#sky stop being so damn wordy challenge

[appalamutte]

tag some mutuals you want to get to know better!

thank you @tiredsemanticist for tagging me <3

favorite time of year: autumn, hands down. the trees, the weather, the atmosphere. halloween and pumpkins. it’s almost as magical as christmas was when i was young

comfort food: bojangles chicken. yes it’s fast food, yes it’s a niche regional chain, yes it’s not the healthiest but it’s the most comforting

favorite dessert: soft peanut butter cookies. got my go-to recipe and everything

things you collect: antique atlases, small handful of manga series, shot glasses

favorite drink: strawberry lemonade and dr. pepper

favorite musical artist: lord, i don’t even know. based off my top artists on spotify from the last six months, it’s nothing but thieves or phoebe bridgers. cigarettes after sex is really close too

last song you listened to: georgia by phoebe bridgers (lol see? top artist)

last movie you watched: just any movie? the other woman while my mom was watching it earlier today, but i only watched like ten minutes of it. last full movie i watched was the adventures of priscilla: queen of the desert, which is literally just about three australian drag queens getting stuck in the outback, and it was so good

last series you watched: given (anime) - it was actually super cute!

series you’re currently watching: none at the moment. i haven’t watched many series at all lately lol, been more into reading/youtube

current obsession: brittany broski, i’m probably halfway through her entire youtube channel. also pumping up for the nhl season—which is my first too!! i can’t wait, if you would’ve told 16yo me that we’d be into any sport at all (and hockey at that) he would’ve laughed, but here i am almost counting down the days

a dream place to visit: anywhere outside the united states. i’ve never had the opportunity to travel abroad and at this point i’d sell a kidney to be able to. but to narrow it down: kyoto, japan

a place that you want to go back to: new york city. spent 36 hours there when i was 14 because my aunt had enough points for a single night in a hilton hotel, and we made the four hour drive from her house to the city just because we had the weekend to do so. i’d love love love to go back to actually get to explore the city more than central park/rockefeller center/grand central  (which is all we saw basically lol)

something you want: real not-instant ramen. though the closest ramen place is 2 hours away from me, so

currently working on: school—classes started three weeks ago and it’s already consumed my life. but! i’m also slowly working through fic wips like always, deciding if grad school is something i really want to do, and hunting down five corydora catfish for my aquarium (because i’m down to one and he’s so lonely)

tagging a few people @dexsbruins, @stardryad-random, @cricketnationrise, and anyone else who wants to do this!! (no pressure though!)

#sky stop being so damn wordy challenge #this was so much fun though! #sky says

[sumeshi-t]

past or present— a haikyuu smau

[oikawa x y/n x atsumu]

a/n: should i even call this a smau if i keep putting out wordy partsz LMAO jk by next part, or 25, it'll all go back to normal i promise ily all

part 22 > part 23 > part 24 | nav.

"she's out cold," iwaizumi mutters, staring down at your form: upper body spread on the table, bun loosened, make up faded, but the evidence of your drunken state obvious from the flush of your cheeks. matsukawa sighs, "at least she won't have to puke in the car," 

hanamaki chuckles, tipsy, "she finished a lot... when she can't even handle herself, what a lo~oser..." 

iwaizumi frowns, lightly shoving hanamaki, who has to grab the nearest wall to prevent from falling face first on the floor. "you're partly to blame. why'd you even challenge y/n to a drinking contest?!"

then, oikawa quietly makes his way towards you to drape his suit jacket over your shoulders, before he carries you on his back. the other two who were sober only watched as the setter says, "well, this can't be helped. i think it's fine for y/n to let loose, don't you guys think?" his face was unreadable; yet they knew his words just then surely held meaning. "iwa-chan, y/n's purse please?"

oikawa walks outside the KTV room ahead of everybody else. meanwhile, iwaizumi and matsukawa try to handle the drunk hanamaki. the three of them, especially iwaizumi, stole glances over to you and oikawa, making sure to keep their distance in an effort to give you and oikawa some privacy. 

"you think this is gonna be okay? i mean, them...?" matsukawa murmurs, clear enough for iwaizumi to understand. iwaizumi's shoulders slump as he sighs, "there's nothing i can do but to hope so."

