#metaphorically doodling hearts over his name

[crabhousecrafting]

absolutely hate being into mcyt why am i scrolling on my phone smiling at pictures of a bald middle aged man with a tortilla on his head like a swooning teenage girl

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 4 — 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.8k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, hints of petplay notes - i blame barry for the delay, jk. anyway, sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

You've officially reached the point of insanity, and there's no turning back. One date with Johnny, and you're practically doodling his name in a journal with hearts all around, or putting your name with his just to see how it sounds. 

Admittedly, you haven't done either of those things, but you did turn down another night out drinking this weekend on the off chance you end up having plans with Johnny—which might be just as insane, if not more. Especially since you hadn't brought up your intention with Johnny. 

You suppose there's no time like the present, so cuddled up on your couch, you bring up your messages to Johnny and start typing.

i miss you so much, even if it's only been a few days!! when can I see you again? 

Straight to the point—unbridled emotion that's honestly a little cringeworthy, but there's little point in pretending to be something you're not, especially when Johnny seems perfectly into it. 

You have to distract yourself for a little while, scrolling through various social media apps to occupy your mind as you wait for a response. It's not too long before your phone pings, and you're rushing to click the notification—each time his name pops up on your screen your stomach flips, and you always click onto the message far too eagerly. You wonder if he does the same.

Been thinking, and I did have an idea in mind, but now am overthinking.

That certainly piques your interest, as you speedily type back a response, almost demanding an answer. 

tell me!! 

You watch the screen as it tells you Johnny is typing, then nothing. Then typing again, then nothing. After a minute or so of stopping and starting, his picture fills the screen as his call waits for you—you pick up immediately.

"Hey, pet." He greets cheerfully—so much so that you can hear the smile in his voice. It's so much better now the image of it is burned in the back of your mind—it feels like the two of you never stopped smiling when you were together.

"Hi, Johnny!" You reply, just as enthused, despite it only being a day since you last spoke. "What's your idea?" 

Your insistence on hearing his idea makes him laugh.

"Straight to the point, lass. I was thinking that ya could come stay fer the weekend?" You detect a hint of hesitance in his voice, while your heart practically leaps at the prospect. 

A whole weekend with Johnny sounds like a dream—talking, cuddling, kissing... maybe more. You burn with need thinking about finally taking things to a more sexual level with Johnny. So far you've only teased each other, and even that has made you unbelievably needy—practically every conversation with him leaves you dripping and aching, leaves you yearning for relief that you can only get at Johnny's hands. 

Not only that, but maybe you'll get to explore more of your dynamic together—the thought of getting to submit to him sends you into a tailspin. You know it would come so easily, you know you'd slip under Johnny's command so easily were he to just take ahold of your metaphorical leash. 

You come to, realising you'd fallen completely silent instead of responding when Johnny speaks again—lighthearted yet hesitant.

 "... But it's okay if you don't want to—"

"I want to! On base?" You ask, already starting to unfurl the logistics in your head.

Johnny chuckles good-naturedly, seemingly amused by the idea of having you come over to his place on base. "Nah, I have a flat in Hereford."

"Oh, cool. I was a little scared for a moment." You admit, a hint of nervousness before you change tack. "But ooh, are you aiming to get laid this weekend? Bold move, Johnny." 

Admittedly, you're teasing and not offended by the assumption in the slightest, if anything, you know wholeheartedly that you want him. If you go on much longer with the level of teasing Johnny subjects you to without any relief, you may just combust. 

"You're the one making assumptions, needy girl." He teases right back, and then continues more earnestly. "I wasn't counting on it, jus' want to spend some quality time with you. Can't exactly cuddle up in a café."  

How he manages to balance wholesome and filthy so well you have no idea. Consistently, Johnny shows his depth and keeps you on your toes by making you flustered in every possible way. One moment you're blushing from desire, the next from his sweetness. 

"So... it's a sleepover, then?" You giggle as you snuggle closer to the couch cushions, already thrilled at the idea of spending time with Johnny in any way. 

Johnny laughs right along with you, launching back into joking. "I'll even paint your nails if ya want. Braid your hair, talk about boys, as long as the boy is me..." 

The hint of possessiveness makes your stomach do somersaults—despite the early stages of your relationship, your heart is set on Johnny, and it's reassuring to know he might be in just as deep. 

"You're the sweetest! Do you even know how to braid hair, though?" You try to imagine Johnny's large hands working with delicate strings of hair, as braiding is something you even struggle to do yourself.

"I have sisters and nieces. Taken part in many a makeover." He proudly admits, and you can feel the joy radiating off of him. No threat to his masculinity at all, just sheer enjoyment at being the subject of his niece's whims.

The image it conjures up is downright adorable.

You nod to yourself, storing that piece of information in the back of your mind for later. "I'll keep that in mind for when I need to dress up for a special occasion." 

The giggles are unavoidable as you picture big, bulky Johnny painting nails—you'd put good money on him being the kind to poke out his tongue when he concentrates.

Your thoughts start to drift to other plans for the weekend, other things you might get up to. Johnny was adamant that sex wasn't expected, but on your end, it's certainly still desired... at least in theory. 

There are still some residual nerves and worries, even with Johnny's constant sweetness—past events, past bad experiences lurk in the back of your mind waiting to sabotage the present. 

The need you feel almost overwhelms all of that though—the way Johnny just seems to speak to all the submissive parts of you, making you feel so desired and so safe.

"So... what if I want to have sex?" You ask, voice falling quiet as if admitting something forbidden—as if Johnny isn't going to do filthy things to you far beyond just sex. 

A throaty, strained groan leaves the man, his voice dropping low and dripping with desire. "Might have to have you stay longer, since you won't be walking after."

You suspect the idea of you struggling to walk isn't just bragging—if you close your eyes, you can almost see his length, remembering how good it felt even though thick denim jeans. 

"I— yeah, okay." The sigh that leaves you is instinctual, hot with anticipation.

"I've got condoms, but yer welcome to bring your own," Johnny mentions. "And I'll pick ya up Friday evening, drop you off Sunday night? How's that sound?" 

"Wonderful." You say honestly, loving that you'll get to spend the weekend with him, all while being cared for and driven there and back. "Ooh, I get to be your passenger princess." 

You giggle mischievously, playing it up for Johnny as your mind runs wild with ideas. 

"Don't be getting any ideas, lass." He chides, playfulness clear in his tone.

"Hey, I was just planning on taking over your radio and telling you fun stories. Nothing more!" Your voice rises through your protest, as before Johnny had turned it dirty, you really hadn't been thinking of the way your hands may drift to his thigh, or palm at his cock. 

"Not sure if I believe that. I felt the way you were squeezin' me under that table, yer a naughty girl." He purrs, making shivers run through you.

"You started it, not me." Your gasp is full of offence, proclaiming your complete innocence. Of course, you had wanted to feel him up way more than you did and had undoubtedly had a few very sinful thoughts while he was sitting next to you. 

But you had been good, had behaved, and kept your hands to yourself. It was Johnny who led you to sin.

"So, you won't be feeling me up unless I'm the one guiding you?" 

At that you fall silent, too stunned to speak—the thought of Johnny guiding you through pleasing him, guiding you into being perfect, just for him is overwhelming. He'll lead you deeper and deeper into submission—trust.

"Oh, you like the sound of that." Johnny's purr has you completely dead to rights, as once more, he sees right through you.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to settle your rapidly swirling arousal. "Of course I do..." 

Johnny doesn't relent in his teasing, in his almost cruel display of control of your desire. Everything from his word choice to the dominant edge in his voice sends you spiralling. "Want me to show you how to please me, puppy?" He coos. "Show you how tae be a good girl fer me?" 

"Please, sir." You feel your mind slip just a little—falling so easily into that blissful state just listening to Johnny's tone, finding it so easy to fall for him. 

"Won't have to show you much, you just know how to turn me on naturally, like it's instinct. Fuck, lassie." The guttural noise from Johnny shows the effect his own words have on him too. 

You hope he's squirming just like you are, achingly hard and straining against his jeans, just like he was in the café. 

The tension crackles in the air between you, the silence thick with your joint lust settling deep in your respective guts. 

You let out a shaky sigh before you respond. "It's only fair for us to be equal on that front since you just... I don't even have words. It's like you read my mind so you can drive me crazy." 

Johnny is undoubtedly insightful, likely an occupational thing, but sometimes it's scary how well he can read you. He's not the only one who naturally knows how to appeal to someone's baser desires.

For a moment, and quite unfairly as the logical side of your brain notes, your gut twists at the idea of how he became so well practised.

Johnny's sweet laugh pulls you from that train of thought. "Am a smart man, perceptive, what can I say? Know how to read ma pet."

"I'm not your pet." You note, not bitterly, but rather plainly. You're not Johnny's— 

"Not yet, aye, but you will be." He says with a sense of certainty. 

"Johnny..." You don't even know what to say to that, beyond begging and pleading for him to make it come true—but that hardly feels appropriate right now.

"Even if we don't have sex this weekend, I'd like to explore things with us a little, if tha's okay?" He asks, his voice open and inquisitive, almost shy in how quietly he poses the question.

"Me too, I don't wanna rush too much but holding back somehow feels...wrong." You sigh, wishing you had the words to really explain the pull you felt. "It's like I know I shouldn't be rushing head first into this, but... I can't stop it." 

Johnny is truly a magnetic force of a man, both in who he is and the way he treats you. There's so much about him that you can't wait to get to know, all the beauty and scars in equal measure, each story—the meaning of the waver behind his smile, the way he sounds first thing in the morning. 

"Me either, if it helps." He admits, sharing the sentiment. "It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other, aye?" 

Your eyes flutter shut as you rip the phone away from your face, letting out a loud exhalation and a whispered "fuck". The warmth of his words and the weight of the meaning behind them overwhelming you, wrapping around you like a cosy blanket.

When you feel a little calmer, you return the phone to your ear to agree with Johnny's sentiment, though not quite as viscerally as you did in private.

"Yeah, just gotta keep each other straight." Your throat tightens as you push the words out. 

The silence on the line is overtaken by shuffling from Johnny's end for a moment before he clears his throat. "Gotta go, pet. Duty calls."

"It's... 8 pm, what are you doing at this hour?"

There's a laugh from Johnny, and a more insistent knocking in the background. "Going for a pint with the lads." 

"Oh duty, huh?" You tease. 

He hums in affirmation, unashamed. "Team bonding, essential stuff for the functional operation of any squad." 

"Have fun, Johnny." You wish him well sincerely, even if part of you wishes the call didn't have to end. "Talk soon."

"Talk soon, princess. Sleep well." He makes a kissing noise before ending the call, his photo disappearing off your screen before you lock the phone and clutch it to your chest just for a moment. 

'It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other.'

His words echo through your mind over the coming days—the light in an otherwise dreary weak. 

You were definitely falling. 

————

Packing your bag feels like chaos, as you desperately scramble to not forget a single thing. You're only going for a weekend, and yet you're packing like you're bunkering down for the apocalypse. Well, a million pairs of underwear will be necessary with how Johnny ruins them just with his words and his voice—being there in person means you'll probably be going through a new pair every hour. 

And of course, you need cute extra outfits, in case the two of you go anywhere... that means extra shoes too. Johnny is going to think you're crazy with all the bags and belongings you're bringing. 

Thankfully, you got ready hours ago—did your makeup and hair to perfection and put on a pretty dress that you may have ordered just for Johnny. Okay, maybe you ordered several dresses just for Johnny.

As you rush to put the finishing touches on your packing, your phone buzzes with a text. 

Outside whenever you're ready :) 

i'll be out soon! <3

Maybe you should tell Johnny you'd buzz him up, but considering that your packing has made your flat look like a tornado has ripped through it, perhaps it's best not.

You do your best to rush, not wanting to exhaust Johnny's good patience, jamming in a few final items you might need just in case, before locking up your flat and heading down to the lobby.

You step out into the car park, spotting Johnny standing beaming, leaning against a jeep. His arms and chest bulge in his burgundy Henley, his jeans are slung low on his hips in such a tempting way. Is it possible he got more attractive since the last time you saw him? 

Your eyes crawl over him, drinking in every little detail and falling for his good looks all over again—just as enraptured in his beauty as the first time. 

"Hi." You call out as soon as the two of you meet eyes, the spark between you instantly reigniting just through a look.

"Hey, you." He immediately reaches for your bag, taking the weight off of your shoulder like it's nothing to him��even though the weight was already starting to strain your shoulder. "Let me grab that for yer." 

You let him take your bag, watching with glee as opens the boot to put it away. The manners are such a turn-on. "What a gentleman." 

His chest puffs up in pride, a resolute look on his face. "Ma maw raised me right." 

After closing the door to the boot, Johnny jogs round to the passenger side, holding the door open for you to climb inside.

"That she did." You nod, impressed and honestly swooning at the princess treatment as Johnny climbs into the driver's side.

With the two of you finally in the car, Johnny leans back to grab a shopping bag from the backseat, opening it to display a range of goodies. "Need anything? I brought drinks and snacks." 

You peer inside the bag to see what he brought before meekly taking a bag of cookies and a can to drink. "Ooh, it's like a real road trip." 

Johnny reaches back to put the bag away, stopping with his hand resting on the back of your seat—his baby blues shine, as does his smile as he looks upon you. "Gotta look after ma girl." 

Your heart hammers against your chest, your cheeks flush and burn.

His girl.

"I could get used to that." You whisper, lost in watching his mouth, recalling the way they wrapped around those words.

