#the question was: which teammate would answer YOUR 2am call

[ceedeelamb]

"2am I know it's something good" 💀

[generallybarzy]

opportunities

4 times he could have kissed you + the time he finally did

summary: You and Mat have been friends for a long time, and for months now he’s been looking for the perfect opportunity to kiss you. Unfortunately, things never seem to go as planned for him, it seems something is always in the way and it takes a while to get that kiss.  an: I never thought I’d actually write a 4+1 but I had an idea and ran with it, so here we go I guess! Also yes it is 2am for me, but I got this all written in 24 hours, yay! Hey, @mbarzals​​ you suggested a drabble of the last part, but I got a little bit out of control haha ❤ word count: 4.7k

He wasn’t quite sure when he first started feeling this way, but maybe he should have seen it coming all along.

You’d been friends for a long time, so long that he frequently caught himself forgetting there had even been a time before you were in his life. It started out with him realizing just how at home he felt with you, no matter where he was. You were there whenever he needed you, listening to him, hyping him up, and comforting him. But there was always a stiff line between the two of you, a divide in your relationship, keeping you strictly platonic no matter how much he wanted to change that. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, call you his, and let everyone know you were his. He wanted to be selfish and keep you for himself.

God, Mat wanted to kiss you so bad.

I. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the first time he felt anything more than friendship towards you, it was purely physical attraction, caused mostly- he believed- by the alcohol in his bloodstream and the endorphins in his head.

You had come to an Islanders game- always loving to see him doing what he does best, what he’s passionate about- and were proudly sporting his name and number across your back, which made Mat’s heart flutter in his chest in pride when he saw you during warmups. Everyone knew it was going to be a tough game and that the two teams would be neck and neck the whole time, so when the Islanders ended up winning in the most exciting, most cinematic way possible- with special thanks to your own Mat Barzal during overtime- it called for a celebration, and Mat soon found himself at a nearby bar, surrounded by his celebrating teammates and, most importantly, you. 

The hazy feeling caused by his drink and the excitement of winning didn’t go so well when faced with seeing you in his jersey, hanging on his arm, and smiling up at him with flushed cheeks. “You’re so good at what you do, Mat. You’re such a fucking star!” His teammates cheered and joined in. “Barzal with the game-winning goal!”

He almost felt bashful being so flooded by this praise, but the way you were dancing to the music with your friends and his was tugging at his heart in a way he wasn’t used to. You weren’t even dressed in any sexy way, no skinny jeans or tight dresses like the other girls he found hot, just a pair of leggings and his jersey swallowing your form. But shit, you were so hot in the way you moved, the way you swayed to the music and grabbed his hand with a smile, pulling him to join. 

“Come on, Barzy.” He snapped out of his trance at the sound of your voice. “Did that goal get to your head already? Are you too much of a star now to dance with me?”

“Never.”

Maybe the way you moved with each other that night was much more than platonic, but it felt so right, and he was sure you’d both forget it in the morning anyway- the way you were letting yourself go with him, the way you were smiling and laughing while dancing with him, touching him in a way that friends really shouldn’t. He wanted to hold on to this tipsy, carefree feeling with you feeling for the rest of time, and never have to worry about being just friends. It was like electricity, the way your hands felt on the back of his neck, and he needed more.

You were drunk, giggly, and still praising him with everything in you as he pulled you out of the heat of the club and into the cool air outside. You clung onto him, arms around his waist and smiling against his chest as he called an Uber so he could make sure you got home safe. “I’m so proud of you, Maty!”

 “You know,” He put away his phone and lifted his arm to hug you back, smiling against your hair and savoring the feeling of you pressed against him. Sure, you’d hugged before, but those were “friend hugs”, this was different. This was intimate- pressed chest to chest, your hands slipping under his shirt to touch his skin as if you thought he wouldn’t notice your sneaky fingers. “I wouldn’t have scored that goal if I didn’t have my good luck charm there.” You looked up at him and brought your hands up to thread together behind his neck. You meant it innocently, he knew, because you were drunk, but he couldn’t help the warmth that flooded through him at the way your fingers played with his hair, the way your eyes caught his and your head tilted to the side. 

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He watched as if in a trance as your lips moved, watched the smile that curled onto them when you hummed in response, and, though he couldn’t figure out this feeling inside him, that was the first moment he knew he wanted to kiss you. But you were drunk, and probably wouldn’t remember it anyway, so he held back, his hand spreading over your shoulder blades, fingers tracing the BARZAL on your back. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling yet, but there was one thing he knew for certain: he could get used to seeing you in his jersey.

II. 

That was the first night he wanted to kiss you, but he still had no idea, at that time, what he felt towards you. How much you truly mattered to him. How much he wanted you for himself.

It was late in the evening, and Mat was already getting ready to go to bed when he heard the knock at his door. In sweatpants and a t-shirt that he threw on quickly for modesty, he made his way over to the door and rubbed a hand over his face to try and appear more awake, wondering who it could be. And there you were, standing outside his apartment in a pretty dress, holding your heels in your hands and wiping away the tears streaking your face. “Can I come in?”

“Shit, of course.” Though he had almost been asleep, Mat was immediately alert when he saw the state you were in. “What happened?” He closed the door behind you as you immediately shuffled over to his couch and crumbled down into a sobbing ball.

“Patrick never showed.”

“What?” Mat had been there when you first started dating this guy. He had seemed cool from what Mat could tell about him, and you had been ecstatic to finally have a date that went well. That was a few months ago, and now, seeing you so heartbroken because of him made Mat angry. Who could break up with someone as perfect as you? He didn’t understand the slight twinge of joy inside of him that you were single again. He pushed it away. “What do you mean he never showed?”

“We had a date tonight. Or we should’ve. We were gonna meet a few hours ago, but he never showed.” 

“Maybe...” Mat sat next to you and pulled you up from where you were curled on your side against the back of the couch, searching for words to console you. “Maybe he forgot?” It didn’t sound very comforting, but it was the best he could come up with. “Maybe he went to the wrong place?”

“No, we texted before, kinda. I reminded him and he only sent back a thumbs up. And now he’s not answering me, even though it says he’s active!” 

“Okay...”  he lifted his hands, placing them flat on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes, trying to reel you in from your rant before you started sobbing again. “Listen, fuck Patrick.” His heart glowed when you finally smiled for the first time tonight. He’d do anything to keep that smile there. “He’s really missing out on a great date. His loss.”

“Mat, can I sleep over? I don’t really wanna be alone tonight.” 

“Anytime. You wanna change into something comfier?” He motioned to your dress. As beautiful as you looked in it, he couldn’t imagine you wanted to stay in that for the rest of the night. 

A few minutes passed and had you shuffling out of Mat’s room and to the couch in clothes that were many sizes too big for you, glancing up to see Mat coming into the room with a bowl of popcorn and some drinks. “Wow, you managed to make food? Impressive.” Even while sad, you couldn’t resist playfully chirping his kitchen skills.

“Haha. I can put something in the microwave.” He returned your smile and settled down next to you, opening Netflix and partially forgetting the reason you were having a spontaneous movie night. “What are we feeling tonight? The Bachelor?”

“Mat.” You sighed dramatically and leaned your face against his shoulder. “Do you think a girl who just had her heart broken wants to watch The Bachelor?” 

“Oh, shit. Right. Sorry.” After finally deciding on The Office, Mat readjusted on the couch, leaning back and stretching his legs out onto the coffee table, and pulled you against his side. He kept the bowl of popcorn in his lap, feeding some to you every now and then and making you smile whenever he reached his hand to your lips. You looked so cute right now, in a pair of sweatpants and one of his coziest hoodies, practically drowning in them. Just like the time you first wore his jersey, he felt his heart flutter in his chest at the sight.

As the night dragged on and your positions on the couch adjusted from sitting to lying, you ended up snuggling further and further against him- not that he was gonna complain. Soon, you were laying with your head in his lap, your face pressed into his stomach. Mat laughed a little bit at the position, but couldn’t deny how much he loved it. Friends. Just friends. “Hey, uh, (Y/N)? You good?”

“Am I unlovable?” 

The question caught him by surprise, shook him to the core. “What?” He sat up, lifting you with him and held you in his arms, searching your eyes. “No. Absolutely not. What makes you ask that?”

You shrugged, suddenly extremely interested in toying with the strings of his hoodie. “Just… Every guy I’m with ends up leaving, or cheating, or ghosting me. Maybe I’m just… impossible to love or something.” Your words came out choked up, getting caught when your throat tightened. The tears were flowing now, and you couldn’t stop them.

“Hey, hey, don’t.” Mat pulled you against him, wrapping an arm around your waist, one large hand finding its way into your hair, fingers threading comfortingly. He pressed your face against the crook of his neck, letting you cry into him and breathe in his familiar scent. “Don’t. You are not unlovable. Don’t let that dick get to you. He made a fucking bad choice tonight, and he doesn’t deserve you.” He felt your arms come up to wrap around his waist, squeezing around him, reciprocating the hug. “You deserve someone who really cares about you. Patrick obviously didn’t.” Me, me, someone like me. Once again, he couldn’t shake away the thoughts in his head that had him wanting to kiss you. I care about you. I’d never leave you. 