'good thing her dress has a convenient slit,' oikawa idly thinks to himself, feeling your steady breathing on his back. 

'how long has it been since i last carried you like this, y/n?' oikawa wasn't going to deny it, he knew the alcohol's in his system too, but it just didn't hit him as hard as it hit you; perhaps, he was once again using another lame excuse for being sentimental, afraid of admitting to himself that it was you who made him feel these things, made him feel a certain kind of way. 

he wished you too, were feeling the same. or, perhaps, could still feel the same.

the thought made oikawa's hold on your legs tighten. not because he was afraid of letting you fall, but because he was afraid of having to let you go. again. he already made that mistake once, he wasn't about to make that mistake twice. in the short time he has with you, he was going to savor every millisecond of it.

the walk to the parking lot was quicker than he'd expected. oikawa let his three friends go first, wanting to feel your warmth and presence a tiny bit longer.

"what are you waiting for, trashykawa? get in the damn car, before hanamaki explodes all over it,"

with a resentful sigh, oikawa carefully gets you settled in your seat. 

the ride was quiet, no one spoke to one another until it was time to drop everybody near their respective homes. hanamaki was first, followed by iwaizumi then oikawa. however, the latter never got out the car. "i'll take care of y/n. can't just leave her like that..."

matsukawa looked at his former captain through the rearview mirror, who was simply looking out the car window, watching iwaizumi's retreating back. without a word, he drove past oikawa's house and went straight to yours. 

meanwhile, iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, eyes following the departing car. he could only take a deep breath, and look up at the starless sky. as a friend, he could only sit back and hope that his best friends would figure out how to get along with each other from now on, finish what ever unfinished business they had with each other. he doesn't let it show, but it is troubling for him to be stuck in the middle. 

iwaizumi shook off the negativity from his mindset as he stepped foot inside his house. he trusts that they will sort things out in the long run, and he would be there for them both, no matter what.

the car stopped nearby your house's entrance, and matsukawa stretched after pulling on the handbrake. "alright, captain. we're here. do you want me to wait for you?"

oikawa was already standing by your side of the car, about to carry you, whilst rummaging through your purse to get your keys. "nah mattsun, you should go ahead. i told you i'd take care of y/n; she's going to have a re~eally bad hangover from this," 

as oikawa picked you up from the front seat, matsukawa simply spared him a nod before lighting a cigar, then drove off, knowing you were in good hands. 

soon as oikawa brought you inside, he laid you down on your futon. you groaned in your sleep, before turning over so your back was facing him. he only stared at your form once, watching the steady rise and fall of your bare back, before he sat on the floor by your feet. oikawa removed your heels and jewelry, and proceeded to tucking you in beneath the sheets. he even went so far as to get a towel to wipe your face clean, and loosened the bun you put your hair up in. 

although he was tired, tipsy, and jet-lagged, oikawa still managed to do these things and when he was done, he left you in your room and slept outside, on the floor. 'it's the least i could do,' he thought to himself. 

how he wished he could do more, if only... you were willing to let him.

then, he feels your phone vibrate on the main hall's single table. he forgot about your purse, so he lazily reached for it, grateful for his long arms. oikawa took your phone out, and he was supposed to feel happy when he recognized your lockscreen being one of the sunset photos he's sent you–but then the string of notifications on the screen with atsumu's name on full display overruled that. luckily, you had your settings in a way that wouldn't let anyone read the content of the message unless the phone was unlocked.

oikawa was sure he's seen that name before; he knew it was volleyball-related but he just couldn't put a finger on it. whoever it was, he mused that this person was very close to you; it was way past midnight and "atsumu miya" was still up to check on you. 

he sighed–too bad you were drunk and passed out, stuck inside the house with your ex, back in miyagi;

so he cleared the notifications, while an unsettling feeling made its way in his chest. 

the brunette pouted, he didn't want to label that feeling with anything but... he was quite, sorta, kinda, slightly jealous.

jealous that a man other than him would be this willing, this persistent, to stay up late, just to make sure you were safe.

