#and also it's not fair for him to complain about me interrupting his sleep at night when he interrupted my sleep in the morning THE SAME DA | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yesimwriting · 2 years

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Final Girl (Part 6)

A/n your comments, reblogs, and likes have helped me through this rough patch immensely :)) not to be pushy but,, comments really make my day :)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Ghostface’s phone call leaves Y/n a little reliant on some good friends.

Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

----

Billy’s breathing doesn’t reveal enough about what he’s feeling, but considering how silent the two of us have been, I have absolutely nothing else to go off of.

I should leave him alone, I stomped on his foot, locked him outside while a murderer was watching us, threatened him with a knife, and accused him of being a murderer. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t hate me, I really shouldn’t push.

If it wasn’t for Billy, I don’t think I would have gotten through the aftermath of the phone call. He convinced me that the police wouldn’t care that I had been drinking and when I couldn’t form the words, he gave them the information over the phone. He also helped me call my mom.

When Dewey finally got to the house, he seemed a little more like an older brother asking me what happened with genuine care and compassion instead of some kind of officer desperate for answers. It was nice, the kind of energy and patience I needed. He even offered to take me to his house so I could sleep over with Tatum, but remembering how drunk she was at the party, I had a feeling she might not be coming home. I don’t know what she told her parents and I really don’t want to get her in trouble or interrupt her time with Stu (since he threw such a hissy fit this morning), so I insisted I could tough it out. Dewey didn’t seem convinced until Billy offered to stay the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone.

The offer comforted me as much as it annoyed me. All I wanted was to prove that I didn’t need anyone, and now Billy’s weird group date night party thing has been cut short because of me. Technically, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I asked some murderer to call me, and he’s trying to be nice. Or at least, I think he is. And it’s not like he was the one complaining about me today, he even tried making me feel better by saying he’d take me to the bookstore tomorrow.

Despite knowing all of this, my awkward and uncomfortable emotions that have been amplified by both panic and alcohol would have had me sending Billy home if I had the chance. But Billy’s offer was the only thing that seemed to get Dewey to relax and before he left he made both of us promise that we’d stay put and keep a phone on us in case of emergency. I couldn’t kick Billy out after that, not with the way Dewey physically eased.

I guess it’s fair. Two is always better than one in these kinds of things, that’s why splitting up in a scary movie is always a bad idea. And if I had to make a cursory assumption about Billy’s physical appearance, he seems kind of strong, I guess. Not that I’ve ever paid attention to his physique or anything. And it’s not like he’s going fight off a killer, or whatever. But Dewey seemed to be comforted by the idea, and after tonight, if I have to choose between potentially bothering Billy and potentially bothering Stu by stealing Tate from him...

And, if I’m being completely honest, the thought of being alone is absolutely nauseating. Before leaving, my mom always drills me on self defense. The whole ‘gun’s in the safe’ talk. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the fact that my mom’s been taking me to the shooting range since I was legally old enough to in Texas is the only reason she felt comfortable leaving me alone. But I’ve been drinking, and shooting at a target is nothing compared to shooting at a person.

Also, unfortunately, I’ve come to realization that Billy’s presence is comforting. He lingers, sometimes at a distance, sometimes close. Like a cat.

“What are you thinking about?” It’s a fair question, I guess. We’ve both been through some stuff tonight, and we’re both tense, but it’s not like we can both sit at an awkward distance from each other and stare off into space until morning.

Not trusting myself to not stare at him, I drop my gaze from the wall and onto my lap. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and a weird combination of dread, panic, and guilt have been drowning out all rational thoughts since Dewey left, but none of that feels like the right thing to say, so I go with the literal answer. “Nothing much, just that you’re kind of like the cat my mom never let me get.”

He lets out a breath that could be annoyed or amused. I’m too much of a coward to look up at him and check. “You’re not that predictable.”

His tone is so specific it takes a second to sink in. The words came out low and cautious, like he was admitting some kind of weakness he didn’t expect himself to express. But they also felt a little like shy praise.

“Thanks, I guess, weirdo.” Finally looking up at him, I realize that he’s already looking at me. “Thought I was easy to read.”

Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling across his face. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t make me a mind reader.”

Did Billy move closer to me at some point and I just didn’t notice? Or did...I somehow move? “That was a very polite way of telling me that I say weird things.”

“No,” if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was smiling, “I meant it in a good way. It’s...refreshing.” Billy pauses, eyebrows just barely drawing together like he’s debating something, “You’re refreshing.”

The admission comes out almost soft. I grin at his awkward wording. “Keeping you on your toes, just how I like it.”

My bad joke lands even though Billy tries to hide his slight smile behind a controlled smirk. “One minute you’re accusing me of murder and the next you’re making jokes. I’m definitely on my toes.”

I can’t tell if the switch is meant to be lighthearted, but I react regardless. Turning my head away, I clasp a hand over my mouth a little too dramatically. “I am so so sorry about that. Did I apologize for--”

“Yes,” he cuts me off easily, “Relax, I was joking, and I get that you were scared and Stu told me that Noel said Casey’s name in front of you.” Billy hesitates, voice dropping slightly, “And I know that I said the wrong thing, but it was a lot to know that you thought I could do something like that to you.”

Guilt feels like a spear cutting through me. All of my other feelings are small in comparison. One conversation with someone that only knows surface level Billy and that’s all it took for me to get that freaked out? And right after I started wondering if Stu could have done it just because he happened to date Casey at one point?

Maybe it was the alcohol or the desperation to have some sense of closure. There’s a chance that I was just mad at them and my subconscious ran with that.

I let myself watch Billy openly. There’s a strange flicker of vulnerability adding a quality to his features that makes him feel less sharp. If I squint, it’s similar to the way he looked when he mentioned his mom earlier.

That strand of hair is still out of place, just barely brushing against the tip of his nose. I don’t know what gets my hand to move, but while I’m imagining how satisfying it’d be to have that strand pushed back into place, my arm extends. My movements are slow as I tuck his hair behind his ear.

Billy lets me, only reacting to wrap long fingers around my wrist once I’ve accomplished my goal. There’s a lot I could say about my down spiral. I could tell him that he was my second suspect during a 10 minute trail down a dark rabbit hole. I could tell him that I was so out of it that I wanted to go to Casey’s house alone at night while drunk.

Instead I say, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” It’s the truth, and somehow it feels like the only thing worth saying.

He holds my gaze for a little too long. With no warning, Billy moves my arm, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist.

Ignoring the strange warmth that follows the gesture, I turn my head. “I was so out of it and desperate for answers I wanted to go to Casey’s house. You were right to make me go home.” With a self deprecating laugh, I pull my hand back. “I just wish I could’ve proven that I could go one night without having some sort of crisis.”

“I like your crises,” Billy says after a beat, “They end up making me look like a good guy and it’s nice to be needed every once in awhile.”

I look over at him, glaring as he grins. His sudden lightheartedness is shocking, and a tiny bit infuriating, but not unwelcome. I like the way he gets when it’s just us or us and Stu.

The thought of Stu hits me a little too hard. It’d be nice to know that things with Stu are okay. Plus I...begrudgingly kind of, maybe miss him a tiny bit.

Billy being around is great, but after tonight, it’d feel settling to have our trio all together and safe.

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my position on the couch. “One, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a good guy, and two, I’d keep you around even if I was completely stable.”

“Really?” There’s a bit of smugness behind the humor in his voice. “Keep me around?”

I halfheartedly glare at him, shoving his arm. “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

He grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You okay?”

Ugh. Of course he’d notice that tiny shift. Billy’s so perceptive it’d unnerve me if he was anyone else. “If I admit something you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can keep a secret.”

It’s not exactly the assurance I wanted, because him being able to and willing to keep a secret are separate things. Something tells me not much goes unshared between him and Stu. “Is it weird I kinda miss Stu?” The admission is embarrassing, but it’s probably the least awkward thing I’ve said all night. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at him and he was a total asshole, but he’s like my asshole, y’know?”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. There’s something about his expression that I don’t understand, but it’s not a bad thing. “I get it.” He shifts slightly without letting go of my hand. “You should call him tomorrow, he’d like it more than he’d admit. Not a lot of people go out of their way to reach out to him first.”

I’m not wasted or naive enough to not notice how intentional Billy’s final comment feels. I can see why he’d want Stu and I to make up sooner rather than later. No one likes it when their friends are fighting. I have half a mind to call him out on it, but decide against it. Sure, it might have been a point he kept to himself under different circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

It’s hard to picture Stu, who’s always so outgoing and himself as lonely or unwanted. He’s always throwing parties and included in things. But parties don’t necessarily mean a lot of friends. Anyone would be willing to spend a Saturday night drinking free alcohol in a parentless house. And it’s possible to feel like you’re not important while surrounded by a large friend group. Plus his parents are always gone. Two nights without my mom and I’m losing it, I can’t imagine what coming home to an empty house every day must feel like.

But it’s no excuse. It’s not like I’ll be mad at him forever, but it’s deserved for now. “I will when I feel a little better.”

Billy pauses, thinking through what I just said. “He’ll cool off. It’s more about this week than you.” Right. His sister, his parents.

I must be more tipsy than I realized because I blurt out a question that I’ve managed to keep to myself for awhile, “What is the whole thing with his sister?”

A switch immediately flips. He doesn’t really move or do anything, but there’s a shift behind his eyes. A change so slight and certain I wouldn’t have noticed if it had felt any less harsh. I don’t know why, but I know that that was the wrong thing to say. I’m pushing us towards what’s considered unsteady territory.

“I-I just mean that I know they don’t get along because of that time at his house with the picture, remember? I’m not saying it’s anything, just that I--I don’t have any siblings, so for all I know all siblings are like that.” I scratch the back of my wrist, vaguely reflecting on that cliche expression about cats. “I-I have a step-sister, technically, and I can barely stand her and I only see her on holidays, so actual siblings must be...”

He turns his head enough to watch my expression. There’s something about the draw of Billy’s eyebrows that eases me. Something in my jumble of words has intrigued him. “You have a step-sister?”

Ugh. I think I’d rather him be mad at me. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “My dad got married when I was nine. His wife had a daughter that was ten.”

“You don’t like them.”

It’s not a question, but I can feel that he’s expecting some kind of elaboration from me. “Not particularly.” It’s not what he wants, but I’m not exactly chatty when it comes to my step family. Maybe that’s how Stu and Billy feel about the parents they live with. The thought leaves me more sympathetic than before. “It killed my mom.”

“I didn’t ask about your mom, I asked about you.”

Wiping my palms on the couch, I stare off at nothing in particular. There’s no nice way to summarize the whole step family thing. The competition, the terrorizing while adults weren’t looking, the feeling of being replaced. The feeling of knowing the kind of dad my dad would have been to me if he had just had me a little later. There’s an anger there that’s hard for me to acknowledge.

“The whole thing with my dad’s fucked up, and I can’t talk about it without sounding fucked up, too.” My voice is both too harsh and too honest and I regret it instantly. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

Billy’s quiet for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Fucked up doesn’t bother me.”

He sounds so genuine and patient that I believe him wholeheartedly. I don’t think that’s a good thing, but I tell him everything regardless. My dad, the on and off addiction, locking myself in the bathroom while he dealt with withdrawals, the way he completely changed for Charlotte and her mother, and watching my mom fall apart for someone that never loved her as much as she loved him. And, for the first time ever, I don’t keep it just factual. I tell him how it all made me feel, even though it’s not pretty.

Drinking and emotional conversations never go well together. By the time I’m done with the story, my eyes are watery. Maybe I could have blinked the tears away and played them off in front of someone else, but Billy notices everything. I take a settling breath before gently wiping my thumb across the corner of my eyes.

“...Sorry, this is stupid. I’m too old to get this upset over my dad and his family.” I’m too self conscious to look at him, so I stare at my lap instead. “It’s extra stupid, because my mom’s so great, she’s more than enough, but it’s always been just us, and sometimes that gets lonely. Especially now that she has someone else and I--”

It’s ridiculous. I’m not jealous of my mom having a boyfriend, but I do miss the way things were before Wells. She’s never had a super serious boyfriend before, and it’s starting to feel like she’s getting more family and I’m not.

Billy’s arm moves around my shoulder. I don’t think twice about the gesture until he pulls me into his side. His strength is surprising, but his touch isn’t harsh or overwhelming. It’s actually kind of nice. After a second, I relax into the contact.

“You don’t need him.” His body is as rigid and tense as his voice. The change in mood is fleeting. Billy recovers so quickly I nearly get whiplash as he teasingly taps his knee against mine, “You do have someone else.”

He watches me for a long second, dark eyes taking in every detail of my expression. Up close like this, there’s something nearly soft about his features. I can make out the individual hairs of his lashes and a faint touch of barely-there freckles beneath his left eye. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the slope of his lips before.

I don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for in my expression because all at once, his intensity retreats with the drop of his head. “Two someones,” it’s practically shy, “Stu might be an asshole that doesn’t think before speaking, but the good thing about him is that he’s always there.”

The sincerity and obvious fondness that’s just so thinly veiled I know better than to call him out on it leaves me warm in a different way. It clutches at my chest.

“Maybe for you,” I hum, hoping that my tone lightens the mood, “But I don’t think Stu’s in the mood to be there for me.”

Letting out a slight sigh that I can’t interpret, Billy rests his head against the back of the couch. He keeps his head turned in my direction. We’re close enough that this new angle doesn’t create any distance, it just changes things a little. His breaths just barely reach my lower cheek.

“He’s just moody because of his parents and sister. They’re both in town at the same time maybe twice a year.” Sympathy’s fangs graze against me, ready to sink in. “He cares about you, you know that.” When I don’t react immediately, Billy continues, “You’d have to considering the way he babies you.”

Did he just? Shock and embarrassment twist oddly in my chest, making it impossible to take a full breath. My scoff comes out too small as a result. “He. Does. Not.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. Great. I’ve given away that he’s struck a nerve. “You let him.”

It’s a second bullet wound. “What? I--he doesn’t try--I wouldn’t if--you’re just making stuff up.”

Billy takes my stuttering and inability to decide where to look like he has all the time in the world. “He peels your oranges, angel.”

“I don’t ask him to.” My answer escapes me too quickly, too defensively. Stu does peel my oranges, but he only dos that so he can make a joke about not minding getting his hands dirty. He also does it so he can steal as many orange slices as he wants. “I--I don’t, he does it because he has a whole bit about getting his hands dirty. That’s it.”