“Thanks, Mat.” You stayed in your hug for a moment, letting your sniffles quiet down into nothing, before looking back up at him with wet eyes and a trembling bottom lip. He wanted to kiss you, but again, the timing was so, so bad. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.” 

“I guess I don’t need a boyfriend when I have a best friend like you.” 

He couldn’t help how much those words hurt him.

III.  

That was the night Mat finally realized, after seeing you so heartbroken, just how much he wanted to preserve your happiness, how much he cared about you. He decided then that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you ever again. He was gonna be there for you, more than he ever was before. And he was gonna kiss you.

Eventually.

He dreamed of fantasies, of decorating his apartment all romantic, with rose petals and candles, and inviting you over to surprise you with how romantic he could be, but it was much too early. You were still heartbroken because of Patrick, and he couldn’t do this to you while you were still crying over another man. Before he could do anything; before he could tell you how much you meant to him or kiss you like he wanted to, hockey had him flying halfway across the country, further away from you than he ever wanted to be. He’d been away from you on roadies before, but this time he felt different. So different.

He was laying in his hotel bed one night after a game, texting you with a dumb, dopey smile on his face when Tito laughed from the bed next to him. 

“You’re so whipped.” 

Mat didn’t even look up from his phone, too busy laughing with you at a dumb meme you just sent. Honestly, he didn’t even hear what his friend said. “Huh?” 

“You’re whipped.” He still got no response, as Mat started typing out a reply to you, the same dumb smile on his face. “You’re in love with (Y/N).”

Mat had known he liked you as more than a friend for a while now but he hadn’t told anybody about these emerging feelings, and hearing the word “love” was kinda shocking to him. Did he really love you? Was it that obvious? “You think?” 

His friend gestured vaguely towards him, “I mean, it’s pretty obvious.” 

“I’m just… texting her? As a friend.”

“When we text, you take hours to respond.” 

“Maybe I like her better than I like you.”

“Yeah. You love her.” 

“We’re just talking.”

“You couldn’t stop talking to her if you tried.” Their banter was interrupted by his phone chiming with a text from you. He hesitated, not wanting to prove Tito right. After a few moments of silence, it chimed again, and Tito laughed and motioned to it. “Aren’t you gonna answer your girlfriend?”

“Shut up.” 

By the end of the trip, Mat was certain that he did love you. It made his heart flutter, it made him feel so soft and warm whenever he thought about you. He knew you were going to be there waiting when he got back, you had called before his flight and claimed you were gonna drive him home, and he knew he wanted to kiss you today.

Even after he stepped off the plane, he didn’t feel home, not until you found your way into his arms. Your arms found their way around his waist, comfortable, familiar, and your hands slid inside his jacket sneakily. “Welcome back, Mat! You did great” 

“We didn’t even win every game.” 

“Maybe not, but you were great regardless.” And then you were pulling away from him, looking up at him with those pretty eyes and smiling with those pretty lips. “I missed you.” God, he loved you. Was this the perfect time? Was this his chance? You missed him, he missed you, and a reunion kiss is romantic, isn’t it? He was gonna do it, he was gonna kiss you-

“Hey, (Y/N)!” 

“Beau!” 

Just like that, his best opportunity was ruined as you gave his friend a hug as well. He made a mental note to yell at Tito later for cockblocking him- was that the term he should use? Fuck, he just wanted to kiss you so bad . 

IV.

The closest time he ever came to kissing you was after the 2020 All Star Game, You almost seemed more excited than him when he got the news he was going. Even though it wasn’t even his first game, you cheered and celebrated with him, hyping him up and, as soon as you heard it was in St. Louis, promised him that you’d come cheer him on in person this year. His heart swelled with pride, so happy that you were going to be there for him.

Mat knew having you there with his family was going to take a toll on him, having all the people he cared about most there for him was going to be too much emotion to handle, but he also knew it would be worth it. He first saw you with his family right before the Skills Competition and couldn’t get you out of his mind the rest of the night.

And then he won. Holy shit, he won fastest skater.

He found you waiting for him after the competition, standing in the hall before the locker rooms and once again proudly sporting your Barzal  jersey.

“Mat, oh my God!” You jumped when you saw him and ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Mat!” He caught you in his arms and smiled, loving the familiar feeling of your hugs and still not quite able to process that he actually won. “You won!!!”

“I know!” He laughed and the noise rumbled through you pleasantly. He dropped you back down onto your feet.

“I’m so proud of you!! I knew you could do it!!”

He caught your gaze- you were smiling ear to ear and it was gleaming all the way up to your eyes. Your cheeks were flushed from laughing and cheering him on, and your hair was pulled back except for a few flyaways that resulted when you rushed down here to meet him that were haloing your head. Your hands curled up around his shoulders and slid into his hair, higher and higher to play with the longer locks at the top of his head.

“Fastest skater, huh Mat?” 

God, he wanted to kiss you through that smile. He wanted to smile against your lips, swallow your giggles, run his hands through your hair without having to worry about people talking, without having to worry about being just friends. 

“I wouldn’t have won without my good luck charm here.” His hands slid up your back, across the 13 and up to his name that you wore so proudly. You were here for him, only for him, and he made you proud. You were here with his family, and you got along so well with them. This is it. The perfect opportunity for a kiss. His hand caressed your jaw, tilting your head up and smiling softly at you, and he had just taken a quick glance at your lips when someone else’s voice caught his ears.

“Mat!”

And then, all of a sudden, you were out of his arms and he was surrounded by family, congratulating him on the win. He was overjoyed to see them, sure, but he missed his best chance to kiss you.

He was getting frustrated.

 + the kiss

The rest of the season dragged on without any kisses, unfortunately, and it may have been getting to Mat. He had complained to Tito many, many times now about how much he wished he could find a chance to kiss you, but how everytime he wanted to, there seemed to be something stopping him. 

And Tito was getting pretty tired of his friend being so hopeless.

Now, he found himself at a houseparty with a bunch of friends, friends of friends, and some people who he wasn’t quite sure anybody knew, but all he could do was watch you from across the room. You looked amazing, like always, and were talking with some friends, tucking your hair behind your ear with delicate touches.

“God, you really have to get laid, dude.” 

“What?” Mat looked over to his teammate, trying to avoid the fact that he’d been ogling you all night.

“You’re just staring at her. Do something. Just kiss her already.” 

“I can’t just kiss her here. I have to make it… I don’t know, romantic?” His friend laughed, and he tried to shut him up, not wanting to alert your attention. “Well, we can’t just kiss surrounded by all these people! We have to at least be alone.”

“Alright, alright. I can help.” Mat didn’t even have time to ask what he meant before he was gone.

Ten minutes passed, and he almost forgot about Tito’s words, but as he was refilling his red solo cup in the kitchen, he was approached by one of your friends, who leaned up and whispered in his ear. “(Y/N) needs to talk to you.” She pointed over to a bedroom where you must have been waiting for him. Mat couldn’t help the little bit of fear that ran through his veins. 

“Okay.” He nodded to your friend and picked up his cup, “Yeah, sure.” On his way over to the room, he grabbed Tito away from a group and hissed in his ear. “Dude, what did you do?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. Why does (Y/N) want to talk to me?” 

“Relax,” Tito laughed, seeing how nervous his friend was getting over this girl. “I said I’d help. Better hurry up. I heard it’s urgent.” 

Mat sighed and made his way over to the room, sucking in a breath and trying to steady himself. What did they tell you that had you needing to talk to him? They better not have said anything about how he felt, this isn’t how he wanted it to go. He wanted to tell you himself. “Uh, hey?” He knocked on the doorframe before coming in, and you looked up from where you were sitting criss cross on the bed, scrolling through your phone. 

“Hey.” You patted the bed next to you, and Mat came in and sat down, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. Friends. Just friends. You smiled with a sneaky look and tilted your head. “Soooo, Maty. I heard you have something to tell me.” Your voice lilted up at the end in a curious manner, which would have been cute if Mat could figure out what was happening.

“Me?” Mat’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I- I thought… Your friend told me you have something to tell me.” 

“Wait, what? No, Tito told me-” 

As if on cue, the door slammed shut, and Tito’s voice could be heard from the other side. “You know what to do, Barzy!” And suddenly it all made sense. It was a set-up. He was quick to stand up and rush to the door to try and open it but somehow they had managed to properly lock it from the outside. “Nope! You’re not getting out until you man up!” 

“No, no, I swear to God, man!” He took a few steps backwards and fell back onto the bed dramatically, covering his face with his hands. “Not like this!” 

“Umm, wanna explain to me what’s up?” 

Mat sat up after a few moments, and you took the moment to appreciate how fucking beautiful he looked tonight, sitting on the edge of this bed. The contrast between his creamy skin and the black of his hoodie and jeans was so artistic, and the red snapback sitting backwards on his head was the perfect pop of color in comparison. His hair was growing longer, he hadn’t cut it in a few months, and was curling out the bottom of his hat, just begging you to twirl your finger around it. “Well, it seems like our friends set us up.”

