya?"

"What?" He chuckles with faux obliviousness.

"Oh, come off it. We've all seen her. The way you ogle."

"I do not ogle. We're just friends for now." He toys with the beer can and doesn't dare make eye contact with Matt.

"For now?" Matt questions with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, Al." They back off after that. Thankfully.

On a December morning, there are ringlets in your hair. Tight ones that he wants to pull at and watch bounce. You're zeroed in on a stack of papers, one hand fiddling with one of the corners, the other clutching your cup of tea.

"Hey there, Ophelia," Alex says while sitting down with his donut and a hot chocolate. (What can he say? He's feeling festive).

"Shush," you loudly sound off. Your eyes laser in on the paper as if you're trying to scan it with your eyes.

"Shall I get thy to a nunnery?"

You look up with a death glare. "If you're not going to be quiet, you have to leave."

He's amused, a smile crossing his face, which he's sure isn't pleasing you one bit. He reaches across and tugs at your pages. "Come on, let me help you. I'll play Hamlet."

You hum. "You'd be a good Hamlet." You give in and let him take the pages.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You chuckle at his offense. "You know, you're all brooding and melancholic."

"Wow, thanks."

"You can't deny it if that's how you come off."

"Well, you're certainly no Ophelia."

"Thanks, I don't plan on drowning myself anytime soon."

"'Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love,'" he recites.

Your face flashes with surprise. "You know Hamlet?"

He shrugs. "Some." Yeah, he totally looked up quotes the night before and memorized them in the hopes of impressing you.

"You're a total Hamlet."

He pushes his eyes away from your gaze and stares down at the script. "Okay, come on, you only have thirty minutes until you have to perform this."

You groan. "Why did I ever take this class? I don't want to act. I don't even give a shit about Shakespeare."

"Alright, Ophelia, quit your whining. 'Let the doors be shut upon him that he may play the fool nowhere but in ’s own house...'"

He doesn't see you again until the barren cold of January in the frigid Felton Hall for British Literature. You're there on time, of course, and you've saved him a seat. With a wide smile and a wave, you summon him over to you.

"Good, I was thinking you wouldn't show." You pat the chair beside you and it's hard for him to wrap his mind around the excitement you show. So endlessly pleased to see him and he wonders why he's ever questioned your sweetness toward him. (He wonders why he won't just suck it up and make a move).

"Now, why would I do that?" He questions as he takes the seat beside you, taking the winter coat off his shoulders.

"'Cause you're a cruel man. But then I remembered you're always late. In fact, I'm shocked you showed up before class started."

He wonders if you know it's because of you. This isn't a regular thing to arrive early. It's for these spare minutes that he can sneak a conversation with you. "What can I say? I'm improving."

"New Year's resolution?"

"Something like that." He smiles.

The professor starts speaking some boring gibberish about the theme of the class and the supplies you'll need. Alex isn't focused on that. You'll give the rundown anyway with all of your note-taking. God. You're taking notes. What a nerd. He's gonna marry you.

Alex spares you one last glance, and he doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s looking at you this time. The sweater you're wearing is really working for you, fuzzy blue angora that doesn’t quite reach your waist, riding up to expose the small of your back and dipping in a sharp V at your clavicle. He knows you know he’s looking, teeth around his pen, and the thing is… the thing is, you look back. With dark eyes, no care for the way it makes him feel in the middle of Charles Dickens and the Brontës.

Your eyes meet. His lip quirks up. Yours does too. You both look away. What the hell is he doing?

Alex takes you to one of his friend's concerts. It's at this shitty bar that you marvel at the whole time like it's the Taj Mahal. You come back from the bathrooms that smell like vomit and talk about the stickers plastered on the door for fifteen minutes. He loves it. Loves that you love all this little detail. How you won't shut up about the PJ Harvey poster hanging behind the bar and how much you'd kill to see PJ Harvey live in concert.

You sip your rum & Coke in tiny segments and you giggle after you burp with a quiet "'Xcuse me." And he's in love. He's deeply entrapped in the prison of you and there's no need to escape. It's quite a lovely thing. He thought it would scare him for the longest time. He always found love to be daunting and the idea of giving it away to someone felt like this massive overwhelming thing but now he feels it with no hesitation. There are no attempts to fight it off. It's the cozy thing. It's not a steaming fire. It's a fuzzy blanket on a snowy day. It's easy. That's the biggest relief of all.

"I always thought these kind of places would be louder!" You shout into his ear over the banging music.

"This isn't loud enough for you!" He yells back.

You shrug. "I thought my ears would be bleeding."

"And you wanted that to happen?"

"It'd be a cool story." You're so close, your breath right up against his ear. He turns his head and stares at you. "What?" Like you're oblivious. As if he isn't obvious in his longing stares or in the way he casts his eyes down to your lips. Like he hasn't been waiting for this moment, for this chance since you approached him with Jaffa-Cake-smeared shoes. "What?"

He moves in. He finds you and he keeps you for himself. His chapped lips land on yours, those smooth glossy pink things that have been staring at him for months. He's careful with it. He doesn't want to come off as forceful. He wants to take this with grace. He wants to lock it in and show you he can take care of you.

You pull back, mildly stunned. He's worried he's misread this whole thing until you let out a little giggle. "I like that."

"Do you now?" He chuckles back.

You nod fervently before pulling him back to you. He wants to take you apart with his teeth. He feels in control now with no worries of rejection. It’s a rough thing, a raw thing. You fall into it, into him, your mouth tastes like cherries and rum and moves against his own with the same ease he feels. He holds your face in his hands and you tug at his lower lip and it’s fireworks in his chest, its sparks flying and embers glowing. It runs like an electric current down the rungs of his spine, felt from the soles of his feet all the way to his scalp. Warm.

You don't wait around because he's been waiting for this for months and he gets the feeling you have been too. So, when it's time to go home, you don't resist when he holds your hand and pulls you in the direction of his dorm.

He feels like something within him has been awakened. There's no need to quiet the feeling down, he can just let it flourish. You slot your head on his shoulder while you wait for the elevator and it's crazy how this morning he woke up from a dream about this and now he's here with you beside him in the flesh.

Inside the elevator, you're the one to act first. It makes him take three steps back, his body forced against the metal walls, the leaning bar pressing into his back. He can't help but smile into it, his teeth skimming yours.

When the elevator doors open, you pull away from him like you've been zapped. It makes him chuckle and then he's tugging you down the hall with a skip in his step that is so rushed it makes you laugh. "Eager much?"

"Yeah," he sighs, "I'm beat. Can't wait to go to bed." He leans against his door with an exaggerated yawn, covering his mouth with his hand.

You pull him off the door. "Very funny. I'll just head home then." He's got a hold of your hand before you're even able to take a step. He pulls you to him, knocking your hips against one another. He digs his keys out with one hand and keeps his touch on you with the other.

It's a crash from there. A race to his bed. A tsunami plummeting its way to shore. Your hands tug on the hem of his shirt and his unbutton your jeans. Your touch cascades over his torso and it's a balm to the skin. It feels like no one has ever touched him there before and no one ever will again. That this feeling will only ever exist at this moment with his body up against yours and his lips kissing under your ear, making you squirm.

You pull away to kick your jeans off the rest of the way and he takes the opportunity to do the same. Your blouse flies somewhere over to his desk and then it's just him in his underwear and you in your bra and underwear and he just wants to take this moment to look and not touch. He takes it in and looks so long that you start to shrink under his gaze, covering yourself up with your hands.

"No," he promises, "I just wanted to look."

"You're allowed to touch. If that's alright with you?"

He nods and takes a step forward, one that reconnects, and soon you're back in the swing of things, wrapped up in one another, twisting around one another in some desperate example of making love.

He unclips your bra and it falls to the floor and then you fall onto the bed with you on your back and him hovering above, his hand slipping down, thumbing the hem of your underwear until he slips under and allows himself to touch.

He kisses at your bare chest and you tug at his hair. You raise your hips when he mouths at your breasts, your face tucked away in his neck, his hands on your ribcage. You reach down to rub him over his underwear and, god, he’s hard. You stroke him over the cloth and he moans a little, which makes you grin.

You rid yourselves of the rest of the cloth between you and from there, it’s a sweaty haze. He fills you all up, it makes him feel whole, and you're intoxicating with the way you look at him—all blown pupils and messed-up hair, alternating between rabid and rapt, pulling your hair back to kiss your neck.