"Me too, bonnie."��

Before he turns his attention to getting the car running, he double-checks your seatbelt, making sure you're safe—he makes sure his rearview mirror is perfectly placed taps to activate the directions on his phone. 

And then he does the thing—the arm on the back of the seat, backing out of the parking space and looking so fucking hot while doing it. You're entirely transfixed. 

"I'm just getting it out of the way now, but I am gonna stare at you a tonne, you already look so attractive when you're driving." You know you're babbling just a little, a side effect of the nerves, and the fact that Johnny looks so good to you right now.1

"I'm all yours to feast yer eyes upon." He says with a wink, before turning his attention to the road as he pulls out of your apartment's car park.

"Lucky me." You whisper, gaze tracing over all of his features. "Especially since I love looking at you so much." 

"Shame fer me tha' I have tae keep my eyes on the road." The smile on his face widens as he spares you a glance, doing a quick double-take. 

"At least we have all weekend to spend time together uninterrupted." Feeling brave, you reach out to rest your hand on the back of Johnny's head, caressing the nape of his neck and threading your fingers in the roots of his hair. 

Johnny's shoulders relax, as he leans slightly into the touch. "That we do." His voice turns serious momentarily. "Did you let someone know where you're going?" 

Sweet Johnny, always concerned for your safety, even when it comes to him. The awareness he shows is another thing in the long list of little details you admire about him.

"I forwarded all of your info to a friend, so you should be very afraid." You tease easily. Your friend is under strict instructions to call the police should you not check-in.

"Terrified, lassie." He smirks. "Just tae be clear, you wanna go home at any point, I'll take you, or drive you to the station if yer not comfortable." 

"I appreciate it. And if you want to kick me out, feel free." 

"I'd never." He gasps, full of offence. "Unless ya decide to trash my flat, and even then that's only if you started damaging my keepsakes from ma granny." 

It's your turn to gasp now. You wonder if that comment was inspired by past events—the kind of warning that only comes after you've experienced the event. "Only a monster would do such a thing." 

"Aye, and I bet you can be a brat, but not a monster." 

You shrug, a coy smile on your face, knowing just how bratty you can be when you want to be. "Everyone needs to be a little bratty sometimes." 

"Hmm, do they now? Good job I won't get tired of putting you in yer place then, pet." 

Johnny's hand slides from the gear stick to your thigh, his fingers curling around the exposed flesh just above your knee. The feeling is entirely electric, especially in combination with his words, making you hyper-aware of every sensation as his thumb sweeps over your skin and his hand tugs your legs ever so slightly apart. 

"This okay?" He asks, glancing down to where his hand is settled on you—you know 100% if you said no, he'd withdraw in an instant. 

"More than okay." You smile earnestly, slipping your own hand across to rest in the same place on his broad thigh.  "But can I do the same?" You embrace the denim beneath your fingertips, relish in the firm muscle that rests underneath. 

"As long as it's just tha', don't distract me too much." He smirks, turning briefly to wink at you. 

You try to keep your eyes on the road and your hands respectful. "Can't concentrate on two things at once? Seems unlike you." You tease. 

"I can." He protests, firm and certain, before his voice softens. "But I dinnae want to risk it. Precious cargo on board." He fixes you with a meaningful look in between glances at the road. 

"Johnny..." You sigh, blushing profusely at his compliment and way of thinking. 

"Dinnae care what anyone says, a man who'll drive like a nut with his lovie in the car is no man at all." He nods firmly, face morphing into something serious—though his eyes are filled with mirth, as his serious facade almost cracks."

"So no road head... ever?" You gasp, genuinely a little taken back at the prospect. 

Johnny breathes deeply through his nose, his knuckles on the wheel turning white as his hand at your thigh grips. He faces ahead still, yet speaks slowly. "If the first time I get yer pretty mouth on me is while I'm drivin', I will crash, tha's all am saying." 

"I value your honesty." Your voice leaves you as a whisper, your attempt to joke falling flat at your own breathlessness. You take a moment to compose yourself, before starting to tease again. "Save it for tonight, then?" 

It's Johnny's turn to swallow hard. "We'll see." 

The car journey falls silent for a little while, and the lack of conversation, while comfortable, allows for unpleasant and doubtful thoughts to creep in. 

The truth is, you can talk a big game, but sometimes your desire becomes outpaced by your nerves—then you're left struggling in a swirling pit of darkened thoughts. Every time Johnny pulls away to change gear, you find yourself feeling a little colder until his hand returns. 

But it doesn't do well to dwell on anxious thoughts. You force yourself to stop biting your lip, stop letting your mind flicker back to bad experiences, and actually speak to the one person who can offer you comfort right now.

"I am a little nervous..." You let the words fall free, and feel a little surprised at how small you sound.

"Aww, don't be. There's no pressure at all, promise." He says, sounding sweet and genuine—his hand squeezes your thigh once again. "Even if the furthest we go is cuddling on the couch, I'll be a very happy man." 

The smile on his face speaks to the truth of the statement, and you can't help smiling right back at him. 

"I appreciate you saying that." You think for a moment before continuing, trying to put into words the true source of your angst. "I just... get hesitant about opening up, I guess. Some guys before have promised me the world until they got what they wanted and then..." 

You trail off, not feeling the need or the strength to go into detail about last time, or the time before that.

"Tha's not me." Once more, he squeezes and lets his thumb rub over your skin. "But I don't expect ya to just take my word for it, I'll show ya, as long as it takes." 

His words mean more than you can say, and the fact he intends to back them up means even more. You really hope you can count on him.

"You're so sweet." You sigh, feeling full to the brim with appreciation. 

Johnny seems a little nervous too, frenetic energy making him shuffle in his seat. He seems to be lost in thought for a few moments before he finally speaks up. 

"I'm not looking to rush in and make a mistake maself. The last girl I dated..." He trails off too, his words tinged with dejection as he stares straight ahead. "Let's jus' say it didn't end well, either." 

You nod understandingly, all too familiar with things not ending well. "You don't have to tell me now." 

He shrugs slightly and seems like he's refusing to meet your eye any longer. "Don't want tae ruin the mood." 

"It's hard to ruin it, Johnny. We're meant to be spending time together, getting to know each other." You offer your most reassuring smile, hoping he catches it out of the corner of his eyes. "I have my fair share of sob stories to unload on you, don't worry." 

Although, that's another source of worry, that Johnny will run for the hills once he learns of your baggage.

"I don't doubt it." His lips fall into a frown, before being schooled into a half-hearted smile. "Hopefully we can replace them all with good stories instead." 

You silently nod, hoping for the same. 

"Speaking of good memories, I was thinking we could make pizzas together, I got the dough and some toppings." Johnny mentions, and the notion fills you with joy. 

"Sounds like fun!" You gasp, a pressing thought flickering into your mind. "What kind of pizza toppings do you like? I feel like this is make or break." 

Johnny seems to think for a moment, his tongue poking into his cheek. "Hmm... What are the most controversial choices?" He asks, a shit-eating grin breaking out on his face. 

"Hmm, pineapple?" You pose a controversial yet not particularly gross topping first, to gauge Johnny's taste. 

"Aye, don't mind it." 

"Anchovies?" 

He shrugs. "Why not?"

"... Olives?" 

Now he turns, perplexed. "Who doesn't like olives?" 

"A lot of people! They're horrible." You whine.

"The black ones aren't so bad, ya big baby." Johnny looks as he turns in time to watch you frown, his voice turning so condescending. "Aww, poutin' like one too. What did I tell ya about poutin' in front of me?" 

"That you'd kiss me, nibble on me even." You squeak.

You watch as everything about him changes—his eyes grow stormy and lidded, his lips curl into a satisfied smirk and his voice drops dangerously low. "As soon as we get back, those lips o' yours are mine." 

"... Yes Johnny." Your reply comes automatically, an instinct that you know will be capitalised on.

"Sound so sweet when ya say my name like that." He smiles brightly, genuinely pleased.

"Wait til you're fucking it out of me." 

"That won't be the name I want to hear from that pretty little mouth, bonnie girl." 

Shit. 

You shiver all over, squirming in your seat. "Yes sir." 

"Fuuuuck." Johnny groans, squeezing your thigh extra tight for good measure. "We should set some ground rules for the weekend." 

He suddenly sounds quite serious, though you suppose it's a good thing. Boundaries are needed, especially if you're to keep things sensible and consensual.

"Yeah, sounds good." You nod, falling quiet to allow him to lead the way. 

"I'm not gonna make ya do anything, don't think we're ready for that, but I'd like to tease it, if tha's okay?" You love the way he sounds measured and yet hopeful. 

"More than okay, though I'm sure you love to tease." You giggle, filled with a little nervous energy. Johnny already teases you so much, if he steps up his game any more you might straight up melt into a puddle. 

"Who doesn't? What did ya say about everyone needing to be a brat?" He jokes, winking—all charm. "But aye, think we need a long talk first before anything proper." 

"I look forward to it, though." You admit. Despite detailing a lot of your interests and limits in your initial post, it's good that Johnny is adamant about revisiting them properly. Still, you're excited to get to a point where you both feel comfortable truly exploring your dynamic. "So... can I call you sir?" 

Johnny falls quiet for a moment. "If it comes naturally to yer. Feel like it's something I should earn." 

"You're already doing it, you make it easier to trust you with everything that you do." Like insisting the name is something earned, you think. 

"I'm glad tae hear that." He nods, the smile on his face only slight, as he weighs his responsibility. 

"I do have some questions, though." You begin, somewhat hesitantly, but you suppose it's good to lay your cards on the table completely. A part of you can't live with uncertainty—needs to know Johnny's true intentions. 

He eyes you for a moment, before nodding. "Go on." 

"So, say you had complete control over things going forward, what would you want to happen? What do you... want for our relationship?" You take a moment to breathe after spilling all of that. 

Despite his focus on driving, you can see the cogs in Johnny's head turning as he mulls over your question.

"I want ya to be mine, in every sense of the word. My girl, my pet, my love. Everything, and I want tae be the same to you." 

It's fortunate that you're stopped at a red light, so Johnny is free to look upon you, the meaning deep in his gaze stills you completely. 

The light turns green, stealing his attention back, yet he continues to elaborate—a fond smile on his face. 

"I'll always protect ya and look after ya, and you'll love me and care for me the way a good girl does." 

"I'll get ya a pretty little collar, and a day one too, so no one ever forgets who you belong to."

It's amazing to you how Johnny can make your heart thump and cunt throb all in one sentence, in one look. 

"We'll get you a cage, a nice training routine, and we'll fuck like animals." 

His hand returns to your thigh, just as respectful as it has been all the drive thus far. 

"And when we're not fucking each other's brains out, we're cuddling on the couch, going on dates, spending time with friends. All tha' normal couple stuff." He finishes up with a happy sigh, a far-off look in his eyes as he turns his attention back to you. 

"What about you?" 

After everything Johnny just said, an expression far beyond what you expected, you find it hard to verbalise anything at all, and certainly not something as wonderfully smooth and tempting. 

You open and close your mouth a few times before finally getting your words out.

"Pretty much exactly the same." You cringe internally at how lame and lacklustre your words sound in response. "I'd like the dynamic to extend beyond the bedroom if we can manage it. For me, there isn't really an off switch."

You can only assume Johnny sees eye-to-eye with you on that, considering he replied to your post in the first place. 

"Seems to come naturally with us, I like tha'." 

"Me too." 

Johnny removes his grasp from your thigh, opting to lace his fingers through the hand of yours sitting in your lap. "I'm glad we're on the same page, bonnie." 

You squeeze his hand, relishing the way he instantly squeezes back reassuringly. Despite being connected in this way, you find it hard to look at him as you stumble through a self-conscious admission. "I was a little worried it was gonna be just sex." 

"Already well beyond that, pet," Johnny replies in an instant, before chuckling and squeezing your hand again. "Dinnae go all shy on me now." 

"Why? I'm sure you enjoy seeing me blush and squirm." You mumble, trying to hide your blushing cheeks. 

Johnny hums, amused and content. "Good job tha' I know all the best ways to make it happen then." 

You hide your face in your other hand, cupping your burning cheek and disgusting your shy smile. "It's only gonna get worse for me too, I know it." 

"Promise to use my powers for good, lass." 

You meet Johnny's gaze again, and feel a deep joy and contentedness flowing through every part of you.

"You better." 

You drive through quiet, suburban streets on the outskirts of Hereford, rows of houses passing by until Johnny turns into a street—fairly empty, and neither upscale nor impoverished. On the end sits a house, since converted into two seemingly distinct flats.

"Here we are." He comments, pulling a car to a stop and turning off the engine. Johnny leaves the car first, eager to open the door for you once more. 

"Ooh, are you upstairs or downstairs?" You ask, looking at the flats and the surroundings. 

"Upstairs," Johnny replies, grabbing your bag again. "Landlady lives downstairs, sweet woman." 

Your mind is flooded with a little old lady, lonely and completely adoring when it comes to her young renter.  "I'm sure you have her completely charmed." You giggle, imagining the effect Johnny has on older women. 

"Oh aye." He laughs too, a knowing glint in his eye as he leads you up the stairs, unlocking the door. "Keeps trying to set me up with her daughter." 

"Is that so?" 

"Mhmm." 

As the door opens, the smell hits you—clean and fresh with an undertone of something masculine. The entryway is narrow and crowded with jackets and boots of all kinds. 

"I better tell her you're off limits." You joke, as Johnny steps aside to allow you in.

He doesn't reply, simply taking ahold of you and pinning you to the door, slamming it closed behind you. His firm hands pin you by the hips, pressing you between him and the door in an instant. 