oikawa grabbed your phone again, swiped up to open the camera to check himself. his cheeks were still flushed, hair messy yet framing his face perfectly, eyes weary. "goddamnit, i'm so cute," he took one lazy selfie before locking your phone once again, and bringing it to your room. 

he went back outside, grabbed his own phone from his pocket while lying down to inform iwaizumi that you were still off in dreamland and that he was about to bang the tatami, before dozing off into a nap.

the next morning, oikawa was first to wake up. luckily, he wasn't hungover. he went to check on you, and you were still asleep. so, just like the old times, oikawa heads straight to your kitchen as if he owned the place, looking for anything he could make for breakfast and for your headache. 

he was troubled upon discovering that there wasn't much there but eggs and some bread, so oikawa went out to make a quick trip to a nearby convenience store. the setter prepared for you a simple sandwich, readied a bottle of hangover cure, made some instant noodles just for you to have some soup.

the idle kitchen noise woke you up, your headache accentuated by confusion and panic. you were so disoriented, having nearly no memory of last night, 'at least i'm still in my dress,' you consoled yourself, while you hurriedly grabbed both your heels off the floor–an action you regretted as the world around you was spinning–all this just to deal with who or what you thought was an intruder. 

your arm was already raised up, about to throw a shoe at the person, about to throw up yourself too.

but then, you couldn't believe your eyes. it took a while for the sight before you to register in your hung up brain.  

oikawa's sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened, and wearing dark, alien-designed socks, transferring soup from the pot to a bowl.

you didn't know which throbbed harder: your head or your heart.

"w-what the fuck are you doing here?!"

taglist: @yams046 @tamcitrus @nerdyphantomlady @haikyuuincorrect @aurorahoneybuns @zoppzoop @takingyouruwus @jesquisser @blushinggray @keigosbitch @emailandpassword @mephistominion @90s-belladonna @thannael @maravillamin @hideewrites @kiwigore @2sj2 @firsthandembarrassment @astrrnmy @deathcab4daddy @littleblackpheonix @huhkaashi @chibi-chibiii @renee1414 @namyari

cheese cult: @akaashit-baeji @taeiliee @bubbleteaa @pineapplekween @ouikarwa @agaashi @boomboomjaz

#haikyuu #haikyuu smau #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader x atsumu miya #oikawa x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #oikawa tooru #atsumu miya #iwaizumi hajime #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Red Sky In Morning

Summary: This is the shit that Red has to deal with, but that’s okay. He’s got this.  

Notes: This has mean gossip about possible, highly unlikely, prostitution. It’s not graphic by any means, but I would rather overwarn than under. People have asked me what it was that Red did in the past that helped Edge and Stretch get together. Well, this is set in the current timeline, but I think it might help give you an idea...

Also on AO3

By Any Other Name Masterlist

~~*~~

 Edge liked to think he was right about everything, which Red could have told anyone was a load of bullshit. Not that he would, mind, that wasn’t how this shit worked, but Red had a way of getting his opinion out there, one way or another.

That said, he was right about the fucking cafeteria at the Embassy. The food hovered right around mediocre even on the best of days and it had to be some kind of bad magic that made it so the food never improved. That or the cooks didn’t actually have taste buds, Red had never been curious enough to check.

Red liked to eat there anyway; lotsa monsters were there and with the general chatter and rabble of the place, they weren’t always as careful about what they said. Like they thought somehow that they were hiding what they were saying under all the hullabaloo.

In practice, he didn’t get much more than gossip; who was fucking around on who, who was breaking up, who was moving and where and why, but that was fine. Information was life and Red wanted all he could get.

The general noise wasn’t enough to keep him from hearing. He could hear better already than most monsters, skull acoustics were a wonderful thing and the earpiece he had planted just inside his auditory canal didn’t hurt. Sans had designed that little toy for him, and wasn’t that a fucking chuckle bucket. Sans playing Q to his James Bond, there was an opportunity for role play—

“—in just a sheet!”

