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sleepytoycollection · 2 years

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Sleepy Reviews: Deuce Gorgon (Amazon Exclusive)

G3 Deuce Gorgon ($24.99) with his accessories

The boys of G1 Monster High have been my favorite boy dolls of any doll line ever, to the point I have gone out of my way to collect one of every single boy character that had been made. I adore them immensely, so obviously, when I had to pick one to review, I had to pick the original Manster himself, Deuce.

He’s got a lot to live up to, so is Mr. Gorgon a worthy entry to my massive MH boy collection? Let’s find out:

This particular Deuce Gorgon is Amazon Exclusive, but there is another version in a 2-pack with Frankie that is target exclusive, which is honestly pretty amazing considering Mattel’s seeming aversion to boy characters previously. Two Deuce dolls right out of the gate? Go off then.

Keep that energy up Mattel and you have my attention. Especially if Jackson and Holt return. Please Mattel I’ll do anything. Anything. 🥺🙏

Ahem.

Anyway, the box design is serviceable. I don’t love it, but it gets the job done.

I think of lot of it is this artwork. It’s not bad, and it’s clearly trying to tie into the style of the Nickelodeon MH show, it just doesn’t grab the eye as much as I wish it did.

The back features more of the same art, as well as a full body image of Deuce, as well as a short profile for the character.

Not a lot of info, just the basics in multiple languages. It’s fine.

Some unique symbol art work for the edge of the box. A nice call back to the original boxes.

Let’s get him out of the box for a closer look:

Boom. Out of box. Magic of television.

He’s a handsome fellow, I like the new sculpt, and it’s fun they made him green.

Back view for everyone.

I love the way his eyebrows are painted. The individual hairs and expression bring a lot for me.

The only thing I might’ve changed is just the color of his snakes, I feel like they clash with his skin just a little. If they had more of a yellow undertone than blue, or maybe were just a shade or two darker, I think it would’ve looked a lot better.

Not a deal breaker, but I might add a paint wash later to adjust the color and bring out the detail though.

I do like the actual sculpt of the scales though.

I loved Deuce’s fainted mohawk look in G1 and I think it was a nice choice for his default here.

Let’s move away from our boy here for a sec, and look at his accessories. Let’s start with his pet:

Perseus returns with his own redesign.

It’s alright, I actually loved the original MH pets, so I don’t mind them being included, but they look more like the modern Barbie pets this time around. which is hit and miss.

Honestly I do think he’s cute, I just wish he was maybe more in scale. All the pets are the same size and general shape this time around, and with the even more cartoon-y design they end up looking less unique.

He does still have his twin tails though!

All the ghouls come with iCoffins (Are they still iCoffins? Surely a few monsters have spooky-pun Androids), and Deuce is no exception.

His phone case is, of course, snake themed:

How cute. I love snakes.

Along with phones, everyone also comes with a snack and a drink, for some reason, totally not trying to pad out the box, but anyway:

I tease, but actually I do think the little snacks are cute. I like his Medusa head water bottle.

The cupcake has a snake for frosting! Frosting snake! How cute.

Deuce also comes with a little tin of what I presume is scale wax. Gotta keep those scales shiny.

Like all Deuce dolls, he has a pair of sunglasses, with, one again, a snake design. It’s all snakes here folks.

See? Snake back back. I’d made to look like it’s made of snake skin. Which feels a little like a human carrying a bag made of hair. Hmm.

It does open though:

I do think the color is a little... bright. Actually, it’s not even the brightness, it’s just that it clashes. Def repainting this one.

Deuce is a barista in this generation of MH, so his doll comes with a little apron:

It’s fine, and I’m glad his love of cooking seems to be making a comeback, but it does feel a little... idiosyncratic, but does make a good segue into...

Clothes!

The most important part of a fashion doll.

Let’s start with his jacket, because I love it. It’s made of a nice denim-esque material, it has real pockets, it’s finished nicely, and just generally looks great.

Hope you’re not tired of snakes yet though, because we have more!

Snake shirt!

Also very nicely made.

Snake pants!

Construction of them is fine, but the material does feel pretty cheap. My least favorite of the fabric pieces.

Snake shoes!

They’re fine. I’m indifferent to them tbh.

It’s all snakes!

It’s also the last of his outfit, so let’s look at what’s under the clothes:

G2 MH/BTS body, G3 MH body, G1 MH body

As you can see, this body uses a different sculpt to previous Monster High boys. It’s shorter, and the thickest in the waist do far, but also has smaller hands and feet.