It's just right and he hopes it's just right for you too. He tries his hardest. Flicks his hips just right in the way that has you fighting back, tugging on him, digging crescent shapes into his back. You pull him closer and you're moaning in his ear so he thinks he's doing it right.

You utter a tiny "Fuck" and he can't help but come then. He dumps his head onto your collarbone and you moan and tighten around him, arching up and letting go.

"You okay?" He asks, wrapping his arms under your back, holding you close. He kisses your temple, something divine.

"So okay."

You ask to spend the night like there’s even a possibility he’d turn you away. And whether because you don't want to sleep naked or in your underwear or maybe you just want to wear his clothes, you ask, “Do you by any chance have something I could sleep in?”

And so, after a quick rifle of his drawers, he produces a ratty David Bowie t-shirt that’s long enough to cover everything and a pair of boxers.

"I can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long and I’ve never seen your room before," you say. "I was expecting clothes everywhere and posters of half-naked girls. Is it always this freakishly organised?”

He clears his throat. “Helps me think.” He lays back on his bed as he watches you walk around his room, inspecting every corner.

“But you can't show up to class on time?”

He shrugs. His hand lay on his bare stomach and he tries to think of something funny to say but you're too distracting. "What's your room like? Are you messy?"

You snort and point at yourself. “You think I'm messy?”

"I don't know. I thought maybe we'd be the opposite of one another."

"No such luck, mister. I'm too anal. Frustratingly so." You're plucking through his CDs. He wonders if you'll comb through each one, giving them each a rating.

"You're perfect. That's what you are," he says.

You turn around and shake your head. "Don't put that on me. I'd only let you down."

"Doubt it." He stands up and shakes the stiffness out of his limbs. "I'll be back." He heads to the bathroom, half because he needs to use it and half because he wonders what you'll do while he's gone.

When he returns to the room, he finds you sitting on his bed like something that belongs there, like it’s the place you retire to every night. He leans against the doorjamb. “Hi.”

You look up from the book you're skimming. The side of your mouth quirks. “Hi,” you whisper back. “Come here.”

And it’s so easy to listen to. He doesn’t wanna be anywhere else, after all. He joins you on the mattress and you curl up to accommodate him, but he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

You turn to him and start saying, "You write little—"

"Your nose is bleeding."

A little red stream escapes out of the left nostril and your hands rush up clutching it. "Fuck. Sorry."

"It's okay," he reassures. He reaches across his bed and grabs a tissue. You clutch it to your nose, pinching the bridge with a giggle erupting from you. "What's so funny?"

“Nothing, just noting the conveniently placed Kleenex box and,” you check over your shoulder, “oh, look at that, a bottle of lotion. Wow, you really are just like every other boy.”

He snorts a laugh and says, “Shut the fuck up, you’re making your nose bleed more." He reaches out and holds your hand to your nose pressing the tissue to it.

“Do you keep glam mags under your bed?”

“No.”

“Computer porn then?”

“None of your business,” he says shortly. “I've already exposed enough of meself to you tonight.”

“Alright,” you say. “I just like thinking about you that way.”

“Stop." He falls on his back and stares up at the ceiling and tries to think of anything else imaginable. Dirt bikes. The Strokes. Shit. Trees turning into paper. "Don't say shit like that."

Your eyes are bright. “Why?” You toss your tissue away and lay down beside him.

"'Cause I'll never be able to go to bed again."

You shrug, all amused. You lay down beside him. “I wouldn't mind." You reach out, tracing his jawline. “I had fun.”

“Me too.”

You reach over him to yank on the lamp chain and stay there after the darkness floods in with your head on his chest, your leg hooked over his hip. He pulls the covers over you and just holds you.

Everything you do is the same, except with a kiss. Coffee and tea at the cafe but your feet are entangled the whole time. Class but he sits with his arm around you. Concerts but you rub up against him with no shame. Partying but you leave early to fuck.

He loves it all. He loves how you seep into every inch of his life. He actually starts paying attention in class because you make him. You sit down and read together. Sometimes Alex or you read aloud, sometimes he reads over your shoulder, sometimes you read on separate ends of the couch. But you love coming together and talking about it. You speak with such passion that he wants to get to the end of a chapter just to hear what you have to say about it. And sometimes the end of the chapter never comes because he distracts you with, you know, other things. He likes that best.

Dates happen. He's not sure what qualifies as one and what doesn't—like do all those cafe visits count?—but he knows for sure that the one where he took you out to dinner and you wore that low-cut dress definitely does. And he knows this party that you're at now definitely isn't.

It's a rowdy one where everyone has gathered in the living room to watch two guys arm wrestle on the coffee table. You're sitting on the arm of the couch with your arms wrapped around his waist, cuddling him to you like one of your teddy bears.

When one of the guys pins the other's arm down, you shout out, "I bet I could beat Al in an arm wrestling competition."

And everyone is oohing and awing and Alex is standing bug-eyed and afraid. He taps your arm with a nervous, "I'm sure you could, honey."

"No, no, no." You're so drunk. He's never seen you like this. Part of him is amused and finds it beyond adorable. You scrunch up your nose like a little bunny and he just wants to kiss you all over. He's also terrified of you. You flex your arms out like you're the Hulk and all he can think about is his little noodle arms and Matt shouting, "Oh, come on, Al."

So, you're kneeling on the ground with your arms propped up on the coffee table with a look of determination in your arms. "You have to let me win," you slur your words.

"Why's that?"

"I lose, no kiss for you." You wag your finger and seal your lips.

"No kiss for the winner?"

"Only if I'm the winner."

He goes limp and allows you to instantly push him down. "I win!" You shout.

Alex picks you up off the ground with you cheering behind him. "We're going home now," Alex tells a laughing Matt. It's fun. Going home together. Even if it's his shitty dorm.

One night in his room while you're sitting on his bed criss-cross flipping through your flashcards on the Enlightenment and he's trying to focus on his psychology homework but he's more occupied by you, he says it. He kind of can't help himself. It just rolls out. "I love you." It's massive and too soon and for a long time he probably would have shrieked, covered his mouth, and ran out of the room, but he doesn't care. It's more relief than panic. Like it's out and not buried in his ribcage anymore.

You look up, your hands with your flashcards dropping into your lap. Your lips part at first before breaking into a small smile that so softly plays on your lips. "I love you too." It's there. It's funny how so much emotion can be stuck in with so few words. Still, he feels it all. Cupid's arrow and everything.

Right when spring begins to crack through the bitter winter chill, the realization of spending a summer apart hits. He used to find people who complained about that to be dramatic. It's only a few months not years but the term break feels dull when all he's returning to is Sheffield without you around.

You've promised to visit, maybe sometime in July, but it won't be long and it won't be the whole summer. The separation aches at him and he feels like such a loser until one night you curl up beside him and say, "I don't know how to function without you anymore."

You're the Sun. Everything revolves around you, at least it feels that way. Maybe it's being young and in love but the idea of going from every day together to nothing at all pulls him. He's a sap, he knows.

For now, you both avoid it—that inevitable terrifying passage of time. You read Wuthering Heights for British Literature and the whole time he does his best Kate Bush impression in your ear.

He starts finding post-its around his room and crumbled-up in his pockets after you hang out. They're covered in quotes from the book like "If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day" and "Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!"

And no matter how many romantic quotes you write down from the book, you both agree you hate everyone and it's not a love story. His favourite post-it is the one he finds stuck to his alarm clock reading, "I love you as much as I hate Heathcliff." It's dorky and makes him laugh so he leaves it there, swearing to get it framed.

It's the first day where it's bearable to go outside without a huge winter coat, so you suggest taking your tea and his donut out onto the grass. You remark how you wish that you could have a picnic with a blanket and a basket instead of risking grass stains on your jeans but nonetheless, you sit against a tree and he sits in front of you, leaning on your crossed knees, and you talk about last hurrahs.

"We could go somewhere," he suggests. "Maybe take the train somewhere?"

"In the middle of finals?"

"We could go to a theme park."

"I'm scared of roller coasters."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I'm scared of heights," you remind him. "You know that."

Alex nods. "Right. Right. But that could make it a lot more fun. You could cling to me the whole time."

"I'll pass. We could go strawberry picking."

"And pay to do manual labour?"

You sigh. "Or we could just hang out with each other. How lame."

Alex leans closer. His nose brushes against yours. "I know." He puckers out and plants a kiss on your lips. He wraps his arm around you, pulling himself into you. "How lame."

You let out a heavy sigh. "And with nothing to occupy us."