“He waits with you by your locker at the end of the day.”

That is not the big deal Billy is making it out to me. Stu stands next to me while I sort through my books before going home and sometimes he’ll hold things for me for a second to make things easier...but that’s not babying me.

I open my mouth to tell Billy all of that. Before I can get the words out, a realization that I could have gone my entire life without strikes me in the chest. Hard and fast enough to nearly knock the breath out of my chest.

Because, yes, Stu peeling oranges for me and hanging out by my locker while I go through my backpack doesn’t add up to him babying me. But that paired with Stu walking me to our shared first period after homeroom because one time a super rude football player ran into me; Stu always offering to wait up with me on the phone after a bad dream; Stu caring about my class schedule more than he cares about his.

“That’s just being a friend.” Maybe that defense could have worked if I had managed to say it normally, but I can feel my own awkwardness. There’s no way that Billy didn’t pick up on it.

He’s enjoying this too much. “I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s never peeled an orange for me. Maybe it’s because I’m not as pretty as you.”

Stu’s reputation for flirting often outshines Billy’s. I think that’s something Billy relies on, it lets him get away with a little more. Rolling my eyes instinctually, I move to shove Billy’s shoulder.

My fingers have just barely grazed against the fabric of his shirt before Billy’s hand wraps around my wrist. He holds me there for a second, staring at where our skin meets. In a move so quick I barely notice it, Billy pulls me closer by my arm.

His grip tightens in a way that feels instinctual. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s something almost panicked about it. Billy’s jaw seems to lock but I can’t convince myself that it’s not just the lighting. “You should go to bed.”

The words feel strained by something I don’t get. I’m too lost to his proximity to care. He’s so warm and there’s a sense of safety radiating off of him that I can’t think to question his intensity. It’s too relieving, too comforting. I want closer.

That realization is worse than what we were joking about earlier. That thought scares the shit out of me. It’s a sign that I should jump back. Get away. But I--

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

He blinks. My reaction seems to ease him enough to let his hand relax. His fingers ghost down my forearm. “Should still go to bed. You need rest.”

I nod, thinking that that’s my cue to scoot back, but Billy’s still holding onto my arm. This close, the bags under his eyes seem so much more prominent. A tiny pinch of guilt flares through me. He’s the one that could have been murdered because I’m slowly going insane. “So do you.”

“Then go to bed so I can.” The correlation only somewhat makes sense.

Right. He’s staying over. “You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep in my mom and Wells’s.”

It feels awkward, but there’s not much else I can do. Despite the decent size of the house, the only guest room on the property was turned into my room. The other rooms are mainly storage that Wells hasn’t gotten around to cleaning out. I guess his grandparents and great grandparents were hoarders. Maybe that’s just what happens in family homes, the stuff that’s saved to be passed down just gets shoved into back closets and unused rooms.

“You don’t want to have another sleepover?” His slight smile reveals that he does want to fluster me. That should make it less effective, but I still struggle to hold his gaze.

I try to glare, but I really doubt it comes off right. “Not sure us falling asleep in the same bed because we were too drunk to think ahead counts.”

Billy gilts his head forward. The shift is small but still oddly noticeable. I guess that’s how it is when you’re this close. Any movement closer or farther is noticeable because it feels more significant. “You’re saying you need to be drunk to get into bed with me?”

It’s just cheesy enough to get me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

At the somewhat serious answer, Billy straightens slightly. “I want to know that you’re there.” His words are so hushed, so unlike him in their closeness to nervousness that my heart stills. “That you’re okay.”

He’s regarding me with a sharpness that doesn’t fit the low way he’s speaking. I’m struck with the feeling that there’s another layer to what he’s asking me. I almost feel like I’m being tested. If he seemed any less vulnerable I’d question it.

“You don’t think Sid would...” I don’t even know what I’m asking. Am I asking if she’d mind? If she’d think that there was something weird about it?

“No.” Billy’s answer is quick and hard, leaving no room for argument. His fingers tighten around my forearm. The change is so quick it almost feels needy. It’s different than when Stu holds on a little too authoritatively. It’s more desperate and that makes it feel more volatile.

All at once, he softens again. His hold returns to bearable. Not quite as casual as before but no longer unsettling. “She wouldn’t. She’d understand.” He says it so simply, like he has absolutely no doubts.

He’d know better than me, I guess. They’re the ones dating, which means Billy knows Sid’s boundaries about this stuff better than I do. Which means it is really up to me.

I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t. I can’t take anymore grief tonight, anymore worries or arguments. I also know that I don’t want to be alone and that latching onto Billy like this is the most peace I’ve felt all night. “O-okay.”

He exhales, something in him relaxing at my answer. “Okay.” Billy’s voice is more sure than mine. It’s comforting enough to cut through my uncertainty. “Let’s go to bed.”

----

Rationally, I know that technically this is my second time having Billy stay in my room, but it feels a lot different without excessive alcohol. I’m not completely sober yet, I don’t think it’s physically possible to sober up that fast.

The call and panic definitely cut through my buzz, leaving me only with sluggishness that follows drinking. A tired that I can’t give into because of anxiety.

Billy’s laying next to me, and from what I can tell, he’s breathing easily but I’m not convinced he’s asleep. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to even glance at him from the corner of my eyes. Billy has a way of noticing things like that no matter how subtle I try to be.

He moves, the hand that’s closest to mine brushes against the back of my palm. It’s likely an accident but the small rush of warmth that runs up my fingertips until it reaches my chest is so soothing it nearly gets me to ease. Or jump. Those two feelings are often hard to tell apart around him.

“Can’t sleep?”

He hasn’t moved any more so I remain just as still, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’ll pass out eventually.”

“Might help if you close your eyes.”

The way Billy just knows things would be scary if it wasn’t so annoying. “Wow, a crystal ball and a deck of cards and you could have your own booth at the fair.”

Billy lets out a quiet laugh that’s meant to be a scoff. “The fair?”

I roll my eyes before dutifully returning my gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s no fair here. It’s not like Woodsboro is some metropolitan, crowded--”

“Sometimes I forget you’re from Texas and then you start talking about--”

“Shut up.”

He sighs in good humor again, his fingers stretching and brushing against my knuckles. “Then go to sleep.”

If only it was that easy. Ever since what happened at Casey’s, sleep is more of enemy than an escape. When I don’t have dreams that make my stomach turn with guilt, my mind goes over everything that I did wrong. And when I’m spared from that, my thoughts panic over what I’m not sure I remember.

Sometimes I think that doubting my mind is the worst of it and then the guilt doubles. At least I’m alive. I bet Casey would give anything to feel like she’s going crazy if it meant she could be alive.

With no warning, Billy turns his hand, pressing fingers in between mine so naturally that I instinctually adjust so that we’re loosely holding hands. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Promises like that, promises that no one can guarantee, are the most gentle. They come from such good intentions. “Can I ask you something?” Before I can back out, I blurt out the important part, “And you’ll be honest? Promise you’ll be honest?”

A small moment of silence followed by the squeezing of my palm. “I promise.”

Slowly, I turn, pulling my hand away. Billy’s hold briefly tightens, but when I persist he lets go. He moves to face me after a second and when he sees that I’m now holding out my pinky, something about his expression softens. He covers his reaction with a pointed look meant to make fun of what I’m asking.

He links his pinky to mine. “You think this actually makes people not lie?”

It’s a light comment, probably meant to help me shake my mood, so I ignore it. “Do you think I’m crazy?” He’s watching me in a way I can’t interpret. “Or going it?”

“You’re hurting and you need time.” Billy’s answer isn’t careful or fragile or overly sweet like the sympathetic answers I’m used to. It’s straight forward and blunt enough to pass as honest. “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and that’s the problem.” I draw my eyebrows together. “Smart people always want answers but this isn’t about that. Answers won’t fix anything or bring anyone back.”

I nod somberly, surprisingly relieved. When my mood doesn’t get better, Billy pulls my hand towards him by my pinky. He presses his lips to my knuckle quickly. It’s enough to make me crack a tired smile, which I guess was his goal. “Thank you.”

“For telling you you’re not crazy after you accused me of murder?”

Partially glaring at him, I answer, “Just thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, “Now go to sleep.”

“You sound like a mother.”

His lips press together briefly. “Like your mom has ever had to ask you to do anything twice.”

That joke’s getting old. “I’m tired of the jokes. So I listen to my mom, she deserves the lack of stress.”

Billy hesitates, “She’s a good mom.”

“It’s weird without her around.” My mom is the life of the house. She’s always on the phone with friends or playing music or yelling at the TV when characters on a TV show she likes do stupid things. “Quiet.”

He drops his gaze towards our hands. Our pinkies are still together. “There are worse things than quiet.” His tone reminds me of the way he was when he mentioned his mom. It’s a flash of something wounded. “Quiet’s easier.”

Another tally in a column about his home life. “What are you thinking about?” The question is a surprise for us both.

“My mom knew how to keep things quiet.”

I must be in total shock because after a second I ask, “What happened?” His eyes snap up and I regret not swallowing my words. “Not that--I just--I know it’s just your dad and it wasn’t always just your dad.” It’s my turn to stare at our hands. “You don’t need to tell me. Honestly, I--I didn’t mean to ask.”

He turns over my hand, something about the motion feels strained. Billy’s pointer finger traces patterns against my palm. “It’s fucked up.”

“Fucked up doesn’t bother me.” My repetition of his earlier words is awkward and much less sure than the original.

Billy’s quiet for a second, an odd tension floating through the room. “Not much to tell. Some whore fucked my dad and my mom did what she had to. My dad didn’t take it too well.”

Oh. His words hit me a little too hard. I don’t know if the story or the unexpected harshness is what gets to me. Before I can react, Billy places a hand on my shoulder. With no warning, he pushes me so that I’m laying flat against my bed. A tiny yelp escapes me, but Billy doesn’t move. “Now that we’ve done the whole deep dark secrets thing, go to sleep.”

His voice leaves no room for argument but his touch is harder to ignore. “You know the deep dark secrets thing is a major part of girl’s sleepovers. One minute everyone’s painting their nails and the next we’re all crying over our dads or moms or the messed up things we did in middle school.”

“Go to sleep,” he sighs, hand that’s not pinning me down sliding downwards, just barely touching my hip.

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak again. Satisfied, Billy takes his time moving back to the position he was in. This time, he stays closer than he was before.

Hating myself for it a little, I break the comfortable silence, “Billy?” He huffs slightly, like I’ve woken him up after a deep sleep that only took him minutes to find. “If you ever want quiet and can’t get it anywhere you can come over.” I already regret this. “Not--not in a pity way, just a--just so you know, I guess.”

He shifts closer, pulling my arm towards him. “Might end up moving in then.”

His muffled words make me let out a partial laugh. “Should let you know it’s like a metaphorical quiet because half the time you can hear my mom talking on the phone to her friends or talking to the TV.”

“Might have to rethink it then.” The edge in his voice is ruined by the slight smile that I can feel through his tone.

Billy’s hold on my arm is an anchor I’ve gone too long without. Thoughtlessly, I move my free hand towards his back. My fingers brush against his skin gently. “Did you offer the same thing to your boyfriend?”

It takes me longer than it should for me to realize what he’s talking about. “Noel?” His silence is enough of an answer. “No, I guess that means I like you more.” He stays quiet. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I just--”

“Weren’t getting enough attention?”

With a sigh, I let my hand rest on his back. “I can still kick you out.” He doesn’t move. “And for the record, I just...I thought it’d make me feel normal.”

“Did he?”

The question sits with me for longer than it should because I know the answer immediately. It sinks into my chest like a weight threatening to suffocate my lungs. “Not as much as you.” I shut my eyes as if that will save me from his reaction. “I’m going to sleep.”

---- a few days later ----

“You fucking love it.” Stu makes no attempts to hide petty bitterness as he pulls a joint back to his lips. The whole point of smoking was to stop thinking about you, but weed doesn’t always work the way you want it. “At least admit it.”

Billy lifts his head enough to reach over for the joint, taking it from Stu. “What’s there to love?”

Stu sighs. “Fuck off.” Billy breathes in slowly, letting smoke fill his lungs. “You love that Y/n can’t do anything without you. That she lets you sleep in her room more than you sleep in yours.”

“Just say you’re sorry, give her one of your looks, and say something about your parents.”

Dropping his head back, Stu frowns. “You remember how quick she was to go after some other guy. Like she didn’t give a shit.” Billy patiently watches Stu, noting the way tension continues to expand across Stu’s demeanor. “Even Casey used to--”

“She gives a shit.” When Stu scoffs, Billy sits up a little more. “She does. Asks about you all the time and then makes me promise to not tell you.”

There’s only the tiniest shift in Stu’s demeanor, but it’s a start. Your little spat has lasted longer than Stu thought it would, and with each day that you go without initiating conversation, the more the sting of silent rejection bubbles. Billy’s had to keep up with his moods, making sure that Stu’s feelings remain contained.

“It’s cute,” Billy continues, “Like she has a crush she doesn’t know what to do with.” When Stu stays silent, Billy decides to keep going, “She likes you and she misses you. Use that.”

“With the way Tatum’s always breathing down my neck now?”

Maybe if Stu was in a better mood he’d make a joke about how even he can’t really blame Tatum. Stu’s been in a shitty mood for almost two weeks now, which means he hasn’t exactly been devoted. “I’ve got an idea that’ll get you alone with Y/n. No friends, no class, just you and her somewhere she can’t avoid you.”

At that, Stu manages to crack a grin. “Sounds like my type of situation.”

----

Taglist: Tags: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises

#stu macher #billy loomis x reader #scream x reader #billy loomis #x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #stu macher x reader #scream 1996 #poly! ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #scream #final girl fic #scream imagine

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crinkled-emotions · 8 months

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Day 26: Food coma naps

Requested! The initial prompt just requested Hangman, a food coma and either Bob or Rooster :)

Ship: Hangster

(I swear I'm going to write something else after this lmao)

“Guys, I really think we outdid ourselves this year. We’re gonna be eating leftovers for the next month.”

“Don’t worry about the leftovers; I don’t think my belt is ever going to do up again.”