“But what do you mean not like this?”

He was quiet for a breath before closing his eyes and leaning back to look at the ceiling. “Fuck.” He lifted the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair quickly. “Okay, I promise, if it were up to me, this isn’t how it would've gone but…” 

You felt him pulling away again. “Mat, c’mon. You can talk to me. We’re friends.”

“No, no, that’s the problem, though!” He immediately softened his voice when he saw you recoil at the way he snapped. “Sorry, just…” he ran his hands over his face and you realized how nervous he was. Shit, that was pretty out of character for him. “You’ve been driving me crazy for months, (Y/N), and I don’t think you understand how much you mean to me. Fuck, you mean a lot to me. You’re more to me than just a friend.” He let his words settle into your body before continuing. “I think I… No, I do. I really like you, and I wanna be a lot more than friends and Tito knows and now apparently your friends do too and now they have us locked in here until we kiss.” The last sentence came out in a breath, and Mat sat still, biting his lip and waiting for a reaction.

“You like me? You wanna kiss me? You wanna date me?” 

“Yeah. I have for months.” 

Mat could hear his heartbeat pounding as he watched you, waiting for a reaction of some sort. He felt like time was moving in slow motion as you scooted closer to him on the bed and reached your hand up to cup his jaw, locking eyes with him and glancing to his lips, so pink and plump and waiting for you. “Mat, you should’ve said something.” 

And then your lips were on his.

Soft and slow and gentle.

Your lips felt like heaven, delicate against his own, and tasted like that fruity chapstick he always sneakily watched you put on out of the corner of his eye. Your body molded against his perfectly, your small hand fitting just right beneath his jawline and the other right on the curve of his shoulder, squeezing for balance. Your nose bumped against his when your face wasn’t angled right, but before you could lean back to apologize, he had captured your lips and was kissing back with equal passion. He lifted his hand to stroke your cheek, pushing aside your hair and tucking it behind your ear, and cupped his hand against the back of your neck. The other dipped to the small of your back, pulling you in closer against him.

He set the rhythm: smooth, and sweet and needy.

 His mouth tasted like that sugary, alcoholic punch that they had sitting out in the kitchen, but felt like magic moving against yours, rocking with you and pushing and pulling at your lips like ocean waves. You didn’t deny him when his tongue peeked out against your lips in question, nothing too risque, but enough to keep the kiss passionate. Your hands traveled from his jaw down to the column of his neck, and you could feel him take a deep breath in before circling around to tug at the curls of hair that were sticking out of his dumb red snapback. 

It felt so right, and you kissed and kissed and kissed until you started smiling too much and your teeth began getting in the way.

Your foreheads found a place to rest on each other as you broke apart with wide grins on your faces. You nudged your nose against his, giggling and tracing a thumb down the rosy flush on his cheekbones, knowing that yours mirrored his in pinkness. He bit his bottom lip and let out a breathy laugh of his own, overwhelmed by lingering feelings of your kiss. 

There it was. He finally got his kiss.

“Wow.” 

“Wow is right.” Mat whispered, beautiful hazel eyes holding yours. “So I’m guessing... We’re together now?”

“Yeah. Finally.” You dropped your head down against his shoulder, turning to the side to give his neck a small peck. “You know, I’ve wanted this for months too, Mat.” 

Mat couldn’t help but laugh at himself. He had been trying for months upon months to find the perfect way to woo you, to confess his feelings and kiss you in the most romantic way possible, stressing over whether it was the right time or not, when all both of you wanted the whole time was each other. “Shit, we could’ve been kissing months ago. I’ve had so many opportunities.”

“Was it worth it, though? Was it worth the wait?” Mat leaned his head down, capturing your mouth again in a slow, sweet kiss, before breaking apart with a loud smack and humming against your flushed cheek with a grin. 

“So worth it, baby.”

[butter3drainbows]

Which La Squadra/Bucci Gang members are most to least likely to just chill in the common room completely ass-naked?

No! I have my dignity to uphold

These are the members who would rather die than let the national treasures be whipped out on display for the whole team to see. It's not a matter of insecurity they would say, it's just highly unprofessional and entirely rude to have your genitals dangling in public!

Prosciutto

He can tolerate half-nakedness from his colleagues given that the portion subjected to nudity would be on the upper part of their bodies but to have them parading around the common spaces completely naked? Absolutely not! This man would make every nagging mother around the world proud, scolding the offenders in rapid Italian when he so much as sees an inappropriate amount of skin exposed.

"For the love of God, Formaggio! At least put some underwear on before you poke someone's eye out."

Panacotta Fugo

For someone who literally has holes in his pants in his usual garb, Fugo is really conscious when his legs are completely exposed so to even think about removing all his article of clothing is simply unthinkable!

"I know they have holes dammit!... It's not the same! You literally have your bits dangling around for everyone to see!"

Pesci

Very insecure about his body. He won't even dare think about going out of his room without his shirt on when Prosciutto is around to nag him. He'll be having an earful if he did!

"Oh definitely not! I wouldn't want big bro to have another reason to get mad at me 👉👈."

Narancia Ghirga

Doesn't really think about it but will never consider doing it. That's Abbachio and Mista's thing.

"Ehh?? Going out naked? Only Mista and Abbachio have the balls do that. Haha, get it? They have the balls to do it."

Oopsie / Ah fuck it!

Will not actively walk out naked just for the heck of it but when they are put in a situation where they have no choice but to walk out naked, will do so without batting an eyelash. If they feel a little daring, they will most likely do it at night when the chances of being caught with their junk out is slim.

Bruno Bucciaratti

The chances of him walking around in public completely naked is very situational and in this particular situation would be because he had added his clothes to the pile of laundry he had to do this morning but forgetting to get a towel to wrap around himself on the way back his room. The idea had sounded very efficient and practical until a few seconds after he had closed the door of the washing machine.

"Ah good day, Narancia. You caught me in a very embarassing situation but let me explain. You see, I went to do the laundry today and absentmindedly put my current clothes into the washing machine thinking that it was a brilliant idea to also include my favorite shirt so that I may wear it again tomorrow. Haha The idea is very much a failure now, I realized, and *ahem* what I'm trying to say is, can I borrow the thing around your waist to make the journey back to my room a little less humiliating?"

Ghiaccio

Okay okay, so technically he has white album on when he activates his stand right so does that mean that every time he kills a non-stand user with White Album on, he’s actually appearing before them naked? And what if Sorbet and Gelato don’t have stands, will that one time that Ghiaccio appeared before them with White Album activated actually be the first time Ghiaccio let a person other than himself see him in all his cheeked-up glory? Who knows? 

“Why are you asking stupid questions? Wait, wait. In fact, why does it even fucking matter? So what if they saw me naked before they died? They ought to be thankful they got to see this in their last moments and not a face like that (Illuso: Now wait just a m-) because this is as good as it gets!”

Illuso

Formaggio will mostly tease him about refusing to get naked in public himself after throwing a jab about the size of his junk. Formaggio would call him a coward and pressure him to prove him wrong. That he wasn't afraid to prove to him that there's something of worth under all the pillowy layers of Illuso's outfit. Illuso just scoffs at his taunts. Only a child will answer to his schoolyard jabs. He's too mature for this, he should jusy walk away like the adult he is. He would never stoop so low. He would never-

"Oh yeah? Oh yeah?? You want to see something big huh? I'll show you big. Pesci! Come get me a ruler! We'll settle this right here, right now."

Giorno Giovanna

The chances of him even thinking about going naked is also situational but unless his clothing somehow magically disappears, say Abbachio pulling a prank on him and taking his clothes whilst he is in the shower, he will not hesitate to go out and brave the stares he will undoubtedly attract. It's just a few people anyway.

"Where'd you clothes go, Giovanna?"

"Leone, give the boy his clothes back."

"Ah no worries, I turned my hair into a skirt made of leaves. See?"

"Where did- you know what, nevermind. Go put some clothes on, Giorno."

Mmm yeah, slap it baby.

Don't give a f what their teammates will think either because they know they have goods packing down there and they're not shy when it comes to showing it off or they simply don't care what they think. It's not like they can do anything about it.

Formaggio

First on the list because as a Formaggio stan who headcanons him as having the typical fboy persona, this is something that he would 100% do. [rosciutto berates him about it all the time to which he casually brushes off with a wink or a taunting shake of his hips. He’s definitely the type to cry out an exagerrated high-pitched moan when someone slaps his ass.

“Prosciutto. Baby. If you had an ass slapped on me by God himself like mine you would want to show it off too. C’mon look at it. No for real man, take a good look it and tell me you wouldn’t wanna see that jiggle. No?...Melone, you? Ahaha, that’s why I like you! Eheh, well y’know...most of the time...”

Leone Abbachio

Has low tolerance to heat during the summer so it’s a common sight to see him manspreading on the couch, his hair tied up with the fan pointed directly towards him while he has his headphones on to distract him from thee heat, Naturally, he will likely angrily point out how Giorno is gawking at him and Mista who will also be sprawled somewhere in the living area fanning himself. Poor thing is just a little shocked, go easy on him Leone

“What the hell are you looking at, Giovanna?”