"We could always just barricade ourselves and fuck until break is over." He moves closer, almost straddling you like he's about to take you right here on the grass.

You laugh. "You'd like it that way."

"Yeah." He smirks. "And I have a feeling you would too."

You don't quite barricade yourselves. But you get pretty close.

With final exams looming, Alex is able to reason that sex is the perfect kind of stress relief. You're sitting in his lap with his hands running up the back of your thighs to cup your ass over your jeans, and you give a hint of a grin, sitting up. "You're going to have to study at some point."

He hooks his finger through the belt loops, yanking you closer. "I am. I'm studying for anatomy."

You roll your eyes. "You don't take anatomy."

He ducks his head closer and places his forehead against yours. He talks in a soft voice, one that shakes your insides. "I'm getting a head start." He closes the remaining gap, locking lips, and reeling you in completely. You don't refuse then because there's no way to refuse this and how good it feels.

You move your ass just enough to have him groaning into your mouth. He has to do something with his hands. He can't keep trying to feel you up, he has to commit action. He fiddles with the button of your jeans, snaking his hand through, not even bothering to push them off. He has to fight back.

He gets you moaning with the mere touch of his fingertips to your clit. You curl your arms around his neck and duck your head into his neck, whimpering against his neck. Chills run down his spine as you say his name into his skin.

He moves his hand lower, slightly pulling your jeans down to be able to enter. He enters two fingers. Your grip tightens in response. He's confident now. He's done this enough times to know what works. He knows how to please you but this feeling—clutching, moaning, begging—never gets old.

Alex holds your body to him as you squirm. He works quicker, pumping his fingers in and out, flicking his thumb against your clit. You mutter, "Fuck," and he whispers back, "I know, I know" like he can feel it too because he does. He feels like you're conjoined in this pleasure. That making you come is a far greater feeling than his own pleasure (well, almost, you have a very talented hand...and mouth...and pussy).

You buck your hips into him. The open zipper of your jeans grinds into his boner and he’s cursing too just like you are as your orgasm crashes. Your breathing is heavy and you've placed permanent wrinkles in his shirt with how hard you've been clutching it.

"Good?" He checks.

You nod against his skin as you try to figure out how to properly breathe. "You certainly know where the clit is."

"See. I'm guaranteed at least a passing grade for that."

You sit up and look him in the eye. You still looked dazed with flyaways and an unbeatable smile. "I don't think they teach you that in school."

"I'm a prodigy then."

Now is when you would usually tell him to not be so full of himself but your lungs are heavy and he considers that to be a 100% if you're unable to scold him for being pompous.

He lifts up one of your flashcards. "The form of theological rationalism that believes in God on the basis of reason without—"

You smack the cards down. "Shut up," you laugh.

"Come on," he says, lifting them back up. "You're going to regret not going over..." He checks because, of course, he doesn't know the answer. "Deism with me when you get it wrong on the exam."

You straddle his hips. "I'm sure I won't forget it now." You snatch the cards out of his hands, flipping through a few until you ask him, "What are the common features of the Romantic Period?"

"Wordsworth and stuff," he answers."

You slap his chest. "Alex, you can not write 'Wordsworth and stuff' on the exam. Come on this is easy. Give me two more."

He falls back on the pillow with a groan. "An appreciation of nature."

"Okay. Good. And?"

He shrugs.

You scowl at him. "You act like this sometimes," you hint.

"Stop that. I am not a Byronic hero."

"Well, it'll help you remember," you reason. "Now, what are some works within the Romantic period?"

He groans. "I don't want to do this."

"Would you like to fail the class then?"

"I'm not going to fail. I'll wing it and be fine."

"Alex," you whine.

"Let's do something else. Let's go to Matt's or something." He'll try any possible way to get out of this. He's getting a headache from this and he can't pay attention with your boobs in that top.

You cross your arms. "If you do this, I'll give you some incentive." Your brows quirk indicating to him clearly what you mean. Your lips in a tempting smirk.

Yeah, okay. "Lyrical Ballads, Pride & Prejudice, Keats, Byron, Shelley. Do I get my prize now?" He blasts a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes but shift down to his thighs and pop the button out of his jeans.

"You'll thank me for this one day," you say as you pull down and free his cock.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll thank you after."

You snort and wrap your hand around him. "I meant studying, idiot."

"I did too!" He lies.

You hum and wrap your lips around the head of his cock. It's ecstasy. This is what humans were made for. Your tongue licks delicately and you move in an infuriatingly slow manner that he knows you're doing just to torture him. He raises his hips to signal more, instead, you move with him never going past the head liking it as if it's an ice cream that will never melt.

"Come on. I've been kind to you."

You pop your mouth off of him and move your hand up and down the shaft of his dick. "I never asked you to do that."

"You weren't complaining." He needs more. He can't handle this. He's just a boy. He doesn't have patience.

You raise an eyebrow as if to threaten him but you take him into your mouth again. You move slowly still but this time you take one more inch in each time until, eventually, you reach the base of him. He tickles the back of your throat and your nose brushes against his skin.

You pull off with a string of spit connecting. Taking a deep breath while you pump your hand, you say, "Good enough?"

He's moaning and biting his lip, trying to not give you complete satisfaction of being right that sometimes that torturously slow start does make for better head and he should not be arguing with the expert. He nods. "Yeah, yeah, keep going."

He shuts his eyes, unable to ignore the pleasure. He hears you laugh before your mouth reattaches. Warmth engulfs him, taking him over completely. He thinks he's going to lose it. That this pleasure will kill him. His grave will be marked Death by Blowjob and you'll be convicted for your deadly talent.

Alex clutches the back of your head just to have something to keep him grounded. He feels like he's floating as you take him completely in your mouth again. He mutters curses and lifts his hips, forming an arch, and being taken over. He empties into your mouth, trying to control his movements and not force his dick straight down your throat. He chants, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

You wipe your mouth and laugh at him like he's your little clown, which he's fine with. He'll put on the makeup and the garb if it makes you laugh like that, especially if he's coming like that. "Thank you," he mutters.

You giggle again. "You're welcome." You reach across him to his nightstand. "Now. From what poem is 'Thou still unravished bride of quietness' the first line?"

He groans but he'll say the blowjob was worth it.

On the last weekend of the term, he convinces you to leave your studying nest. You've been holed up inside ignoring the beautiful weather in favour of your exams. His studying has still been scattered but he's managed more than in years past because of you and your incentives.

He drags you out of town toward seclusion. Mainly because he wants to be alone with you but also because people online said this place is supposed to be pretty beautiful. He holds your hand as you walk toward the spot. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of that. Your warmth wrapped around him, fighting off that cold from within.

"Is this the part where you kill me?" You joke. He wanted to surprise you, something he has been notoriously bad at in the past. He has a blabbermouth when it comes to you. He's spoiled presents and date nights, but he just wants to tell you everything. Nothing feels real until you've heard about it.

He squeezes your hand. "No, that'll be next fall."

"Okay, good. I'm glad you're giving my parents time to say goodbye."

Alex breaks into laughter then, nervous and unable to keep up the bit. "Should we stop here?" He asks. The sun is shining just enough through the trees and little flowers pop up in the grass around you.

You shrug in your adorable overalls and hair woven into two braids. He could stay looking at you like this forever. There's no other need in life. "You're the one with the plans. I don't know where we're supposed to be going. Is this the surprise?"

"Kind of." He's nervously laughing. "It's kind of been with us the whole time."

You smile and your eyes shift down to his side. "You mean in that bag, right?" The one you've been trying to peek into the whole way here. "Is it a dog?"

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a blanket. "I couldn't find the proper basket but I thought we could have a picnic."

You’re staring at him. You have glassy eyes, ones he can't quite read but he thinks is a good sign. "We're having a picnic?"

"Yeah," he says, "if you'd like."

You quickly nod, your lips breaking out into a smile that exposes your teeth. You clutch a hand over your mouth to head the glee. You break eye contact away from him and look around as if to process the whole scene.

He lays the blanket out and sits down on it. He pulls on your hand for you to sit down next to him. "I can't believe it," you say.

"I had a good idea for once. Well, I guess it was more your idea."

You shake your head. "You planned it. You listened to me and some stupid comment I made and you made the best last weekend possible."

"I win?"

You kiss him. "You win."

"Wait until after you've had the food. It isn't the best. Just sandwiches and store-bought things."

"I don't care. You could give me anything and I'd love it."

He pulls a container from the bag. "How 'bout strawberries?"