Everyone laughed, beginning the clean up from Christmas lunch. They’d finished eating about half an hour ago and just remained at the table, talking and drinking. Amelia was with her father for the holidays so Penny and Maverick had offered to host the Daggers in attempt to distract themselves. Instead of Penny making all of the dishes, everyone had contributed and they’d mostly used paper plates and plastic cutlery so there wasn’t a ton of dishes or clean up to be done.

Hangman stretched in his seat, his hand finding Rooster’s back who was looking like he regretted that last serving of pie. To be fair, everyone was regretting their last slice of pie.

“C’mon, let’s clean up,” Coyote said. The Daggers stood and began bagging up the rubbish, waving off Penny and Maverick when they went to help.

“You hosted us; the least we can do is clean up a little,” Fanboy smiled. Whilst the others worked on getting things fixed up, Rooster and Hangman went into the kitchen to get through the minimal dishes needed to be done. Rooster rolled up his sleeves, preparing to wash whilst Hangman located a dry dishtowel. As Rooster washed Hangman methodically dried and stacked the dishes on the counter so Penny could put them away in their correct spot, talking quietly between themselves until Hangman stopped responding.

Rooster glanced over his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned against the counter, yawning quietly.

“Don’t you start,” Rooster groaned. Hangman grinned.

“Start what?”

“If you start yawning I’m gonna start yawning.”

“Oh c’mon, a little nap never hurt anyone.”

Hangman reached out, pulling Rooster toward him by the waist. Rooster huffed as he stepped into Hangman’s arms but he was smiling.

“A little nap? We both know it’s not little.”

The pair burst out laughing, Rooster pressing a kiss to Hangman’s temple before going back to the dishes.

“C’mon, let’s finish these and then you can nap.”

The others had already spread out across Penny and Maverick’s living area, leaving a loveseat for the two aviators to share. Rooster flopped down first but Hangman didn’t hesitate to sit on his lap which earned groans from around the room.

“Can you two not be in love for once?” Fanboy complained, Bob nodding.

“We just ate. Don’t make me nauseous.”

“Are you gonna rock him to sleep?” Phoenix snickered, to which Rooster shrugged but Hangman very quickly shook his head.

“As Bob said; we just ate. I wouldn’t if I were him.”

That being said, he did scoot to rest his head on Rooster’s shoulder. Rooster sucked in a breath, grasping his boyfriend’s arm.

“Jake, can you not-“

“-what are we watching?” Penny interrupted as Fanboy flicked through Netflix, trying to find a Christmas movie. He glanced over.

“How do you feel about the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas movie?”

“We all know we’re gonna be asleep in five minutes anyway, might as well pass out to a great soundtrack,” Payback said. Bob glanced at Phoenix beside him, an amused smile crossing his features. She was already half asleep despite teasing Hangman for his food-coma-induced potential nap.

“You good?”

“Shut up.”

She lifted his arm to use his chest as a pillow and by the time the movie was starting she was asleep. Bob ran a hand over her back, moving in slow circles whilst the others all settled into the movie.

About halfway through the movie Rooster stirred, grimacing when he realised he couldn’t feel his legs. His arm was still across Jake’s waist, gently circling his hip. It appeared the others had also flaked, strewn across the living room and napping off their food comas. Rooster sighed, his hand reaching up to work his fingers through Hangman’s hair. Jake groaned, turning his face back toward the crook of Bradley’s neck and huffing at him.

“I was finally asleep, asshole,” he muttered. Rooster’s lips twitched upward in amusement as he kept his hand in Jake’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck. It made Hangman shiver, eyes falling closed again but Rooster poked him in the ribs.

“Don’t go back to sleep; c’mon, let’s go home, our bed is much more comfortable.”

“Pretty comfy here, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jake replied. He shifted, pulling his arm out from where it had previously been tucked behind Rooster’s back for support. He dropped a kiss to Rooster’s forehead, standing and holding his hand out to him.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

Rooster grabbed his keys and wallet, then as an afterthought shoved them in his pocket to grab Hangman’s hand.

“C’mon, babe. If you fall asleep in the car just know I’m leaving you there.”

“You always say the most romantic things, Roos.”

The pair made a beeline for their bed, not even bothering to get under the covers before they flopped on top of it. Rooster pulled himself up to the pillows but Hangman stayed by his stomach, lifting Rooster’s shirt to blow a raspberry before he slung an arm over him. Rooster glanced down at him, an amused smile crossing his face.

“Is it comfortable down there?”

“It’ll do.”

“You’re gonna put your neck out; c’mere.”

Rooster put his hands under Hangman’s arms, suggesting he scoot up. Hangman groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

“Me? I think it might have been that last slice of pie.”

“It’s always the last slice of pie,” Jake yawned. He shifted up, letting Bradley press a kiss to his forehead before they went quiet. Rooster drifted back off to sleep but Jake stayed up a little longer, the earlier nap fixing the worst of the food coma. He glanced up at Rooster, already snoring his ass off, and he snorted.

“Happy holidays, B.”

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman #Hangster #G's Dec 2023 Prompts!

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lake-archive · 2 months

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Chapter 19 - A Studious Cat & An Annoying Human

AO3 Link

Characters: Osamu Dazai, Ole (OC)

Words: 1,579

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The student life, a life Ann–Neesan had always complained about. “It’s nothing but work. This homework is boring too. What will I need this for later in life? Seriously… I barely have time to write!” Though he had only heard it from her mouth, never having seen it. So he could hardly imagine it… Until he had experienced it himself.

Honestly, Ole had never imagined that he would experience this himself. After all, he was nothing but a cat. However, if he wanted to handle this better he needed to learn, adjust. And he could only adjust if he learnt the basics of basics – And that meant being able to read, write and do the basic mathematics. A cat would never have to worry about such things after all. Cats get food, get at and get to sleep lots and lots! There were little worries in an average cat’s life. And honestly, it now dawned on Ole how complicated it was.

Of course it had its advantages. Being able to grab anything you want, eat whatever food you want at any time and reach places with ease, easier than on four paws. Also being bigger overall! Well, honestly, Ole was still small apparently. After all, when standing next to Ann he was just barely reaching her chin. And when it came to the guy the both lived with… Ole was just barely reaching this one’s chest. And it was a little frustrating. He felt so tiny in comparison to most people it would make anyone frustrated. Well, he was at least taller than in cat form but still tiny in comparison. Life isn’t fair sometimes, this was one of those times. Then again, apparently he was also small for male cats his age. He didn’t like this, he really didn’t…

But back to the topic at hand. Ole had just mentioned that guy… Dazai. And having him around when it came to doing homework was really not it. The kitty was trying to focus every single time yet his focus would always be interrupted by something else. And it was usually the other guy’s fault too. He just had to throw in things which were not necessary at all and had the cat nearly hiss, wanting to bite the guy. But if he did then he would turn back into his cat form and it would take a little bit to regenerate energy so he could continue working. Maintaining the form this often was a little exhausting honestly. It always made him sleepy when going back to cat. So Dazai was lucky there. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Especially the several things he did.

One of them was poking Ole with a very long stick, right on the cheeks. The stick had one of those squishy pointy fingers at the end and that guy would always poke the young boy over and over. When looking over one could even see that annoying, bright smile he had, the grin a little irritating at a time like this.

“Quit it. I’m trying to concentrate!” Ole would say, demanding for this madness to come to a halt. But none of that sort would happen. Instead he just got more pokes in his face which made the cat–boy puff up one of his cheeks, the air just piling up in there. “I said stop.”

“I’m just helping you relax a little after a hard working day! Good job~” He would respond however, continuing to poke the cheeks over and over.

Ole started to growl a little yet tried to keep it contained one way or another. Do not lash out in any way, he had promised that much! But it was so hard not to if he was completely honest. “Save that for when I’m done with this…”

“Huh? Why? Everyone needs a little break.”

“I have a lot to catch up on if I want to help Ann–Neesan though. I can’t rely on her all the time. So leave me be. I’m trying to solve something veery complicated here!”

The poking stopped at least, this seeming to have gotten Dazai’s attention. He eyed Ole for a moment, curiously before having a wide grin on his face, an almost unbearable one. “Ohoho~? You have problems with something~?”

Ah no, not that grin… This was misery, wasn’t it? Especially when hearing him continue talking, having the kitty wanting to meow in desperation. But he didn’t, just barely managing to hold it in. Yet he didn’t look any less annoyed. No, the levels were only increasing.

“You know what you could do. Right? Riiiight? Right right right~?” There was that irritating tone, making this not very subtle. However, as if this couldn’t have been obvious enough there was Dazai with a massive self scribbled sign with an arrow on it. And he held it right above his head, thus it was pointing downwards at him. Not to mention the eager expression on his face.

Ole however only looked unimpressed before quickly turning away without a word, deciding to just focus on the problem at hand. Apparently the myths surrounding Math were true. This was making his head hurt… Humans had to deal with this everyday? No thanks! He would say but he needed some understanding for finances and stuff.

And for a minute or two the kitty was able to do this in peace, about to have his focus shifted again… Until he noticed someone looking over his shoulder yet far enough to not touch him, luckily. Regardless, Ole spotted the shadow at least, given that the silhouette made everything darker. He tried to be unbothered by it yet saw the silhouette move pretty quickly, left and right. Even when he tried to turn away it would just move alongside him. Being rather annoyed he finally looked up, spotting Dazai standing right behind him, looking down at him and Ole’s exercise book with a smile on his face. It was as if he was waiting for something however. And Ole knew what that was.

“No way.” He only responded before wanting to turn his attention back to the task at hand right now. Yet he heard a sudden ‘collapse’ on the floor, and then… Yeah, here it goes.

“Ah— You’re so cold these days! All I want to do is support you through your youth! And yet you make my heart ache instead! I think I’m about to die!”

“Ah really? Good for you…” The cat responded, a little annoyed. Dazai was always pulling that nonsense. Good grief…

“You really got that coldness from a certain someone. You both know how to make me bleed without any effort!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

And a moment of silence. Ole hoped that he could hop back to work and finally solve this problem on his own yet he was sitting over it, tapping the pencil against the paper. He was thinking so hard right now, his tail swaying uncontrollably as a result. Human problems are hard… And apparently it will only get harder from here on out!

“Uh… What was it again? If I want to know if this tuna is 23% off then… I then… Er… I… I…” He even mumbled to himself, seeming to be unbothered finally. He had hoped that this was his victory for a peaceful study session but… There was a sudden smell in his nose.

Ole picked up on it pretty much right away and wanted to ignore it. Yet it became harder, especially if it was right in his nose. He sniffed it a few times, the scent becoming harder and harder to ignore. For a human it was nothing special but for someone who was a cat at heart this was making any cat go crazy… Usually. Honestly the scent was just annoying to him. He didn’t get why other cats were going so crazy over it. At most he just wanted to swat it away…

And after the smell had become unbearable that was exactly what he did. And when he looked at it… A catnip. Of course… Ugh, he didn’t like it at all. “Would you stop waving that in my face!?” He yelled when turning to the side… Spotting Dazai nearby who was just waving the catnip right in front of Ole, yet a little confused looking.

“Huh? But cats go crazy over it. Come on, let’s play a little. Don’t be shy, it’s ok~” And he kept on waving that thing around, that stupid smell in the nose again!

“Stop! I don’t want that anywhere near me!” The young boy and cat yelled, swatting the catnip away from his face.

“Haha, there we go~ You like it, right?”

“I hate it! Put it away!” And yet he kept on swatting with his hands, as if he had paws at that very moment. One swat after the other, just to get it off his face.

And needless to say Ole would be busy with this for several minutes. All because Dazai refused to put it away from Ole’s face, even when told to do so.

He was starting to understand more and more why Ann–Neesan may have found this guy a bit of a pain to deal with. He was having a hard time too!

And yet, despite all of that… Oddly enough, he just couldn’t get himself to truly hate Dazai. Yeah, he didn’t hate that human…

He was just damn annoying sometimes!

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riotwritesthings · 2 years

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I Want Love in the Aftermath

Minor Nat/Clint, Minor Pre-WinterIron, T, 2k - Humor, Team breakfast, Avengers family shenanigans

Ayyyyy I’m back after a very long break (forced by my mean brain, it’s a whole thing) with some silliness. Because of course I am.

This is a birthday gift for a friend, based on a real conversation the time he forgot the word for ‘afterglow’. Also dedicated to Dani, for responding without question when I messaged her at 1 in the morning to ask her opinion of various Avengers’ sex terms, the Clint/Nat is just for you BB

A normal breakfast with the team gets weird. Which is actually also pretty normal.

Sam isn’t sure when he became Natasha's relationship consultant, or how.

To be fair, lots of strange things have happened around and to him since he joined the Avengers, but somehow this feels like the strangest. Every time she casually corners him to talk about Clint it throws him for a loop, and it's even weirder when she actually takes his advice.

He's not complaining, exactly, but there are some things Sam could do without hearing. Especially when they're horrifically sleep deprived after a long mission and trying to wait out the last of the adrenaline. Its ass-early in the morning, Sam hasn't slept in about thirty six hours, and all he wants is to finish his breakfast before passing the hell out.

"So then he starts juggling," Natasha says around a mouthful of the toast she stole off of Sam's plate,"which yes, is usually very cute, but not when I'm trying to enjoy the aftermath--"

“The what?” Sam interrupts to demand, so vehemently that Steve's head jerks up from where it's been drooping dangerously low over his bowl of cereal.

“The aftermath..?” Natasha repeats slowly and she looks genuinely confused, but it's impossible to tell with her.

“You call it the aftermath?” Steve asks, blinking quickly like he's trying to make sure that he's actually awake.

“Is that not what it’s called?” Natasha asks innocently while stealing Sam's other piece of toast.

“No," Sam says and finally sets down the forkful of eggs he's been holding, because this is much more important, "what the fuck—“

“Pretty sure it is," Natasha says, taking a pointed bite of toast before continuing, "you’ve got clothes thrown everywhere, everyone is sweaty and exhausted and bruised? What else would you call it?”

“It’s called the afterglow,” Sam sputters and he still can't tell if she's messing with them or not.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Natasha says, her nose wrinkling, and if she is fucking with them she is so convincing.

“What are you doing to people?” Steve asks, horrified, and then visibly shudders when she winks at him.

“Well, what do you call it then?” She demands of Steve.

“I call it private,” Steve says with a sniff and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Boo,” Natasha says, and Sam has to agree.