"Johnny!" You gasp, breath stolen from you as Johnny is suddenly in your space—so close and hot and heavy. 

He leans in, one of his hands from your hips drifting up your body, trailing up your breast and your neck, before stopping at your jaw. His large hand cups your face, thumb swiping across the plush of your lips, parting them slightly for him—he's entirely transfixed, eyes filled with arousal as they flicker between your lips and your eyes.

Closing the final few inches, his lips brush against yours, and you can practically taste the mint in his breath. 

He dives in, kissing you fervently, pulling you flush against him as he practically devours your mouth with his lips and tongue. His teeth worry at your lip, his tongue collides with yours, and his hand at your waist grips you intently as a throaty groan leaves him. "Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now." taglist: @cooliofango @ramadiiiisme @pterodactyal @simonrillleyyysss @hexqueensupreme @ivymarquis @oilfics @ghosts-cyphera @msdrpreist @collmemabi @ysljoon @kmi-02 @mockerycrow @nakedcrackers @cassiecasluciluce @xcup1d @cloudsovercoffee @lovewithasideoflust @abbiesxox @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @bubuslutty want to be tagged? click here! want to be untagged? dm me or comment, i won't be offended <;3

[the-way-astray]

okay wait if you don’t mind me asking why don’t you like incorrect quotes?

anon, i swear this was not meant to be this long

my reasons are 100% subjective. over the years, i've dabbled in several different fandoms. and i find that the same incorrect quote format is used to describe relationships between characters in different series that i find to not be alike at all. for example, i've seen multiple of the same incorrect quote formats used for both percabeth and sokeefe, when i don't find the relationships to be that similar to one another at all. it's just that people see one dimension of sophie and annabeth (let's say smart) and one dimension of percy and keefe (let's say funny) and then the entire incorrect quote becomes about that. i find sokeefe and percabeth to be two entirely different relationships with few things in common (which i've talked about), but the incorrect quotes flatten them to those qualities only and i don't like that.

the sokeefe-percabeth thing is just an example, by the way, one i picked because i feel most people i'm talking to would understand it, but i've also seen the same incorrect quote formats used to describe relationships like jurdan or kanej . . . and if you've read tfota or soc you know how drastically dissimilar jurdan or kanej are to either sokeefe or percabeth (and each other). and i find that these indirect comparisons drawn between relationships like this flattens certain characters quite a bit. this is how we get stuff like "sokeefe is basically kotlc percabeth" and stuff like that.

then, once a character has been given a "role" (i use the term loosely) they have to occupy all the aspects that come with that "role". so then they're only allowed to be that "role" in the incorrect quote, even if the quote requires them to say/do things they would never say/do, because they've been slated into that role based on that one aspect. take this quote for example:

keefe has been slated into the role of "one that has a crush on sophie" for the purposes of this particular quote. but keefe doesn't ramble like this. he doesn't like his dad and would never discuss a crush on sophie with him (but this one i'm not that mad about since you could as easily change cassius to ro or something). he doesn't use exaggerated metaphors to describe things and he doesn't speak in purple prose. he does a pretty good job hiding his crush and would never inadvertently reveal it like this. do you see what i mean? because of the fact that the format requires him to be "one with a crush on sophie", he now has to fulfill all the other aspects the format requires, even though they don't apply to him. and it no longer feels like keefe. it flattens him down to this one aspect.

i feel like this flattening aspect of incorrect quotes does have a (very small, sort of indirect) effect on the way characters are perceived in fanon. and i don't like it? it's very weird to me. so i prefer to stay away from it. (best examples i can think of are cardan and kaz, who are both morally gray, but lots of incorrect quotes portray them as hopelessly in love with their love interests or malewives, and while that's true, them being slated into that role for the purpose of the incorrect quote often makes them out to be the kind that would doodle hearts around names in notebooks or blush or be in that sort of cutesy-teenager-with-a-crush kind of romance. and . . . uh . . . yeah, they love jude and inej, but that's like. not at all what either relationship is like. it's just not.)

also some incorrect quotes are so desperate to slate characters into certain "roles", as i call them, that they forsake crucial aspects of the character in the process, or actively make them do/say things that go against something that is a core aspect of that character. and i don't like the way the quote is willing to misinterpret something so crucial to the character for the sake of the incorrect quote exemplifying something much less important like "the funny one" or "the one with a crush on ___".

incorrect quotes also have a tendency to portray what a character actually wants to do, rather than how they would realistically behave, given the circumstances. take this quote (and ignore the weird anti-sophitz-ness for the moment, i'm trying to make a point):

in canon, it's kind of a point that sophie "isn't aware" of her crush on keefe, so to speak. she knows she has a crush on fitz. she may subconsciously want to kiss keefe, but remember, she thinks she likes fitz. so this incorrect quote just frustrates me because that's not what sophie would do!!!!!!! she would kiss fitz. actually, she would get all nervous and blushy and try to worm her way out of it. and if this is a post-stellarlune quote, and she knows she likes keefe, she wouldn't address fitz directly like that??? she would trying so hard not to look at fitz because omg omg omg i have to kiss my new boyfriend in front of my old boyfriend who appears to still not be over me. like the quote requires you to change fundamental aspects of sophie's personality/behavior to buy it. my analysis brain can't handle that. my problem is that i can't enjoy the quote for the quote, because my brain is always instead picking apart how un-character the incorrect quote feels.

having said all of that, i fully understand that anyone who likes incorrect quotes or engages with them frequently knows all this. i don't think you all are stupid. obviously keefe would never say something like that first example i showed in canon. that's understood! the point is to make fun of his crush on sophie. i get it. it's all in good fun. i just prefer not to engage with incorrect quotes because the flattening aspect makes me personally want to scream that the character would never do or say that, because at this point the character doesn't even feel like the character, so what even is the point of the quote anymore??? and then i get stuck in a loop.

and like i said in my original tags, i would never want to completely get rid of incorrect quotes. they're easy to make, fun, easily digestable, and in general sort of a safe way to get started in fandoms. they're the safety net of fandoms, and i think they really are crucial for smaller/more obscure fandoms where nobody wants to do hardcore analysis stuff but people still want to talk about their favorite media. so i think, for the purposes they fulfill, they're alright.

[randall-lloyd]

Warning: Rudy gets VERY sappy and a lot of people are abt to be tagged n told how radical they are IM SORRY THAT YOURE GETTING A STUPID NOTIF LIKE THIS

So the past.... Month. Has been very eventful. Coping with a rough break up, work being hard. I'm almost 21 I kinda figured it'd be rough being in my 20s. I really was expecting it to be the end of the world, but then I made a really good choice.

I joined a few discord servers over this month, and I can't begin to explain just how wonderful that's been for my mental health.

I've made so many new beautiful friends who just mean the world to me, and those new friends along with old friends and my beautiful angel wife who's stuck with me while we both heal, it's just nice.

I wanna say a few words [or a lot words. I'm a yapper] and I jus wanna really detail my appreciation for the following people.

@your-pal-smoochins, my perfect angel wife. You and I have had a lot of things against us. You've been such an amazing support system through these past couple years and I don't tell you enough just how much I love and appreciate everything you do for me. You lift me up when I really need it and I've never felt more loved than when you've been by my side. Thanks for being my rock, my sun moon and stars, and just thank you for being mine. You do so much more than you give yourself credit for, having escaped the situation you were in and going to college. You're so strong, and you're my beautiful angel forever.

@carbonateddelusion Rox! You were one of the first friends I made when everything got locked down and my first memory of you was drawing some of my guys. I dunno if you know but those gifts are still in my phone. I look at those and your newer stuff and I'm just beyond amazed at your progress. You've been a really amazing friend and I love you, man. You really rock, rox [yes that was on purpose]

@toondamien Damien!! one of my very first tumblr friends and the guy who lets me use his oc for my story stuff! You're a little older than me, and as such you've kinda been a role model to me. I still look up to you [metaphorically, hehe] and I'm glad you're my No. 1 DSAF mutual. You're great, dude.

@springlucked Spring. Though we only started talking recently, you are still someone I consider a dear friend. Your fics got me out of some really bad art blocks and my really low days. While Dearly Detested makes me cry and fills me with just the right amount of emotions to break a tree in half, you are so awesome. Your writing is so good and you're so humble when you get gift art from people regarding your fics. You are like a slightly bothersome little sister and for that I love you, ya lil punk.

@dexabite Dex Dane Dexabite Freakabite Miller Jekyll Jade [not real name. obviously] my sworn enemy /j. Your art rocks. Your art inspired a lot of my more detailed pieces and your character design stuff actually made me wanna branch out more not just with character design, but also poses and colors! You're an inspiration to this guy who mainly draws that dumb orange boy and ily /p

@igottoo MJ!! Like if I was a second person! You rock dude. Your art? slaps. Your animation? slaps. Your insane jokes? Slaps. you unintentionally gave me a pose reference that made me leap out of my comfort zone and yknow what? People loved it!! And thats because you're so cool! We scarily have a lot in common so the reasonable assumption is we are in fact the same guy [silly] but i love you to BITS /p. My lagomorphed brethren and the guy I'll be sending my Dave doodles to before showing the public. You're a bro, dawg. As the No. 1 Old Sport fan I'm VERY glad I'm best pals with THE No. 1 Dave Miller fan.

thank you all for being my friends. You guys make my heart full and make me wanna keep working towards being a good person

[kitsune-carnivora]

I have a little headcanon that GaMing and Freminet are poets in their own ways.

Freminet has a sweet and flowy style of writing, conveying all his feelings that he would be too flustered to say out loud. Special limited edition stationery, cute stickers in all sorts of pastels, soft paper envelopes with a patterned interior. His fingers are steady as he etches smooth ink in cursive across his page, using flowery words and metaphors and all sorts of magic he pulls from his favorite fairytales. He pours our favorite wax colors over the edge of the envelope, stamping it gently. Full of love, he writes our names across the backs of the envelopes, kissing the seals before slipping these sweet love letters into my bag or into GaMing’s satchel.

GaMing is chaos and energy and love that burns bright and hot as the sun. He’s so full of it that he doesn’t even know what to do with it half the time. He writes down the first thing that comes to mind in messy handwriting full of all the excitement he has at the thought of conveying that love to us. Most of the time, he cant even wait to write it down, he just blurts it out. Scrap paper of any kind, scribbled all over with thoughts and dreams and just pure love. And of course it wouldn’t be GaMing if there weren’t scratched out misspellings because he wrote it all in pen and little doodles in the corner of the page. It’s folded up and drawn on with hearts and smiley faces all over, stuffed into our hands by the boy himself (along with a kiss) on his way out the door for work. Inside are the most cheesy, cringe-worthy words I have ever read on a page, and yet, they are taped up all over my walls. <3

Bonus texts:

Fremi -

GaMing -

HEHEHEHEH IM SO IN LOVE

[boosmidnighthour]

Merry Christmas! I'm late... Happy New Year's Eve! Have a Christmas one-shot!

Title: White Christmas Rating: General Audience Pairings: Cole/Zane/Geo, Cole/Geo, Cole/Zane, Cole/Geo, Zane and Geo

AO3 FFN

Almost forgot: there are minor spoilers for season 2 part 2 of Dragons Rising, mostly alluding to the finale.

Sneak peak underneath!

Divider by firefly-graphics

Zane considered himself a kind person.

Rarely did he find himself upset or angry. A little stubborn and impatient, sure, but that was just human. If there was a mess someone else “forgot” to pick up, he would wordlessly clean it up for them. If someone backhandedly complimented him, or accidentally insulted him, he wouldn't say anything. Hell- there was even less of a chance that he'd actually spit back if someone was openly rude to him. He was no doormat, just quiet.

So - at first - he didn't understand why he felt the way he did whenever Cole and Geo were together. Especially if they were being overly affectionate with one another.

Cole and Geo gazing at one another with near heart eyes? A burning sensation in his chest. Cole and Geo holding hands? His metaphorical heart would drop into his metaphorical stomach. Cole and Geo kissing? He felt nauseous.

Of course, he had figured out he had had romantic feelings for Cole a long time ago. Who wouldn’t? He was strong, ambitious - if a little lazy at times, caring - especially towards children, sweet… He always seemed to understand how Zane was feeling and what to say to attempt making him feel better. 

But he had put those feelings to bed years ago, sometime around when everyone thought he liked Vania. He hadn't felt any of these feelings when he thought they were together. Nothing burned or ached when he had seen them being somewhat affectionate.

So, yeah… he had realized his feelings for Cole had maybe not been as put to rest as he thought they had… If anything, they seemed to be far stronger now. Even if he had been sleeping for five years, it still had felt like so long since he had seen Cole, and the immense relief and happiness he had felt when he got back was… well, there was no word strong enough to describe it.

Zane didn't know why he felt anything less than happy for him when he told him about Geo, about how much he… loved Geo.

Geo was nice. He was quiet at first, but had started to become as rambunctious as Cole. He was stubborn, based on how hard he tended to fight for his and Cole's family, being beside his partner every step of the way. He was supportive in that aspect, too. He clearly cared about Cole and his well-being, and had a good read on him. He and Cole had a shared interest in art, his interest being sculpting and land art while Cole focused on drawing and doodling. The two also seemed to share being physically affectionate with the ones they loved.

It was all a little heartbreaking, to know that the one he liked would never feel the same. He had silently shed tears a few times over the week he was told, during the night when no one would find out. But he should be over it by now. He rarely lingered on feelings for long, finding that it made working diligently far more difficult.

But the feelings just wouldn't leave.

Why should he feel jealous? He hadn't allowed Cole to know about these feelings, too scared to find out what would happen after, no matter how ridiculous every conclusion he came to felt. He should feel happy that Cole had found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with- he was one of his best friends!