You hug your arms around him and nearly knock them over in the process. "I love you," you whisper in his ear. "Thank you."

"Of course." He holds you back, never tiring of it. "Love you too."

You pull back and pluck a strawberry. You pop it in your mouth and moan. He tried his hardest to find the best English strawberries possible. Ones so sweet they could ruin any other food for you. "I really love you."

On the morning before you leave, he sits at your desk chair and watches you finish packing the remainder of your things. He watches as you struggle with the zipper of your suitcase until you exhaustively ask, "Can you sit on it?"

He plops down on top of it with a chuckle. You pull in the zipper and it finally reaches its end destination. You sigh with relief and lean back on your heels. You clap your hands together before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

Alex stands up and reaches his hand out to help you up. "Is that the last of it?" He keeps his hand in yours even after you've stood up.

You look around with one last gaze at your room, stripped completely of you. "Yeah, I guess so."

He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing your hips to his. "Should we do it on your bed one last time?"

You pull a face and giggle. "Ew, no. Not without any sheets and my parents waiting in the car."

He tilts his head back heavenward. "Ah, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I'm leaving it here. Besides, we were never that adventurous to begin with." It's easy to have the plain locale of a bed when the sex is so good.

"Next year, I guess. We'll have to finally do it in the showers."

"Yuck, stop. I know people who've shit in there."

He shakes his head sarcastically. "You're no fun."

"I know." You lean closer, tapping your forehead against his. "I'm lame and boring and I'm gonna miss you."

"Yeah." He can't even say it. The words have consumed him for days, every conversation ending with "Miss you." He's tired of it and it hasn't even begun. If he speaks it now, his voice will crack. He'll crack. He'll break in two and there will be nothing of him left here, except a puddle and you.

So, a kiss will do instead. He wants it to sear into you. Tattoo it onto your skin, imprint, force it onto, mark you, make you remember him. He wants them on him too. He wants to look down and see a lip gloss mark. He wants a freckle to remind him of his picnic. He wants the taste of cherries to be permanently set on his tongue. He wants the stickiness of a glazed donut on his fingers. He wants you.

On the walk to the car, you talk about a trip to the beach you took when you were ten. It's filled with your laughter and your humour and it dulls the throbbing in his bones. He kisses you goodbye once more before you run off with your parents.

"See you in the fall," you say.

He smiles. "See you in the fall."

Before he leaves he finds another Virginia Woolf postcard in his mailbox. This time it's just a portrait but the back reads, "Woolf wrote to her lover Vita, 'It gets worse steadily – your being away. All the sleeping draughts and irritants have worn off, and I’m settling down to wanting you, doggedly, dismally, faithfully – I hope that pleases you. It’s damned unpleasant for me. I can assure you.' I've tried to say my feelings better than that but I can't. I miss you and I love you."

a/n: i might do a part two to this. maybe. probably. ignore any errors. i'm lazy. sorry. thanks. bye.

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #junedenim

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year ago

Text

unspoken thoughts

tags: modern au, wrothesley x fem! reader, roomates to lovers, reader goes on a blind date with a karen (tm), biker! wrio!!!!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist

“Hey, Bun. How was work?”

You meet Wriothesley with a level glare, as you fumble with locking the door. Maybe rooming with him had saved you money on rent, but what you’d saved had definitely been replaced with extra stress.

“I told you to stop calling me bunny.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t blush like that when I do, I would stop.” He replies, nursing a cup of tea and a book as he relaxes on the sofa. You glare at him again but lower yourself onto the sofa beside him.

“New delivery?” You ask, referring to the tea.

“The one that was delayed,” he says. “It was worth the wait.” He raises the cup to you and you take a sip, taking stock of all the flavours you can before Wriothesley begins to talk about it. One day, you’re sure he’ll find out that you actually have no interest in his teas, and that despite the fact he drives you mad, he’s actually just nice to listen to.

“Seems it was worth the money too,” You say once he’s finished talking. “Definitely belongs in the top ten.”

“Maybe even top five,” he replies, mostly to himself as you stand up. “More work?” he asks lightly, expecting you to grumble about how you're tired of always working, and you wish your manager would stop expecting you to work overtime for free, but this time you smile coyly.

“I have a blind date,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the way he’s looking up at you. “My friend set me up. He’s apparently a very refined, classy guy from a good family, and my friend says he thinks we’d get along well.”

“I wonder what your friend defines as a good family,” Wriothesley says, sipping his tea. “Money? Influence?” He’d never truly considered what you’d look for in a partner before, in fact, he liked to try and avoid the thought if possible. He prefers to only think about the things which affect him directly. But now the topic has been brought up, he suddenly feels strange. If coming from a good family is important to you… That would immediately take him out of the running, wouldn’t it?

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Sometimes my friend just says things. Anyway, thanks for sharing your tea. I’m gonna go get ready.”

Wriothesley watches as you walk away, sighing lightly as he takes another sip of his tea. He’s lived with you for so long that he never truly thought about how his life at home would change if you got a boyfriend. Would it mean he could no longer share his teas with you? Would he have to stop letting you sleep on him when you watch movies together?

He sits with his thoughts until he hears your keys as you leave your room.

“I’m off. Don’t stay up for me.” You smile, and Wriothesley can't help but hate himself for hating how happy you seem to be leaving. He sips his now-cold tea and nods.

“Have fun.”

“You’re grumbling. What’s the matter?” you say, pulling your jacket on.

“I am not grumbling.” he shoots back, standing up to go to the kitchen. “My tea got cold. That’s all.”

“You are so grumbling right now.” you grin. Wriothelsey doesn't know if you are purposefully ignoring his bad mood or if you're so excited about your date that you simply don’t notice, but he doesn’t really like either of those answers. “See you later!”

And then Wriothesley finds himself alone again. Maybe he’d taken it for granted that you’d always be around. Maybe he isn't as okay with the silence as he’d made himself believe he was.

Even though you told him not to wait up, he finds himself unable to sleep. He tells himself it's not because he’s worried, it's just because he had a rare lie in this morning. It's natural for his body to be slightly out of sync, right? You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and today is just like every other day and–

His phone is ringing. It’s odd for him to get called by his manager so late in the day, but it's also not rare.

It's even rarer for it to be you calling.

“Wriothesley?”

“Hey, Bun. What’s going on?” He can’t help but smile a little. There you are on a date, but you’re calling him.

“Are you busy right now?”

It's only then that he notices the wavering in your voice.

“I’m not. What’s the matter?”

“Can you come and get me? I… I’m sorry, I just don’t know who else to call.”

You sound cold, he notices. Your teeth chatter together in between your words, and the wavering in your voice seems to be getting worse.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you inside?” He grabs his keys and he’s out of the door before you even have the chance to respond. His legs are moving faster than his mind can, and he’s already halfway down the stairs before he knows it.

You tell him where you are, but pointedly avoid his second question, and he supposes that’s fair. Maybe you just don’t want to share.

“I’m coming. Don’t move.”

Even despite the fact he’s glad you called him, Wriothesley wonders why you didn’t call an Uber. You’ve always been very vocal about how much you hate his motorcycle, and how you wish he’d just get a car. is the situation so dire that you don't care anymore?

When he gets to you, you’re sat outside of an upscale restaurant. He’s sure you left with a jacket, but you don’t have it on now.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to you. “What’s the matter?”

You burst into tears when he asks you that question, and for a second, Wriothesley has no clue what to do. It’s you who buries your face into his chest, sobbing desperately.

“It was going okay at first, but the waitress got the guy’s order wrong and he went crazy. So they asked him to pay and leave, and then he said he didn’t want to because his order was wrong. He demanded that a manager come and then he said that I should pay. And I said I’d pay for my half, but as I was saying that I wasn’t going to pay for him, the manager came and picked up the wrong end of the stick, and she wouldn’t listen to the waitress who was defending me. So she asked us both to leave, and he’s screaming his head off, and they barely even gave me time to grab my phone before they marched us out. They would have left me with him while he was blowing his top if it wasn’t for the waitress who came with me until he left.” you cling onto his jacket. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He says lowly. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” He shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders. “Show me your table. I’ll get your stuff.”

“Wriothesley, please.” You can feel the anger radiating off him, and you worry about what will happen if he ends up on the wrong side of that manager.

“You shouldn’t suffer because of a guy with no manners. Let me get your things.”

You nod but insist on staying outside. The waitress that you said helped you earlier is the one that greets Wriothesley at the door, and you watch on as she brings him your things, and he settles the bill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You tell Wriothesley as he returns.