Hm. Red gave a discreet side-eye to the table in the corner where a group of interns were sitting. Red didn’t know much about those three, yet, didn’t think they’d been here longer than a week or two. Most Monsters did a year internship at the Embassy when they came of age and those three had the look of childhood friends. He tilted his head a little, trying to catch better than every other word. It was tricky, but once you found the sweet spot, conversations were as plain as if they were whispering dirty wordys into his skull.

“—said his husband carried him to his office. Seriously!” All three of them were laughing, not that Red blamed them.

He’d had a front row seat to those shenanigans and he knew funny when it bit him on the ass. And he didn’t blame Edge one fucking bit for carting Stretch out of there. Point of fact, there wouldn’t have been a conversation at all once that sheet started to slip if Stretch were his, but eh, Edge had a weakness for the feisty ones. That was all right, Stretch would be a hell of a lot less fun as an obedient little pet but damn it would be nice if he’d listen at least once in a while.

Red shook his head; that line of thinking didn’t work well in this ‘verse. Sure as fuck didn’t work with Sans—

“It’s a shame he didn’t drop the sheet.” One of them laughed. From the size of his antlers, Red figured he was barely out of stripes. Red would have bet every cent he’d won from Edge and Stretch's little round of public foreplay that this kid hadn’t ever seen anyone in a sheet, much less without one. He mentally dubbed him Horny.

“Yeah, too bad,” the other agreed. He got tagged Borny in Red’s head because another name was too much fucking work.

“He’s a skeleton, what’s there to see?” The last one scoffed. That one was from the Bun line, their long ears pressed flat against their head in distaste.

Yeah, that sounded about right. Hilarious as his brother’s jealousy had been, most monsters had been watching for the amusement factor not the possible strip tease. Not many fleshies were in a position to appreciate that Stretch was pretty much the equivalent of a skeletal centerfold. Not that it showed much in hoodies and track pants, but hey, if that was what his bro liked, so be it.

“There has to be something there, I heard skeletons get pretty freaky,” Horny whispered conspiratorially.

It was a challenge not to roll his eye lights. Those two, freaky. Kids these days, they didn’t know the meaning of the word freaky when it came to sex. If you considered being an old married pair of saps freaky, he supposed his bro and Stretch qualified.

Not that they were sexing it up at the moment; the docs hadn’t let Stretch out of the hospital yet but Red had good money on them cutting him loose by tomorrow, if only so they wouldn’t have to listen to him bitching anymore. It was halfway to a miracle that he hadn’t shortcutted his ass out of there by now, Red would’ve, so maybe he should give the honey bun a little more credit for doing what he was told. A little.

Meh, seemed like the gossip was shit today if the only Monsters giving it were Horny, Borny, and the Bun. Sounded like a show on Fox. Red stood and stretched, headed for the door, his mind was already halfway to the hospital to spend an hour enjoying watching Stretch verbally take down anyone within hearing distance, but the next words he heard froze him. They’d lowered their voices, but he heard it clear as day through his earpiece.

“From what I heard, back in Snowdin, he’d blow you for a pack of cigarettes.”

Horny sat back proudly after sharing that tidbit, though neither of his friends seemed appreciative. Borny was fidgeting with his fork, awkwardly uncertain, and The Bun looked flat out appalled. But he had their attention and Horny preened beneath it.

“Aw, c’mon, stop,” Borny protested weakly.

“Seriously!” Horny insisted, “Bet that would be something to see. Plus, it would shut him up for once.”

The Bun gave their friend an angry shove, “Knock it off, that isn’t funny. I like Stretch. He’s really nice to my little cousin.”

“Bet he’d be real nice on his knees too—"

“hey, kiddos.” Red said pleasantly. Little known fact, shortcuts could be completely silent, if you put in the extra effort. All three of them startled, paled. Ah, now see? That was the benefit of a reputation.

“Red, I was…it was only a joke—" Horny stammered. Wellie, well, well, someone wasn’t happy with the attention now, Red thought with cold humor. He slung an arm over the kid’s shoulder and gave him a little shake.

“well, see, then it’s good that i’m the one who heard you, cause i’ve got a great sense of humor. my brother, though,” Red shook his head mournfully. “he doesn’t think this shit is very funny.”