The inner turmoil Zane felt was beginning to make his metaphorical skin itch. He felt close to bursting, and not in a good way. He had to take more breaks than he normally would have, and people were starting to notice, namely Nya. He didn't need to pile his problems onto hers; the poor woman was still trying to figure out how to get Jay back. And Zane was too focused on his own emotions to help her come up with anything.

How selfish could he be?

Zane needed to get over this. He had to help his friends and students with their problems and forget about his own. He hated how focused he was on himself. Why was this so hard for him to get over?

Yep, that's just the entire first section. Whoa, Vania mention for no reason lmao

I'll be real, I kinda rushed this one, so anything I could've done better was just forgotten, so sorry if it disappoints you. But I do have a WIP I'll be sharing soon of a different Christmas one-shot I was gonna do but got bored of. Stay tuned!

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒇! 𝒂𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ dilf!au talisen / male!reader ꒱ your arts and literature professor got replaced. . . and the new one makes your heart flutter. an au in which talisen and alessio are divorced parents who fathered a son named carlos - talisen is based off of 781 talisen. he is a renowned literature professor

𖹭. content warnings◞  none! . 0.8k

𖹭. receipts◞  and here's the other dilf from this au<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

sitting in the auditorium of your literature class, conversing with your classmates. you awaited your new professor.

your previous one, mrs. burrysfield had recently retired, and though many of you mourned her loss. each one of you in the class were happy she got to go back home to her wife and just live with her.

she was probably sewing right now. it was a fond thought.

but when you were all informed of your new professor. you could not help waiting in anticipation. a nervous lump in your guts.

what if it was a mean one like some of the substitues had been? pretentious and snobby. acting like the entire class was filth and they deserved to teach royals.

but when zhào talisen walked through the door. in his long and elaborate black hanfu, decorated with silver moons. everyone stopped their conversing and fell quiet. while the man readied himself at the podium.

he looked up from some of his papers and gave the class a bright smile, looking around and catching as many eyes as possible. yours included.

if only you could see them a bit closer, they looked so beautiful. his soft and sharp features ethereal, even in some of the bad lighting of the classroom.

“good morning. i am your new arts and literature professor, zhào talisen.” he greets. picking up a small book and swiping a small note off of it.

“if you could please turn around the notes on your tables please.” he asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched students stare at each other in confusion. yet following his request.

you flip over the small piece of paper that had been placed down at your spot on the long desk. your eyes widening at the sight of the small doodle of a cat rolling around and playing with a yarnball.

more students shared that exact reaction looking up at their new professor with puzzled expressions.

some began laughing and giggling a bit, while some simply kept staring at the note, trying to figure out if this was a test or metaphor for something. each and every cat drawn on the notes were diferent.

none of their professors had ever done anything like this. a class full of 122 students, each one of them given notes.

“and do leave the notes for those who are sick turned still. I would very much like to see their reaction once they have returned.” he chuckles and swipes the doodle he made for himself up on the board as a way of introducing himself.

“i am no snob nor finger pointer as i have heard some of your previous substitutes have been towards all of you since burrysfield resignment and retirement.” he sighs, crossing his arms and smiling around at all of you

“so you needn’t worry of being scolded for a simple mistake as a typo, or a gramatically incorrect sentence or paragraph.”

it was strange. you hadn’t felt such a comforting and welcome aura ever before with any of the university professors you’d known, in this class or others.

there was no doubt, professor zhào was a man of respect and patience. it was refreshing.

“sir do you have a wife” one of the guys in the class yells down to him. you look over and glare. gods, the audacity of some of these new assholes that think they are good at everything joining in.

and yet, when you look back at your new professor, he keeps his calm and serene look. staring up at the man. there are no angry or saddned looks.

“i do not. no. i am a father though, of an amazing young boy. my ex husband often looks after him when i teach here.” he chuckles in response. giving the student a small smile.

the same male who asked, slowly sits down. with a little bit of a look, before letting his shoulders slump. giving his professor a sheepish smile back.

another student shoots her hand up, one of your aqquaintances. she adjusts her glasses and smiles. “what’s your son’s name?” she asks, scottish accent coming out a bit more at the excitement of asking questions.

“his name is carlos.” talisen answers and gives her a little nod. watching her sit and smile in response.

and slowly you reach your hand up.

his maroon eyes slowly swipe across the classroom to look at you, deep in the eyes. you feel the blush creeping up on your neck.

“yes?” he answers, giving you ever the amount of patience of this world.

“you seem very fond of cats, do you have one— and what’s your favorite part of this subject” you ask, watching the corners of his lips tilt and spread into a bigger smile.

“i do indeed have cats. luna and beauregard.” he answers, voice soft and sweet.

“and as for my favorite part of teaching this subject. . . my that is such a complicated question. . . mmmh” he stares in thought for a moment.

“i’d say hearing the poetry and stories that my students create along the line.” he chuckles

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[aangstycareberrr]

Partners, pt. 2

summary: college au / you and Kenma get paired up for a project together and fun stuff happens

kenma x reader

part 1 part 3

a/n: there’s gonna be one more part after this one i think

————————————————————————

You got ready for the party and were almost ready to head out, you looked over your makeup and your outfit in the mirror and took a quick picture before grabbing your keys and walking out. As you were locking your door you feel your phone vibrate in your hands. It’s a text from Kenma. “hey, just checking that your still coming?”, it makes you feel giddy to see his name on your phone, and the fact that he wants you to be there is enough to make you giggle out loud. You’re feeling a lot more confident than earlier so you decide to be a little flirty with your reply, “would you be sad if i wasn’t?“ You hit send and for a moment you question if you shouldn’t have said that. is it stupid, is he gonna think i’m dumb for flirting with him. but he almost immediately replies, with a simple “yeah”. you just stare at your phone, you weren’t expecting him to just concede and outright admit without a shadow of a doubt that he wants you there. it’s such a simple response and yet it plagues your thoughts for the entirety of way.

You walk through the door and look around, the place is packed and you couldn’t remember the last time you went to a party this big, actually you weren’t sure you ever had. You spotted the kitchen, which was significantly less crowded, and walked over to make yourself a drink, you’re going to need it to get through tonight, you thought. As you pour vodka and sprite into a solo cup you hear your name.

“Y/n!“ You look up to see Kuroo walking into the kitchen with another guy next to him who you feel like you vaguely recognize. You’re relieved to see a familiar face but you’re mostly just thinking about where Kenma might be.

“i’m glad you could make it, and i’m not just saying that because you’re the reason i convinced Kenma to come to one of these parties.”, he says jokingly, but it still makes you happy to hear.

“Thank you for the invite, honestly this is a bit out of my comfort zone but i can tell there won’t be a dull moment.”, you say as you watch a group of guys holding the biggest dude you’ve ever seen by his ankles to do a keg stand. Kuroo laughs and says “You got that right. Listen i’m gonna go get Kenma for you, he went to my room and told me to just come get him when you got here… don’t tell him i told you that.”, you laugh and the comment makes some of your nerves disperse. he really wants me here. Before walking off Kuroo mentions, “This is Bokuto, i’m gonna leave you with him while i fetch Kenma, and i promise he’ll keep you entertained.” As Kuroo walks off to get Kenma you turn to greet Bokuto, but he beats you to it. “Hey! it’s so nice to meet you, i feel like i know you from somewhere.”, he speaks excitedly and his cheery aura makes you feel at ease, that could also be the alcohol though. “i think so too actually! wait, are you in my english lit class?”

“YES! that’s it!! you’re the girl who sits in the front and always knows the answers to the professors weird and metaphorical questions!”, This makes you laugh, you remember Bokuto now. He sits a little further back than you, you’ve seen him doodling in his notebook during lectures.

“Hey wait, so you’re here for Kenma?”, You can’t decipher if the shock in his voice is good or bad. “Yeah i guess you could say that. Anything i should know?”, you say this in a light hearted tone, but secretly you are trying to get information. “I mean Kenma’s a good guy, i’m just a little shocked, he doesn’t really do this kind of thing.” “Parties or girls?” Before Bokuto can respond to your question Kenma walks into the kitchen with Kuroo.

He’s beautiful. You think as you watch him walk in, you can’t believe how attracted you are to him. He stands a couple feet away from you in the kitchen and smiles lightly at you. “Hi”, he greets. “Hi”, you respond, you both just stare at each other for a moment. Kuroo interrupts by clearing his throat and excusing Bokuto and himself, leaving you alone with Kenma. “Hi”, “hi”, you both repeat your greetings and laugh about it. you realize he’s staring at you and it makes you feel self-conscious until he says, “you look good.” He said it with a fond smile and looks down. “Thank you”, you smile back at him and suddenly you feel unfalteringly confident. “Can i show you outside? it’s a bit quieter and the pool is nice to look at at night.” You agree and you guys walk outside together.

It is indeed quieter outside and you mentally thank Kenma. there’s a few people sprawled out on some patio furniture and a guy and a girl sitting with their feet in the water. Other than that, it’s pretty desolate. You take a moment to look at the pool and how the light reflects on it. “It is nice to look at.”, you say to Kenma. You guys sit next to each other by the edge of the pool. “So you live here?”, you ask Kenma. He scrunches his nose up and says “no, i hang out here every now and then because of Kuroo but, a frat isn’t my idea of a comfortable living space.” “Yeah i didn’t think you were the frat type.”

“I’m not sure how i should take that.”, Kenma said in a playfully defensive tone

“It’s not a bad thing. Like i just know i wouldn’t be able to do it. i enjoy being around people but some days i definitely need to be in hermit mode and recharge my social battery. I just get the feeling that we might be similar in that regard.” You look at him when you finish talking and notice he’s staring at you like he’s thinking about saying something. Finally, he says, “i want to show you something”

He stand and leads you towards a corner on the far side of the patio and you hesitate for a bit before following him until you reach a ladder leaned against the side of the house. “i really like climbing onto the roof sometimes, it’s pretty much the only part of this house that’s consistently peaceful.”

You consider him for a moment, mentally weighing the pros and cons of going to a secluded area with a guy you basically just met. Something about Kenma makes you feel safe, you know it’s because he’s conventionally attractive, but you let yourself indulge for a bit and climb the ladder. Kenma climbs up behind you and you wonder if he’s looking up your skirt or being respectful, you don’t know which one you prefer. When you get to the top you notice a lawn chair with a blanket thrown over it. “that’s usually where i sit when i’m up here.” Kenma walks over and removes the blanket from over the chair, and then sprayed it out on the floor for you both to lay one. You sit on it as you dangle your feet off the edge of roof. from here you get a clear view of the couple down by the pool. They’re sitting close together but not actually touching, they’ve been giggling and they both seem nervous in a cute way, so you draw the conclusion that they’re not officially a couple. “They’ve both been dying to kiss each other this whole time.”, you say. Kenma laughs but looks a little confused, so you feel the need to clarify, “i like to people watch”. Kenma nods in understanding and then says, “actually i think he’s a lot more into her than she is, i like to people watch too.” You smile at this and then respond, “What makes you say that?”

“His body is turned towards her but she’s just facing the pool, and she’s always the first to break eye contact, like she’s avoiding him trying to kiss her.”

You laigh incredulously at him, “ok, i’m impressed.” You both laugh together and the atmosphere is light and playful and makes you feel giddy.

Conversation flows smoothly after this. You guys talk about your majors, your hometowns, families, high school, and everything under the sun. He tells you about his hobbies and the small company that he’s thinking of starting, you tell him about your passions and aspirations. He’s easy to talk to and he makes you laugh and laughs at your jokes as well. Everything about him makes you want to kiss him, but you don’t want to jump the gun. At some point along the way you guys have scooted even closer together and your thighs touch his. You’re so enthralled in conversation you don’t notice how much time has passed or the fact that it’s been hours. You weren’t expecting to stay this long and although you don’t mind, you didn’t feel totally safe walking back to your place so late at night. After taking a look at your phone and confirming the time, you regretfully say to him, “god this sucks, but i kinda should get going, it’s pretty late, and my place is a few blocks from here.” “I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to keep you. I didn’t even notice the time.”, he apologized but you quickly say, “No! don’t apologize, i enjoyed this.” It sounds so formal, you want to say it differently, you want to tell him that you’ve loved every minute spent with him, that he’s been so charming, that you want to see him again, but you bite your tongue, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you’re bursting on the inside. He smiles at your comment and says “Can i walk you home?, and don’t say i don’t have to do that. i want to, if you’re comfortable with it.” You want to melt and hug him, but instead you just nod. “I’d like that.”

As you walk back to your place it’s quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. He evokes this energy that makes being around him easy, like there’s no pressure to perform or act a certain way. You look at him from the corner of your eye and see him smiling at the ground. After a few minutes you arrive in front of your apartment building and you stop in front of it. “This is your place?”, “yeah? why’d you say it like that?”, “Oh it’s just, i live in that building.”, he points to the building across the street from yours, it’s literally 10 feet away. You’re not sure if this makes you happy or nervous but you just laugh, he joins you in this. You guys stare at each other and you know you’re just stalling having to walk away from him, you want to spend the whole night just talking to him, or even just sitting in silence with him.