“I did. Shall we go?” He asks, handing you a helmet. He’d bought that helmet for you when you first moved in together, just in case you ever needed to use his motorbike, but you always refused. He’s glad that it’s finally getting used at least once.

The ride home is silent, and you don’t say anything until you get back into your apartment. The feeling of the wind against your skin and your arms around Wriothesley calms you, and even though you feel humiliated by the actions of your stupid blind date, you feel that maybe things aren’t all that bad.

“You finally stopped calling me bunny,” you say, as you flop onto the sofa. Wriothesley hums in response as he fills up the kettle. In his haste, he’d left all of the lights in the apartment on.

“Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“You’re so contrary.” He says finally. “You say you hate me calling you bunny, but here you are. You say you hate my motorbike, but you’re okay with me using it to pick you up.”

“I don’t hate your motorcycle.” You say, sitting up to look at him properly. “I think it’s cool.”

“Right, that’s why you refused to ever be near it.”

“I just hated the thought of you getting hurt on it.” You say finally. “It scared me.” He hands you a cup of tea and sits next to you. He hadn’t expected that to be your reasoning. “A part of me hoped that you wouldn’t let me go on that date, you know.”

“Why? It’s not my place to tell you what not to do. If you want to go on a blind date, I can’t stop you.” Those are the words he’d told himself as he watched you leave—you were your own person and it wasn’t his place to try and police what you do.

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he replies. “Help me understand.”

You take a deep breath. “If I kissed you, would that help you get it?”

“I don’t know. I suppose you’ll have to try.” He smiles. He barely even gets to finish his sentence when you pull him down to you and kiss him. In all the time he imagined he’d get to kiss you, he didn't think you’d be the one to initiate–-but even still, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

“Do you get it now?” you ask giddily.

“Not quite.”

So you kiss him again and again until he gets the message.

Bonus:

“You’re not the sharpest pencil in the box, really, are you?”

“Luckily for me, you’d make a great sharpener.”

notes: um ig its time to add wrio to my taglist form lol.. i really cannot get a good grip on his character so if you read this without thinking "he would not do that" then I am relieved but if you did i am also not surprised lol

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #wriothesley genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin wriothesley

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kimingyuslover · 3 months ago

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You once mentioned his group name, and now he's down bad for you. The worst part? his teammates seem to always tease him about it, but the best part? you answer his message.

★ omg, last chapter, i want to thank y'all who's been following this multichapter smau, might be doing it again (later). This chapter makes me feel very, very, asdfjklb, and also, it was supposed to be posted on Valentine's, but my ass having a writer-block 😀

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YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Sunday, 15th December 2023

All eyes on him, in every corridor he passes by, he can feel them, from the way all the staff began to stop their activity to the whisper he heard in each step he takes.

The tudding sound he makes from his urbinoblack calf leather shoes from Christian Louboutin that he paired with white crisp button-up and black slack echoes among the silent walls beside him, his aventus creed perfume can be smelled miles away.

His heart is thumping loudly against his ribcage. He's definitely doesn't know how it could end like this, and how the photos of him and you from last night got leaked.

Maybe he needs to file a lawsuit on them, how does the life he lives in have so little of privacy?

Seungcheol hesitates for a moment before opening the meeting room, and when he does all the eyes of the people inside the room gone to him.

He takes a seat, sitting in between his managers, when he looks up, the director irises already on him.

He arch his his left eyebrow as if waiting for him to explain all the rumors that have been surrounding him about the dinner with a female star.

"Yes, i went on a dinner with her, i don't know where's our relationship is going to, but i'm certain that i like her" The director of management team nodded his head slowly.

He opened his mouth, "Okay, so now we don't have to publish a statement because you guys are not official yet, just do a damage control on your SNS"

The meeting unexpectedly ends so smoothly. It's like they're on a meeting for SEVENTEEN's next comeback if he didn't know any better.

Seungcheols walks towards the practice room and finds his members there practicing their rehearsal for GDA 2024.

"How's the meetings going?" Jeonghan said when he saw him through the mirror, and the members start gathering Seungcheol.

He cracked a smile to his members, asking what did he do in the last life, and now he's given a very caring coworkers who he treats as a family and they treated him like one too.

"It's okay, they said that i don't have to make a statement," He pauses for a moment, "but i have to do damage control on my SNS"

He calls out for Mingyu, and before he can respond, the leader tells him to have lunch and take pictures of him so he can post it.

Mingyu's not the one who can deny what his hyung asks, so he nods his head with a smile because the oldest member also told him that he will buy his favorite perfume for him.

You don't know how many times you sigh today. Every dress you pick seems too casual or too formal, and you don't even know why you would even overthink that. It's not like you have a crush on Seungcheol, right? At least that is what you say to yourself.

Well, unfortunately for you, the paparazzi is still here in front of your agency building, waiting for confirmation from you because they don't have one from Seungcheol's side.

And maybe fortunately enough, the building has a back door, so you can go to your little brunch date (is it a date?) without the photographers knowing.

"Hi, sorry traffic has gone crazy this day," Seungcheol said as soon as he met with your eyes in the cafe both of you had agreed before.

You sahek your head while smiling softly, "No, no, it's okay. i actually just got here, too." After he sat down, you handed him the menu so he could order with you.

Not long after, the waitress comes to your table, ready to pick up the order, so you tell her your pick of food and drink while Seungcheol do the same.

When the waitress left, you continued the coversation, but before you could open your mouth, Seungcheol had already cut you off.

"I saw it you know, the haters on your comments section, i apologize for that." He then takes both your hands on his, looking straight in your eyes to show the sincerity of his words.

You laugh it off, "It's fine, we know fans these day, it's definitely understandable. I mean, have you seen you? i's be dead if i knew my bias. Who looks like you are hanging out with a woman and the dispatch wrap it on a 'Dating scandal'" As you make the quote in the air gestures to Seungcheol, the drink have arrived and both of you take a sip.

"We are on a date, don't you think?" He bits his lower lip while looking at you with hesitation. Before you can even answer him, he opens his mouth again, "I'm sorry, but i've been liking you since ever the first time you mentioned seventeen on Youngji's show, and i take you to that dinner and this brunch because i want us to meet in person, and i also want it to be a date"

He does that in one breath, oh wow.

"You think so? Don't get me wrong, i'm definitely taken interest in you since our first interaction when you texted me that night." Now it's you who's getting nervous, you can feel the chill air between you.

"So, a date it is." He finalizes his words, "Should we schedule another date this week, princess?" The nickname he gives you made your blood creep on your cheek, and it's embarrassing.

You don't think you can answer him without stuttering, so you nodded your head slowly.

Saturday, 5th October 2024

The end, xoxo

#seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen texts #seventeen smau #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen #seventeen au #kml.writes☆#ᯓ★ you make me wanna make you fall in love ft. csc

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simplyreveries · 1 year ago

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Dorm Leaders watching their S/O beat up someone that shit talked them. And they do it without a scratch and walk off to them like nothing happened, and the only reason why they noticed was because of some blood on their uniforms

riddle rosehearts

the look on his FACE when he sees you straight up sucker punch someone for calling him names, most likely some student in his dorm telling him off frustrated and badmouthing riddle to their friends. he was speechless??? like??? he quickly regains his composure and manages to have you and the other (more so you) back off before anything more happens and it escalates. he may even temporarily use his magic on you two as a swift warning.

riddle will remove it once the student is gone and scold you for doing and resorting to such violence… though yes it was good that you had, good intentions with him and mind he’ll huff and tell you that is not how to do it! he’ll end up rambling in a flustered moment after having that happen and because out of defense? he's never felt that before or had someone to do that for him really.

he’ll ask and wonder if aces stubborn and fighting tendencies are rubbing off on you, he’d know as he GOT hit by him before. he’ll exclaim and be like “I told you, dear, they're a bad influence on you tsk..!” hehehe. he makes an effort to keep you strayed and quickly moved away if some situation like this occurs, especially after knowing just how far you are willing to go for him… after he’s gone on long enough to you about how that wasn't a good idea, you swore you could've seen a hint of a smile on him.

leona kingscholar

leona is used to hearing some sort of snarky hushed comments about him from other students, thinking he doesn't have such a keen sense of hearing, at times. he really could care less and mostly likely will not be caught thinking about it even later on. there were times where maybe yes, they would sting him slightly but that was when he was younger and, in the castle, hear comments regarding him and his place beside his brother. once again, he has gotten used to these kinds of things and finds it rather pointless to dwell on. he doesn't want to pity himself.