Melone

Ohoho this boi has zero shame! He won;t do it just because he can like Formaggio but will likely do it because of a dumb reason like he doesn’t have any clothes that he’s willing to wear today. I can definitely see him going out in the middle of the night for some snacks while also accidentally spooking the soul out of the other tenants when they go down to get a sip of water.   

"manifest from the shadows at 2am* Whatcha doin there son?"

*Ghiaccio scream choking on his water*

Guido Mista

This man makes the best breakfast and he does it all buck-naked with only a short-apron covering his precious bits. He’s just really comfortable in his own skin! He has laundry to do in the afternoon anyway(like a months worth, Guido baby why) so he might as well forego wearing anything till they’re all washed. For now, the apron will do!

“Who wants eggs for breakfast? Narancia, you? No? Giorno? Abbachio? What about you Fugo? Uhh Bruno?...Yeah, alright! Two perfect sunny side ups and a big fat sausage for the boss comin right up!”

Risotto Nero

When you’re the leader of one of the most feared hitman team in the whole country, a team which Risotto can whole-heartedly say that he would willingly entrust his life with, there are certain intimate practices that he wouldn’t mind doing in the privacy of their shared living space. He believes every single one of them to be mature enough to handle a little bit of exposed skin so one morning when he does decide to go get himself some coffee in nothing but his naked, god-like glory he didn’t expect the kind of stares he received. Why are they all staring? Melone and Formaggio do it all the time don’t they? Odd. Formaggio will get away with a saucy whistle because he’s the only one brave enough to do so while the others are too shocked *cough*intimidated*cough* to do anything else but well...stare.

“I will be discussing a few things after breakfast so if all of you will just take some time off your schedules after your meals we can...*sigh* Gentlemen, please, my eyes are up here.”

[rosesisupposes]

Welcome to East High

Part 2 of Breakin’ Free, a High School Musical Sanders Sides AU

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety, one-sided Princeit

Chapter Warnings: Deceit's Here, and He’s Pretty; Roman Is In the Closet (Including to Himself)

Reader tags: lemme know if you want to be taken off @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @fellowthomassandersfander @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt

<<1: Start of Something New | 3: Get’cha Head in the Game >>

read on ao3

SCENE: One Week Later - East High School, New Mexico

After a week of crises and overthinking, Roman was actually relieved to be going back to school. Anything that could distract his mind from dwelling on that confusing moment of a warm hand in his, huge brown eyes only inches away, and the strangest urge to want to breach even that distance with a kiss. A kiss, with a boy? Where had that come from? Even calculus had to be less confusing.

Don’t get him wrong - he had no problem with boys kissing boys. One of his best friends and teammates was the president of the Gay-Straight Alliance at East High! But Roman wasn’t gay. Wouldn’t he know, if he was? True, he hadn’t been really interested in any girls but he’d just been so busy with basketball. Freshman year had been all about pushing himself on JV, which had gotten him to starting varsity sophomore year. With Coach as his dad, practice never really stopped. So of course he hadn’t had time for crushes. Right?

Ugh, this was why even school was a welcome distraction. Roman hopped off the bus into a crowd of his favorite people - his teammates. There was Remy Danforth, spinning a basketball on his finger as he snarked with the cheerleaders. Catching Roman’s eye, he grinned and tossed to ball away to grab his co-captain in a bear hug. “Ro, my main man, how are you?”

“Hey Rem, happy new year”

“Happy WILDCAT new year, my dude! Two weeks to the championships, with Ro Bolton leading us to infinity and beyond!”

One of the male cheerleaders threw Remy’s basketball back at his chest, calling out, “What team?”

“WILDCATS!” the whole crowd responded.

“What team?” Remy called.

“WILDCATS!”

“Wildcats!”

“Get'cha head in the game!”

Roman joined in with the cheers,  knocking shoulders with his best friend. It was good to be back where things made sense. He looked around and immediately made eye contact with the one person you could always pick out of a crowd: another teammate, Patton Baylor. He towered over basically everyone at six foot seven, even Roman and Remy. But no one could be less threatening than Patton. A mop of highlighted loose curls bounced around a face that was made to smile, dark eyes glinting through wire frames. White teeth flashed in a perpetual grin, topped by dark freckles that stood out even on his light black skin. He was the school’s sweetheart, the one everyone knew and loved and had probably had a crush on for at least a week. If you hadn’t noticed him as the only head and shoulders above the crowd, he’d noticed you sitting alone at lunch or with a slight frown and had gone out of his way to cheer you up. He was a queer teen who’d given new life to the school’s stagnant GSA, trying to make it a space for being social just as much as to commiserate the unique challenges of being in the LGBTQIA+ community, or as Pat had taken to calling it, the ‘QUILTBAG Family’. Remy had made a show of complaining about valuable practice time lost, but went to meeting after meeting anyway, as support and to “make sure you Queen Bs don’t forget the true A.” Rem didn’t feel particularly interested or invested in exploring his own identity, but if he wasn’t there to be the mascot of the aro/aces, who would all his young tiny ones turn to?

The mass that was the team and cheerleaders moved into the school as last, but a ripple in the crowd soon split them apart. Two heads of perfectly-dyed blonde hair were sweeping through a crowd that parted like the Red Sea. Diego Evans was making his way through the crowd,  glued to his phone with his twin brother Cedric at his elbow. Cee & Dee were the resident royalty of East High. Dee had acquired a sizable following on Instagram for his makeup tutorials that incorporated his white-and-tan vitiligo, and even Roman could appreciate the artistry and effort that took. The boy just wasn’t particularly nice, and his brother followed him without question.

Remy rolled his eyes as the twins passed them. “Ugh, looks like the ice princes are returned from the South Pole. Looks like they spent their holidays the way they always do.”

“How’s that, Rem?” a teammate asked.

“Shopping for mirrors,” he replied with a smirk. The students around him laughed or groaned as they made their way towards the first homeroom period of the year.

Not everyone was amused. The sports crowd had stepped on the posters that the science club was trying to hang on the entranceway bulletin boards.

“Behold the zoo animals heralding the new year,” commented one as he adjusted thick-framed glasses.  “How very tribal.” The others rolled their eyes or nodded in agreement.

The warning bell sounded, and the halls emptied at last, just as two adults and a teenager emerged from the principal’s office.

Virgil grimaced at his mom. “My stomach hurts.”

Liza rubbed his back. “It always does on the first day at a new school. You'll do great, Virge. You always do, and I made my company promise that I can't be transferred again until at least after you graduate. We’re here to stay this time.”

The Principal Matsui smiled. “I reviewed your impressive transcripts, Mr. Montez. I expect your light will shine very brightly here at East High.”

Virgil blanched and muttered, “Mamá, I don't wanna be the school's freaky genius boy again.”

“Then just be Virgil,” Liza said with a smile. She kissed him on the forehead, brushing newly-dyed hair out of his eyes. He’d been up at 2am two days before, thoughts cycling through too many disaster scenarios of yet another new school, and he’d suddenly become fixated with the idea of having purple hair. He wouldn’t get pegged as just the STEM prodigy if there was something else to distract everyone, right? They would notice the hair and not the person under it. Once he saw his dyed hair dried off and fluffy, he both loved it and was terrified it was too much. But it was too late to undo it now. He gave his mom a quick hug and followed the principal to his new homeroom.

Entering the classroom, Virgil was a bit taken aback. The blackboard was covered in velvet curtains and gold tassels with a huge ornament of tragedy and comedy masks, and there was a small raised platform turning the whole thing into a stage. He winced internally and took it to mean his homeroom teacher, Ms. Darbus, was also the theatre instructor.

The classroom was full of raucous teenagers catching up after winter break. He noted that a solid half the room was wearing sports jerseys or sweaters in the school’s colors of red and white, and one laughing boy was actually holding a basketball instead of any books or pencils. Who did that? So far, the only thing that felt familiar about yet another new school was Virgil could feel himself on the edge of about 10 crushes at once. Every student in this school was beautiful, and it wasn’t fair. He turned to introduce himself to Ms. Darbus. She was a slightly-eccentric-looking woman, with flyaway grey hair pulled into a bun and huge, jeweled glasses frames. Despite the perpetual warm weather in New Mexico, she wore all velvet with a bright purple shawl thrown dramatically over her shoulder. She took his introductory note from the principal and let him make his way to the empty desk in the back of the room. He bumped into a leg that was dangling out of its chair and only barely glimpsed vivid ginger hair as he muttered “Excuse me” and kept moving.

SCENE: Homeroom, Ms. Darbus’ Classroom

Someone bumped Roman’s desk, looking down. For a second he felt his heart jump - was that Virgil? But no, couldn’t be, this person was all in black and had purple hair. That didn’t seem at all like his New Year’s singing partner. He was probably just seeing things after how many of his thoughts had been filled with snippets of that night. Craning his neck for a better look, his vision was suddenly filled with a perfectly-contoured and made-up face.

“Hi, Roman,” Dee Evans said with a smile. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah it was great,” he replied, barely noticing the blonde man’s smile as the bell rang.