Sam has his mouth open to demand more answers, but when Clint and Bruce walk into the kitchen he swings his attention towards them instead. “Clint,” he barks, “what do you call that time period when you’re just hanging out with someone after sex?”

Bruce apparently inhales whatever's in his mug in surprise, probably tea, because he chokes and then starts coughing. Clint just grins brightly as he begins thumping Bruce on the back.

“What, you mean the aftermath?” Clint asks, and looks genuinely confused when Natasha crows in victory.

Sam isn’t falling for it though, and he narrows his eyes at Clint as he accuses, “She told you to say that.”

“Say what, aftermath?” Clint asks, still slapping at Bruce’s back absentmindedly.

“I knew it!” Sam shouts.

“You knew nothing!" Natasha insists, pointing a fork at him.

"No more missions without sleep," Steve mutters to no one.

“You can stop hitting me now, I’m good,” Bruce says with a wince and edges out of Clint's reach.

“Tell him I didn’t tell you to say that!” Natasha demands, turning to point the fork at Clint, and Sam makes a noise of protest when he realizes it's actually his fork.

“She didn’t tell me to say that,” Clint parrots instantly, suspiciously, while grabbing the pot of coffee that's just finished brewing.

Sam cheers, throwing his hands in the air, and happily ignores the withering glare that Natasha shoots at him.

“But!” Clint adds loudly before further arguments can break out, “I did get it from her. She said it once when we first got together and I thought ‘aww, that’s fitting.’”

“Aww?” Steve repeats, his face creased in confusion and his spoon frozen halfway to his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have asked Clint,” Sam mutters to himself, “that’s clearly tainted data.”

“Hey,” Clint protests as he drops into the chair next to Natasha, still holding the coffee pot.

“Of course she’s rubbed off on him—“

“Heyy,” Natasha says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“- I need to ask someone else,” Sam finishes decisively, “collect more data.”

“Very scientific of you,” Bruce says and holds up his mug in cheers from where he's taken a seat at the safety of the island.

"Well what do you call it then?" Natasha asks, spinning towards Bruce.

"Whatever option isn't 'aftermath'," he replies, looking vaguely pained.

"So you're Team Afterglow," Sam says with a nod, and Bruce's pained look gets deeper.

At the sound of more footsteps approaching the kitchen everyone’s eyes flick over to Sam before shifting to fix on the doorway, and the way they do it nearly in unison is more than a little creepy.

“That was very creepy,” Sam tells the room at large.

“What’s creepy?” Tony asks as he steps into the kitchen, not even pausing at all the attention, “other than all of you staring at me, of course.”

“Hey Tony—“ Sam starts.

“Don’t ask him,” Steve protests with a groan.

“What do you call that time period when you’re just hanging out after sex?" Sam asks, gleefully ignoring the tired glare Steve is leveling at him.

Tony actually stops in his steps to consider the question carefully, his finger tapping against his chin. Then he points at Sam as he finally says, “Foreplay.”

Bruce chokes on his tea again while Clint makes loud noises of agreement, and Steve looks down at his cereal with a weary sigh.

“Not helpful,” Sam says with a groan, and Tony just shrugs shamelessly.

“Why are we polling people’s sex nomenclature?” Tony asks as he finishes crossing the kitchen. He steals the coffee pot out of Clint’s hand, ignoring Clint repeating ‘sex nomenclature’ to himself under his breath and the fact that Clint was just drinking straight from the pot.

“Because Natasha is ruining my life,” Sam says heavily and holds out his hand to take the coffee pot as soon as Tony is done filling his mug.

“Sure, sure,” Tony says with a nod and apparently no further questions, handing over the coffee and then blowing Natasha a kiss when she glares at him.

“I just want to eat my breakfast,” Steve grumbles into his cereal bowl.

“No one’s stopping you,” Clint points out, although he does appear to be leaning across the table towards Steve.

Clint hooks one of his fingers over the rim of the Steve's cereal bowl, narrowly avoiding dunking it into the milk, and starts to slide it towards himself. Everyone in the kitchen watches as Steve blinks slowly and then finally seems to notice, slapping at Clint’s hand only to miss and whack the edge of the table. It makes the entire thing jump, and Sam and Natasha laugh a little too hard as milk and cereal slosh everywhere.

“If you are trying to take a poll, I think you need a bigger sample size,” Tony says thoughtfully, dropping into a chair at the table now that scuffle has settled. From the island Bruce makes a noise of agreement, and Tony grins.

“Hey, if you wanna call a press conference,” Sam offers, happily ignoring Steve’s protest of ‘what, no’ to continue, “then I will happily take a proper poll.”

Tony has his mouth open to respond, but at the sound of approaching footsteps they all spin to face the doorway again.

Bucky freezes before taking even a single step into the kitchen, his eyes moving over everyone staring at him and clearly considering bailing.

“Don’t run!” Sam demands, spinning a little in his chair to better face the door.

“Run,” Steve advises tiredly, barely looking up from what's left of his cereal.

“I think I’m gonna run,” Bucky says and shuffles back another step.

“Stay and take our sex poll!” Natasha calls gleefully, then shoots a sideways look at Clint when she notices that he's picking spilled pieces of cereal off the table.

That gives Bucky pause long enough for Sam to shout out his question over Steve’s noises of protest and the rest of the table laughing. Bucky glances back down the hall, like he’s still considering running for it, then sighs and steps fully into the kitchen.

“What do I call what?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised like he can’t quite believe the question and failing to completely hide what looks like a tiny, bemused smile on his face.

“You heard me,” Sam says flatly, “now what do you call it?”

“I don’t —“

“Everyone else has answered!” Tony insists, “this is weird family bonding, Frosty, get on board.”

Bucky looks around the kitchen doubtfully, searching all of their faces for tells, but he’s met with only nods and serious, expectant looks.

And Sam can’t be the only one who notices the way Bucky’s gaze moves back to Tony far more than it needs too, right? Apparently he is, though, because Steve is once again distracted trying to protect his breakfast from Clint while Natasha cheers them both on, and all of Bruce's attention is on adding sugar to his tea pinch by pinch. So Sam is also the only one who sees it when Tony winks at Bucky over the rim of his coffee mug, and he hasn't had nearly enough sleep for this.

At least Bucky shrugs and begins apparently pondering the question, giving it the thought it deserves on this weird-ass morning. Everyone in the kitchen waits with bated breath, and only slight distraction when Steve swats at Clint again, until Bucky nods decisively to himself and steps a little further into the kitchen.

"Aftermath," Bucky finally announces, and then flinches a little when the room immediately explodes in noise. “What?” Bucky demands over the sounds of Sam complaining loudly and Natasha howling with laughter, "you asked, an' thats my answer.”

"Why," Sam groans miserably and grabs for the fork that Natasha is jabbing at him, "why is that everyone's answer?"

“Fits, doesn't it?" Bucky asks with another small shrug and starts shuffling further into the kitchen, "clothes everywhere, everyone's sweaty and sore and covered in bite marks? Aftermath."

That spurs another burst of noise from the rest of the team, most notably Steve loudly dropping his forehead to the table and Natasha throwing her hands in the air with such force that her chair rocks in place. Bruce appears to be eyeing the doorway and planning an escape.

Unfortunately, the reaction that Sam is most aware of is Tony snorting into his coffee before wiggling his eyebrows and saying, "Oh, I do like your style."

"That's enough weird breakfast for me," Sam says and shoves his chair away from the table, "it’s gonna take me a couple days to sleep off this mess."

"You started this conversation," Tony points out with a laugh.

"No, Natasha started it," Sam protests, "right Steve?"

Natasha pauses in finishing off Steve's cereal, which she somehow has, to smile innocently. Steve still has his head down on the table, and he appears to be fast asleep.

"I'm running away from this family," Sam says and pushes himself tiredly to his feet.

"I'll come with you," Bruce says, standing from the island and clutching his mug of perfected tea to his chest, "it's been awhile and my disappearing skills are getting rusty. How do you feel about India?"

"Is it far away from these people?" Sam asks as he shuffles after Bruce, happily ignoring Tony and Natasha booing them.

"Not in my experience, no." Bruce says heavily.

"See you in a couple hours for training!" Natasha calls sweetly as they approach the doorway.

"No~!" Sam sings without turning around, and grins when he hears someone laugh.

He can't resist glancing back before he rounds the door though, just in time to see Bucky sliding into his abandoned chair next to Tony. Bucky has a look on his face that Sam has never seen before as he says something to Tony, almost flirty, and Sam consoles himself with the fact that at least this time Natasha notices it too.

After he sleeps for about twelve hours, Sam is definitely going to get her thoughts on that. And maybe he'll even hear the end of the juggling story.

#my fic #i dont even know how to tag this lol #background ships #avengers family shennanigans

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smol-feralgremlin · 2 years

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FebruarOC Day 1: Aldon

Yeah, I know, I'm a day late. But I was in an odd spot of Distress and also I forgot about this.

The nights cool breeze played across his skin and he was more grateful for the night than he ever had been before. Stretching out so he could feel more of the grass under his bare arms, he sighed in relief. The layers he had to wear just to escape the blistering sun were more annoying than he liked to let on.

The branches of the tree creaked. He didn't even bother opening his eyes, he knew Sylpha was up there. After all he'd heard her climbing the tree earlier and while she had waited so as to not awaken his suspicion, it didn't really matter when he had already caught her scent. Dragon musk was very unmistakable.

More creaking as bits of bark fell on his face. "I know you're up there."

Almost involuntary his lips quirked up into a small smile as Sylpha huffed in annoyance. More bark fell before she hit the ground next to him with a thud, releasing a soft grunt as she did so. Aldon might be having a rough time navigating being a nightstalker, but it was lessened some by the fact that Sylpha was also having to learn how to work with his senses just to try and get up to her usual tricks.

"It's not fair you can hear me so well," she complained as she straddled his hips, "especially when you get to see so well in the dark."

"You can see better than humans in the dark as well," he pointed out as he opened an eye to look up at Sylpha. She stretched out to lay over top of him so their face were close and he could see her scowl clearly, not that she needed to be close for that.

"But not like you, and I think that's unfair." As she abruptly sat up he winced.

"Try not to bounce like that."

"Right, sorry. Awkward positioning-"

"I actually just like breathing without having the wind knocked out of me," he interrupted as he slid an arm under his head so he could see her better. "You're small, but you do have some heft."

Sylpha sat silently for a moment. Long enough for him to admire the particular sparkle the scattered beams of moonlight through the tree canopy lent to her eyes. Her sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight as she grinned before laying back down. "Selenis said he thought I was heavier." Her grin disappeared. "I still think it's unfair that you have the better night vision. Do you know what I could have done if I had the same?"

"I don't want to know. That's a terrifying thought and you're terrifying enough as is."

"Am I?"

Now she was just fishing for compliments. Aldon hummed before wrapping his free arm around her and rolling over. Sylpha squeaked with alarm as he trapped her against him. He buried his face into her curls and sighed in contentment. "Very. Now go to sleep before you wake everyone else up. You know how Gallus is if he doesn't get enough sleep."

"He's not as bad as you when you wake up in the mornings, you great big grump of a bear," she replied as she wiggled in his hold.

Maybe if you didn't wake up before the sun. I wouldn't be so much of a grump, as you put it."

He was lying and they both knew it. They were both very aware that he just didn't like mornings. Mornings were for birds in his opinion.

Sylpha huffed as she went still. "Fine, you win this time. One of these days I'm going to win though."

"Maybe," he said with a smile. Sylpha huffed again and he laughed softly.

She fell asleep first, as usual. Listening to her soft breathing, he drifted off to sleep as well.

#februaroc 2023 #februaroc #writeblr #gremlin writing #Aldon #Defenders of Alcadia

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ariannasenvolant · 5 months

Text

dreams money could buy

april 25, 2024 10:25pm

no, i do not use military time. the other day, I had use a calculator for 20-8. So much for mental math. When it comes to number I feel dumb. I think I was the smartest I ever was when I was 13 in eighth grade learning algebra 1.

but that is besides the point. today i am talking about mental health. my mental health.

there is a lot going on in my mind currently.

i feel like i have no one to talk to at school. i am lacking friends who share the same classes as me and who are getting the same education. the only reason why i finding myself to want this, is because there are things i'd like to talk and discuss about, nurture and supplement my own curiosities with people who share a similar interest and already have background knowledge on the topic.

i feel like i am trying to be better person. i feel this way because i am no longer giving into toxic behavior that affect other people. i notice myself missing something, dopamine, i guess, and i resort to doing other things, like writing this post, as a healthier alternative.

i have a friend who has his phone on do not disturb most of the time, and it annoys me because i feel like it makes it difficult to contact him when i would like to. his responses and call backs are delayed due to him not receiving my notifications. but it is not something i could complain about to him, because it's his phone and his time, and his life. if he doesn't want to be disturbed, who am i to interrupt his peace?

have you guys heard about the Crumbley family case? the 15 year old school shooter who got sentenced to life in prison, but his parents also went to jail for giving him open access to a firearm and ignoring the warning signs. this is the first time parents were being held legally responsible for their child's actions. i was listening to a Vox Today podcast on this topic, and one concern was parents being afraid of going to jail for bad parenting. It is already hard to be a parent, but now the government is getting involved, and is that fair? here are my thoughts:

first i study children's mental health and psychopathy in school, so I have a bias. my bias: it all starts from home.

many of children's externalizing behavior, such as them acting out are responses to their home environments. Adverse childhood experiences, such as child abuse, neglect, maltreatment, trauma, exposure to substances, poverty, violent environments, etc, all make children more susceptible to mental illness. The more experiences you have, the higher your likelihood of being xyz. In addition, about 30% of mental health outcomes is genetic. 70% is social/enviromental, regarding education, economic status, community, access to care (doctors), and neighborhood.

What I am trying to say that these kids aren't just "bad," they're probably hurt, traumatized, not understood, and not getting the proper care they need.

Another thing to think about is that the child/adolescent brain is still developing! Kid's emotional capabilities is developed by 16, but their rational thinking isn't fully developed until 25. So they feel everything but they are still learning how to regulate their emotions, thoughts, and behavior. Kids think in short term more than long term, as adults do. they are more peer influenced and reward driven, as the dopamine makes them feel good. on top of that, hormones are affecting their bodies, and their quality of sleep affects mind and behavior as well.