but… you are kind of the opposite when to him and he actually is genuinely shocked for once when he sees you getting personal and physical with some random octavinelle student that made some snide comment about him. leona had always known that you had an overprotective and forward flare to you— hell he loved that about you, but he actually was not expecting that one bit.

he will grab your arm and stop you from going any further from terrorizing this poor student, he’ll grumble what “an idiot” you are for getting yourself into such a mess, for a mere comment towards him. he’ll have some smirk on his face, he doesn't seem to be taking this seriously one bit.

azul ashengrotto

like leona he has had to learn to “toughen up” and learn to ignore them (though he does most likely take them to heart at times) he holds his front and persona ever the same remaining unbothered and frankly ignorant. he is quite used to others talking poorly especially as his reputation is poor among various students haha. but he doesn't seem to care, he is quite happy to see his business grow actually.

azul seems a little taken off-guard when you start a whole fight with not one but a group of students??? l mean, most violence he is used to is from the twins to some student who’s defiant to fulfill or deal with the effects of their deal. when he is past the initial surprise, he stops you and tells you to only ignore them, azul will claim its foolish to engage. he tries to keep a fake “oh terribly sorry about that...” to the students to make sure they won't do anything. if something were to happen though because you decided to pick a fight out of his defense, he could always send someone like floyd, not you!

not going to lie though, moving away he did feel a sense of pride knowing that you're someone that's so willing to go such lengths for him, not to mention, he's impressed. you’ll still find him going on and telling you that you shouldn't be doing that, it could lead you into some larger mess with other troublesome students. but he’ll chuckle and tell you he finds it endearing.

kalim al-asim

kalim is pretty liked for the most part by other students and his dorm, minus the whole fiasco that happened during his chapter. he is just the kind of person that wants to be able to get everyone's approval and he’ll stubbornly keep being persistent. however, in a school like nrc where they're so many people the opposite he is bound to get annoyed, mean comment from someone. SO, when you decide to take that extra personally, he is so??!! he is not one for violence like ever...

after he sees how willing you are to defend him by literally fighting the student, he absolutely will quickly get in between you two and stop the situation before it even begins to escalate, trying to make light of it all with a nervous smile and laugh, he doesn't want to see you or the other person fighting!

he'll look over you all worried, he doesn't want you or anyone to be hurt, especially on his own behalf. he just has this shocked and bewildered expression as he does so, like he is flattered and thinks it's nice that you care for him but not so aggressively! haha.

vil schoenheit

this man is a celebrity…. words do not affect him. he is really used to comments online but also around him during his school life, though he is surprised there are some so bold to be expressive about their thoughts of someone like him. he doesn't think much of them, at most shooting them some glare or even an unamused look from him. if he’s particularly stressed or upset about something beforehand he won't hesitate to throw his own comment as well.

he is shocked but carefully removes you before things get any sorts of serious after you decide to start that. the last thing he would want is for you to be hurt in some sort of silly reason, as he doesn't seem to care about what others think of him. if anything, vil would only be more concerned about you than that unpleasant student. he does know quite the temper and stubbornness you can get; he’ll move you by the arms away if he has to.

vil would look like he is frustrated but his face is just painted with concern for you— he’ll stubbornly bring you to his room and make you sit down in front of his vanity, leaving the student way being (frankly surprised that you decided to sucker punch them for talking ill of vil). vil will carefully tend to your hands, shaking his head. he’ll kiss your knuckles when he’s done, get your uniform cleaned and warn you not to do something like that again!

idia shroud

if idias feeling mean back (most of the time) he’ll probably just do something scummy to the person online and call it a day. but at the end of the day, he avoids people like the plague, so this happening is rare— he isn't exactly the most confrontational person either, unlike you who willingly get into the student's face getting slightly physical about to jump in and defend your boyfriend. that is until the student runs off.

he freezes and pauses for a moment, really unable to stop staring at you as the whole situation unfolding in front really trying to register what you just did. then he would give off his weird little snicker and giggle, after witnessing the whole thing, he finds it amusing that you're able to do that to some student, knowing you're a human— the magicless one yet you're able to do something like that for him??

honestly, he loves it, you've opened his eyes and made him realize that he is definitely attracted to that lmao. yet he groans when you go on and still fired up about the student, he’ll tell you it's too much of a trouble to do these kinds of things.

malleus draconia

he is quite used to hushed whispers and looks from passing students, though it is discouraging because he doesn't want that from others— there's another part of malleus if he's upset or feelings particularly spiteful for it… he could get really intimidating himself, no doubt about it, if he really wanted to. he never does anything too bad, but he sometimes messes with others if he is in the mood. at the end of the day though, he is used to sebek quickly charging up ready to defend his honor at any moment of the day and telling him calmly to let them be.

nevertheless, he is genuinely surprised when you suddenly are willing to fight people literally for him. he finds it entertaining at first but then when he realizes you're being serious and get tough with a particular student he's like OH. with the quick move his hand, he’ll quickly move you and pull you away with some magic and prevent you or the student form doing anything else.

he’ll have some amused look on his face, as he remembers the face on the student when you were about to swing at him. as he lightheartedly scolds you for being so rough and doing something that could end with you getting hurt.

#twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #dorm leaders x reader #not proof read !!!!!!#tw: violence

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thepersialionheart · 8 months ago

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My first and (probably) only headcanon for haikyuu is that no one can tell if Kageyama and Hinata are dating or not.

This is something which has most likely been said before but I still want to add onto it.

Are they Flirting or fighting? No one knows. There have definitely been fists involved and one time Ennoshita may have hallucinated when he heard Kageyama whisper that he was going to have his way with Hinata once they were alone. Maybe it just meant that they were going to fight more, that Kageyama was furious with Hinata and wanted to give him a piece of his mind, so the team were now all on watch duty until the end of the day, always making sure Hinata and Kageyama were never alone.

At the end of the day, before anyone could say anything, the two bolted out of the door and ran off without more than a quick "bye".

(They ignored the frustrated glares both Kageyama and Hinata gave them during the day. They definitely ignored the suspiciously placed bruises on each of their necks the next day. They must have fought a bit too much.)

A bet has been going round the Volleyball teams about whether or not they are together. A bet which Yachi and Kiyoko started amongst the Karasuno players and then the managers of other teams. Except, the players of their teams caught onto it and it has been going strong, even after Hinata went to Brazil. Especially after the Adlers vs Jackals match where most people decided against it.

(It is suspected that Yachi actually knows whether or not they are dating, but no one has gotten her to crack just yet. From the way she smirks whenever someone asks, no one will anytime soon.)

Oikawa is firmly against it, not because he doesn't believe they could ever be together, but because they are both idiots who don't know anything more than volleyball (and each other). Some agree with him.

Kenma is one of the ones who have put his money (and a lot of it) on them being together. There is too much chemistry between the two idiots that even they couldn't ignore.

There's another bet amongst the ones who bet for them being together. When they got together. Kenma says since the end of first year. He seems to know something the orhers don't know. Bokuto likes to think that they confessed just before Hinata went to Brazil and became long distance star crossed lovers. (Akaashi told him to stop being stupid (and then bet alongside Kenma)).

Surprisingly Tsukki is the one to bet on them being together since after the first training camp.

Yachi stayed out of this one. (She knew. She definitely knew.)

Yet even when Hinata and Kageyama become aware of the bets (actually they have been aware of them for years but they won't mention that just yet) they just shrug their shoulders and tells whoever is asking, "We're partners. Even when we're not on the same team."

Oikawa decided to shift his money to the other side, betting that they got together after the Adlers vs Jackals match.

But it was still unclear.

Even when Kageyama and Hinata moved in together, when people stayed over they thought it was just courtesy that one of them would give up their room and bunk with the other. Even when they touched or fought playfully, the others couldn't tell if that was actual affection or just Kageyama and Hinata being Kageyama and Hinata.

It took winning an olympic gold medal together for the truth to finally come out. After the Japan team won, everyone was on a high. In the heat of the moment, Hinata and Kageyama drew each other in for a bone crushing hug, whispering sweet nothings to each other as tears of joy spilt out of both of their eyes.

Their foreheads touched. Suddenly, it was like the entire court was quiet. It wasn't long before lips met and cheers erupted around them.

In an interview later, the both of them would be asked about their relationship.