Honestly, I like the other two bodies better, but I don’t dislike this body either. Mostly I miss the bigger hands and feet.

See what I mean? If you were hoping G3 shoes would fit the G1 boys, unfortunately, they do not. I wonder if this change was made so kids could use Ken shoes with the boys?

Deuce’s body also have a few quality issues:

That seam line is deep, and there’s a very noticeable ridge there.

Plus he’s got a little warping from the packaging, but that can at least be fixed with hot water.

Let’s go ahead and put our boy back together, with all his accessories:

Is it just me or does he look a little... disjointed? I think it’s the shoes. They’re a different color in the box art, and I think they looked better there.

Yeah, they had more green and seemed to be a bit lighter.

Final thoughts?

He’s just a little hit and miss for me, unfortunately. I feel like they were trying to hard to stick to a certain out line of what each doll gets to come with, that it ended up with him coming with things I think would’ve ben better left off or exchanged with something else.

Instead of an apron, it would’ve been cool if he could’ve had a belt, or instead of snacks, maybe an armband, earring, ect.

I like the snacks, they’re cute. but why come with this doll? Why not save them for another?

Also, some of the color choices feel random. I’m all for unique color schemes, but we’ve got 5 different greens and four different purples. It doesn’t feel intentional, and more like an error.

But there’s also things I do like, I like his face sculpt, his jacket is fantastic, and I think it would be very easy for me to fix what I don’t like with a restyle.

Mind you, I’ve opened up a few other G3 dolls, and some are better than others.

At the end of the day you have to decide what’s a deal breaker for you. For me? I’m happy with him, despite my criticisms. I’m happy to add him to my collection, and in general I’ve been enjoying G3.

Do I think I’ll collect G3 boys with the intensity I had for G1? Eh. Bring Jackson and Holt back and then we’ll talk.

Please Mattel I am begging. At least give us that Holt Reproduction. Please?

#mattel #monster high #mh #g3mh #deuce gorgon #doll review

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lebenspurpur · 3 years

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AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.

Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.

His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.

Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.

Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.

His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.

"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.

On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.

Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.

You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.

"Alright. I won't."

You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.

His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?

The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.

You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.

You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.

Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.

"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.

"I'll join you if you do."

One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.

"Alright."

You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.

You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.

Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.

"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.

Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.

Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.

You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.

Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"

Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.

Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.

The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.

Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.

"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.

"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"

He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.

It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.

Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.

Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.

Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.

First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.

Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.

Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.

"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"

You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.

"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.

Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.

"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."

Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.

"You're lucky I love you."

Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.

You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.

Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.

His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.

You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.

Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.

The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.

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bezzly · 4 years

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tips for protestors.

igas my parents went to many protests when they were younger, and although i can’t go to any protests because i’m too young (in their eyes) i do have some tips from them.

note: trump HAS given the word for the national guard to use lethal force against protestors. i understand that it is hard to stay silent if there is a protest in your area, but there is a chance the bullets won’t be foam or rubber. stay safe, stay smart. please don’t become a statistic.

secondly, if you are in the san diego area, do NOT attend the protest that was advertised on facebook. it was created by white supremacists to target black youths.

cover any scars, tattoos, or distinct features you have. cops will use this to identify you, especially if you live in the area. they will take anything you may have done and attempt to arrest you by any means.

wear a face mask, bandana, or some other covering. this is not only because of covid-19, but it will make it harder for them to identify you.

wear clothes you wouldn’t normally wear. this is for the same reason. make sure not to wear those clothes in public until after the protests are over, that way they can’t identify you based on your outfit. also avoid jewelry and accessories.

bring a backpack. this will not only help carry the items you should bring, but it will also keep your hands free and make running easier when needed. make sure it is a real backpack, one that is on your back. and over the shoulder bag or satchel will make it harder to run.

bring plenty of water, a tourniquet (or, if possible, the items needed for one) a medical kit, an extra face covering, and milk. the water is important for 2 things: rinsing your eyes from tear gas and putting out the actual grenades. a tourniquet will be especially important for when the cops start using lethal force. do your research before using one, though, to avoid causing additional harm. the milk will help with your actual skin that will be burning from tear gas, but don’t put it in your eyes.