“I trust you all had splendid holidays,” Ms. Darbus said loudly, calling the attention of the room to herself. “Check the sign-up sheets in the lobby for new activities, Mr. Bolton.”

Roman twisted to sit in his chair normally, flushing slightly. He could have sworn he saw movement somewhere behind him as his name was called, but he didn’t want to risk Ms. Darbus’ wrath. He slowly snuck his phone out of his pocket, hoping to check the selfie from New Year’s Eve and confirm if somehow, the man whose face had filled his confusing dreams for the past week was suddenly here, in real life, hiding somewhere in the back row of the classroom.

“Yes, new activities, especially our winter musicale. We will have singles auditions for our supporting roles and pairs auditions for our two leads,” Ms. Darbus continued, smiling at Dee, who preened and smiled at his twin.

Remy rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry, spinning his basketball in place on his desk.

“Mr. Danforth, this is a place of learning, not a hockey arena,” Ms. Darbus fixed an icy glare on the lounging jock, before continuing. “There is also a final sign-up sheet for next week's scholastic decathlon competition. Science Club president Logan McKessie can answer all of your questions about that.”

The student in question raised a hand, flashing a very perfunctory smile at the room. Virgil looked over, then down with an nearly-invisible blush. Well, add one to the list of potential heartbreaks. A crisply cut fade gave way to simple twists that were just long enough to avoid looking spiky without flopping about, and black-rimmed glasses only serve to further accent gorgeously deep brown eyes set in smooth black skin. Perfect posture plus a button-down with a tie pointed towards a Type A personality if there ever was one. Virgil had met many driven people at previous schools, but he could tell this Mr. McKessie would give them all a run for their money, and look effortlessly good doing it.

Suddenly, Virgil’s phone was going off in his pocket. He’d forgotten to take it off silent, and a tinny version of Start of Something New filled the classroom. He grabbed at it frantically to silence it, but saw the caller ID - “Roman Bolton”. Oh my god, was that really him in the front row? It couldn’t be!

Ms. Darbus looked ready to explode. She carried a can around the classroom, gathering up every device that was visible from everyone who’d pulled their own phones out at the sounds of Virgil’s.

“Cee & Dee, cell phones, and I’ll see you in detention,” she rapped out, startling an offended gasp from Dee.

“We have zero tolerance for cell phones in class,” she continued, towering over Virgil, “so we will get to know each other in detention. Cell phone, now. And welcome to East High, Mr. Montez.”

Virgil reluctantly dropped his phone in the bucket. Great way to make a first impression, nice going, genius, he scolded himself furiously.

The imposing teacher was not yet done. “Mr. Bolton, I see your phone is involved. So we will see you in detention as well.”

Remy was suddenly out of his lounging pose and arguing, “That's not even a possibility Ms. Darbus, Your Honor, see, 'cause we have basketball practice, and Ro…”

“Ah, that will be 15 minutes for you too, Mr. Danforth. Count 'em!”

“That could be tough for Remy, since he probably can't count that high,” Logan muttered to a student beside him. Virgil snorted, but the comment hadn’t been quiet enough to escape detection.

“Mr. McKessie, 15 minutes!”

Logan sat up, indignant, but seemed to realize it was useless to argue and deflated.

“Shall the carnage continue? Holidays are over, people. Way over! Now any more comments, questions? …Patton?”

Patton lowered his hand from his seat in the back of the room, smiling. “How were your holidays, Ms. Darbus?”

The rest of the class groaned or just stared at the cheerful young man as the bell rang out, dismissing them all to their first class of the day.

Being at the back of the classroom, Virgil half-hoped, half-feared Roman would just go on to his next classes without stopping. What could he possibly say to him? Virgil had meant to text, but convinced himself out of it. Between the taller boy’s practically catapulting away from his attempt at a kiss and the lack of texts from his side as well, Virgil was pretty sure the ginger did not want to be reminded of their New Year’s encounter.

But his assumption proved to be at least partially wrong. There was Roman, leaning against the wall in the fakest casual pose Virgil had ever seen. Was it even a little comfortable to have one foot braced up against the wall like that? He suddenly froze. What if Roman wasn’t even waiting for him? He probably wasn’t - he was clearly popular. Virgil winced at his own naivety and turned out of homeroom, looking for his next class.

He was brought up short by a hand grabbing his shoulder. “Virgil, is that you?”

He turned and looked up into ridiculously green eyes, surrounded by pale skin tinged generously with a rosy blush. The list of crushes suddenly shrank to exactly one, and this one was definitely going to break his heart.

“Roman, it is you. I thought I was seeing things. I don’t believe it!” Virgil’s heart was thrumming, but the flutter was accompanied by an insistent whisper of don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up.

“Me neither. How-?” The gingery jock seemed to be struggling for words, just smiling down at the purple-haired man in front of him.

“My mom was transferred here to New Mexico for work, but I had no idea you lived here! I, uh. I thought I might run into you at the lodge after New Year’s…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, we had to leave first thing,” Roman said, looking around cautiously and pulling Virgil out of the flow of traffic.

“Are you looking for someone? Are you okay?” Virgil asked.

“What? Oh, no, it’s just um. I told my friends about the skiing and snowboarding from vacation but not about the, uh, singing,” he replied, blushing just a bit more under his freckles.

“Why would they care?”

“I mean, it’s… I really liked it, but to my friends… it’s not what I do. It’s not who I am. The boy who sang with you - that’s a different person.”

Virgil turned, no longer facing the taller man straight-on.  “I get it. It was a one-time thing, sure. Not to be a bother, but could you help me find my next class?” The whisper had only gotten louder, beating insistently under his skin don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up.

“Of course! I didn’t mean - I’d still like to be friends,” Roman stammered. He started walking and realized immediately that his long legs carried him far too quickly for the shorter boy. He slowed down and led them past the activity bulletin boards.

Virgil tried to not dwell on the choice of words. ‘Friends’ is good. Friends means I won’t scare him away. The whisper smirked at him as if to say I told you so.

“I don’t know how big the schools you’re used to are, but ours isn’t too huge. I think I only got lost once my first week, and I still blame Remy for that. Have you met Remy? My height, black hair, always has a basketball and sarcasm?”

Virgil smiled. “I think I noticed him in homeroom. His ability to lounge in those tiny metal desks was quite impressive.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Ugh, he’d be so proud to hear that. He can fall asleep anywhere and is making a point to actually do it in every class except gym before graduation.” He saw the audition sheet for drama club and gestured as they passed it, grinning. “Now that you’ve met Ms. Darbus, I bet you can’t wait to sign up for that,”

Virgil grinned. “Oh yeah, definitely. Get me in there. No, I’m gonna just focus on classes for a bit, get to know the school. But if you try out, I promise I’ll come see the show.”

“That would be completely and utterly impossible, the team-”

“What’s impossible, Roman? I would think impossible isn’t even in your vocabulary,” Dee Evans said, appearing from around the corner. He tossed wavy blonde hair that brushed his cheekbones and smiled at Roman. Noticing Virgil half-hidden behind the basketball star, his smiled waned, then flashed back, tight. “So nice of you to show our new classmate around.”

He turned to the signup sheet and signed his name in metallic gold sharpie, with huge, flourishing script. As almost an afterthought, he added his twin’s name too. Turning to look at the two students standing in front of his list, he smiled again. “Did you want to sign up too? My brother and I have starred in all the drama club’s production and we just adore newcomers. There are always ensemble and supporting roles to fill!”

Virgil ducked his head. “Oh no, I’m not signing up for anything. Just looking around. There really is a lot going on at this school, isn’t there?” He glanced at the audition list as he started to walk to class. “Nice penmanship.”

Dee smiled more genuinely as the purple-haired boy left. “Soo, Roman, I missed you over break. What did you do?”

Roman shifted nervously. “Uhh, you know, basketball. Some snowboarding. More basketball.”

“You are so dedicated, Ro,” Dee said, leaning in just a bit closer. “You and your team - it’s just like me and my play. I hope you’ll come see me in the musical, promise?”

“Uh, sure, yeah.”

“Can’t wait! Ta-ta, Mr. Bolton,” he said with a wink, moving off to attend his own next class. He shot a glare at Virgil’s retreating back down the hall. Who was this new boy, and why did Roman look so nervous around him? Roman the popular, Roman the basketball star, Roman the boy Dee had been hopelessly crushing on ever since the ginger hit his growth spurt in seventh grade? He’d resigned himself to this being just another dumb crush on a straight boy, but could you blame him? The man was gorgeous. The whole school knew it, even the faculty. The athletics department had somehow gotten permission to put up a floor-to-ceiling poster featuring the basketball team, and this freckled Adonis with a smile to launch a thousand ships was smack-dab in the middle. But now Roman, the most well-known face in East High, was acting as a shepherd to some new…boy? And they’d been talking about Dee’s musical?

Dee frowned as he walked and tapped his glossy red lips with his signature-color sharpie. It was time to investigate this ‘Virgil Montez.’