“Thank you for walking me.” “it’s, no problem, apparently we were going the same way”, he says jokingly. Not being able to stall any longer, you say goodbye to him and turn to walk into your building. “hey”, he calls. You turn back to look at him and he gets a lot closer to you, inches from your face. You look up at him with slightly wide eyes and he says “Can i kiss you?”, you nod and he leans in. It’s slow, and sweet. He rests one hand on your waist while the other cups your face. Your hands go around his shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck where you play with the ends of his hair. His lips are a little chapped but you don’t care. he’s an amazing kisser. He pulls away for a second before placing one last quick peck on your lips. You stare up at him and smile. He’s lightly laughing and before you can ask why, he tells you, “I was so nervous to do that”, you laugh with him and are even more charmed by his giddiness. You feel like a teenage girl who just had her first kiss. You guys finally part and he tells you he’ll text you. You walk up to your apartment and and start laughing, it’s been a while since you felt the childlike innocence of a crush and all the little joys that come with it.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, it’s a text from Kenma: “i’m home :)”

[ohyoufool]

some “bitty working on his thesis” headcanons!

- thinking about a stressed bitty working on his thesis LATE LATE LATE at night while Jack is over

- Jack falls asleep on Bitty’s bed (assumed, bc he wakes up at like 5am for practice and I get the Vibe™ that he’s one of those people who is like “oh how me olde bones ache” at 10pm if he isn’t in bed yet) 

- Bitty literally NEVER uses his desk unless it is for filming, so it’s covered in filming equipment and his ring light and a notebook full of vlog ideas with little hearts doodled around jack’s name in the corners of his notebook

- Bitty’s thesis is, in all truth, going very well until you mention that he needs to add CITATIONS to his paper in order to pass which is a problem because he 0% writes down where he got quotes other than jotting author’s last name and saving different iterations of researchthesis23.pdf to his desktop and telling himself he’ll “figure it out later”

- Jack falling asleep helping Bitty edit his rough draft and the entire passages are just circled with a note in the margins saying “people can taste [fruit flavor] jam, you don’t need to write an entire metaphor about seeing a rainbow arc over a blue sky on a cool spring day to explain it”

[englishknightsky]

Random South Park Headcanons

- Kyle took Cartman to see Jojo Rabbit and Cartman started crying before Kyle.

- Craig names all of his guinea pigs Stripe because when he was younger he walked in on his mom cleaning out Stripe #1's cage and she had to very awkwardly explain 1. death in general 2. that she accidentally stood on Stripe and 3. that she was going to replace Stripe with an identical guinea pig and hope Craig wouldn't notice, Craig offered to call the new guinea pig Stripe anyway, so Laura wouldn't technically be lying to him

- Clyde kisses his homies goodnight and tells them he loves them. Sometimes he goes out of his way to assert his heterosexuality while also loving his homies, but the guys don't mind.

- Butters is the youngest in class and the rest of the class treat him like their little brother. Nobody can pick on him but them.

- Tweek was a teen pregnancy and sickly methbaby and feels a lot of shame about it, even though nobody but Craig knows. The Tweaks don't have any baby pictures of him to keep up the facade of a normal family. Craig tries his best to forget the 'Crack Baby Athletics Association' and feels really, really guilty.

- Timmy lets just about anyone sit in his lap and ride around with him, except for Cartman. Similarly, Jimmy will let his close friends play with his crutches as long as they're careful with them. He has spares, just in case Clyde accidentally flings one through a window, but he keeps that a secret.

- Damien and Pip spend a lot of time together at the cinema, even after Pip dies. They like to sit right at the back and eat popcorn they didn't pay for in seats they also didn't pay for.

- Kenny knows what the delicious flavour packet in beef jerky tastes like, but refuses to tell anyone.

- Cartman absolutely hates Neo-Nazis and Holocaust Deniers.

- Stan's really good at poetry and songwriting, sometimes his metaphors go over his friends' heads, but the Goth Kids always understand his intentions.

- For the kids' senior prank they decided to burn down the school, it was incredibly well planned out and executed, and nobody got hurt or arrested. People called it a freak accident and the kids pretended to be sad that their "actual" prank was destroyed in the fire. They also set off a number of smaller group pranks during the week up to the main event, like releasing three calves into the hallways labelled #1, #2, and #4.

- Mr. Mackey can pretend all he wants that the kids were nothing but trouble and he's glad they're gone, but he cries the hardest during their graduation.

- Damien's phone number is 666-6666-666, it rings at all hours of the day and it drives him crazy. He threatens most people who call him with curses, but never actually curses anyone because he's lazy.

- Damien can also be summoned by saying his name in a mirror three times, but thankfully nobody's figured that one out yet.

- Tweek has a reputation for being unreliable but he's the only person everyone trusts with carrying spare meds. He keeps a big medkit on hand at all times that's full of his friend's medications.

- Stan keeps sneaking stray animals into his bedroom. All cats go to Cartman and all mice and rats go to Kenny.

- Kenny has been officially banned from the weekly sex ed classes, he had to sign a contract to never go near the classroom or share his experiences again. Several people are in therapy after listening to his stories.

- Ike kept the Newfoundland he rode in Splatty Tomato, his name is Tiny and he only behaves for Ike.

- Craig, Clyde, Token, Jimmy and Tweek have completed all the Just Dance games as a team.

- Damien and Pip are the source of all ouija board activity in South Park. Other spirits and ghosts and angels and demons are around, it's just that Damien loves playing with the boards.

- Tweek's signed his name as Tweek Tucker multiple times. Craig hasn't mixed up his surname, but he has been caught doodling hearts with 'C + T' in them in the margins of his books.

- Scott and Jimmy are gym bros. Jimmy appreciates that Scott finds every joke he tells funny, even if he's already heard it.

- Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave run the yearly pride festival with the help of Craig, Tweek, and their highschool LGBT club.

- Stripe recognises his daddies by scent, Craig smells like cheetos and Tweek smells like coffee.

[stressy-enby]

Love Letters

Tenya Iida X Writer!Reader

(This is absolutely a self insert leave me alone)

Requests are open!!

Tenya's morning routine was always the same. He was awoken by his alarm at 6:20 A.M. He went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he'd get dresses, comb his hair, and go downstairs for breakfast. After he'd eaten, he would brush his teeth, and head to class with his peers.

This system was so ordinary, so methodical, that he almost missed the folded sheet of printer paper on the floor in front of the door.

Probably Mr. Aizawa, he'd thought, stooping to collect the note. His teacher occasionally left notes taped to the class rep's door, asking him to take attendance or start class if Aizawa knew he was going to be late. Still nothing out of the ordinary for Tenya.

When he unfolded the paper, though, he was surprised to see not a message from his teacher, but rather a very sweet note; something that Tenya was not accustomed to getting at all.

I hope it does not alarm you to hear that I adore you. Your unbridled passion for heroics, your eyes; which are oceans of kindness, and your aptitude for helping others. Every little bit of you never once ceases to amaze and enamor me. Though you are a vessel for speed, you choose to walk alongside your friends, instead of tearing off into the future. You build me up and make me feel strong, whether you realize it or not. You make me feel like I'm actually worth something. You keep my head up when I feel as though I'm drowning in a sea of my insecurities.

Perhaps one day I'll have the courage to tell you this in person. For now though, this will suffice.

The letter was not signed off, but rather ended with a red pen sketch of a heart. Tenya's eyes nearly doubled in size. He re read the note several more times to make sure he hadn't imagined the loving words. Who could've possibly written it? He wasn't aware of anyone in his class who harbored these kinds of feelings, much less for him, but he had never been particularly good at reading emotions.

Realizing he was going to be late for breakfast if he dwelled any longer on it, Tenya pocketed the love letter and headed downstairs. The mystery would have to wait until after school. His responsibilities always came first, no matter how often his mind still wandered back to the letter in his pocked, yearning to pull it out and read it yet again, just to make sure he still wasn't dreaming.

. . . 

Whoever had written the note was smart, Tenya realized. They had typed it, leaving no room for the possibility that he could recognize the handwriting. The only part that had been done by hand was that little red heart, but a doodle wasn't nearly enough to tell him who the author was.

He turned instead to analyzing the words themselves.They were well chosen, poetic even. The fifty cent words like "unbridled" and "enamored" led him to believe that the author was an experienced writer, or perhaps simply read a lot.

Yaoyorozu was a good contender, she was an eloquent speaker. Kaminari also read a lot, he was good with literature. And there was Tokoyami, who seemed to speak exclusively in poetry. Tenya jotted down his ideas, crafting a short list of his classmates.

"Oh, (L/N) writes a lot," he mused, adding their name to the list. (L/N) actually made a lot of sense.

Oh, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. Perhaps he only read the love letter in (L/N)'s voice being he wanted it to be them.

...or maybe it actually wasn't a bad idea.

(L/N) was always writing. They viewed it as a privilege, a challenge. They leapt at every creative writing assignment they got in English class, and the few stories they had shared were spectacularly inventive and elegantly crafted.

Tenya halted, scanning the message again. It suddenly seemed more and more likely that (L/N) was in fact the author.

He chewed his lip. It was too easy. Too convenient. Too perfect. How could someone he already cared for so deeply send him something like this? It was too good to be true. Besides, it was only one note. How could be possibly-

"What if they write more?" Tenya suddenly said out loud, his train of thought coming to a screeching halt. "I'd have a better line up to analyze. I could also ask Present Mic for the short stories assignments he's grading so I can pass them back. I could probably be able to look over at least a few of them and see if I recognize the writing."

A man on a mission, Tenya resigned himself to waiting until the next day to see if another note appeared, and to ask Present Mic about the stories.

Too anxious and oddly excited, he hardly got any sleep.

. . . 

Sure enough the next morning, there was a new note. Tenya all but flew out of bed and scrambled to unfold it.

I find myself caught in a storm of uncertainty all too often. I'm tossed from wave to wave in an ocean of fear. You are my rock. You hold me fast and secure in this ever-changing and frightening world. You are safe. You are my home.

You are my everything.

Tenya unconsciously read the letter in (L/N)'s voice again. He felt his heart beat harder at the thought of them penning these beautiful words.

"You don't know that it's them," he scolded himself, unwillingly placing the new note on his desk next to the old one. He tore himself away from them to retreat into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

The new message did offer one new clue already, though. It used the same ocean metaphor as the first one. It was a comparison the author seemed to favor. Maybe he could find it in their other works.

He had to get his hands on those short story assignments before he lost his damn mind.

. . . 

Tenya felt slightly uneasy about telling Present Mic he wanted the stories to pass back, even though he was technically telling the truth. He was eventually going to pass them back. When he was done looking through them.

A lie of omission is still a lie, that annoying voice in his head insisted, but he pretended he couldn't hear it, pushing it down. It wouldn't do any harm, he rationalized. And he had to know.

Tenya flipped through the papers, looking for (L/N)'s first. It was a desperate wish that they were the author of the anonymous notes, but it also seemed to make just enough sense to justify thumbing through their assignment.

There. (L/N) always went above the beyond with creative writing, and the five pages of neatly typed text was a testament to that. It was the longest assignment in the stack by two pages.

Wait.... typed?

It was probably a coincidence. After all, (L/N) hadn't been the only student who'd opted to type their story. Tenya was too convinced already that they had sent him those letters for him to entertain the idea that it was simply just a coincidence.

He skimmed the story quickly before class started. He found himself impressed, not for the first time with (L/N)'s abilities as a writer. Each word was carefully selected to craft perfect sentences and immaculate paragraphs full of feeling and vibrant imagery.

He stopped suddenly a page in as the protagonist compared their anguish to a stormy sea, heavy waves tossing them to and fro.

There it is again.

The sentiments from the letters, which Tenya had all but seared into his brain, echoed that of what he was reading now. The vocabulary, the imagery, the deep feelings evoked by each sentence, and even the fact that it was typed.

It had to be them. It had to be (Y/N). It was just too perfect.

. . . 

(Y/N) sat a few seats ahead and to the right of Tenya, so he spent quite a bit of class time staring unabashedly at the back of their head. They were scribbling madly on a sheet of lined paper. Lecture notes? Short story?.... Love letter?

People often say that opposites attract. Tenya was just realizing how true that was as he sat in class, half listening to the lesson, half watching (Y/N). He was all angles and sternness, whereas they were flexible and soft. Perhaps it didn't always show physically on their features, but in their mannerisms, and even in their writing, they were stunning curves, twists and turns. With them, you didn't always know where you were going, but it was an adventure all the same. They were a warm, comforting feeling. They felt like home.

An idea bloomed in Tenya's mind, a delectably wonderful way for him to show (Y/N) that he reciprocated their feelings. Having a difficult time smothering his smile, Tenya fished through his school bag for a sheet of lined paper.

. . .

You frowned thoughtfully at your paper, lips pursed. You tapped your pencil against your dorm room desk as you considered your next words.

This was the hardest, part, but still the most fun. The first draft. You could change whatever wording or dialogue you wanted while you were typing it up, nut you still needed a good base. You still had to carefully choose every word that you wanted to use to move your audience.

Tenya Iida

You grinned giddily just thinking of him. He had given almost no indication these past two days that he'd gotten your letters, but you could tell. His eyes had darted around, scrutinizing everyone they landed on. It had felt a bit like being dissected when his gaze had fallen upon you.

There's no way he knows, you had reasoned, giving him a tight smile in return. He's just trying to sus me out. For all he knows, it could be literally anyone.

You had ridden that wave of shaky confidence in your anonymity, all the way to that moment, where you turned around in your desk chair, intending to grab your phone, only for your eyes to fall upon a folded up piece of paper next to your door.

You felt an anxious lurch in your gut as you shakily picked it up. "If this is Iida telling me to never speak to him again I'm going to cry."

You unfolded the message, fully expected the worst, and praying to whatever god was or wasn't out there that you were wrong and that Iida wasn't completely creeped out and now hated you.