Red tightened his arm around Horny’s shoulder, thumb pressed down discreetly on his collarbone. It wouldn’t take much pressure to break it, he knew, and even before that, the pain was exquisite. To his credit, Horny bit back a whimper and took it. Maybe the little shit wasn’t completely unredeemable.

“I’m sorry,” Red looked up in surprise at The Bun. Their furry face was miserable with guilt. “I was trying to get him to stop, I should have tried harder.”

“nah,” Red grinned at them. “you can only watch your own words.” Good on them for owning it, though. Red looked at them appraisingly. “huh. i know you. your aunt is my bro’s secretary.” Might need to keep his eye on this one; Janice was a brutally efficient secretary and had the rare gift of actually being capable of keeping up with his bro. She was handling his work while he was out and there had barely been a blip in the radar. Hell, the lackeys were more afraid of her than they were Edge. If it ran in the family, this one could be useful.

They nodded, ears bobbing, “Aunt Janice doesn’t talk about work much, but her son loves Stretch. He still has the skeleton mask Stretch made for him.”

Yeah, that was the Stretch he liked to hear about. Red didn’t know exactly what had happened back in the good old Snowdin days. Wasn’t like he’d been in much of a cheery frame of mind himself. But whatever it was, it could stay there and fucking dust, and if it were true, no one needed some snot-nose little shit drudging it back up.

“i bet he’d be real thrilled to hear that,” Red told the Bun. “anyway, i’ll let you get back to your lunch.” He let up on Horny’s collarbone and gave him just enough time to sigh in shaky relief before tapped the kid on the underside of the chin with a sharp fingertip. “lunch hour is almost over, better eat up. probably a good idea for you to find something else to do with your mouth…or i’ll do it for you.”

The last said through his teeth, too soft for anyone else to hear. Horny was fucking lucky they were at the Embassy with too many damn witnesses. As it was, Red was barely resisting the temptation to make the kid piss himself. This lesson better stick the first time because next time, all bets were off. Talking shit about Red’s people was bad for life expectancy.

He barely gave Horny a chance to nod frantically before giving them his back with an idle wave, slouching out of the cafeteria. Time to see if that kid was talking out of his ass or if that was an actual rumor that was floating around, before his bro heard it and dust started flying. Good thing Stretch was still in the hospital, that gave him a little time to work. But first.

He dug out his phone, fingers clicking against the screen as he checked what department Horny was interning in. Kid might have too much free time on his hands.

Well, wouldja lookie look at that.

Red’s grin widened when he saw it was legal, which meant he worked for Antwan.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be fun.

 -finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name #mentions of kustard

[abovethesmokestacks]

Treasured Moments (5/5)

Title: Treasured Moments Pairing: Dayton White x reader Word count: 1095 (I got slightly wordy) Rating: PG Warnings: ...angst?

Written for @jurassicbarnes Writing Challenge, with incredible input from @brookebarnes.

Last part, peeps. I hope you’ve all enjoyed this ride as much as I have. I love each and every one of you for your likes, comments and reblogs, they are so incredibly appreciated. Enjoy.

Treasured Moments masterlist

v.

It still looks nice.

One wrinkled hand grabs the steering wheel, the other holding onto the seat as he turns to back out of another driveway. It’s a bitch and a half, but Dayton’s determined. He’s not about to miss your anniversary tradition. It’s been going on for too long now to break, old age be damned. He already feels like he’s cheating by going straight to the viewpoint where he proposed, but you get tired, and his knuckles ache. Cars pass him, honking angrily, and he curses under his breath. Why are everyone in a hurry nowadays? It’s an ironic thought, and he knows it, knows that you know by the poorly suppressed laugh you can’t quite manage to pass off as a cough. It’s even more ironic that he, slowest driver in the whole damn lane gets pulled over by cops a mile away from the checkpoint. Apparently driving slow is more suspicious than driving too fast.

He hands over his licence and registration to the police man with a snort, “Son, when I was your age, I coulda outrun you with my eyes blindfolded.”

The cop, bless him, is an older guy, recognizes his name and smiles at him, makes pleasant small talk before allowing them to continue. The sun’s already begun setting when they pull over, setting the car in park and Dayton makes a show of opening the door for you, holding out his hand for you and helping you onto the hood.