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (16)

Author’s Note: Sorry guys. Still battling with an illness, so it’s been difficult to find the energy to write. On the positive note, I’m enjoying seeing a little more of Sasuke in the Boruto series. It makes me so happy to see Papasuke interact with Sakura and Sarada more. <3 

P.S.: To my reviewers, sharers, and likers: THANK YOU. I WRITE FOR YOU!

Pairing: SasuSaku 

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 

Chapter 16: “Almost, but Never Again”

Sakura was trying hard not to be "annoying." At first, the silence between them felt so awkward that she felt compelled to engage Sasuke in some sort of conversation. She began asking him questions about Kaguya and he answered them all; including one particular truth that Sakura had not known. Apparently, it was the reason why Sasuke had come back home to the village in the first place. It was about the White Zetsu army that Kaguya had created by using the chakra from the God Tree. Sasuke disclosed to her that Kaguya created the army to fight something else, a force stronger than the united shinobi of the war. Sasuke added that he wasn’t exactly sure what this threat was, but that it was something to be feared if Kaguya had felt so threatened by it that she created an army in preparation of it.

 "It's my goal," he said, giving her a sideways glance "to eliminate this threat. I'll do whatever it takes."

 For the first time, Sakura realized the gravity of Sasuke's mission and a combination of anger and appreciation arose in her being for the role Sasuke was playing. Anger, because he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders; his redemption for all his mistakes in the past. It just didn’t seem fair, Sakura thought, for Sasuke to have to do this on his own. Appreciation, because Sasuke was doing what had to be done to protect the peace they had all fought so hard for in the Fourth Shinobi World War.

 "Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked seriously, scanning the back of his head as he walked a couple steps in front of her. She felt that she had just as much right as Naruto to know what exactly was keeping Sasuke from coming home. "Back in the village, you could have told me."

 He was silent for a moment before his quiet voice reached her in the dark. "I didn’t want to worry you."

 Whether or not that was true, she didn’t question him. It was better to believe that that than the worries in her mind of him simply not caring enough to tell her.

 And then, she stopped talking all together. She backed off the unrelated questions when Sasuke's answers became short, and then turned to the usual "Hn"s . She knew he was trying, but that he was struggling to participate in a conversation where he was forced to small talk. He had been on his own for so long, Sakura realized, that of course he wasn’t going to be as talkative as she hoped. It was her own desire to talk to him that had her blabbing. She stopped, and did her best just to be comfortable with the mutual silence. As long as she was at his side, she told herself, it didn’t matter if he was his usual quiet and reserved self.

 Instead of talking his ear off, Sakura gazed up at the stars that peaked through the black treetops and thought of all the questions she wanted to ask him. She had a million, but tried her best to discard the questions that came to mind that involved some of his shadier actions during his time apart from Team 7. Questions like: Did you ever think about us when you were away with Orochimaru? She knew the answer, and instantly put the question in the back of her mind because she didn’t want to hear it spoken out loud.

 After about 30 minutes of her silence, Sasuke stopped when they reached a small clearing between the forest trees and motioned to the soft, green grass. He sat her bag gently down and said, "We have a while yet, before we reach the Land of Rivers' border. Rest now, and we'll continue after the sun has risen."

 "Oh," Sakura stammered, walking towards him and leaning over her bag to undo the strap. "Of course." She didn’t bother packing a sleeping bag; the weather was growing warmer by the day and Sakura knew that it would be more trouble lugging it around than it was worth. So she awkwardly placed her bag under head as she reclined along the soft grass. Sasuke nodded and turned, which had Sakura leaning toward his direction, perched up on her elbow. "What, you're not resting?"

 Sasuke continued to walk away from her until he stopped next to a large oak tree a few feet away. He sat, perched his back against its trunk, and stared off into the darkness. "I'll keep watch for now. I'll wake you when it's your turn."

 "Oh," she said, feeling both guilty and a little selfish for not even thinking of offering to do so herself, first. "Are you sure? I don’t mind to--"

 "Just rest," he said resolutely, crossing his arms as he continued to gaze out into the blackness that surrounded them.

 "Give me an hour or two, then wake me," she said shyly, knowing there was no arguing with that stern voice and fixed posture. She turned to rest on her back. "I'll take over so you can sleep, too."

 "Hnn," she heard him hum. She couldn’t help but feel like his mood was increasingly growing sour by the minute, whether it be because she had talked his ear off earlier, or that he was simply needing sleep, she couldn’t tell. She decided to stare up at the stars for a few more minutes before summoning the jutsu to her fingertips that helped her fall asleep quickly. Without it, she would be a tossing ragdoll of nerves that never got any sleep. Looking up at the stars she thought of another question she'd like to ask Sasuke, before falling into a deep, chakra-induced sleep.

 . . . . . . . . . . .

 The last thing Sasuke would do, was wake her up. He felt like a selfish prick when he heard Sakura yawn. At first, he was appreciative for her questions. It kept him focused on his goal, his mission to annihilate the Otsusuki race. After the 20th question, Sasuke's eye began to twitch. He had forgotten what it was like to be on a mission with anyone other than himself and the effort required to keep up a conversation was jarring. Then she just completely stopped talking which had Sasuke mentally retracing his steps, wondering what he had done wrong to make her withdraw suddenly. Did he sigh out loud? He couldn’t remember. And then, she yawned and Sasuke wanted to kick himself. Of course, she was tired. He had purposefully stayed up late to leave the village at 2am and they had been walking for hours.

 Now, as he leaned against the trunk of a tree, Sasuke reminded himself that he was going to have to be more thoughtful as long as his pink-haired teammate accompanied him on his journey. Whereas Sasuke's body was wound tightly and all he wanted to do was to keep moving, he was going to have to keep in mind that Sakura had other needs. He couldn’t just do as he felt anymore. Sasuke berated himself for being even slightly annoyed about it. So what, if you have to make a couple of extra stops along the way, he told himself, just appreciate that someone you care about is even here for you to worry about.

 But to be honest, Sasuke couldn’t be happy that she was here. Sakura had won their argument and now Sasuke was marching her straight to the Hidden Sand Village, as if she was just as disposable as he was. No, he'd find a way where he didn’t have to involve her in this. Maybe she would be distracted enough with her own mission that Sasuke could pursue the danger without directly involving her in the mess. It was the worry for her safety that was drowning his usual, indifferent composure.

 After the faint two beat of Sakura's breathing confirmed she had finally drifted to sleep, Sasuke allowed his gaze to slide over to her sleeping form. Her hair was tangled between her head and the khaki pack she was propped against. Her knees were bent, and her left arm was thrown over her eyes. The fingers of her right hand were splayed out against the grass in such a way that had Sasuke glancing down at his dangling sleeve, the very material that she had held onto with those fingers just hours earlier.

 He began to blink heavily, and then, he was suddenly seeing those very same fingers reaching out for him, bloodied and broken at excruciating angles. Her desperate screaming reached him in the vision and Sasuke was staring at her struggling body as a monster leaned over her broken body, a fist around her throat. First, it was Itachi that held her throat and Sasuke was a child again, begging him to spare her life. Then the figure morphed and it was Gaara, the sand demon, who stood over Sakura and covering her face with his sand. Sasuke was clawing at a wall of sand that separated him from her and he was whispering Naruto's name, pleading for him to save her. The monster shifted again, and the form it took next, had Sasuke kneeling and trembling at the pale face of Kaguya. Sasuke couldn't shut out the noise of Sakura wailing his name.

 "Sasuke," that voice was calling out to him, and when he opened his eyes, Sakura was crouching in front of him, a shadow against the yellow morning light. "Wake up."

 He stared at Sakura, who was clearly unharmed and currently smiling at him. "So much for waking me up. The sun's up."

 A dream? It had been a nightmare and Sasuke shook his head to release himself from the trembling that still possessed him. He cursed under his breath, chastising himself for being so careless as to fall asleep. He must have been more tired than he originally thought. Sasuke felt a sudden guilt for dozing off. What if someone had attacked them? What if he had woken up and she hadn't been there? What would he have done, then?

 Shrugging her pack onto her shoulder, Sakura stood and surveyed a path before her. "What do you think about heading southeast and making a stop for supplies in the Hidden Valley Village? We could reach it by sundown tomorrow if we're diligent."

 Sasuke stood and frowned at her retreating form. She took a few steps before turning to check to see if he was following. "Are you alright, Sasuke?" she asked, concern edging her soft voice as her rose-colored brows furrowed. She tilted her head when he didn’t respond.

 Sasuke wanted to tell her right then and there that he had changed his mind. He wasn’t alright because he was regretting the decision to let her come. He shouldn’t have let her step a foot out of that village. Go home, he wanted to say rudely. Go home, where you'll be safe. The words wouldn’t form so he stalked towards her, and then past her without even offering to take her pack this time. He let silence consume him as the visions of his nightmare haunted him.

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 Sakura was disappointed in how downhill the situation was going between them. She didn’t even realize she had formed expectations of traveling with Sasuke until he was walking silently in front of her for an hour, not even attempting to speak to her. What had she expected? Honestly, Sakura had fantasized about this very scenario for two years and had imagined them growing closer during their time together. But here was Sasuke, typically moody and unwavering in his mindset of speechless companionship.