prepare to be tear gassed. if you sense things are getting tense, try to douse an extra face covering (like a scarf) in water. it will keep the gas from getting in your airways. wear goggles, like the ones you use when you swim. they stick to your face to keep the water from getting in, and will do the same with tear gas. cover as much of your head as possible, and tie up long hair. don’t wear makeup, because tear gas clings to it like it does your bodily fluids. also, if possible, avoid contacts. it can get stuck behind your contacts and that isn’t something you want. similarly, don’t rub your eyes, because the chemicals can get behind your eyes, which will open a whole new set of problems.

if and when you get gassed, stay calm. if you are able, find anyone on the ground and get them help. tear gas will settle low to the ground shortly after being fired and will make their afflictions worse. make sure to watch out for yourself and others, and get out of the area as quickly as possible.

there are two methods to put out tear gas. the first is by covering the capsule with a traffic cone, then pouring water through the hole until it goes out. make sure to wear gloves and don’t touch your face. the downside is that this takes a lot of water because this is not very accurate. the second method needs to be handled with extreme caution. only do this if you are wearing heat protective gloves. take the capsule and put it inside of a metal water bottle WHILE WEARING PROTECTIVE GLOVES. shake it until the fire inside the grenade goes out. it is very important that you have proper protection, especially with such close exposure to the gas. a gas mask is your safest bet.

another way to avoid identification is by putting a rock in your shoe. im unsure of how advanced the stride detection system is in the us, but during the hong kong protests, they would recognize protestors based on their walk. if you put a rock in your shoe, although it will be uncomfortable, it will help keep you anonymous.

use your privilege for good. if you are not a poc and are attending the protests, protect your poc counterparts. unfortunately, cops are statistically less likely to attack white protestors. (see the physical protesting of the quarantine which was led mostly by white people.) if things are getting tense between a cop and a poc protestor, step between them if you are comfortable.

identify undercover cops. undercover cops will deliberately cause mayhem in a peaceful protest to give reason for cops to attack. you can identify them by their shoes and their masks, as well as their attitudes. all cops, undercover or not, will almost always wear the same shoes because they have iron fillings that allow them to break people’s feet/hands/other bones when they have no other defense due to being undercover. they will also wear the same gas masks as the other cops. if you see a protestor put on one of these masks, you should leave because it means there will be tear gas deployed soon.

don’t bring any weapons that are illegal. this will give them probable cause to arrest you.

most importantly: stay safe. protect yourselves and others. if things get bad, run. they can’t catch everyone, and if they take more lives it will only fan the flame.

i will probably add more things as they come to me. i am a really small account but i hope this helps anyone. if you have any tips, comment and i’ll probably add them on here.

#minneapolis #protest #justice #black lives matter #blm #acab #1312 #protestors #riot #justiceforfloyd #george floyd #black lives #if we burn you burn with us #overthrow the government #poc #person of color #not a shitpost

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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Eighteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update while i try to find my writing rhythm again :))

***

Nesta hasn’t danced in over ten years—yet her body still remembers how to move fluidly and create shapes as if she never stopped. Pole dancing is different, of course: most of it takes place in the air, and she doesn’t have the right muscles developed to support her weight that well. Damn, she should really ask Cassian for help if she wants to keep doing this.

Still, Emerie and Gwyn are gaping by the time Nesta lands on the floor after trying out a basic spin.

She cracks her neck. “What?” she says at their stares.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Emerie demands.

She shrugs indifferently. “Eight years of ballet. Push-up challenges with Cassian.”

The instructor, an overly energetic Australian woman, comes up just then and claps Nesta on the shoulder, making her jump. “That was beautiful,” she praises. “Really, you have the balance of a cat. What’s your name again?”

Nesta introduces herself obediently, and Gwyn and Emerie follow.

The instructor nods. “In that case, Nesta, you keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry about your upper body strength yet, it’ll come around with time. You, the redhead,” she addresses Gwyn.

Gwyn straightens.

“I’ve never seen someone with your height and grace at the same time,” the instructor says. Gwyn beams with pride. “Unfortunately,” she continues, “I’ve also never seen someone so prone to hurting themselves on the pole.” Gwyn hangs her head.

“And the pretty girl.” She turns to Emerie last, who looks like she already knows what she’s about to hear. “Well, we can’t all be naturals.” The instructor grins broadly. “Feel free to keep using the poles after class is over.” She nods to their group and moves on to some other students.

Emerie sticks her tongue out and groans. “My tights keep giving me wedgies on the pole.”

“This was your idea,” Nesta reminds her as she reaches for her water bottle.