I do not think that a bad child is bad for life. The fact that Ethan Crumbley got sentenced for life is unfortunate. He was trialed as an adult, even though he was 15. But he took 4 lives so, I also understand why he got the sentence he did.

His parents going to jail as well is very important. It shared the blame. No longer is a child solely responsible for their own actions, it is now a collective one. Ethan told his parents about his troubling thoughts and hallucinations and they laughed him off. And they also give him a gun as a gift ??? He is 15. There are so many environmental, contextual, i don't even know the word, but so many things in this case that touch on many different topics. for me, it just shows me how we are a product of our environment. And also that there is never just one singular thing for anything. That nothing is black and white. every situation has multiple layers, facets, that all play a role for why things , people, etc, are the way the are.

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

Text

My dear [S.U]

Sam Uley x Fem! reader!

Summary: “Did you have a hard day? You can complain to me. Did something make you almost cry? It’s alright, look at me. Starting from now, think of three really good things: the warm air, the dazzling weather, and me outside your window. I told you, you can see brightness only when it gets dark”

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, death, heart dissease and such. English not my mother language so pls let me know if something’s wrong

gif’s not mine

"Sorry to bother you, Chief," you said following the man's moves through your house. Charlie Swan was carrying a reclining chair with ease leaving it in the middle of the living room while you stood at the bottom of the stairs with your little four year old daughter in your arms. Cassie was exhausted. It had been a long plane ride and a bit more road travel, which knocked your little girl out as soon as you set foot in your new home in Forks. It was a long time since you had seen that place but of course you remembered Charlie Swan as kind as he had always been. Even when you were just starting to think about moving back to Forks he was the first to help you get a safe home for you and your daughter. You remembered looking up for Charlie's old phone number hoping it was still the same and when you dialed and heard the man's voice behind the phone you sighed in relief. At last life seemed to be smiling on you after a long time and Charlie was quick to offer to help you if you decided to return to town.

He told you about a house for sale next to his. The owner was elderly and preferred to live with one of her children and earn income from the house near the forest that could be bought by curious tourists so Charlie convinced her to sell you the house and at a lower price than she was originally asking because the house needed some repairs that he could do. So you thought no more about it and packed your things to return to Forks after the horrible years you had lived in Brownsville.

Charlie picked you up at the airport in his police cruiser and avoided turning on the siren cause Cassie was already half asleep in your arms when you got off the plane and he didn't want to disturb her, but Cassie had the strength to stay awake long enough to make him promise that next time he would turn on the siren as they drove around town.

The truth was that Charlie Swan was an angel. He arranged everything so you would have a quick return and even now he was bothering to get all your stuff out of the moving truck so you wouldn't have the worry of doing it later.

"Nonsense, I'm happy to do it. Besides, it's my day off."

"And that's why you shouldn't be doing all this. I know vacations for police officers are non-recurring."

"I'm the chief, I have certain privileges."

"Still."

"Well, I wasn't going to let you do this on your own" he replied, carrying the boxes with your and Cassie's clothes. He set them down on the kitchen island and leaned back against them to rest. You walked over and settling Cassie better in your arms you sat down in one of the chairs Charlie had given you "Billy and Jacob will be here in a little while to get all this settled so you can have your first night here without any problems."

"I still think it's too much. Stop spoiling me like this, Charlie, you even gave me part of your dining room!"

"Ah, it was nothing. Bella and I recently bought a new one and we didn't want to take it to the dump cause it still has some use. The table is made out of good wood and the chairs are freshly upholstered. Look at it, it suits perfectly!"

"That's not the point" you said, glancing sideways at the newly arranged dining room near the kitchen "The point is that you're doing a lot for me and it's not fair."

"Your father would have done the same for Bella if it had been about me" he replied reaching for a bottle of water from the installed cooler. A sudden tension appeared in the room as you both remembered what your father's life was like in Forks "Jackson was my best friend for a long time and when he died...I promised him that I would seek you out and support you as if you were my own and that is precisely what I am doing."

"You wouldn't have if I hadn't left and hadn't abandoned him. He died because of me"

"That's not true."

"He was left alone when I left. He died of grief"

"He died from the heart valve disease he had. Your father suffered it from a young age and even so, you had a right to look for your mother"

"I wish I hadn't" you murmured, cooing to Cassie who was beginning to get annoyed by the noise of your voices "I abandoned my father and didn't find anything worthwhile"

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore, stop tormenting yourself and thinking you killed your father. I was with him. He loved you and he died peacefully, remember him as the good man he was, child."

You sighed. Cassie went back to sleep peacefully

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I know it's not the same, but you have me now and I'd rather die than let you leave again, do you hear me?"

"Easy, I have no intention of doing that" you half smiled "I'm running away from the tracks I left in Brownsville, I have no desire to go back under any circumstances. What I'm worried about is that the tracks won't rub off and show the way to the one I'm hiding from"

Charlie clicked his tongue.

"That should be the least of your problems. I have a gun and I know how to use it. He'll have to deal with that first before he gets to you."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Although, if Chief Swan is as good at shooting as he is at fishing then you'll have to learn how to handle a gun yourself, honey" a voice appeared from the doorway followed by a young man's laughter. You looked up meeting the unmistakable face of Billy Black next to his son Jacob. Billy entered your house being pushed by Jacob leaving him next to Charlie as he rolled his eyes "Be a little more modest, buddy."

"There's nothing wrong with bragging once in a while."

"Yeah, but you do it all the time."

"Shut up."

"Make me"

Charlie got up from his spot lunging towards Billy who ina swift movement spun the wheels of his chair avoiding Charlie's attack thus beginning a chase through the house dodging the obstacles of boxes on the floor. Jacob laughed taking Charlie's place in front of you.

"I thought we were coming to help with the move, not to watch them play like preschoolers?"

"Me too. I think Cassie will get along with them."

"Your little girl will beat them up right away"

"Probably."

You giggled quietly avoiding waking Cassie as Charlie and Billy finished their game to go back to the truck and get the last boxes, then you could finally get everything settled at home. Jacob smiled, looking at you

"I'm Jacob. You may not remember me but..."

"Are you kidding? I used to give you the bottle."

"No you didn't."

"Of course i did! My dad used to visit your parents a lot and he used to take me with him. You were a newborn baby and I used to volunteer to help Sarah feed you. You were the worst baby ever. You cried too loudly and squeezed the bottle with your swollen gums. Then you'd throw the milk back and you used to get really messy. Your poop was the smelliest I could remember."

"Don't say that!" he replied, embarrassed "I see you do remember me."

"And Quill and Embry. Tell me, are they still the same old fools?"

"They haven't changed at all."

You laughed.

"Perfect."

"Ok, these are the last boxes" announced Charlie walking into the house carrying with him a small box with Cassie's toys. Billy came in behind with some boxes on his lap "I think now we can get everything organized and finishing in time for you to get some rest."

"I'll clean up the little girl's room" offered Jacob standing up "then I'll fill the closet and set up the bed so you can lay her down, you must be tired from carrying her around for so long. is that okay with you?" he asked you. You nodded

"Yes, thank you Jacob."

"You're welcome. Give me that" The boy took the boxes off his father's legs and picked up Charlie's, all with one arm and with the other he carried the folding base of the bed. You opened your eyes wide

"Easy, big guy, when did you get so strong?"

"I don't know. It just... showed up" he replied disappearing up the stairs

"It showed up" said Charlie "Ah, I hope shows up something like that to me"

"Don’t hold your breath as that happens" Billy joked.

"I should do something for lunch" you said trying to stand up. You were going to put Cassie down on one of the couches and put some cushions around her, but Charlie won't let you. Billy agreed

"None of that. We'll order something."

"But..."

"Nothing" interrupted Billy "We'll buy pizza"

"You guys really need to stop doing this" you reproached. Billy picked up his phone

"Ah, sorry, you had to say that earlier, I'm already on the call."

"You guys are unbelievable"

Charlie smiled

"We know. oh I'll get Bella, she hasn't said hello yet" Charlie walked out before you could say anything else and closed the door dismissing the moving truck. Billy smiled complicitly, placed the order, gave the address and left the cell phone on the kitchen bar

"Dinner is served."

"Thank you."

"They had children's menu, so I ordered it for Cassie. I hear their brownies are delicious. Maybe I'll steal it for myself."

"I'll keep it as a secret"

Billy nodded with a smile and as the food arrived you chatted animatedly about what had happened in your absence, he also told you things about your father and all the times they went fishing together before his death. You were enjoying Billy's stories when time began to pass and Charlie didn’t return with Bella as he promised. Jacob was finishing Cassie's room and when the pizza arrived he came downstairs immediately, asking about Charlie's whereabouts.

"He went to get Bella, but he hasn't come back yet."

"That's strange, his house is right next door."

"Maybe something came up for him at the station" Billy shrugged.

You decided to wait for the Swans to eat, but seeing that they didn't show up Jacob offered to investigate what was going on when suddenly the door opened and a very worried Charlie Swan walked in wiping the sweat from his brow

"Bella’s missing."

"What?"

Jacob suddenly became alert and Billy remained static in his place. You felt a knot in your stomach. While riding in the police cruiser that morning, you had heard something about tourist disappearances and wild creatures killing people in the woods and you feared Bella might be in that kind of danger. You were never close, but you knew her and occasionally went out together to talk or share a movie night. You still hadn't seen her after the years you were away and the least you wanted was for something bad to happen to her.

"Did you talk to any of her friends?"

"She was with them during classes, but they lost track of her on her way here. I'll call the Cullens, maybe..."

"You didn't know?" asked Billy "The Cullens left Forks, Charlie."

"Where did they go?"

"We'll find her" encouraged Jacob "But we have to go out and look for her before dark."

"I'll go with you" you said "I'll take Cassie to her room and..."

"No, no, stay" Charlie asked you "I left a note for Bella at home in case she comes back she’ll know that she has to come here and wait for me. If she does, call me right away, please" you nodded

"I'll call Harry and ask him to join along with the boys" Billy said and wheeled away down the hallway holding the phone to his ear. Charlie and Jacob left and you decided to take Cassie to the room, go down to the kitchen and make some coffee for the Brigadiers and Bella. If she was alone in the woods and the night was catching up with her then she was going to need something hot to get her strength back.

You hoped with all your heart that she was all right. For her, for Charlie.

Hours passed one after another with no sign of Bella. Your driveway was carpeted with people and police cruisers specially brought by Charlie to search for Bella. The entire town was scoured by officers from the early hours of the night, yet there was no trace of the chief's daughter. You decided to join the search taking the opportunity that Sue Clearwater was playing with Cassie - who was awakened by the ruckus of the patrol cars - asking if it was a good idea to search for her in the woods, but Harry refused.

"It's too dangerous, we don't know what might be among the trees. We can't risk losing any more people."

You were about to object his words when Jacob came up to you putting a hand on your shoulder telling you that he was right and that the forest was something not to be taken lightly. So you gave up, deciding to go back inside and refill the coffee pot when Jacob alerted Charlie that someone had found Bella.

A tall man walked in a straight line toward the Brigadiers where Billy and Harry watched him with restrained relief. He had a stocky frame and Bella unconscious in his arms seemed to weigh no more than a feather. His cropped black hair was messy and his lack of a shirt told you that the icy cold of the city didn't affect him at all

You knew him. His face was very familiar yet strange at the same time. You were back in Forks after a few years, but you knew that no one could change that much in that period of time.

Sam Uley was holding Bella and Charlie took her in his arms as he came out of the stupor and relief of having found his daughter. The Brigadiers sighed in unison and Billy thanked them all. You wanted to do something, to approach Charlie, to ask him if he needed help with Bella, but your eyes were caught in Sam’s.

They were dark, wild, like the forest behind him. You remembered him perfectly.

Before you left Forks you two were close friends and came to like each other as something more, but your leaving ended that and what you might have been up to that point.

You tried to look away, but then Sam's huge body began to shake, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground resting his hands on the dirt. Harry Clearwater reacted and approached him asking if he was okay.

"Tired" you heard him whisper causing you to shudder. Harry helped him up, whispered something in his ear and after taking one last look at you he disappeared into the woods. Harry walked back towards you.

"I thought the forest was dangerous"

"For us."

"What do you mean?"

Harry looked at you. Then he looked at his wife with Cassie in her arms standing at the doorway . He smiled.

"You'll find out soon, child"

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wellntruly · 2 years

Text

It's time. Actually we can just repeat that last image again:

A Group That Barely Missed NOT Becoming Historic, but yet !!

Chuckle, he's just so wild for this.

I mean it’s not like Victor Marie Hugo does not frequently in this opus interrupt the plot to just explain a little guy to you, but it’s that there are nine of them.

To do this with nine little guys in a row….

Even if there were nothing else about this set of characters bonking around within the duvet cover of my brain, the structural chaos of the way the musical just suddenly releases the gates and lets flood the stage with Charli XCX's Boys one hour into a show where they had not been previous, is not in fact dissimilar at all to the sensation of reaching this chapter of the novel, wholly halfway through, and having a nine-part dramatis personae and a floor plan poured onto you like a sheaf of papers from a moderate height. Hugo what??!, you call out as you scramble to keep them together, but he’s already laughed his way offstage, and will now never explain himself.

Anyway, what follows is exactly what you want: a sort of recap-rundown-commentary on who all I’ve just been re-introduced to, and how.

We start at the top:

Enjolras

I mean of course he is, this feels like it explains a Lot actually, but my god Enjolras is a wealthy only child? Oh baby…very dark turns this story could have taken!

Anyway he’s gorgeous and mean. Classic rich twink behavior.

Priestly, disdainful (these are all direct Hapgood translations)

Rosy pale, 22 but looks 17—oh so Timothée Chalamet in Call Me By Your Name but blonde and loves WAR

Literally described as not knowing women exist and glaring at any that approach him, so, guess maybe this liberté and egalité really is just for the fraternité

Does not break revolutionary focus for any of the world’s stock of beauty or joy

I’ve never played DND but the amount of warlike and priestlike imagery combined here makes me suspect this guy is hardcore cleric, and it’s the one angle where I’m interested in him in himself and not just as a cold beautiful force that contextualizes other characters’ inner dramas

“Woe to the love affair that should have risked itself beside him!” I said this to a friend, and then revisited it to be sure, and will now at last say it here: the point of Enjolras is that he’s never going to sleep with you, and that too has meaning! The Point of Enjolras is that he’s just everyone’s Clive. Here is E.M. Forster in 1960 looking back on his Maurice (1914) and describing, I swear to you, Clive Durham, not his Edwardian Oxbridge AU Enjolras (as far as we know):

What Italian boy, what French, maybe… Anyway I’m not blowing a whole thesis on passage one so we'll leave it at that, just some food for thought!