You remind me of the ocean waves you write about so often. You're a crescendo of carefully chosen words, actions, and kind thoughts. You're soft yet strong, never backing down from a fight or a friend in need. Your determination and drive impress me to no ends, and make me want to impress you as well.

You've cast a spell on me for quite some time now, but your hold over me was only strengthened by the heartfelt messages you sent me. I'm beyond happy that you share my feelings.

The letter wasn't signed, but it was written in what was distinctly Iida's penmanship. He had ended his message the same way you had ended yours; with a hand-drawn heart.

"Oh my god," you whispered, paper crinkling as your grip tightened around it. You read it again. Then again. And then again. "Damnit, he's right. I do use the stormy sea metaphor a lot."

Note still clenched in your hand, you sped-walked to Iida's dorm room, heart thundering in your chest. The thought that Iida; sensible, respectful Iida would have feelings for a disaster like you was a little discombobulating to say the least, so you were determined to hear it straight from the horses mouth.

You rapped on his door, foot tapping impatiently. The few seconds it took for Iida to answer dragged on for what felt like an eternity. When he finally did open the door, a pleasantly surprised look crossed his face upon seeing you.

You held up his note. "Hi. Um, so."

Iida chuckled, cheeks reddening. He gestured you in as he stepped back to his desk, where he produced the letters you had sent. "So."

"Y-you're not messing with me, right?" you asked nervously. "'Cause if you are I'm going to kick you."

"Trust me, everything I wrote is 100% true." He smiled earnestly. "And you...?

"I think those letters are the most honest I've ever been about my feelings ever." you admitted, shifting your weight from foot to foot. A wry smile played on the edges of your lips. "I was drafting you another one, but you just had to go and find me out and ruin it."

"You can still give it to me," Iida said hopefully, palming the back of his neck with his hand, flustered.

You laughed a little, your own cheeks warming up. You twisted the hem of your shirt. "Uh, can I hug you?"

"O-of course!"

You wrapped your arms around Iida's torso, resting your head on his chest, listening to the drumming of his heart. He slowly followed suit, snaking his arms around your shoulders. He let out a contented sigh, relaxing into your touch. He was so warm. He was a cozy fire in the dark of winter, a blissful reprise from a cold and harsh world.

You pursed your lips, stifling a snicker. I've gotta write that down.

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[moonlightjeno]

✒ 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

it's in small moments that you allow yourself to believe that maybe this whole charade is real. moments when he looks at you, eyes bright as he talks about how his day went and your heart swells that you think this fake relationship is real. it's in the way he holds your hands, playing with your fingers as you two watch avatar from the hundredth time, and fakebf!jeno recalls a certain line that gets your heart to swell. because it is in those instants that you forget the doodles on the pages, you forget the smudged ink on the month-old paper that sits by your desk collecting dust. you allow the tug at your heart. because when jeno smiles at you, when his face lights up at a joke he's said and you've laughed with him because you could never deny the way your heart flipped on over itself when you heard his laugh. you can't deny how he holds your world in his hands. how it's those doodles on that dammed sheet of notebook paper that started the dates. those hearts that climb around the edges of the paper, as they spiral in no sense no order a great metaphor for your heart, no direction just floating. hearts that jeno had seen, and in his attempt to get back at his ex had asked to take you out, an attempt he'd said to get his ex jealous.

what you don't know is that when jeno hears your laugh any plans leave his mind and you are the only thing he wants to hear. if he wasn't so scared to lose you, he'd let you know. let you know that there was never really an ex and he'd been pinning after you for long enough that his friends had threatened to expose it. so when he holds your hand, or when he kisses you like you are his only person. when he whispers how much he loves you and drags you on bike rides when the sun rises so that he can tell you that no matter how beautiful the sky looks. no matter that you will look at the sunrise, it's gold and purple paint spilling over the edges of the city and into the river. it will never hold the beauty that you do. he only wishes that he had the courage to tell you that those doodle hearts on the blank page should be filled with your name. and his heart belonged to you and you only.

- 0.421k | fake dating!jeno

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 2021 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙟𝙚𝙣𝙤

[stories-by-rie]

Chapter 6 - Heart of Silver

A little over a year before Evelyn gets herself cursed, she helps Ariel again with a fiery situation (literally).

words: 1514 || masterlist

Ariel had only ever been at her place once. It had happened that autumn when Evelyn was lying in bed, tired and smelling. The night had been long (and had included a ghost or two), so she had simply not been in the mood for a shower. Now, with the sun long up, her stomach grumbled and made a solid argument to get up; still the blanket was heavier.

    A soft buzz, which was way too loud in her quiet apartment, mercifully disrupted her internal discussion. Yet another new notification. To look at those messages would at least postpone decision-making on breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.

    Hi Evelyn! Hope ur doing ok? Just wanted to know if you wanted to help out wth a case? Not urgent tho.

    If u want we can also go for coffee sometiem?

    Haven’t seen u around much lately so lets catch up if u want

    The three messages were sent in a matter of just two minutes and as Evelyn saw that they had come from Ariel, she finally sat up. For over two months she hadn’t heard of them and assumed – well. Assumed a lot of things.

    Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds before she typed, Hey! I’m fine! I’m up for a case! Also coffee – she deleted the last two words. If Ariel still wanted to grab coffee once they worked another case together, they would figure it out then. Thank you for asking, I’m looking forward to it. Sent.

    With a groan she made it out of bed and into the bathroom to finally take a quick shower and brush her teeth. When she returned, her phone was blinking again.

    Cool thx! I’m at that old tanning saloon. Breite Straße 54.

    Evelyn quickly put on jeans and a hoodie and typed while walking to her car, on my way.

    She knew exactly which place Ariel meant. The old solarium had been closed two years ago and already looked like a liminal place. The windows were too dirty to look inside and the colours of the stickers with suns and tan skinned people had been washed out. Consequently, she was incredibly surprised to find that the solarium was completely lit. Lit, as in aflame.

    “The situation escalated a tiny bit,” Ariel coughed as they walked out of the building and met Evelyn in the parking lot.

    “A tiny bit?” she asked disbelievingly.

    “Well, the fire was really of a manageable size before.”

    Evelyn just stared at them as the flames suddenly erupted and shot right into the sky.

    “And then that happened,” they added. Their voice had a hint of exasperation and anger, instead of guilt or shame or anything Evelyn would have suspected someone to feel after upsetting a fire salamander. The clear yellow flames did not yet actually burn anything, they were simply proof of the fire spirit’s power.

    “What exactly did you do to make a fire spirit so mad?”

    “What makes you think I did anything? That thing clearly started it!” The flames shot even higher.

    “I think the spirit disagrees. Just let me handle it, better stay out of it.” Evelyn handed them her car keys and walked right into the solarium, ignoring the prickling pain on her skin as she walked through the flames.

    In the end, it took three hours to calm the fire salamander down. The accounts on how the argument between Ariel and the spirit had come to be were vastly different, so Evelyn decided not to bother too much with it. It ranged from ‘Someone tried to kick me out of my home and clearly did not hesitate to threaten me with death!’ to ‘I politely asked it to move to the park nearby to save its life!’ The matter was handled, so she walked back to her car where Ariel was waiting in the passenger seat.

    Just like the fire before, the tears sitting in the corner of their eyes came as a great surprise.

    “Ariel…”

    “It just got a jump on me. I really didn’t want to upset it so much,” they mumbled and rubbed over their arms where their brown skin turned a bit red from the spirit’s fire.

    “It’s okay now,” Evelyn said and the words sounded weak in her own ears. She always hated to hear them. But the sad pout on Ariel’s lips relaxed a bit, nearly curled up to a smile, even.

    “Thank you for helping out. I really appreciate it. Explaining this to some professionals would have been so messy and I know you’re good at it. I didn’t mean to annoy you though, you’re probably super busy-”

    “You can call me any time. I enjoy helping you out.” When she said those words, she found she really meant them. Finally, Ariel’s lips found the rest of the way into a smile. Their stomach grumbled noisily.

    “Do you want to grab something to eat together?” Evelyn asked, her heart beating too hard in her chest while she tried to smother the voice telling her that she was being presumptuous.

    “Gladly. But I will not go into any place like this.” They held out their red arms and Evelyn nodded.

    “There’s a really good Chinese restaurant nearby. We could eat at my place if you want. It’s pretty chaotic at the moment though.”

    “As long as I get food out of it, I really don’t care,” Ariel laughed, so Evelyn drove back, the solarium at their backs. They got the food on their way, walked into her apartment and sat down on her bed. She had left the kitchen door closed and had walked past it in an attempt to hide the unwashed dishes in the sink. Something had settled over the two of them then, in a strictly metaphorical sense. They had eaten in silence, then talked and chatted for a while. Evelyn had grabbed skin cream to help with the red burns and from then onward, they had kept in contact daily, helping each other out with their cases.

    Even after Ariel had graduated and started to work independently as a curse-broker, they found time enough to actually grab coffee and work on cases.

    It was summer then, when Evelyn’s sister called.

    This was nothing out of the ordinary, strictly speaking, even if the calls had become rare, scattered over the little free time they both had. It started in its usual way of them asking how they were, and it was then that Evelyn told her about Ariel.

    “Ah, I am so happy to hear that you found a good friend!”

    “Yeah, thanks, Amanda.” She doodled senseless circles on a piece of paper.

    “It’s so good that you’re not alone. You know, mum also worries that you might be lonely so far away from home.”

    Evelyn couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Says you.” As if not being lonely ruled out missing the people she loved.

    “That’s right,” she laughed and then cleared her throat. So she had something big to announce. “Eve, I wanted to tell you that I will stay here a bit longer after all.”

    “That’s cool,” she managed to press out after taking a deep breath and ignored the sour feeling it left inside. “Did you get a new opportunity?”

    “Yeah. They offered to expand my contract. And I also met someone. His name is Liam.”

    “Your voice gets all soft,” Evelyn mumbled and smiled, unable to hide how happy she was for her sister. Happy, even if something stung a bit inside of her. “How long will you stay then?”

    “I am not sure yet.”

    “Mn.” Evelyn took another shaky breath. “Don’t forget to visit sometime, then.”

    “I would never,” Amanda laughed and then kept on talking about her life, about Liam and about her work. There was not really a good explanation for why this pulled Evelyn down so much. It just did, and as so often with these things, explanations of any kind didn’t really exist.

    When Ariel texted a week later to ask if they could come over, Evelyn had to decline. Not because she wouldn’t have liked to have Ariel over. It was just that the unwashed dishes were not only in the sink, they also sat on her desk. There were no clean clothes to change into, not even dirty clothes with a smell that could be covered up by deodorant. Dry shampoo wouldn’t work at this stage anymore either. She could hardly even see the floor. So, really, it wasn’t even her decision to make.

    The next time they had success working together, they celebrated by getting take-out, and still Evelyn did not truly feel that excitement in her bones. Vaguely, Evelyn noticed that this was something she would usually talk about with Leonie in the library, but exams came and time went by. And soon another month passed during which she kept declining and postponing Ariel.

    The cases she took got rarer. The cases she worked with Ariel on got rarer. And the times her sister called got rarer as well.

_____

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

[notveryglittery]

birthday prince (5)

summary: happy birthday, roman!!! words: 2,900 / ship: dlampts (deceit/logan/virgil/patton/roman/thomas/remy) author’s note: this is part five of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) |  read on ao3

— — —

“Rise and shine, buttercup!”

Roman swatted at the air, as if that would send away the voice trying to wake him. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled, burying his face back into a pillow.

“You said that ten minutes ago, sugar,” drawled another.

If Roman really thought about it, he’d remember that, yes, he was guilty of this charge. That didn’t mean that he would admit to it, of course! Besides, even if he did, today was his day so he should have been able to do whatever he liked.

Oh.

Oh!

Energy shot through him as he jolted up. “It’s my birthday!”

Patton’s laugh was musical, the most beautiful sound Roman could ever ask to start his morning with. “I knew we’d get there eventually.”

“I dunno, I was sure it’d take him at least another half hour,” Remy teased, standing in the doorway.

"Good morning!" Roman exclaimed, swooping in for a kiss from Patton. He happily obliged, taking it also as an opportunity to comb a hand through Roman's tangled hair.

Were it not for Remy clearing his throat a moment later, the two might have lost track of time entirely. They pulled apart, only a little sheepish about it. Patton took Roman's hands in his and gave him a tug, urging him out of bed. Thankfully, now that Roman knew what was being celebrated, he followed easily, lips curled into a grin that seemed it'd never go away.

"What's on the agenda?" He asked eagerly, curious how early it actually was and how long it'd be before his first gift.

"Get yourself dolled up first, hon," Remy told him, tilting his tumbler in the direction of the closet.

"Remy!" Patton hissed, a hint of a scolding reminder in his tone, if Roman was hearing right.

Apparently, this was all it took for Remy to remember whatever Patton was trying to say. They swapped places faster than Roman thought possible, especially with his sleep addled brain not quite keeping up. Remy looped an arm through Roman's and began leading the way to the bathroom.

Patton waved at them as he left, "see you in a bit!"

"You're up to something," Roman accused without hesitation.

"Why I never," Remy said, pouting. "When have I ever been up to anything in my whole life?"

It was, again, thanks to Roman's still half-asleep state that he could level Remy with his best unimpressed look.

"Here I am, just trying to help you look your absolute best, and you're claiming me a criminal. That's just plain unfair."

Roman couldn't deny how wonderful that sounded, actually. Doing his own makeup and hair was a regular occasion, so much so that it almost got boring to do anymore. Remy, without a doubt, could be trusted to make sure Roman's winged eyeliner would be sharp enough to kill a man. Not that Roman would ever admit it, but Remy might have been even a better makeup artist than he was.