"We've always been partners. We just thought it was time the rest of the world knew."

The only problem now was, when asked about when or how they got together, both Kageyama and Hinata would be vague. Perhaps they would mention a detail about how they confessed to each other. Yet, no one could tell when exactly it happened.

What they did let people know was that Oikawa was most definitely wrong about his guess and he could go suck it for thinking they were idiots who would take so long to realise their feelings for each other.

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bleedingoptimism · 1 year ago

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𝑜𝑚𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

Steve loves his roommate. He’s funny and witty and knows so much about everything. And he’s kind of an asshole, but in a good way. Like, he doesn't take shit from anyone way. He would never hurt someone on purpose and he apologizes immediately if he does, kind of way.

When Steve first moved in with him, Eddie was kind of quiet and reserved, but once they started talking, getting to know each other, he showed just how wonderful he was. So, Steve really liked Eddie. The problem was… Steve kind of liked-liked Eddie. But he had no idea if Eddie liked him back.

Until… he noticed Eddie’s nightly pauses outside his bedroom.

The thing is, Steve has always had trouble sleeping. He’s never managed to just fall asleep when he hits the bed, it always takes a while and he sleeps very lightly. Usually waking up at least once in the middle of the night. But it’s fine, he’s used to it and he doesn't need much sleep to function properly, so he’s managed.

The problem is, sometimes, when he’s stressed or anxious about something, he doesn't sleep at all. It's awful and it stresses him out even more.

When he was in high school, he was in the middle of a really bad episode when he finally decided to talk to his father about it to see if there was something he could do to help. Silly Steve, thought maybe his dad would take him to a doctor but he just told him to lay down and pretend to be asleep until he actually was, so that his body would get the rest anyway and not shut down. Not exactly helpful.

Steve worked through his anxiety for having sleeping problems by doing yoga a couple of years after that. But, for some reason, when he can’t sleep, he still does what his dad told him. And pretends to be asleep.

So that's why he noticed Eddie stopping by his door every night. He didn't catch it right away. The first time he’d heard Eddie come home, drop his keys on the kitchen counter, and stroll down the hall to his room, it wasn't until he started moving again that Steve noticed he had stopped outside his door.

He figured there had to be an explanation and put the thought aside but the next night, he did it again. And the next. And the next.

And Steve… Steve started looking forward to it. Playing with it a bit. Trying to figure out what underwear made Eddie stay the longest, laying in the bed in positions that he knew made him look good. He started wondering if Eddie would ever… come inside his room. If he could make him do it. Tempt him enough.

He realized too, that he was sleeping well again. That he always fell asleep right after Eddie looked at him and left for his room. And wasn't that something?

During the day, they both acted the same and nothing seemed weird. But during the night. Steve waited for Eddie, and Eddie looked.

And then, a couple of weeks into it, Steve is lying on his bed, waiting for Eddie to come home and his mind starts wandering, and he fantasies about Eddie, walking inside his room, looking at him from up close, waking him up with a soft touch of his knuckles on Steve’s cheek only for Steve to be already awake, waiting for him. He imagines Eddie touching him everywhere. Telling Steve what parts are the ones he stares at the most. What are the parts he wants to lick. To bite.

Steve doesn't realize he’s hard until he hears the door open and he freezes, he can’t run to his door and shut it, there’s no time, the apartment it’s too small! Eddie will be here in no time. And he can't turn around and face the wall because he’ll make noise, Eddie will hear. So he just pretends to be asleep, as usual. Except he’s hard and he knows it's evident because he’s wearing his tight white boxers Eddie seems to like the most and they leave nothing to the imagination. He hopes Eddie will just think Steve is dreaming or something.

And he trains his ear, nervously trying to hear every step as Eddie walks down the hall. And stops in front of his door.

And he hears the softest ‘fuck’ like it was punched out of him. And then nothing. Eddie is just standing there, and Steve knows he’s looking at him. And he stays a while, the longer he’s ever stayed and Steve, he’s getting more and more turned on and he keeps hoping he’ll hear the footsteps come closer and not away. His dick twitches at the thought and he hears Eddie gasp and then the footsteps… Away from him, toward Eddie’s room.

Steve turns to lie on his back and huffs. He needs to make a decision. To either stop this before it gets worse or... Do something about it. And then he hears it. A couple of minutes after Eddie shut his door. A muffled moan. Jesus Fucking Christ. Steve is lying on his bed, hard and thinking about Eddie, and Eddie is touching himself, thinking about him. This is ridiculous.

He comes to a decision. Tomorrow. He’s doing something about it.

𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑

a coffee? while we wait... ☕🥐💕

(first part) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

(you are here!) 𝑜𝑚𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

(last past) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #i wrote something #its getting steamy but the last part is so 😳😳😳#and they were roommates #omg they were roommates

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silverynight · 1 year ago

Text

Dynamight's type

Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.

It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.

Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.

"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.

But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.

"Why?"

"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.

"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.

"I know."

"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"

The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.

"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.

"No, but–"

"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.

Izuku honestly doesn't get it.

However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.

Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.

Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.

Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.

"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.

Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?

"Uhh... no."

"That's great!"

Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.

"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.

"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.

"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"

"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.

"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.

Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.

"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"

The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.

Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.

"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"

"Move in with me."

"Why?"

It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.

"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"

Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.

"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.

"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"

After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.

"Let's move in together, Kacchan."

Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.

***

Patreon

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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makomoto-chan · 4 months ago

Note

HIIIII😚😘

If you still taking requests,Can ı get RANPO(💋),Nikolai,KUNIKIDA(💍),Chuuya(🏍),Dazai and aktugawa with Reader that Flirts with them all the timw and they start gettinf effect by it? (Reader isnt dumb,weak and RAINBOWS AND SUNSHINE😄🦄🌸 Type,ı hate those kind of fics plsssss.)

-🌌

a/n: I felt very aesthetic while creating these headers pls tell me they're pretty. (btw you can use them)

a/n: Nikolai is slightly out of character but I hope it's good enough! and Akutagawa has been so funny to write I love him sm my emo boy

a/n: I WORKED FOR A WHOLE WEEK ON THIS PLEASE LIKE THIS

HEADCANONS

our adult child is NOT used to be flirted with!

he doesn't really know what he should do so he usually turns your attempts at turning him on into jokes

he'll try to flirt back sometimes though but he always ends up making you laugh because most of his flirts or pickup lines are about snacks/candies

he doesn't like not being good at things so he pouts for a looong while whenever you laugh at his flirts

SOMETIMES you actually manage to make him react but it's very rare because even if it doesn't look like it he has a lot of self control

when he can't take your flirts any more he pouts and crosses his arms on his chest, puffing his pink cheeks and declaring out loud "Y/n is stupid. I told them repeatedly not to." in front of the whole ada and everything stops there.

STORY

everyone in the agency was busy completing paperwork, everyone except Ranpo and you. Ranpo, as usual, sat rocking in his chair, feet propped up on the desk as he played by waving a lollipop in the air. not that he doesn't have some reports to write too, but he doesn't seem to have the slightest intention of doing so. and besides, why on earth if no one has the heart to object? you, on the other hand, were particularly intent on peeking over Kunikida's shoulder while, having just finished completing a document for the president, he writes in his notebook. It has to be said that it's not as interesting as you expected. as one might imagine, Kunikida was not particularly fond of writing about his innermost secrets and listing all those beautiful rules that he was so crazy about in the office, under the constant danger that Dazai (or you, in this case) would read them. and so, abandoning the hope of making fun of him, you head towards Ranpo's desk, trotting around his chair thinking about what to do to relieve the boredom a little. What better than flirting with your most beloved coworker? so you approach his chair from behind, silently with small steps, almost like a child would do while playing at being a spy or a ninja. it's not a difficult task since Ranpo is so engrossed in his treasures (the incredible amount of candies and sweets arranged on his desk) that he didn't even notice that you had moved from behind Kunikida's back. you poke his head and when he turns around on his chair you're already a few centimeters from his face, your noses practically touching. you look at him with a sly smile and chant almost as if to scold him "Ranpo-kun, shouldn't you be compiling all those forms?~" he looks at you perplexed for a moment, then his expression changes a little and his face wrinkles into a pout, his cheeks flushed from being too close. "as if you had nothing to do."

"It's different. You're so good and smart." you say with a sneaky sweet voice. he looks at you askance for a second: he knows perfectly well that the fact that he is intelligent does not exempt you from completing the documents at all, but he always has a weakness for compliments (and regardless, he's not doing them either so he can't complain). "well, at least you know." he finally says in a slightly arrogant voice, but blushing heavily.