Combeferre

“Between the logic of the Revolution and its philosophy there exists this difference—that its logic may end in war, whereas its philosophy can end only in peace.” I had to Close the Book for a second, uh oh! Uh oh I’m gonna be real tender over you in 2022 huh!

Best friend, confidante

“The Revolution was more adapted for breathing with Combeferre than with Enjolras.” I find the atmosphere he creates incredibly comforting. Imagine if you could breathe.

Gentle 😩

Sweet nerd! Gets excited over arteries and geology—a Harry Goodsir! Oh noo

It’s the 1830s and Combeferre is also complaining that literary education just confines itself to “the classics”—Combeferre wants to decolonize yr syllabus

Combeferre is out of undergrad and it shows

A purist & scientist but also thoughtful even on mythic creatures

“He believed in all dreams, railroads, the suppression of suffering in chirurgical operations, the fixing of images in the dark chamber, the electric telegraph, the steering of balloons”—I just, love him

Maybe holds a bit too much of an emphasis on innocence as goodness, like Hugo!

Je(h)an Prouvaire

Ren Faire. We love him.

(Knows what a woman is, and feels bad they have it so shitty)

Likes long walks, flowers, and POETIC GRANDEUR

Also a wealthy only son!

Blushing awkward dear but doesn’t let that stop him

Really I’m loving how endearingly embarrassing Prouvaire is, everyone needs an embarrassing friend who dresses poorly and has romantic nerd interests

Feuilly

Working class hero

Self-taught liberator of the people

Wow a lot of this ends up being a lament for the partition of Poland in 1772

Pretty sparse on personality details here since so much really was just about Poland, but: a generous heart

Courfeyrac

One of my favorite French names to say, definitely badly

“The particle, as everyone knows, possesses no significance.” Sounds like something someone without a particle would say, M. Hugo

“We might almost, so far as Courfeyrac is concerned, stop here, and confine ourselves to saying with regard to what remains: ‘For Courfeyrac, see Tholomyes.’” [Gasp], No! Say more! Say you lied just now and he’s not like Tholomyes!

“Only, Courfeyrac was an honorable fellow. Beneath the apparent similarities of the exterior mind, the difference between him and Tholomyes was very great.” Oh thank god! Also what! How can I ask this weird specific thing of Hugo and he delivers

“There was in Tholomyes a district attorney, and in Courfeyrac a paladin.” Wait hang on, now what is happening. Do we have to DND all these fuckers? Oh god I do Not know enough about DND…ah whatever I’ll do this blind: Feuilly is a ranger, Prouvaire is a druid, Combeferre’s a…wizard, a warlock? Whatever one is book learning not deals. Alright who’s next!

Bahorel

A ROGUE!

Aw I remembered “daring waistcoats and scarlet opinions”—now that’s a Hugoism

The button at the end of this run-on description “a student in his eleventh year”—sublime

Anyway he is good-nature and keeps bad company (again sublime), a bit of a scamp, respects others so they respect him, and saunters. “To stray is human. To saunter is Parisian.”

“In reality, he had a penetrating mind and was more of a thinker than appeared to view.”

Y’know what I think he’s Eames

Lesgle/L’Aigle/Legle [de Meaux]/Bossuet

The depths of French punning with this name I simply cannot fathom

Anyway, extremely unlucky and extremely jovial about it

Ostensibly a law student. Mostly just lives with Joly because he’s always losing what money he has.

Feels like a Dickens character really. What will befall this young man next! Picaresque energy.

Joly

Medical student

Hypochondriac to the point of mysticism—well that’s fun

The gayest! #text

Agreeably eccentric

Oh really elated I remembered correctly and the rest of them actually do call him Jolllly, that that was canon

“Joly had a trick of touching his nose with the tip of his cane, which is an indication of a sagacious mind.” Okay!

So he’s just any character played by Ben Whishaw, yeah? Neurotic fluttery-manic bird-boned weirdo, adorable.

Haha Hugo you’re feinting like you’re gonna skip him. I know you aren’t.

Grantaire

Le sceptique

“Grantaire was a man who took good care not to believe in anything.” there is So. Much. packed into That!

What this litany of how he knew “the best place for everything” actually tells is that Grantaire holds a lasting memory of every nice moment he has experienced. Haha fuck, fuck fuck fuck

“Grantaire is impossible” is a hilarious thing to say about his appearance. Also how do other English translators do what Florence Hapgood has chosen as “homely,” “inordinately” so

Knows what women are, thinks they’re all beautiful

A libertine, a fatalist, very drunk

It’s reeeaally presented as Grantaire being almost transfixed by the oppositeness of Enjolras to him. It’s like he’s nigh helpless in the matter, like it’s planetary—Grantaire is mess and doubt, he is therefore anchored to this pristine believer.

“He had need of Enjolras.” God this line fucks me up

The “yielding” descriptor fucks me up too. Grantaire will allow pretty much anything, including, we see, his own harsh treatment

“He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship.” [softly] stop..

Anyway love when Hugo just falls to listing every gay ass Greek figure he can think of to make sure we really get it

Haha IT’S SAD :(

Anyway I’ve made this:

Do Les Amis Know What A Woman Is, Ranked

Enjolras - no

Joly - loses half his points because so much of his definition is Pliny the Elder fabulisms

Feuilly - aware of the principle, mostly as pertains to the partition of Poland

Bahorel - sure! dames!

Bossuet - haha oh yes a woman robbed me once

Courfeyrac - would you like to know what a woman is ;)

Prouvaire - yes, the poor creatures

Combeferre - 100% a brother of sisters, at minimum two

Grantaire - all Women are Goddesses

Not Rated: Marius - give him a moment!

[Brickolage]

#Les Mis 2 More Mis #Brickolage #Victor Hugo #Les Miserables #E.M. Forster #Maurice #The Terror

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 2 years

Text

Assumptions

Summary: When Izuku's boyfriend is caught kissing someone else, some assumptions are made. Izuku has to clear them up.

Part of the Pride Week Series! Alternate title: A is for Asexual!

Pairings: ShinDeku, mentioned TodoShin, referenced TodoUrara and some TodoShinDeku

ON AO3

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Midoriya!” Ashido said, running up to the green-haired boy. She shot a nasty look at Hitoshi, the purple-haired boy having an arm wrapped around his smaller boyfriend. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Izuku looked at Ashido in confusion, having been explaining something to Hitoshi. “Uhh, sure.” Izuku said. “Babe, please don’t write that down. Aizawa-Sensei will kill you.”

“It’ll be funny,” Hitoshi complained but let Izuku go. The green-haired teen followed Ashido to the outside of the dorm, confused.

“Midoriya…” Ashido hesitated. “I wanted to… I saw Shinsou kissing Todoroki earlier.” She flinched hard and looked down. Izuku stared at her in surprise. “I’m so sorry, I saw and I had to tell you and-“

“Ashido.” Izuku interrupted her. “Thank you. For telling me.” He gave her a kind smile. “But I… well… I’m asexual and Hitoshi isn’t.” He shrugged. “Todoroki is aromantic but likes sex. Hitoshi isn’t that into sex at all but he does enjoy it. Todoroki is to cautious about sleeping with others so…” Izuku shrugged. “It works for us.”

“Oh… oh wow.” Ashido blinked. She then laughed. “Holy shit dude that’s super mature of you.” She frowned. “Or… wait I’m confusing myself now.”

“Me, Todoroki and Hitoshi figured out a thing for all of us,” Izuku said soothingly. “I could call that mature.”

“Okay, that’s good. Oh shit wait- the guys were with me when I saw it.” Ashido winced. “I convinced them to let me talk to you first…”

“Oh hell,” Izuku said. He moved back into the dorms with Ashido following. There wasn’t any bloodshed, even as Bakugou, Sero and Kirishima were giving a nasty look to Shinsou. Kaminari looked a little like a kicked puppy which Izuku felt confused by.

Todoroki also was receiving dirty looks, so Izuku decided to hit two birds with one stone.

“Todoroki! Watch where you’re kissing people next time.” Izuku huffed, flopping down to cuddle Hitoshi.

“Oh wait, that’s why?” Hitoshi muttered.

“Sorry,” Todoroki shrugged. The confused looks from the class had the three chuckle as Iida and Uraraka stumbled into the room.

“What’s funny?” Uraraka asked.

“Ashido apparently caught me and Todoroki kissing.” Hitoshi said with a shrug. “Probably I assume?”

“Yeah.” Izuku agreed. “Explained to her; I’m ace, you’re not and Todo is aro.” He kissed Hitoshi’s cheek. “We’re fine.” He ignored the confused looks aorund the room, though the easy acceptance of Iida and Uraraka managed to smooth most of them.

It was only one set of eyes that were still not accepting.

Kaminari tried to hold back his tears. He’d hoped upon seeing Todoroki and Shinsou kiss that Shinsou would be single. That the purple-haired boy broke up with Midoriya.

He’d hoped. But seeing the couple cuddling made him feel despair. Perhaps even angry that Shinsou chose Todoroki instead of him to cheat with. And then, everything further fell apart.

It wasn’t fair. Why did Midoriya get Shinsou when he didn’t even like sex? When Shinsou had to go to others to satisfy himself. It wasn’t FAIR.

Kaminari didn’t voice the thoughts though. He knew better.

He still thought them.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Notes:

-Hope you guys liked.

-I kinda hate the ending but at the same time it fits. I wanted someone to be upset about Izuku and Shinsou, because we always get those people angry about it, that ‘oh why are you denying them this? That’s so cruel’ and all. Kaminari was an easy target.

-TodoShinDeku are QPP. Uraraka and Iida are also part of the relationship to actually. It’s just none of them have words for it. They’re young and don’t know how to explain it. ShinDeku is the only romantic pairing in the QPP.

#bnha #bnha au #music's pride week 2022 #shindeku

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jungshookz · 3 years

Text

teeny tidbits: three years later and yoongi is still very much in love with y/n

according to my period tracking app i’m due in four days so that explains why i felt the sudden urge to sit down and write this

also i had to go back and read the wedding drabble to double-check a minor detail and.,,.., barfs i am so sorry for all of the ceo!drabbles the writing is so tragic

i hope u enjoy this small product of my sappiness <3

➺ pairing; ceo!yoongi x y/n

➺ genre; idk just very sappy and gooey and if ur a ceo!couple stan ur going to love this

➺ wordcount; 1.4k

»»————-　💞　————-««

the first thing yoongi finds especially odd when he steps into the penthouse is the fact that it’s a little too quiet for his liking

he purses his lips as he shuts the door behind him, blindly turning the lock with a quiet click as he looks around

sure, it’s almost midnight, but you’re usually tinkering around in the kitchen for a snack or watching netflix on the couch whenever he comes home late... so where are you now?

he’s about to call out for you when he suddenly remembers that hwayoung’s definitely fast asleep by this hour and that you’d murder him in cold blood if he accidentally woke her up and ruined her sleeping schedule (she gets very grouchy when she’s not following a set schedule - and yoongi knows her sour morning attitude was probably inherited from him but he sleeps more peacefully at night thinking that it’s because of one of your genes)

yoongi places his keys on the top of the shoe cabinet quietly before reaching down to yank his laces loose

“woah.” he holds his hands out to keep himself steady after he stands up too quickly and his head starts to spin and he starts to see double

oof

maybe he should’ve slowed down with the wine at dinner

it’s not his fault he’s so weak for a good red!

“shower time, showah time…” yoongi murmurs to himself as he makes his way up the spiral staircase, gripping onto the railings tightly so that he doesn’t slip on his way up, “would you like to join me? wanna come with? lemme soap you up, girl-” he slurs, smiling cheekily to himself at the possibility of being able to run his hands all over your body in a few short minutes

he gives himself a high five when he makes it to the top of the staircase successfully, wobbling for a split second before nodding to himself and giving himself a mental pat on the back

B-)

nice

the warm light coming from the crack in the door leaks into the hallway and yoongi shuffles towards it like a moth towards a flame, reaching up to fumble at his tie with boneless fingers-

yoongi immediately freezes once he reaches the door, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when he catches a glimpse of you wearing your wedding dress through the crack

he watches curiously as you smooth your hand over the neckline before turning from side to side to look at yourself in the mirror

he wasn’t expecting to see this when he came up here but he’s definitely not complaining

yoongi presses his hand against the door frame to keep himself from accidentally stumbling in and scaring you and ruining what seems to be a private moment

it’s just that seeing you in your dress again is triggering a sudden flood of memories of your guys’ wedding day into his mind and it’s making his heart feel all funny (it’s actually just heartburn from the wagyu steak he wolfed down earlier)

the corners of yoongi’s mouth immediately raise in a fond smile at the recollection of you staring up at him with so much love in your eyes as he slid the silver ring onto your finger

it was a beautiful ceremony

the food was great

the champagne was fabulous

the after-party was super fun

the after-after party where it was just you and him alone was definitely fun as well

he can still recall the scent of you all over him when he woke up the next morning

and obviously the honeymoon was great - who doesn’t like paris?!

not to mention, you still look just as beautiful as you did on the day the two of you said i do

maybe it’s just because the alcohol is making him feel all goopy inside but he wants to be a part of whatever moment you’re having!!!

“i’m pretty sure it’s bad luck for me to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, darling.” yoongi pushes the door open with a creak and takes his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep himself from smiling too widely, “want me to close my eyes?”

“yoongi!” you gasp, pulling your veil up and over your head as you spin around quickly, “god, i don’t understand how your footsteps are so quiet- i really think i should put a bell on you or something-”

“what are you doing?” yoongi interrupts, tilting his head curiously as he offers you a soft smile, “hopefully not wearing your dress so you can run off and marry someone else.”

“no, obviously not-” you snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “i was doing some cleaning earlier and i found the box and… i don’t know, i wanted to see if i could still fit into it and… well-” you sigh, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror before flopping your arms down in defeat, “it doesn’t zip all the way up anymore.”