 Had she done something wrong? Maybe she had talked too much yesterday. She gave Sasuke his silence for another hour before she couldn’t take it anymore.

 She smiled and skipped forward until she was level with him as he walked. "I think there's a river coming up. I can cook you some fish, if you're hungry."

 "How are you familiar with this area?" he asked immediately, masked regard in his voice. Sakura couldn’t miss how he was making a point to not look at her.

 Not expecting that reply, Sakura responded timidly, "Well, actually, it's a long story." When Sasuke continued to walk without questioning her further, Sakura decided she'd just tell him.  "But, um-- we had a mission here. There's an old Akatsuki hideout nearby. Team Guy and Team 7 discovered it when we pursued them after The Kazekage's kidnapping."

 Sasuke looked at her then, dark eyebrows up, clearly not expecting her familiarity of the landscape to have such a history. "A hideout? Where?"

 "Well it's rubble now," she offered, updating him on the story. "It got destroyed during our fight with Sasori."

 A small, unexpected snort came from the Uchiha and he closed his eyes as a smile touched his lips. "That explains how he died, then. He went up against the Kyubi."

 "Actually," Sakura smiled, happy to reveal her secret to him. "That was sort of my fault--the destruction."

 Sasuke's eyes snapped open again and he faced her fully this time. "You fought Sasori?" He asked it as if he didn’t expect her to be able to make much headway in such a battle. She crossed her arms, not sure whether she should be offended.

 "Don't act so surprised. I did kick your butt the other day."

 "Where was Naruto?" he asked, disregarding her statement entirely. He didn’t stop walking and was failing to feign disinterest in her story, pretending to be completely unimpressed.

 "After they extracted the Shukaku, Deidara took Gaara’s body from the cavern in an attempt to lure Naruto out on his own," she told him. "You know how Naruto is. He took off after him. If it weren't for Kakashi pursuing him, he would have met the same fate as the Kazekage.”

 Sasuke frowned at this information as he processed it. Sakura opened her mouth to continue when Sasuke asked, "They left you?"

 She grinned at the question. She had to be careful, because for a second there, she mistook his question for concern for her. "I wasn’t alone. I had Lady Chiyo with me. We faced Sasori together. If it weren't for her, I'd be dead."

 He watched her from the corner of his vision as they walked. "What happened?"

 Sakura winced at the memory of the blade that erupted from her middle. On reflex, Sakura reached up and brushed her fingers against the scar that marked the spot to the right of her left ribs. The poison had been the worst of it, that feeling of her burning veins as the toxic substance blackened her vision and tried to pull her under. If Lady Chiyo hadn't used the last antidote on her, she wouldn’t be here now, telling the tale. She would be forever grateful to the honored puppeteer for fighting alongside her and giving her and Gaara back their futures.

 "I took a hit," she replied after a thoughtful minute. "Lady Chiyo saved me."

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 Sasuke took it out on the fish. He targeted them as they flipped above the water, and the kunai he sent through them pinned them fiercely against the tree he was using as a back drop. They probably couldn’t eat more than a few fish a piece, but Sasuke killed nine, just because he felt like it.

 Sakura's revelation to him earlier had only ignited an anger inside of Sasuke. To think of those bastard Akatsuki members hurting his teammates, had Sasuke sinking back into a pensive disposition. Sakura had almost died, along with the Kazekage. Why was this the first time he was hearing about this? Because you don't care, the old Sasuke's hateful voice resounded in his head. It had been true. It was why he hadn't been there to protect them--to protect her.

 Sasuke tried to tell himself that if Kakashi had stayed with her instead of following Naruto, it wouldn’t have happened and that it was their fault. But the longer Sasuke kept thinking about it, he turned the blame on himself. If Sasuke had been there, he could have followed Naruto instead, or stayed with Sakura. Whoever this Lady Chiyo was, he was grateful to her for saving the life of his comrade. The guilty part of himself reminded him that he, himself had also tried to kill Sakura at one point in time.

  "Sasuke," Sakura called out to him, kindly. "I think that's enough fish, don’t you? Want to help me with the fire?"

 Sasuke jerked the fish from the kunai and cleared his simmering aura before walking back over to where Sakura sat next to a pile of branches she had constructed into a campfire. Inhaling, he formed the sign and ignited it with a fireball. He handed her the nine fish, sat and leaned back against a log to watch as she skinned them carefully and speared each one, placing it over the fire to cook.

 The sun was setting, a bright orange ball on the horizon that was reflecting off the river in a bright orange stripe. Fish continued to dive out of the water for the small fireflies that hovered just above the surface. The sight soothed him slightly, as nature always did.

 He sighed, trying to mentally come up with an excuse to not say what he was about to. After a second, Sakura looked over at him and he knew she was seeing right through his guarded behavior to the smoldering emotions beneath his skin. He leaned forward, finding contentment in the sound of the fire and the smell of a cooking meal. He humbled himself in that moment and said, "I'm sorry."

 Sakura looked at him through the fire, surprise apparent on her face despite the large flames. Her green eyes were a shocking contrast against the flickering red. "For what?" she asked softly, offering him one of those head-tilted smiles of hers.

 "For not being there," he mumbled, looking down at the dirt beneath his crossed legs. "You guys needed me, and I wasn’t there."

 "Sasuke," she grinned again, and stood. She removed a fully cooked fish from the fire and handed it to him before taking a seat next to him. "We didn’t need you. We wanted you there, and we need to know that you are our friend, but we handled it."

 Sasuke frowned at her with a sore expression. That kind of stung a little. Sakura nudged his side, laughing. "Stop blaming yourself for things that you had no control over."

 "You almost died," he reminded her bluntly. "Maybe if I had--"

 "That's the risk of being a shinobi. I wouldn’t be one if I wasn’t willing to lay down my life for my village." She said it with a voice that reminded the Uchiha of himself, an unwavering conviction that couldn’t be argued with. "Maybe, if I had gone into work," Sakura added suddenly, looking down at her hands guiltily, "that child from my clinic wouldn’t have committed suicide."

 At that, Sasuke focused hard on the flares of the fire, the roasted fish still held untouched in his right hand.

 "But that kind of thinking will consume us, Sasuke. We can't think like that," Sakura glanced up at him with a sober gentleness that made his heart beat. "Remember what we talked about in the alley, not too long ago?"

 Sasuke nodded, recalling their conversation. He had walked her home after she treated the new citizens that Sasuke had released from the Coliseum. He had been directly responsible for injuries as the result of battling them in order to win their freedom. During his conversation with her, he had told Sakura not to think the best of him. She had responded with "Let's forget the past." She had asked him if they could work on being better shinobi together.

 "We just have to learn from our mistakes, try to be the best person and shinobi we can be in the present, and stop blaming ourselves for the past," She leaned forward and grabbed a fish of her own, before leaning back and taking a bite out of it. After she swallowed, she grinned at him again, "And have a little more faith in me, would you? I'm not the girl who needs to be protected anymore. I can take care of myself."

 Sasuke had indeed, underestimated her if she had been able to take down Sasori. He knew that Sakura was strong and Sasuke was growing in his admiration for her more and more every day. He did have faith in her abilities; he had witnessed them himself.  But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry. It didn’t mean that he was going to just let her charge into a battle by herself. And that certainly didn’t mean he wasn’t going to spend every damn day for the rest of his life making sure no one ever hurt her like that again.

[sixfeetbalow]

Thanks, John Green

When I created this blog, my intention wasn’t necessarily to use it as a place to emotion dump. I was going to focus more on funny interactions at work, things I’ve learned, and life experiences I wanted to share. However, this particular thing has been on my mind for a few weeks.

Recently, I started listening to John Green’s podcast, The Anthropocene Reviewed. In short, Green gives random items a rating on a five star scale, but connects each item to human nature in the process. I would highly recommend, but beware, you will never look at Mario Kart the same. 

This also triggered me to do something I haven’t done since high school: binge watch VlogBrothers YouTube videos until 2am several nights in a row. I have always loved the Green brothers and the content they choose to put out into the world, but their message hits differently now as a 22 year old “adult”. In several of John’s videos, he openly discusses his own mental health issues and advises anyone else struggling to seek help, even if it is as simple as reaching out to a friend. 

Right now, I feel like I’m limited on friends I can reach out to and talk through things with. When I say that, I know there are people I can call at any moment and they would answer, but it would feel burdensome. Thus said, I’m going to put all of those emotions here for my pretend audience to get them out of my system. 

In college, I was a member of my school’s softball team. During our first team meeting, our coaches gave each of us 19 copies of a questionnaire as a way to get to know our teammates. The questions ranged from “What’s your favorite color?” to “What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done?”. Of all the questions, one stood out to me: “What’s your biggest fear?”. 

The more answers I received from teammates to this question, I realized that every person typically has two answers to this questions. At least I know I do. Initially, my brain jumped to snakes. Ever since I was little, I’ve always been terrified of the slithery little bastards. To this day, I still dislike going into the reptile exhibits at zoos because I don’t even want to be near the things. 