"Alright, alright," Roman yielded, "I supposed I'd be lucky to have someone of your talent dress me up today."

Remy looked equally smug and delighted at this. He shooed Roman along to take a shower, ducking back out of the bathroom to, presumably, pick an outfit for Roman for the day. The prince used the hair and body care products that he liked to save for special occasions, singing (of course) various Disney love songs as he did. With what must've been some sort of sixth sense, Remy was on him again as soon as he was wrapped up in a bathrobe and towling his hair dry. He got to work without wasting a moment, making sure that Roman's luxurious locks were fluffy and styled just right. The swoop to his bangs had never been so perfect, if he was being honest! The makeup look was bold, reds and golds and glitter; thankfully, Remy reassured him he'd used all waterproof brands so that Roman could cry all he liked without issue.

They returned back to the bedroom, where Remy had the outfit displayed on a mannequin. It shouldn't have been a shock that he'd picked some of Roman's favorite pieces but he was pleasantly surprised all the same.

"I really do just know you that well, I guess," Remy said, nonchalantly.

Roman, lightning quick, pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a lipstick print. "You do and I love you so much for it!"

While Remy blushed and stammered at the sudden affection, Roman darted ahead and began to get dressed. Remy didn't need to turn away to give Roman his privacy, all things considered, but he did anyway, fiddling with the jewelry on Roman's vanity. It took some deliberating, but he decided finally that, above all else, the rainbow jewel encrusted crown was a must for today's ensemble.

"How do I look?"

"Babe, I don't even need to—" Remy's words died on his tongue as he faced Roman. Sure, there had been no doubt that Roman would look handsome as hell, but the beaming smile and light in his eyes and bouncy excited posture… He looked so happy and radiant and— "Wow."

"Stop," Roman said, giggling.

Remy took the crown and approached. He gave Roman a half-bow, smirking up at him. "May I have the honor, your majesty?"

“Stop!" Roman repeated, squeaking.

"Never," Remy promised, standing and reaching up to nestle the accessory on Roman's head. Each strand of hair still fell perfectly into place. "Now then," he said, taking Roman's arm in his, "shall we begin the festivities?"

Getting downstairs took no time at all, though Remy did dart ahead and down the steps first, so that he could loudly announce Roman proper. Patton and Thomas cheered for him as he descended, which added only more to the warm blush that he had a feeling might be a permanent addition today to his makeup. The pair ooh'd and ahh'd over Roman's look, showering him in compliments and praise. If this was just the beginning, then he sincerely was unsure whether he'd make it out of the celebrations alive.

They gathered at the dining room table, where Virgil and Deceit were laying the finishing touches on breakfast. The spread looked delectable, every one of Roman's favorite foods, and all of it hot and freshly cooked. Logan joined them last, carrying a plate with a single biscuit on it. There was a lit candle, too, and they'd all started singing before Roman could even catch up. He blew the little fire out and made a wish - though they'd nearly all already come true at this point, anyway.

"We're breaking a record today of how many times we can sing happy birthday," Thomas said with a wink, "fair warning."

Breakfast was full of fun and light chatter. They talked about the rest of their plans (at least, the ones they weren't keeping secret) and reminisced on old milestones. Roman felt full and happy, content to just sit and listen to his loved ones talk and joke around him. He was never left out of the conversation, though, always pulled back into a topic or started one anew with. He was listened to, unequivocally, and the attention was pleasant.

Soon, the food was finished, and the group moved to the kitchen. Patton and Deceit worked together on dishes while Logan presented what would be the first of birthday treats. They were muffins with Crofter's jelly in the middle, a flavor that Roman didn't recognize.

"Roman's Razzleberry," Logan explained, looking mixed on his feelings regarding the name. "It took some experimenting, but this combination of raspberry, strawberry, and dragonfruit came out the metaphorical winner."

"It's delicious!" Roman exclaimed, taking another from the tray. "My own jam! Thank you, dearest."

They gathered in the living room next, where the furniture had been rearranged to give them space for various activities. They did start with a movie, to let their meal settle, all huddled together on the couches. Roman was squished between Virgil and Thomas, the former playing absentmindedly with Roman's fingers while Thomas trailed his hand up and down Roman's arm, leaving tingles along the way. He might have dozed off a little, warm and cozy as he was.

The short nap energized him for their next game. Charades was one of his favorites as it gave him an opportunity to really practice his acting skills. What better way to hone one's craft than by not being able to use all the normal necessary components? Playing a part without any speaking lines and having to hope he'd do well enough that his companions could guess… It was a challenge he always looked forward to!

Virgil popped out and back in shortly with snacks for them all, the apparent second birthday treat: popcorn and candies and chips and soda, all easy and quick but not any less appreciated. They split into teams of two, leaving one to be their referee, and then each round, swapping out so that they all could have a turn to play. Roman ended up the winner, to absolutely no one’s surprise, though Deceit did come in a close second.

Lunchtime had rolled around and this time, they took to each making sandwiches for themselves. Patton and Remy surprised them (well, surprised Roman) with the third and fourth birthday treats: heart shaped cookies with exquisite frosting doodles and red velvet cake pops, respectively. They were sweet and delicious and baked perfectly and Roman only resisted eating more than he could count because he knew he had to save room still for whatever Thomas and Deceit had made. After they were finished and the dishes were washed, Patton led the way back upstairs. They stopped in front of his room.

“Would it be okay if we took a trip down Memory Lane?” He asked, holding Roman’s hands. “I was thinking we could visit some birthdays past!”

Roman looked to the others, nearly overwhelmed with how much affection and love he had for them all. “Whatever you have planned, I’m all in.”

“Nap time,” Remy and Virgil chorused.

Deceit rolled his eyes while Logan stifled a laugh.

“Shh,” Thomas hushed, giving them pats on the head. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, as Remy had a couple of inches on him and Virgil’s hunched over form was shorter than them both.

Memory Lane was as warm and fuzzy as Roman remembered it. He didn’t come through here often, usually only when he and Remy needed something for a Dream, but the consistent feeling it carried of being embraced by Mom or Dad was nice. The memories they visited were nice, too: old visions of time spent with friends, trips to amusement parks, parties that ran late into the night. While they all had their moments, Roman couldn’t help but feel that his birthday today was the absolute very best of them all. By the time they exited, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so relaxed. Logan and Virgil, on the other hand, looked like they were a little tired from the adventure. He took to their sides, planting himself between them, and grabbing each of their hands. Their quiet, grateful smiles were enough to give him pleasant shivers down his spine.

“Kitchen’s off limits,” Deceit announced as they all arrived back downstairs. “None may enter.”

“Except me!” Thomas piped up.

“Except you,” Deceit agreed, giving him a not-so-secret smitten smile.

Before Roman could ask why, they’d both disappeared. His attention was quickly stolen by Remy anyway, who was dragging him down onto the couch for his and Virgil’s aforementioned nap time. Patton giggled, making sure that they had enough blankets and pillows to be comfy.

“You sleep well, okay? We’ll wake you up in a little bit!” Patton said, taking Roman’s crown for him so that it wouldn’t get in the way, and setting it carefully on the coffee table.

If Roman wanted to ask Logan and Patton to join their cuddling, he didn’t get a chance to. Remy was carding a hand through his hair, draining him of his energy with each gentle scrape of nails against his scalp. He would have declared Remy a cheater for using his powers like this, but Virgil was falling victim to it as well and having his emo nightmare curled up with him was too pleasant to allow any upset feelings, regardless of how joking or serious they were.

Roman did, in fact, nap well, especially thanks to Remy’s presence.

When he woke, his limbs were only a little stiff, but he was overall very warm and relaxed. Virgil was gone but Remy had his face tucked into the crook of Roman’s neck. His sunglasses had been removed and Roman decided it might be worth dealing with the possible attitude of rousing Remy before he was well and ready if it meant getting to see his pretty eyes.

“Pstt,” he whispered, cupping Remy’s hand in his cheek. “My sweet dreamcatcher, it’s time to wake up.”

Remy grumbled, leaning into Roman’s hold. “Sweetie, I know you aren’t trying to coax me out of slumber right now.”

“Why I never,” he teased, echoing Remy’s earlier faux offended tone.

It took a moment longer, but Roman was blessed with getting to watch Remy blink away the lingering sleep. He thought this might be the best present of them all, seeing the swirling and shimmering shades of brown in Remy’s eyes, never one color at a time. It didn’t last long, what with Remy letting his eyelids slip back closed, but that was because he was leaning in to kiss Roman, and that sort of made it worth it.

“I should’ve known better than to leave you two alone,” Virgil groused suddenly, startling them apart.

“You’re just jealous I got to kiss the most handsome prince in the world before you did,” Remy said cheekily, reaching over to grab his sunglasses from the table and sliding them back on.

Roman couldn’t have prepared even if he wanted to. Virgil moved so quickly, thanks largely in part to those flight reflexes, swooping in and capturing Roman’s lips with his own. The kiss was fierce and passionate and even as Virgil pulled away, Roman followed after him. He sighed, disappointed for it to have ended so quickly. Virgil stuck his tongue out at Remy and then shot away as Remy lunged for him. They chased each other around the living room, laughing and throwing playful insults back and forth. Roman watched fondly from the couch, warm still in their nest of blankets.

Hands pressed down on his shoulders, massaging the post-nap aches away. Roman looked up, finding Logan above him. Logan smiled, bending slightly to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Troublemakers, the both of them,” he said, only pretending to be disappointed.

“You’re one to talk,” Roman pointed out. “I’ve seen what you and Deceit get up to.”

“Shh,” Logan hurried to interrupt. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Patton called suddenly from the kitchen.

Roman’s stomach growled, surprising him; he wondered how long they’d slept for. Logan came around to the front of the couch and helped Roman up. Virgil and Remy had already darted away to try and steal bits of food.

“Has your birthday been so far satisfactory?” Logan asked, taking a moment to return Roman’s crown to his head. It was a testament to Remy’s hard work that his hair still looked flawless.

“It’s been perfect,” Roman answered enthusiastically.

Dinner consisted, once more, of Roman’s favorite foods. The cupcakes were courtesy of Thomas, another birthday treat, and while he seemed embarrassed about the messy frosting, Roman thought it overwhelmingly endearing; he especially liked the edible glitter and fondant stars. As they were nearing the end of their meal, Deceit procured the final birthday treat: champagne glasses for them all, filled with bubbly cider. There was another happy birthday song as Patton brought the cake out to the dining room. Roman had definitely started crying by now, as it all came together just how much they’d done for him today.

“A toast,” Deceit began, holding up his glass. The others followed. “To our favorite author, poet, artist, actor.”

“To the prince of our dreams,” Remy chimed in.

“And our hearts!” Patton added.

“To the best Creativity I could ask for,” Thomas continued.

“To the greatest hero,” Virgil suggested.

“To a wise and clever leader, one whom we can always trust to take care of us,” Logan rounded out.

Roman wiped frantically at his eyes, uncertain whether his makeup was smudge proof as well, but not caring one bit. “Thank you,” he said, voice wobbly and thick with tears. “I love you guys more than I can say.”

Deceit, from his seat beside him, used his free hand to take one of Roman’s. He pressed a kiss to his knuckles and then held that hand to his cheek. “How unfortunate for your wellbeing,” he threatened sweetly, “because I think that we can say plenty.”

And they did, praising him on anything to everything: from his appearance to his creations, his traits and what made him tick, and the cute faces he made without realizing, and every tiny simple little thing they adored about him. It was, to say the least, the best way to end what had been the best day.

[joeyglowy]

Bad Study Habits ft. Miya Twins

In which the Miya Twins learn not to waste your time when they are the ones that asked for help. That, and that their necks are surprisingly quite sensitive. 

(Call it a commemoration for Miya Osamu finally having his character designs introduced, even if it’s the fucking laziest but most beautiful thing I���ve seen all week)

Miya Atsumu x Reader, 1500+ words Miya Osamu x Reader, 1700+ words

(I promise, I love them, almost equally)

Miya Atsumu

“Why do I need ta know Avocado’s number? Unless he’s down to help a brother getting blue balled by his own girlfriend, tell him I’m not interested.”

“It’s Avogadro’s number and for once in your life can you not think with your dick? We’re not here to have sex; I’m here to make you pass your chemistry test so you don’t get another detention for slacking off in class!”

For the past eighteen minutes, you had been using your middle and index finger to rub circles into your temple, a vain attempt to soothe the hammering headache that jabbed your eyelids each time Atsumu opened his mouth.

When your boyfriend had come to your door, ‘begging’ you to help him with chemistry, you found it pleasantly endearing. For all the faults to which Miya Atsumu had—for which there were many—he had unfortunately perfected the art of looking just sheepish enough that it became adorable while still bristling his feathers like a proud peacock that just made you want to pull his chubby cheeks. He was the naughty puppy that still had his ravenous canines punctured in your favourite lita boots with his tail tucked between his legs. He was that one bad kid in every class who fooled around but all the female teachers doted on him anyways because he was charismatic in that childishly infuriating way that made them lower their standards when he finally put in the effort.

Miya Atsumu, put bluntly, is a godforsaken brat.

“[Name]-chan! My chem teacher’s threatenin’ me! He said if I fail one more quiz I’ll have to sit through at least three detentions just, doin’ I don’t know, symbiosis! You gotta help me; you’re my girlfriend, aren’tcha?”

Yet, you somehow fell for this idiot anyway.