“to be fair, you’ve given birth to a child since our wedding.” yoongi raises a brow, glancing down at the zipper that’s stuck halfway up your back, “even if you didn’t fit into it at all it would still be totally fine-”

“yeah, but i had to suck in a lot just to get the stupid zipper up halfway-!” you whine quietly, pouting at yourself in the mirror before gesturing to your chest, “one sneeze and my boobs are going to pop out-”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that-”

“you know, maybe i should’ve had spanx embedded into the dress instead of it being 100% silk because silk is not a very forgiving material-”

“oh, baby…” yoongi chuckles, slinking his arms around you from behind before leaning down to prop his chin up on your shoulder, “don’t be so hard on yourself! your body literally made a human being- forgive it if it can’t fit into a dress from, like, three years ago…”

“i guess…” you trail off, leaning back a little to rest your head against yoongi’s as you continue looking at yourself in the mirror with a pitiful little frown on your face, “it’s just hard to feel beautiful when i can’t fit into most of my old clothes…”

“hey, you cut that out right now.” the smile immediately drops from yoongi’s face and he frowns at you in the mirror disapprovingly, “so what if you can’t fit into the dress anymore? you’re beautiful and like, really hot and- and even after all this time i’m still super head-over-heels in love with you and you could be wearing a potato sack and i would still think you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the planet and- and i love y-”

“alright, you drunk, i get it.” you giggle lightly, reaching up to pat the side of yoongi’s warm face, “i love you more.”

“good.” yoongi smiles contently when it seems like you’ve cheered up a little from his (very good and extremely persuasive, in his opinion) pep talk, “love you most.” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your palm

“mhm. you reek of wine, by the way-” you wrinkle your nose playfully, letting yoongi sway you back and forth gently before reaching down to pat at his hand, “i think we should get you into the shower and then into bed.”

“i think we should get we into the shower and then into bed.” yoongi corrects you, pausing for a second to think over his words, “yeah. that makes sense.”

…,..,we should get we into the shower and then into bed…..,,.

that totally makes sense

you know what he means

“i’m only joining you so that you don’t pass out halfway through and end up falling asleep against the wall like you did last time.” you remind him, though it’s obvious he’s hardly paying attention to what you’re saying because he’s too busy nipping at the side of your neck

“mm. hey, you know what the best part is about the zipper not going all the way up?” yoongi grins, one of his arms sliding back from your waist so he can reach for the zipper, “it makes it much easier for me to get you out of this dress.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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literaila · 3 years

Text

a void on your side of the bed.

loki x gn!reader

summary: loki is feeling lonely. and guilty about that.

here was the thing:

loki tried not to ask for too much. he tried to be the perfect partner, the perfect person just for you.

he didnt complain when you wanted to sleep in, or when he was supposed to make you breakfast (he enjoyed doing that). he wasnt upset when you asked him to ‘clean up’ around the house, or when you refused to buy him any more ice cream.

he tried to eliminate any problems-- never been done before by the god of mischief --he might cause before they even appeared, and tried to give you anything and everything you might want.

it wasnt a hard task, actually. he liked the feeling in his chest when you smiled at him, when you were grateful for his help or when he surprised you with something that made your life just a little bit better. he liked taking care of you, causing less trouble than before.

but. it was really hard not to complain when you werent paying attention to him.

when you needed space for just a bit too long for his liking. when he felt like an interruption every time he attempted to make any small talk with you, and you sighed-- almost reluctantly --before turning to him.

he knew you were busy, and he knew that you wanted to get as much work done as you could during the day. he just didnt like it.

he didnt like not conversing with you during the day, not cuddling with you on the couch during lunch while you snacked on something beside him. he didnt like leaving you alone until it was nine o’clock at night and you looked like you were contemplating murder.

he felt lonely. and he just missed you.

and, gods, he was really trying not to complain.

he was really trying not to make this a bigger struggle for you by stealing any of your time. he knew how hard you were working, knew that it drained all the life out of you by the end of the day, knew that the last thing you needed was him telling you that he was upset.

he was used to not sharing his emotions, to building up walls and keeping all his thoughts locked in. but usually, he didnt have to do that with you.

it was all looking up for loki when the week was coming to a slow end. friday night, he felt excited to get you back for at least two days, to steal all the time he could from you before you got annoyed of him. he got his usual smirk back when you came out of your office friday night, giving him a soft smile as you headed to the bedroom.

this was it, he knew. tomorrow morning, he wasnt going to let you leave bed until at least noon.

he fell asleep that night, arms tucked around you, lips smiling against your head, with thoughts of the next day filling his dreams.

so, when he woke up in the morning, colder than usual, a void where you were laying in his arms, it wasnt surprising that he was feeling more upset than before.

disappointment was a violent emotion.

still, he walked out of the room with some hope left, that maybe you were just drinking coffee and eating breakfast while you waited for him.

that hope disappeared when he heard the familiar click-clacking from the room you had proclaimed was your office.

you were working. again. and loki was alone. again.

he felt a groan building up in his chest, a terrible feeling filling him as he listened for your breathing. he knew it was madness to miss you this much when you were only a door away, but he wasnt used to spending days away from you.

he reminded himself that you were right there with a bitter laugh.

he was trying not to be angry or disappointed with you, he knew that it wasnt fair to put you at the end of the blame when you didnt even know how he was feeling and that it wasnt fair for him to want you to stay with him of every second of every day. to ask for so much.

he turned toward the bedroom again and tried to drown his emotions in reading.

it wasnt really working, but at least when he was this far away from you he didnt feel like you were ignoring him.

at around noon, after hours of re-reading the same chapter over and over again and illusioning himself as his brother and throwing a fake hammer around, he finally decided that you needed lunch, at least. he decided that bringing lunch was a perfectly acceptable thing for a significant other to do.

(and hopefully, it wouldnt annoy you too much)

“my love,” he called, knocking on the door. “i’ve brought you sustenance”

you replied a quick ‘come in!’ and loki put a smile on his face, walking in the room deviously and grinning down at you in your chair.

“thank you, loki,” you whispered, kissing his cheek when he leaned to place the plate on your desk, rubbing a hand down his arm when you looked back at the screen in front of you.

loki tried not to preen too much at the touch.

“how are you, love?” he asked, bending down to stare at the screen with you. he didnt understand anything about it, but it was still fun to pretend. to include himself with you.

“oh, tired,” was all you said as you leaned over to type something yet again. loki frowned at your words and focused his attention on your face instead.

you looked perfectly normal, perfect and normal, he supposed. your eyes were bright and your face was blank, but still, loki was worried over your words.

“maybe you could take a break for lunch then?” he asked, bringing a hand to your face and tracing your jawline with his thumb. he was trying to sound casual, to not let the hope that you might concede slip.

“i wish i could,” you sighed and looked over at him with a smile, taking the hand that was on your face and placing a gentle kiss on his palm. he froze under the attention. “thank you, sunshine, for lunch. i adore you,” you kissed him again, and turned away.

his hand was still in the air, left behind.

your words were sweet. exactly what loki wanted to hear, really, but he heard the unspoken dismissal of his presence. he knew this was your way of asking him to leave, even if you didnt realize it.

he wanted to plead with you to let him stay.

he stood up instead, not letting the sigh escape his lips in the room with you, and headed toward the door. he touched the doorknob, feeling all the emotions building up in his chest. making their way through his body like a stampede.

it was all very much for him. this disappointment that he could barely hide anymore. the loneliness he knew he had to return to in the other room.

before he realized it, the words were slipping from his lips.

“have i done something wrong?” his usual teasing tone was there, his usual indicator for dramatics, but when you looked at him the look on his face was much more serious than his tone.

you frowned immediately, and loki scolded himself. “quite the opposite really, sweets. you just brought me lunch?”

“right, of course.” he nodded to go, but you stopped him.

“is there something wrong, loki?” you were turned towards him completely, concern tainting both your face and your tone. loki felt terrible like he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

he tried to put on a smile. “no, darling.”

but you werent easy to trick, he knew, and you scowled at him. “loki.” you were staring at him with your intimidating eyes now, only slightly soft because you were worried. even to a god, it was scary.

reluctantly, he nodded. avoiding your eyes now.

“come sit, sunshine,” you said, gesturing to the couch next to your desk. loki could hear the concern more now, stronger. he winced and took a seat.

after a few moments of silence and loki looking at the wall with furrowed eyebrows, you spoke first. “whats wrong?”

he sighed, feeling silly. you were supposed to be working and he was interrupting that with childish emotions that he could deal with himself. but still, he couldnt help but feel grateful at your asking.

“we havent been spending as much time together recently and..” he stopped, still avoiding his eyes to run a hand through his hair. “i suppose i’m feeling a bit..excluded? or maybe lonely?” he winced, sighed, looked like the perfect definition of regret. “i dont know” he said, almost silent.

but while loki was feeling ridiculous, you were looking upon him with something similar to horror in your eyes. terror at the thought of hurting him.

you were well aware that you’d been working more, the exhaustion every night made sure of it, but you hadnt realized that it was taking a toll on loki too, that he was... missing you while you were preoccupied.

you hadnt even considered it, really, when you longed to go watch a movie with him or have dinner together. your clinginess wasnt surprising, but loki?

he never seemed to mind space.

your brain took a few seconds to process it before you could speak again. “i’m so sorry, loki.” you were already pleading with him, begging for forgiveness.

how could you have disregarded him so much this week? you felt disgusted at the thought.

loki’s head snapped up in shock. he thought you might be tired with his admission, maybe even upset. not... regretful? he didnt expect to see this look on your face, one that was so disappointed, so loving.

“i didnt realize that you might be feeling lonely also, which is completely unthoughtful of me, i just thought that maybe-” you were gesturing with your hands, looking around the room rapidly as you used all your breath.

“you arent upset?” loki asked carefully, interrupting your rambling.

you paused, then blinked, looking at him curiously. he was serious, that much you could tell. he had that same frown on his face. you blinked again.

“upset?” you repeated, astounded. “why would i be upset?”

loki was just as confused as you now. he scratched his neck, looking down. “because i’m getting in the way of your work, interrupting you, being troublesome?” he said it as if he was trying to ring any bells in your head. he seemed sure of every word he spoke.

all you felt was more horror.

“your emotions are not interruptions or ‘troublesome’“ you mocked his accent, mostly with anger at yourself as you scowled at the floor. your words were harsh, but loki didnt flinch away. he still didnt understand.

“they aren’t?”

your eyes snapped up to his, guilt pouring from them. immediately, you jumped up from your chair, coming to sit next to him and taking his hand in yours. his face relaxed a bit at the feel of your touch. “of course they’re not, loki. if you’re upset i want to know. you and your feelings arent burdens on my day, i love you!” you promised him with strong eyes, with a strong grip on his hand.

it was probably the most important thing in the world to you that he knew this. that he didnt feel unwanted again.

“i love you too” he answered, quickly, before he even had the chance to think over your words.

he almost smiled when he did, proud of himself, of you, for seemingly no reason. you loved him.

it was nice to hear.

it was also nice to hear the softness in your voice, the sweet words, his name. it was nice to be sitting next to you.

he was hit was a sudden burst of longing, this time for something different.

he wished he would’ve talked to you days before, wished there was more he could do. if that had happened, he might’ve saved you both from some unwanted feelings. might’ve kept you from the sorrow that you still had on your face.

you were still upset, he knew.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so busy. that i havent spent enough time with you,” the words fell from your lips before you could stop them, despite the happy look on loki’s face. you still felt horrible, guilty for making loki feel anything but joy.

“its okay, darling, i know you have a lot of work to do.”

though his words were sweet, they only made you scoff.

“thats not an excuse.” you insisted, scowling again. “i havent been taking care of you,”

loki, who no longer felt disappointed or lonely, who was enjoying just the sound of your voice and feel of your skin, frowned with you. he didnt like the pain in your voice, the anger he could hear.

he really wasnt upset anymore, never upset with you, to begin with. he was only glad that you knew he’d missed you and that you seemed to feel the same. he was happy to see you away from your desk.

his brows furrowed.

then he smiled again, leaning in closer to you with an idea.

he lifted your face towards him with gentle fingers, admiring you before he spoke. “i know how i’d like you to make it up to me,” he said, smirking at you.

it was a familiar look. one you hadnt seen in far too many days.

“you do?” you asked him, forgetting your guilt for a moment while he stared at you.

he nodded, staring down at your lips. his damned smirk was glued to his face now, distracting you from anything besides him. “i rather think you’ll enjoy it..” he assured.

and then he kissed you, and guilt was the last thing on your mind.

the thing was: loki was already the perfect person for you.

#loki x you #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki spoilers #loki #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel #loki (marvel)#mcu imagine #mcu

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that-was-anticlimactic · 3 years

Note

22 with Zukka for the prompt list? Also hi :)

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you." + zukka

Zuko was angry.

He supposed that wasn’t that shocking—he was angry a lot—but the amount of genuine anger and frustration he was accumulating due to his hair, now that wasn’t fair nor normal.

It was stupid—he had to attend some dumb public event since he was the Fire Lord and stand at the side applauding politely, then say a few words. Really, he’d been through more stressful times in his life than that.

Even still, there was an hour left before he had to arrive, and he was getting ready in his chambers. Or, he was supposed to be getting ready. He was still in his sleeping robes, aggressively pulling a brush through his hair

Honestly, at this point, he was just beating his scalp.

No matter how carefully or slowly he ran the brush through his hair, it was still tangled. It still looked greasy, and even when he said “screw it” and just threw his hair in a top knot, he nearly chopped it all off because it looked terrible. The bumps at the top of his head were so large it looked like he hadn’t even brushed his hair in the first place!

Logically, he knew that his dad was far far far away right now and would in no way, shape, or form be attending the same event or see said event, but he couldn’t block out Ozai’s voice in his head telling him how big of a disappointment he was due to the state of his hair.

Zuko grunted, throwing the brush across the room and leveling the cursed object with a furious pout. It’s what the brush deserved.

“Hey, Zuko! I can’t decide whether I should wear my cobalt robes or my lapis robes. I know you don’t think there’s a difference, but I swear to you—are you okay?”

The angelic sound of Sokka’s voice caused Zuko’s face to shift from fury to a soft smile. He turned around, his fingers twitching when the brush left his sight because it needed to know how angry he was, and shot Sokka what he hoped was a soft look.

His boyfriend was also wearing his evening robes, something far too casual for the event they were attending, and it took everything in him to focus his gaze on Sokka’s face rather than his shoulder where the fabric was slowly slipping off.