Just like me, many of my teammates jumped to a physical object that scared them. Heights, dark alleys, big dogs, etc. However, without a second’s hesitation, one of my teammates said failure. The answer caught me off guard for a moment. It was a much deeper and internalized answer than I was expecting given the responses I had already received. I asked her if there was something in the physical world that scared her to which she replied, “Of course, but not achieving my goals scares me more.”

It was in that moment I realized I had two equally terrifying fears, but of two different realms. While snakes do utterly frighten me, like my teammate said, there’s something that scares me more. Rejection. As long as I can remember, I have considered myself to be what you call a “people pleaser”. I would make it my personal mission to ensure everyone else around was happy and liked me. Looking back, I don’t necessarily think I was wanting approval or to be liked, I just wanted to be accepted, even if this meant not truly being myself. 

Whether it was relationships or a position I was trying to obtain, I would be who I thought they want me to be or say what they wanted me to say. I still struggle with this on occasion, but I’ve gotten better at unapologetically being who I am. This comes with a price in terms of my fear. When I am myself and get rejected, my brain equates it with not being good enough. In the past, I could tell myself I went with the wrong facade or I guessed wrong about what others were wanting from me. But when I put myself out there with no filters or fronts, that fall back goes away and it feels as though I’m flawed. 

Another thing about rejection is it leads to replacement, another fear of mine. To see someone take a place that I once held or wanted to hold, it adds to the feeling of not being enough. What did they have that I didn’t? What did they do that I should have? Those questions repeat in my mind and eat me alive. I know that I cannot control how others see me, the thoughts they have about me, and the actions they choose to pursue, but that truth is not easy for someone like me to accept. 

When it comes to jobs or getting into graduate school, for example, it’s easier to justify rejection. It’s safe to assume that there were better qualified applicants with more experience, and not necessarily an issue with personality. With relationships, it’s a completely different ballgame. Relationships, whether it’s friends, romantic partners, or coworkers, are typically built based upon common personality traits. Opposites can and do attract, but there’s always some common ground shared. It’s in these instances that rejection feels personal. 

Trust is not something that I am able to easily give. It takes me a long time to let someone past the 12 foot walls and moat I surround myself with, but once you’ve entered, you’re in for life. Vulnerable is not an emotion I like to feel, but it’s a necessity to trust and letting someone see your true self. This is also why rejection scares me so much. Letting someone see your inner and truest self is a vulnerable thing, and it’s terrifying to think about them not accepting you afterwards. Even if they do accept you, there’s always the thought that someone else will be better later down the road. Then, I’m stuck in a cycle of feeling like I’m not good enough as I am. 

So, yes. While snakes are my biggest fear in the physical world, generally I can avoid them or run away fast enough to escape their reign of terror. Rejection and replacement are much harder to avoid. As much as I would love to think I will never have to face rejection again for the rest of my life, it would be naive. 

[cumingbackformore-blog]

“Please don’t tell anybody”

It is time for my cRinGeY goodbye v-card story.

So, my boy Lax hits me up around 7pm with a snap inviting me over for later that night. Using my better choice of judgement, I asked him, “Do you have condoms now?” He responded with, “No, but please come over anyways. We don’t have to do anything, we can just cuddle. I just want you to come.” 

At this point I’m thinking no fucking way am I going through the trouble of sneaking out, driving over to his place, and quietly making my way inside just to CUDDLE. Not to mention the possibility of accidentally falling asleep in his room and waking up to a morning of terror.

With this in mind I say, “Nah, I’ll bring some.” (Thinking back I realized snapping me at 7pm gave him a LOT of time to run to a store and buy some?? Maybe? He? Did? Just? Want? To? Cuddle?) 

Anyways, I go over to his place at 11pm. He makes me park at the end of his street where there’s a clearing. It’s not even like a block from his house, but it is definitely enough length for a decent walk of shame.

As I’m making my way to the back of his house (his room is kind of an enclosed patio, so lucky for me there’s a door from the outside leading directly into his room) I realized I made a big oops. I usually just leave my purse in my car because I’m not responsible enough to remember to grab it before I leave. Since I took it out of my car earlier to fill it with some rubbers, I didn’t have it with me. Meaning my purse was still sitting at home in my room. Meaning I didn’t actually have condoms.

Now, at this stage in my life, I had finally gotten around to getting on birth control. Because my parents are good ol’ Catholic conservatives, they didn’t believe in contraceptives (especially for their teenage daughter who obviously doesn’t even need them because she’s not going to have sex until she’s married.) So, I had made my way over to the local family planning, treated myself to their free birth control, and stocked up on condoms from the community condom jar.

Even though I now had been on birth control for a few weeks, I had decided that I would still use a condom because two methods is the best method blah blah blah. But, I can tell you in those moments walking up to Lax’s bedroom door alone, horny, and wearing a black lace bralette, I decided condoms were an optional accessory for me.

So, without going into detail, we have sex. Not for very long though. 2 minutes is pushing it honestly. He pulled out and I thought he was just calming down to keep going, but nope. Boy came. So, without trying to embarrass him too much, I say, “Can we do it again?” Lax replies with a sincere, “Oh we are definitely doing this again.” To which I eagerly say, “Now?” Lax just laughs until he realized I wasn’t kidding, then resorting to a slightly embarrassed, “Oh, shittttt.”

Before we could continue our conversation, Lax’s stepmother wakes up. We can hear her walking around the kitchen, so he proposes we just cuddle until she goes back to bed. As we’re waiting, he begins to doze off, I begin to doze off...it was just bad. I start thinking, “OMG I am NOT falling asleep in his bed.” So, I leave.

When I get to my car, I realize that I am in no way ready to call the night over. Horny me is still thriving and just wants more D. So, in my car at the end of Lax’s street, I hit up his baseball teammate, Chub. 

Chub is a total fuck boy whose life consists of beer, power lifting, hoes, weed, and parties. To sum it up, Chub is living his life at such a level of trash that I respect it (and am slightly jealous.) Anyways, he had hmu on facebook messenger two days prior and asked for my snap. I had given it to him, and we sent some PG-13 pics, so I knew he was dtf. 

He answered my snap that said, “Hey want to meet up?” with a classy “Yeah I do, meet me in the FleetFarm parking lot.” FleetFarm is a hick store that sells lots of guns, chew, and fishing gear. But, side hoes can’t ask for much, so I went. As I hop in his daddy truck, he proceeds to take me to a hidden backroad, while trying to convince me that bad situations find him and it’s not his fault. I just listen, push away any concerned questioning from my conscious, and when he pulls over to the side of the road, I crawl to the backseat. (He wouldn’t let me get out of the car to get to the backseat because he said the music would turn off if I opened the door, so when I say I crawled I literally mean like awkwardly climb over a seat and plop into the back.) 

He joins me and before I know it I’m somehow completely naked and he hasn’t even taken off a shoe. I tell him, “Ok, Chub, take off your shirt.” To which he replies, “You really don’t want to see this dad bod.” (But since “dad bod” actually means a chiseled 6 pack and biceps as big as my calves we all know I was dying to become acquainted.) So, as I’m beginning to find out why girls like men that are good with their hands, he asks if I’m on birth control. I told him I was, and we try to have sex.

It’s important to note I say try because apparently Chub had been inhaling some illegal substances earlier, so what was supposed to be solid wood was actually soggy wood. Anyways, sex was not about to happen. 

Chub starts frantically apologizing. He was very embarrassed and said, “I swear this never happens. This isn’t the “““Chub”““ experience I give girls. Please don’t tell anyone.” I tell him, “It’s fine,” even though I’m thinking to myself, what the fuck does a girl gotta do to get decent sex around here? Like seriously help a hoe out omg. 

But, then Chub tells me, “I‘m still going to make sure you have a good time.” So, he did his best to make up for the fact that he couldn’t get it up and whatever he was doing actually felt good. 

As the clock starts clicking close to 2am, we put our clothes back on. He offered me a tissue to clean myself up with. I almost cried because wow that was the most considerate thing like aww. We both sat in the back seat for a little longer, just wiping off sweat (and other fluids) together. Then, we climb back to the front seats (so the music doesn’t turn off), and he starts taking me back to my car. **PSA fogging car windows are real** 

On the drive back he asked, “So how was it?” I replied honestly and said, “Like a 6.” Not satisfied with that answer he begins to apologize more, telling me it never happens, begging me not to tell anyone, and promising he’ll get me to an 11 if I’ll let him try again sometime. I decide that sounded fair, but I must say I later told quite a few of my friends. Then he cranked up the music because Bounce Back was playing and he really felt like he could relate.

After his music jam he starts talking to me again and says, “I didn’t know you were like this.” Laughing I respond with, “Like what? A slut?” He said, “No no no, I mean how many guys have you slept with?” I hesitate, responding with a safe, “Mmmm...” To which he replies, “Oh we’re not telling each other things right now?” Against maybe better judgement, I tell the truth and say, “One.” Chub responds with, “See you’re not a slut.” Meanwhile I’m just sitting there thinking, yeah but that was with your teammate about um two hours ago.

And that my friends is how I lost my virginity. 

-M