HEADCANONS

Nikolai is... particular, extravagant to say the least, and it's not easy to say how he might react to a possible flirtation

I think he would flirt back

after the surprise of your first flirts he would use his skill to flirt in the most extravagant ways later

he would make a bouquet of flowers appear in front of you while you walk, perhaps not even in moments when you are together

However, he wouldn't be so good with words

I also think he would both like you but also dislike the fact that he feels so attracted to you because of that thing about freedom and his various weird obsessions.

STORY

you were walking through the wide corridors of the DOA buildings, joking and laughing as usual, the last lights of the day through the windows create long shadows while the various rooms are colored orange and gold by the sun's rays. "Nikolai?"

"What is it?"

"I was wondering" you smile a little, nudging his arm lightly "how are things going with the damsels?"

"damsels? I don't know what you're talking about, you know. I don't have any." he smiles too, already knowing where the conversation is going.

"ah no? but what a waste of beauty, then!" You say, smiling mischievously. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and pats you on the back "you know, if you want to lie to me maybe you should take acting lessons." you take a big breath, dramatically, covering your mouth with both hands and looking straight at him, still walking. "What! I'm honest! How dare you insinuate such a thing, Nikolai!" he smiles at you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you a little closer to him as you walk "then I must have misunderstood. Forgive me, but did you happen to say that I'm handsome?" you smile at him like a little devil "yes, beautiful. inside, though. we don't want to talk about" and you point at him up and down, smirking. he laughs. "nice inside, inside! well, that's something, I guess! but I know you don't think that either, Y/n. no one does." you pout a little to hide a smirk, tying his long braid around your fingers "how dramatic you are. it doesn't suit a clown. and besides, with women like me it's not at all impressive to act depressed, you know?~" he lets out a mock-melancholy “ohh,” placing a hand over his heart “Y/n, why are you talking like that?” then after a short pause he turns away and says in a low voice, as if he didn't want to be heard "how do you impress someone like you, anyway? nothing ever surprises you."

you smirk "hm? did you say something, Kolya?~" he keeps smiling quietly, but you can see a slight blush on his ears and cheeks.

HEADCANONS

a total mess whenever you flirt

can't flirt at all

gets angry when you use your charm to convince him doing things he doesn't want to but will do it anyway

always scared you might want to kill him or something because he's aware he's totally dumb when it's about you

STORY

Kunikida is trying to write the report of the last mission but it proves extremely difficult, since he has you on his lap. not that he gave you permission, of course. you do it, every now and then, when you're bored. he's never been able to stop you, both because he secretly has a crush on you and doesn't really want you to leave, and because as soon as you touch him he blushes heavily and can't speak anymore. he's currently stammering some incoherent sentence, the pen gripped so tightly in his hands that his knuckles and fingertips have turned white, his cheeks and ears dyed a dark red. “Y-Y/n… I-I have to… the report…” you giggle and brush your fingers on his cheek "you're cute when you're embarrassed, Kun-kun~" he raises his head to the ceiling, barely swallowing his saliva "s-stop it... and don't... call me like that... it's inappropriate..." you tilt your head at side, looking at him sideways "inappropriate? no, don't say that, I'm just playing~" you chant, chuckling. he lets out a shaky sigh and lowers his head again, looking at you for a few seconds. after the silence, you hear the sound of his shirt sleeve as he raises his arm to place his hand on your back, his other hand finally letting go of the pen and resting on the arm of his chair. "playing... I guess... a game isn't inappropriate..."

HEADCANONS

the way he reacts totally depends on what happened that day

if everything is okay he might even flirt back

if he just came back from a mission or Mori/Dazai are annoying him he will just get mad and try to ignore you

if he's drunk... he will totally flirt back. one time he was drunk and he even asked you out while you were flirting but then he forgot he did and everything stopped there.

STORY

you're in a meeting, chuuya's hat on your head as he tries to ignore you and convince himself he'll take it back later. his subordinates stare at him with a confused look, but don't dare say anything. after all, they know that Chuuya is already annoyed by the loss of the hat and they have no intention of being the outlet for his anger. no one even wonders why he isn't yelling at you, by now they know very well that whatever you do their boss wouldn't do anything to you, while the same can't be said about them...

When everyone leaves the meeting room and begins to scatter through the corridors, Chuuya finally turns his gaze to you. "give it back to me now." "give you back what?" you ask with those innocent eyes of yours that Chuuya knows very well are anything but that, but he can never resist him anyway. he lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "Y/n-kun, don't start again…" "What's up?" you insist. "you know what." "Come on, I just want to have fun~" you give up on trying to act good and admit you're actually having fun annoying him. "Stealing pieces of my clothing isn't fun!" he replies annoyed. "…I don't know. It depends on which part of the clothing." you answer him bluntly with a smirk, winking at him. he remains perplexed for a few seconds, then understands the double meaning, snorts and turns away blushing. "You could have avoided this one." he mutters in a fake-angry tone. you chuckle and place the hat back on his head “no, I don’t think so.”

HEADCANONS

even more flirty than you!

he asoblutely loves whenever you are the one who start the flirt

he's quite confident about this so I think it'd be a little hard to get him flustered

anyway if you show him you care about him and also flirt with him I think the combo would work because he's not particularly used to have people caring for him and also flirting.

STORY

you were at the agency, Kunikida and Atsushi left for a mission and Yosano, Tanizaki and naomi went shopping (and of course Ranpo is with Poe). obviously, being alone, you and Dazai have nothing better to do than flirting. It feels more like an act than a flirt, to be honest. you look like children playing, rather than two adults courting each other. Dazai is kneeling a few steps away from you, one hand on his chest and his other arm extended towards you, immersed in reciting the lyrics of a song you like so much with such a dramatic expression. you, on the other hand, are standing in front of him, laughing out loud.

"ah, Y/n! you're so beautiful!" he says, stopping repeating the refrain and returning to his usual speeches. "Would you by any chance be interested in committing a double suicide, with me, Belladonna?~" you look at him with a kind look, but an arrogant smile proves something completely different. “well, well, if you ask me like that, like a gentleman, how could I ever refuse, my dear~”

he looks up at you for a moment, then get up and step close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding your hand with the other "ah!~ I've always knew you were the one!" you chuckle slightly, resting your hean against his shoulder "yes, you always did, huh? you know, it's so bad we're gonna commit. I could have even wanted to date you if you lasted a little longer~". at that, his eyes widen and he stares at you "date me?" you nod.

"date me..." he repeats, perplexed, then his cheeks tyrn a light pink and he smiles softly "date me. oh well. maybe, just maybe, I could live a week or two longer just to date you."

HEADCANONS

he's aggressive and complaining at first but after a while (like maybe months????) he understands getting mad at you won't stop you

he starts to find out he doesn't totally gate it when you flirt with him (and it mekes him insecure about himself)

his face gets all red whan you do it in private

when you're in public he tries to ignore you and act cool but he will most likely "scold" you when the other people leave.

STORY

he sits in front of his desk, trying to ignore you while you remain leaning against his chair, placing some weight on his back from behind, brushing your fingers over the shoulders of his coat, getting close but never touching his neck. it's not a rare event, you seem to have been targeting him for months and he's given up at the idea of being able to get rid of you. at first he pushed you away forcefully, a frown on his pretty face as he muttered some insult. now, he simply lets you do whatever you want, since you would do it anyway. "A-ku-ta-ga-wa~" you sing softly, looking over the back of his head at the various documents he is completing and which he should (let's emphasize should, because with you in his office he definitely won't make it in time) deliver to Mori by the end of the day. "What do you want?" he mutters in a bad mood, continuing to write. "I'm bored, you know." "then go away and do something." you turn your head away, letting out a small "hah!", annoyed. well, if this doesn't work... you decide to try another method. "Akutagawa-san..." you whisper in his ear, leaning in so that your faces are close enough "I just want to be with you... take a little break, please~" even before you finish speaking you can already see his face turning a deep red as he tries to turn around so that you can't watch him. "hm? what's the matter? have you finally realized you can't ignore my charm forever, Aku?~" there are a few moments of silence, then he speaks again "...just shut up.." he mumbles, blushing heavily and still looking away. "what? I can't hear you~" you say with a smirk as you wrap your arms around his neck. "I said just shut up, Y/n!" he yells, but he reluctantly wraps a hand around your arm as a sort of cuddle.

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