In his hands were two tunics which absolutely looked the exact same color-wise, but he just chalked that up to Sokka being picky about his wardrobe (no, he wouldn’t acknowledge that he was unsure whether it was that or the fact that he couldn’t see properly out of his left eye).

Sokka’s hair looked impeccable, tied tightly in a wolf tail, much unlike his own.

“Sunshine?”

Oh, he’d been staring, hadn’t he?

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face and collapsing onto his bed. “I’m just trying to get ready.”

He watched as Sokka’s eyes flickered between Zuko’s tapping foot, his hair, and the brush on the floor behind him.

His face morphed into understanding and he carefully draped his clothes over the back of Zuko’s vacant chair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair for you,” he said gently, nudging Zuko’s foot with his own.

“Get it yourself, Lazy,” Zuko muttered, but either way he shifted his position so he could roll onto the other side of the bed and reached, swiping the brush off the floor and tossing the cursed object at his boyfriend.

Sokka poked at him with his finger (and Zuko tried not to melt at the way Sokka tapped in patterns of three—it was the nonbender’s favorite type of pattern, he did everything in three’s. It became Zuko’s favorite number as their relationship developed and became not only a form of comfort for Sokka when he had his bad days, but also for him) until he got the signal and turned so his back was to Sokka.

“Your hair is very pretty,” Sokka remarked, gently grabbing a small chunk of his hair and starting at the edges.

“It’s greasy.”

“No, it’s really not. You know I don’t like touching greasy hair. I wouldn’t touch it if it was greasy.”

They both knew that was a lie—Zuko’s hair was an exception.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Sokka asked, twisting the edges of the now brushed section of Zuko’s hair while separating it into a second section.

“My hair.”

“I got that.”

“It’s not… it’s not perfect…”

And that was it, wasn’t it? The event wasn’t that big of a deal—in fact, it was so insignificant to him that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was, but when his hair wouldn’t work the way he wanted, he started getting stiff and on edge.

If his dad saw him like this… Zuko couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought.

“Babe, Sunshine, light of my life,” Sokka began and oh how Zuko practically melted, “you don’t need to be perfect.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Zuko shot back. “But I do have to be perfect. Everyone’s watching me—I’m the Fire Lord! If I don’t look perfect then…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to focus solely on the feeling of Sokka’s fingers in his hair.

“Oh, I get it,” Sokka said softly. “This isn’t about your hair, is it, baby?”

Zuko just sniffed.

“I know I’m not the best person to talk to about being okay with things being imperfect, but something I’ve begun to learn over the years is that there’s never a time when everything’s perfect, no matter how hard you plan… or brush…”

Zuko chuckled.

“But something that you can always count on is me being there; you know I’ll always be there, right? Because I will be,” he continued. At this point, Zuko was certain Sokka had set the brush down and was just using his fingers, which was somehow more comforting despite the slightly uncouth method.

“Besides, you’re already perfect to me. You don’t need to try and please everyone else anymore. Quite frankly, they’re all idiots.”

Zuko laughed. It was quiet and more half-hearted than anything, but it was a laugh all the same. He could feel water beginning to pool in his eyes, and Zuko let out a choking gasp. “Sorry.”

“Shush, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just… I saw my hair and it wouldn’t—it wasn’t right and I didn’t know what would—“

“Shhh.” Sokka coaxed him into silence, purposefully taking deep breaths along the way to remind him to breathe (which was really helpful since he had forgotten).

“It’s just me. No one else is here—he’s not here. It’s just you and it’s me. And I, personally, think you have the prettiest hair in the entire world, even when it’s greasy.”

Oh, what did Zuko do to deserve someone like Sokka in his life?

Sokka stopped running his fingers through his hair, and Zuko felt the bed shift as Sokka adjusted his position. The nonbender flung his arms around Zuko’s neck, holding him close.

“You’re going to have the best public appearance in the history of pubic appearances today,” Sokka informed him, and Zuko hummed, allowing himself to fall back into Sokka’s embrace. “And if anyone complains about your hair, they may have a run in with my boomerang.”

“Thank you.”

Zuko opened his eyes, allowing his face to fall into its natural frown, but prayed to Agni that Sokka could see the appreciation and adoration in his eyes.

He slowly rose, pushing himself off of his bed and turning so he could see his reflection in the mirror.

His hair it… it wasn’t bad. But it still made his muscles clench and his breath hitch. There were some strands tumbling out of his top knot, falling out of rhythm with the rest of his demeanor.

It was so insignificant, but that’s what Zuko thought when he was younger.

(There was nothing insignificant when it came to Ozai.)

He felt more than saw Sokka stand beside him, and together they gazed in the mirror.

Despite knowing he was being self-conscious, Zuko found himself biting his lip in anticipation as Sokka looked at him. He knew Sokka didn’t think he was disfigured or that his hair was an awful mess, but that wasn’t enough prevent his heart from racing and his fists at the ready to raise to block his—

“You’re beautiful,” Sokka breathed, his eyes so wide that Zuko thought they could contain the depths of the entire ocean, encompass the entirety of the night sky. What made his face flush was that the stars in Sokka’s eyes were directed on him—focused solely and only on him.

“Oh.”

It pained him that that was all he could say. Sokka could compliment him like it was nothing, but Zuko couldn’t do any more than reply with one word.

Sokka frowned and no, that wouldn’t do. Zuko didn’t like when he frowned—more so, he hated being the reason his boyfriend’s smile vanished.

“Are you still…” He cut himself off, his neck jerking and lips pursing, then he waved his hands around for emphasis, as a way to finish the sentence.

Shamefully, Zuko nodded.

Without warning, Sokka grabbed hold of Zuko’s hands and placed them on the top of his head. He intertwined their fingers, almost as if they were holding hands, then started moving them.

For a moment, Zuko held his breath because what was this idiot doing? His hair was the definition of perfection—no strands were loose, he looked regal, the blue and red beads in his hair were perfectly placed… and here Sokka was, guiding Zuko’s hands around his head and messing it up.

Zuko tried to pull away—tried to free his hands from Sokka’s grasp because they couldn’t do this—they couldn’t mess up is hair! The Fire Nation was already terribly critical towards Sokka, being Water Tribe and all, not to mention being the Fire Lord’s boyfriend meant more publicity than either of them were comfortable with… the public would tear Sokka apart if he walked out with messy hair.

“What are you doing?” Zuko hissed through grit teeth, still trying to yank his hands away to no avail. “You’re messing up your hair—I’m messing up your hair!”

Sokka ignored him, but Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to glower at his idiot because his tongue was sticking out of his mouth the way it did when he was concentrating and it was so authentically Sokka and so adorable and—

“There,” Sokka said, interrupting his thoughts. “Now we match!”

It was then that Zuko realized his hands had been released, and he clutched them close to his chest defensively.

Sokka was cheekily grinning at him, his eyes shining, and his hair… oh. His hair was a travesty. His wolf tail became undone and half of it was falling out. The top of his head looked like someone build hundreds of tiny bridges with the way his hair had been tugged at.

As terrible as it was, Zuko was basking in the absolute adorableness of his boyfriend.

“It may not be perfect,” Sokka started, locking hands with Zuko once more, “but we’re doing it together. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Penguin.”

Sokka leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then: should I wear the cobalt or lapis tunic? I feel like lapis is a more luscious color, but cobalt brings out my eyes…”

Most of what Sokka was saying made absolute no sense to him, but Zuko knew Sokka so he knew that his feeling weren’t being brushed aside. Sokka was just trying to distract him—to make him laugh.

So, Zuko sat back down and listened to Sokka ramble about the pros and cons of each color, even though they had to be at the event in half an hour.

Sokka was right (he always was)—it was never about his hair (maybe it was a little about his hair, whenever Ozai was involved, it was about everything). He spent the majority of his life trying to live up to the standards of everyone else—his hair had to be perfect, his back had to be perfectly straight…

The Fire Nation thrived on the idea of perfection. So much so that Zuko knew if Sokka had been born and raised here, he would have been isolated or forced into muteness due to his imperfections, or his tics. It was a terrible thought that was proved true by the looks he saw shot his boyfriend’s way by some elders—from the way that some people would address Zuko rather than Sokka when they were together or ask Zuko why he hadn’t fixed Sokka or what places he took Sokka to to do so.

But they weren’t imperfections, Sokka’s tics. Zuko reminded him countless times that they were just a part of who he was, something that made him as special as he was. And he supposed that’s what Sokka was trying to show him… though through his unorthodox and irritatingly charming methods.

Zuko never did fix his hair for the evening—he wanted to continue matching with Sokka.

[this can be seen as a mini prequel to threshold of eternity hence why zuko gives azula the advice about how to 'handle' her hair and toe kind of inspired this one hehe]

'101 ways to say i love you' prompts

#saaabriel #corey writes:)#... i got excited oops #this got kinda long iugyfuhi #i counted—it’s 2.1k words lol #i just... i love them #why yes... sokka has ts in this and zuko is autistic in this wHAT #sokka with tourette’s #hehe #i am so sorry with how carried away this got lol #i got so invested and then suddenly it was this long oops #thank you for indulging me! the others will come soon !!!#we don't need to talk about the fact that i literally cannot choose what terms of endearment to use and always switch WHAT #oof poor Zuko he’s just trying to live:/#I really chose zuko violence huh #like it didn’t start that bad but then i kept trying to sneak as much angst in as i could #tw child abuse #also feel free to ignore the reference to toe (… i hate that the fic acronym is toe’) because it’s what inspired the direction i took and #uhh it's 1am and i need to pack so imma que this oops #ngl still kinda proud of that one lol #corey rambles:)

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

HERES A CUTE PROMPT FOR U BC THE ANGSTY ONES ARE KILLING ME peter and reader babysitting morgan together and being cute yeah that’s it but it cute :) also i totally agree w not writing for tom anymore, but either way it’s totally ur decision who you write for <3

oooooof a concept we don’t talk about enough :,) and thank you lovely <3

babysitting morgan is a task that often falls on you. your dad has major trust issues, so he’ll only allow one of his own to be responsible for such precious cargo.

tonight is tony’s and pepper’s date night, which means it’s also yours and morgan’s. you don’t mind because you thoroughly enjoy every second of your quality sister time.

she is a handful, however. you’ve invited peter over to join to compensate for that. he absolutely adores morgan, and you swear she likes your boyfriend more than she likes you.

traitor.

morgan is perched in peter’s lap, who has an arm gently tucked around her. he’s sitting cross cross and next to you on the floor. you’re currently reading the two of them a story—the hungry caterpillar. it’s a classic, whether they’ll admit it or not.

“one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of-“ you’re once again interrupted, this time by a groan from morgan. she’s been sighing and scoffing every few pages. lowering the book, you glance over at your sister.

“what’s up, morg?” you finally ask her, though you’re dreading her answer. “i’m too old for this, y/n. you are, too,” she complains, earning an amused raise of peter’s eyebrows.

she’s a drama queen, just like your father.

“you’re five!” you remind morgan with a slight frown. “this is what five year olds are supposed to like.” morgan shifts on peter’s knee so she’s facing you. he’s doing his best to not laugh at your bickering.

“five and a half,” she corrects you. “same difference,” you retort. morgan smirks in her true wise guy fashion. “that’s an oxymoron.”

tossing the book aside in defeat, you hum. “i’d be careful if i were you, morgan. i know where you sleep.” morgan’s jaw drops, her little fingers tugging on peter’s flannel collar for help. “is that a threat?” she wonders. you stick your tongue out at her. “it can be.”

“ladies, ladies!” peter breaks up your argument just as it steers left. “c’mon, y/n/n. you’re better than this. violence is never the answer.” he shoots you a look, weaving a hand through morgan’s hair. she smiles wickedly.

“ugh, will you ever take my side? she started it!” you whine to peter and flick your sister’s shoulder. “no fair! i’m only five, remember?” morgan plays the age card, jutting out her bottom lip. peter continues to stroke her locks soothingly. “your sister’s a big meanie, but it’s okay. i’ll protect you,” he promises.

“you’re so fake, bug boy,” you reprimand your boyfriend. you tap on the hard cover of the hungry caterpillar. “don’t act like you weren’t entertained! this is good stuff right here.” peter shares a funny look with morgan, sucking in a breath. “uh… no comment.”

he slings his free arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss your temple. still annoyed, you push him off of you.

“don’t be like that, babe.” peter pulls you into his side with a chuckle, squeezing you closer. “i just think we could all use something a little more… stimulating, right?” having won the discourse, morgan beams. “i agree. two against one!” she taunts.

“yeah, yeah. you guys deserve each other,” you grumble back, but accept peter’s embrace nevertheless. “what do you wanna do instead, morgan?” “let me think,” she ponders her options, gasping when an idea comes to her. “can we try the shield from uncle steve? dad says peter knows how.”

morgan receives tons of high-tech paraphernalia from the team because they want her to get in touch with her roots. they’d done the same when you were her age. it’s insane, the things she has access to. peter is an actual avenger and doesn’t reap the benefits like she does.

peter does prefer not to engage in superhero activities on his days off. although, he clearly has a knack for operating cap’s shield, as he demonstrated in berlin. he can’t say no to morgan, either.

“this should be interesting. you down?” you check with him, rubbing his shoulder. peter gives you a grin and morgan a nudge forward. “go get it, morg. i’ll teach you all the skills you need to kick cap’s…” he pauses to censor himself. “rear end.”

giggling, you wrap your arms around peter’s neck. “we’ll meet you outside, okay?” you inform your sister. morgan happily hops up from peter’s lap. “okay! don’t swap too much saliva while i’m gone,” she teases you and peter before running along to the lab.

a light blush sets on peter’s cheeks, you hiding your face in his neck.

“where’d she learn how to talk that way?” peter murmurs and moves you to sit in his lap, where morgan was. “my dad, probably. they must be onto us,” you reply with a kiss to his shoulder. he lets out a quiet laugh, hugging you against his chest. “i noticed. nothing gets past a stark.”

“speaking of,” you prompt peter, gazing up into his doe eyes. “be honest. you were vibing with the hungry caterpillar, weren’t you?” a wide smile crossing peter’s features, his lips brush the tip of your nose softly.

“i might’ve been a little invested… don’t tell morgan.”

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #mcu #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

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messwriting · 4 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

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