“Still got it, old girl…”

“Dayton White!” You smack his hand good-naturedly, smoothing out your skirt. “I am only 84 years, I am not an old girl!”

It’s easy as ever, easy to bring your hand up to kiss it, easy to smile and drawl like he’s always done, “No, sugar, you ain’t. And you’re still as beautiful as the day I met you, lookin’ so pretty in that blue dress right in the middle of that scrapyard, standin’ there like you owned it. You had me right there, sweetheart. Decided then and there I’d belong to you for the rest of my life.”

“How lucky then that I’d have you.”

His doctor tells him his knees are bad, but that doesn’t stop him. He bends down to ask you to have him again, unaware it is his last, unaware that he’ll fall asleep a week later and not wake up. Maybe part of you knows, deep down in the far reaches of your soul, that your time is running out, because your eyes tear up, moved by his continued display of love and affection, the warmth of his hand holding yours. It’s what will alert you when it happens.

Time moves on, while simultaneously standing still. You never thought you could be this lonely, this miserable, least of all when people insist on coming by to see how you’re doing. You remember your grandfather after your grandmother passed, how he found a sense of comfort in her not suffering anymore. It’s a wisdom and insight that escapes you now, because Dayton is gone and you’re expected to go on. The world is not worth it.

The car looks older. It hasn’t been moved since your husband passed, the three months feeling like three years. You’ve once again woken up, hands reaching out for a body that is no longer there, pulling you out of bed and in search of something to calm you. His things are still in their places; clothes, toothbrush, mementos, the car. You find yourself in the garage, climbing into the passenger seat, precariously folding your legs underneath you. Clutched in your hand is one of Dayton’s old racing jackets. It still holds some of him, that incomparable scent that you have loved, have basked in every morning since you first shared a bed.

You remember mornings, teased awake by his sing-songy voice and kisses to your cheek, pulled out of bed and coaxed into packing for a trip. Change of clothes, your toothbrushes. Always an adventure. You remember falling asleep, knees tucked inside your sweater, leaned up against him for warmth.

“Day…”

You don’t remember falling asleep this time. You’re just so tired, and maybe if you close your eyes you can pretend that it’s all like it was. Trips down highways. Dayton kneeling before you. Kisses to your stomach, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his children. A car. A man. Blue dress and scuffed workboots on your feet.

“Hello, darlin’...”

- * -

“Grandma?”

She looks up from her book, finding her youngest grandchild hovering by the doorway to the living room, thumb in their mouth.

“What’s the matter, angel? Can’t sleep?”

The child runs up to her, launches into her lap, squirming and accidentally elbowing her in the ribs. Putting down her book, she wraps them up, tucking them under her chin and rocking them gently.

“Come on, then.”

She rises from the sofa, walking out onto the lit porch. “You remember what grandma does when she can’t sleep?”

“Look at the stars.” The answer comes slow, hesitant. “But I can’t see them from my room, grandma.”

“I know, precious. That’s why we’re out here. So we can look at them and find your great grandma and grandpa. See? There they are.”

You point out two bright stars in the night sky, your child following the direction of your hand, squeezing one eye shut and pointing in turn.

“That’s your great grandma and grandpa in their car. Got the headlights on so they can see where they’re driving, looking down on you.”

It takes a little more coaxing and rocking, but before long, covers are being tucked in while an ache grows in her heart. It’s been a long time since her parents passed, and yet, every reminder of them, of their love and their life, made her miss them all the more. With a sigh, she reaches into the neckline of her shirt, pulling at the chain until the smooth metal piece landed in her hand. Neither she nor her brother had needed the car, nor had they had the heart to sell it. In the end, the scrapped it, each keeping a shard of the hood, wearing them around their necks as reminders.

“Are you sure they can see me all the way up there?”

She’s pulled back by the sleepy question, offering a small smile as she gazes out the window to the dark sky. “Sure they can, pumpkin. Great grandma and grandpa White always see you.”

#Dayton White x reader #Dayton x reader #reader insert #manuswritingchallenge #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky imagine #Dayton White imagine #fic: Treasured Moments