Enamoured with his honey-lemon eyes, you decided not to tell him that what you were doing was in fact stoichiometry and symbiosis is actually a biology term. But with the way he had grabbed your shoulders, for an inexperienced lover like yourself, it was more than enough to trigger a visceral reaction that caused some internal organ to clog your throat. His subtle guilt-trip did not go unnoticed but with your brain short-circuiting, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you had dumbly nodded, cursing your inability to deal with intimacy and members of the opposite sex as you allowed him to barge into your home.

Since he was always practicing, you thought it would be a chance to do something that couples do. Using your infinite knowledge collated from various fanfictions and shoujo manga online, you had constructed a seemingly infallible plan to make the most of your time with Atsumu. It involved having every excuse to stare at him without being teased for it and if anything, you would be in the rare position of the teaser, playfully pointing out his mistakes to which he’d probably pout and whine about before undoubtedly, once you were done, he’d demand a reward. Enter obligatory make out sesh. Which of course, was more than welcome in your book. You were a simple girl and he had cultivated excellently curved muscles from his years of volleyball, sue your transparency.

There was just one chink in your perfectly polished armoured plan.

Atsumu was a brat above all else. A horny one.

Tutoring him was like trying to make caramel for the first time.

At first, you think it’s going well. You’re simmering the white sugar, careful and attentive, determined to make it a success. Yet, as the browning starts to come in from the edges, a funny aroma that was not the scent of sweetness but one of something being grossly burned beyond recovery did you realise just how taxing the job was. Before you knew it, it was like having your kitchen on fire, the ignition source being the abomination that is Miya Atsumu.

As Osamu would say, “His mental age regresses by five years when he’s playing. . . but it plummets by ten when he’s, god forbid it, studyin’.”

If he wasn’t whining, he was trying to stroke your legs with his spider fingers under the kotatsu, creeping up your thigh only to be smacked away by your own hand to which he’d just go back to loudly whining. He had the attention span of a five year old and the attitude of a twelvie that equalled a near migraine for you. Least to say, you were far too annoyed to be turned on now so you had abruptly gotten up in a fit of annoyance, told him you were going to drink some water and left him in the living room.

You sighed, the water only granted a moment’s worth of reprieve as you headed back to the living room to see his honey coloured mop of hair from behind. Your eye twitched when you looked from behind to see him doodling an avant-garde penis on the page. Lovely.

He still hadn’t noticed you peering over his shoulder so you took the chance to admire the back of his head, watching how his hairline faded out from beneath his undercut, the roots of his old hair still left their stain. You wondered if his neck down ever got cold, with the constant exposure and all. The longer you stared, the more you felt your stomach lurch, toying with a lingering thought that just might get you what you wanted after all.

In a swift movement, with your lips gently planted on the supple flesh, beneath his hairline, you caressed the skin tenderly. Your lips quirked upward to hear a squeak from your boyfriend who had shuddered violently, his shoulders shaking as his penis drawing gained an unexpected gradient slope, his pen streaking in a straight line across the page. You chuckled into his neck; nipping at it playfully as your hot breath caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Pleased with the pinkish hue that spread across the skin like paint, you pulled away as Atsumu snapped his head towards you, moon eyed.

Although you may have burnt the caramel, it looks like you’ve found some hidden strawberries to snack on instead.

You watched the way his pretty blush flourished to his cheeks while he looked visibly affronted by your sneak attack. “Wh-what do ya think yer doin’!?” he spluttered on the spot, his hand flying to his neck as if you had just bitten into it. You wanted to lick your lips at the thought before you narrowed your eyes sternly, trying not to let a wolfish grin slip through the cracks.

“I don’t know about you but personally, I despise wasting time, don’t you ‘Tsumu?”

You drummed your fingers on the kotatsu’s surface, slow and pronounced. His golden eyes zeroed onto them in anticipation. You licked your lips. All these food metaphors made you realise just how starved you are. Atsumu being someone who had always been observant, seemed to pick up on your hunger as well, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as he glanced up at you from under his lashes, anxious. You turned back to the paper, almost nonchalant, as if you weren’t aware of his clenched fists and tensed thighs.

“Yet, you seem to be taking advantage of my generosity, good boyfriends shouldn’t do that ‘Tsumu. You’re a good boyfriend, aren’tcha?” you drawled lowly, as you started glancing at your nails using your other hand, viciously using his guilt-tripping tactic from before.

Atsumu looked positively famished. His brows twisted up guiltily, that sheepish, puppy look on his face once more. Still, you could see his eyes shining too bright, still thinking that it’d go his way if he played nice. He was a mischievous imp that was a little too used to getting what he wants. You decided you weren’t going to fall for it this time.

“[Name], I didn’t--”

“Oh, but you did,” you sharply interrupted him and he winced. Your heart throbbed and as much as you loved teasing him, you did want this to end with him pinning you to the couch so you smiled softly. “Why don’t we finish studying, yeah? Then you can make it up to me.”

If Atsumu wasn’t getting blue balled before, then he certainly is now. He had no idea how the situation began to drip with sexual undertone but with the unbearable heat coursing through him, he could only nod helplessly, at your mercy. For the remainder of the studying session, while it had become increasingly harder for him to stay focused with his raging hormones going haywire, he clung onto every single word that fell from your mouth like it was a lifeline as the incomprehensible scribbles on the page finally morphed into numbers and words that he could understand.

You grinned victoriously to see the eager look Atsumu would get in his eyes, awaiting your praise and what he thinks is his reward once you had both finally gotten through the content. He really is just like an overzealous, whiny puppy that wants his treat. Well now, this will most certainly result into an exciting night for you, just as you had planned.

You smirked triumphantly.

‘All according to keikaku.’

Miya Osamu

“So, do you know how to use Avogadro’s number?”

“Mm? Avocado?”

You sighed. “No, can’t you stop thinking about food for a second, it’s Avo—Osamu!” you yelped, seeing your boyfriend barely stirring from the nest he’s made with his arms as he blinks blearily at you. The sleep in his eyes quite nearly breaks open every dam with the unparalleled force that is your love and affection and ability to just gush about how adorable this man is for hours and yet, you are forced to restrain yourself. As much as you adore Miya Osamu, he is unfortunately, just as much of an idiot as his brother—yet strangely manages to get within a range of 1 to 5 per cent higher than him on every test.

Osamu lets a little smile slip. “Avosamu? I thought it was Avogadro.”

You offered him a hard glare before deflating into the kotatsu, just like he did. He perked his head up to hear your muffled groans, his lips quirking up at how cute you sound. “Osamuuuu, you need to study for the test tomorrow! It’s worth a third of your grade!” you exclaimed, erupting from the cocoon of your arms to pout at him. Osamu grimaced just a little because every move he made was with restraint as he guiltily looked away.

“I know but m’tired,” he mumbled into his arms, burying his nose into them. “From practice,” he clarified with a grumble that faded out into something roughly incoherent. You had to stop yourself from smiling at his petulant tone of voice as you sighed, shaking your head. He was a kid, just like Atsumu too apparently.

“I know but . . .” you trailed off to see him in a sleeping position. You shook your head, unable to stop your smile this time as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. A sound rumbled from his chest and you snorted, of course only Osamu would be able to do the human equivalent of purring. His face resurfaced from the blanket of his arms as he leaned into your touch, sighing contently. You found your hand devoured by the dishevelled mess that was his hair as you fondly played with his matted grey tresses. Your love for this man warmed your heart beyond words as you could feel yourself relaxing—you blinked.

Wait a minute.

The way you ripped your hand out of his hair was like a splash of cold water to the face as he startled, bewildered by your forceful action as you glowered at him. “You fox!” you hissed. He blinked innocently in return as you shook your head adamantly. “I will not be an accomplice to your illicit sleeping endeavours! Nor the reason why you fail tomorrow’s test and have to stay back to do catch up work! Atsumu and the team would never let you live it down you know!”

You clutched your beating heart with a flush on your cheeks. ‘Ahh, that was close! He’s much more convincing than I thought but I won’t be fooled!’

You offered him another glare before sighing. You’d done that too many times this session you now realised. “Look, I’ll get you some tea, okay? But after that, you have to stay awake! You’ll be in big trouble if I come back and you’re asleep,” you softly reprimanded him although he looked completely unabashed as he nodded.

“Mm’kay.”

You were only gone for five minutes but when you had returned . . . he was definitely in trouble.

You gripped the steaming cup of hot tea by the handle; careful not to brush your knuckles on the actual cup so you don’t burn yourself and spill it like a waterfall. Carefully, you placed the cup of tea out of reach so he doesn’t knock it over before you plopped onto the cushion next to him, pouting. Really, coming over, begging you to help him study, only to fall asleep in front of you, what a tease. . .

“Jeez, I was hoping for some, fun times after we finished up too~” you whined to yourself, letting your chin fall to your fist before a movement other than your own caught you from the corner of your periphery.

You narrowed your eyes. His lashes flickered like a butterfly’s wings, elegant yet silent. Then nothing. You drummed your fingers slowly on the kotatsu’s surface before aptly concluding that your, apparently, asshole boyfriend, was faking his slumber. Your Sleeping Beauty was actually a Beast in disguise so it would appear. You pursed your lips, blowing air from your nose like a puffing, huffing steam train. He wants to play like that, does he?

You swiftly rose out of your seat before standing behind him, your shadow devouring him. You just might too if Osamu doesn’t tread carefully. You eyed his fraying hairline, beneath his undercut. You wondered how sensitive it would have now become, what, with it being constantly exposed to the frigid air all the time. A smile coyly played to your lips, as you hummed kittenishly before leaning down.

Tenderly, you placed your lips to the back of his neck, giving it a quick peck.

You looked up, gauging for a reaction but received none. You smiled daringly. Perhaps your dear boyfriend needs a bit more persuasion. You pressed another kiss into his neck. And another one. Accompanied by another. Before you began peppering his neck in searing kisses, from the roots of his hair to the brim of his collared uniform. You watched in delight as the skin gradually increased in heat while you continued to reap the benefits of your ravenous exploits.

You could feel the skin beneath your lips beginning to tremble but since he still wouldn’t reveal he was awake. . . it might be time to go exploring. You hovered over his ‘sleeping’ frame as both your hands slithered under the arms pillowing his face. They coiled around his waist and you found yourself licking your lips, suddenly feeling rather hungry. You could see him beginning to squirm yet he was adamant not to budge. A wolfish laugh escaped you as you plunged your fingers under his shirt to dance on his stomach before your teeth finally met his skin.

The last thing you heard was a sharp gasp that sounded like absolute heaven before your world turned on its axis. Your back met the ground with a thud and you suddenly realised you couldn’t move. Casually taking a quick glance, you craned your neck to see two calloused fists handcuffing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You looked up to finally see a panting Osamu, glaring at you.

“Oi.”

You blinked.

Osamu was every shade of grey. Every expression, every movement, although a little rough, it was done with minimal effort and restrained. He was always in control and always composed. He was a little slow and sluggish like that, but he could become a dynamic black, cool and confident whenever you pluck just the right strings.

Which is why it was all the more endearing to see a lovely peach pink speckling on his cheeks.

“What,” he breathed out, as if he had just sprinted in a marathon, you could see his torso trembling, “do ya think yer doin’?”

You watched him placidly and couldn’t stop admiring the pretty colour on his cheeks. You wanted to capture it, burn it in your memory until your final breath. You wanted to paint it, to smear the red all over his grey. You licked your lips.

“I told you, didn’t I? That you would be in trouble if I came back to find you sleeping. So pray tell, what were you doing, ‘Samu?” you purred beneath him, a playful smirk crawling to your lips as you felt a pooling sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Osamu’s eyes widened and even though he had overcast a shadow on the both of you, you could tell that his cheeks had darkened. He suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights and he could no longer meet your gaze. With an agonisingly slow movement, he tentatively released one of your wrists to feel the back of his neck.

“D-did you . . .?” he stammered, not able to bring himself to finish the question.

Picking on what he was insinuating, using your left hand, now free, you roughly grabbed him by the collar before pulling him down. He yelped like a puppy that had lost its footing, as he lurched forward like a tidal wave, almost tumbling over, quickly stamping his free hand to the ground, stopping him from knocking his head into your as you curled your finger under his chin.

“No, I didn’t. I warned you though, right? If you try to fall asleep again when I’m teaching you. . .” you slur, tracing your finger, teasingly let it tap on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes now wide awake and focused only on you as you grinned hungrily.

“I’ll decorate your neck with hickies until you’ve got a goddamn necklace of bruises.”

Osamu shuddered as he fell to his elbows, barely holding himself up. Feeling his voice shake, he meekly nodded, trying to hide his arousal as he shakily—but briskly—flew back to the kotatsu, promptly hiding his face from you, just like a mouse.

You bit your lip, grinning wildly at the ceiling which although, was completely uninteresting, was the only excuse you had to not let him see your dorky smile.

‘HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED. Reading all those fanfics and manga finally paid off!’

You can’t let yourself come off as too desperate though. You realised that you had been waving the stick in front of him for too long now, it was time to finally bring out the carrot.

You propped yourself, being deliberately slow as to keep him waiting before you tenderly held onto his shoulder. You could feel him tense you brushed your nose against the lobe of his ear, your wispy breaths dyeing it pink as you whispered:

“When we’re done, I promise, you can eat whatever you want.”

While he didn’t fall asleep and actually got some proper studying in afterwards, perhaps it was him being petty or a vain attempt to gain back some control, he did not offer you his dick but went straight for the fridge to get some pudding. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were hungry and Osamu found out that night that not only were you quite convincing yourself but you also really liked turning his neck red.

Hmm. And you called him a fox.