“Yet you’re the only one reaping the benefits,” Gwyn grumbles. “You never told us you had the body of a dancer and the balance of a gazelle.”

“Cat,” Emerie corrects.

“Guys,” Nesta says firmly. “This class is important for all of us. We won’t look this good,” she gestures to all their bodies, “forever. Gwyn is already pushing thirty.”

Gwyn’s jaw drops. “I’m turning twenty-seven, not getting menopause.”

“Same thing,” Emerie mutters. Gwyn shoves her hard and goes to pack her gym bag, leaving Emerie dramatically rubbing her shoulder. Nesta follows after Gwyn while the rest of the class begins gathering their things, too.

“How’re you feeling?” she mutters lowly as Gwyn packs. They haven’t brought up the conversation in Gwyn’s car since it took place, but Gwyn seems returned to her usual self now, if not even sunnier.

Gwyn’s lips twitch up as she glances sidelong at Nesta. “Perfect,” she says smoothly. “I can’t even remember what I was so upset about.”

Nesta is glad, even though she knows the nightmare isn’t gone. Knows that anytime from the next hour to the next year, it could reappear in full force and drag Gwyn down again. But hopefully it won’t hit as hard as it did before, now that Gwyn has her.

After class, they all pile up in Emerie’s car, a handed-down hunk of metal which Emerie insists on calling “vintage”. Gwyn sticks her head between the driver and passenger seat from the back and wrinkles her nose. “Get me home quick, it smells like a dead banana back here.”

“Oh, is that where I left it?” Emerie starts to turn around, but Nesta stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “I need a shower and a nap,” she pleads. “Let’s go.”

Emerie begrudgingly assents, sticking the key in the ignition and turning it. Nothing happens.

Frowning, she turns it again, but the engine doesn’t so much as choke. She slaps the dashboard like it’ll bring her car to life.

“Amazing,” Nesta mutters.

***

Cassian has imagined more times than he’d like to admit what it would be like when Nesta finally introduced him to her friends, but he never imagined this.

Three tired and hungry girls sit in his truck, alternating between arguing and laughing with each other. He can’t keep up with all of their personalities at once, so he just hones in on Nesta while he drives. Nesta, who Cassian has never seen so carefree or witty with people other than himself before. It both fascinates him and freaks him out, the realization that there’s so much to Nesta he doesn’t know yet. It gives him all the more excuse to spend the next several years getting to know her.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my car,” the dark-haired girl, Emerie, is snapping from the backseat. “Mr. Madani,” she abruptly says, sticking her head forward to look him in the face. Cassian nearly jumps. “Do you know how to change a car battery?”

Nesta shoves Emerie’s face back through the gap between seats from where she sits in the front. “You don’t need a battery change, you need a lifestyle change,” she says. “And don’t call my boyfriend by his last name, he’s not a middle-aged dad.”

Cassian bites back a laugh at that.

“Oh, but if I’m twenty-seven, I’m on the brink of menopause,” Gwyneth speaks up.

“Really?” Cassian says, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror for the first time all drive. “You’re the same age as me?”

He remembers what Nesta told him about Gwyn’s discomfort around men, so he tries to keep his tone casual, distant. If he scares Nesta’s friend away, he’ll never forgive himself.

Gwyn looks stunned to be directly addressed by him, seeming to lose all her sass. “Uh...my birthday’s in a few days,” she says, suddenly awkward.

“That’s right,” Emerie interjects eagerly. “We’re having a rager.”

“We’re having a sleepover,” Nesta corrects. She throws Cassian an exasperated look. “Drive faster, will you? I can’t share a car with these girls any longer.”

“Don’t be fucking rude.” Gwyn flicks a hair tie at Nesta, making her cry out.

Cassian does not understand this dynamic at all, so he shuts up and does as he’s told.

After Gwyn and Emerie have been safely dropped off, Cassian throws his keys into the bowl at the cabin entrance and tosses off his shoes. “I think I finally know what it’s like to be you,” he tells Nesta as they meet the warmth of the house.

“What do you mean?” She unzips her windbreaker, revealing the form-fitting athleticwear beneath. God, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to look at her since he picked her up.

He redirects his eyes to her face. “You know,” he says. “On the outside looking in. I feel drained.”

Her lips quirk up as she hangs up her jacket. “That scared of a couple of girls, huh?”

“They’re your friends. I don’t know what else I expected.” He follows Nesta deeper into the living room, kicking at the ground. “So…” he trails casually. “How was class?”

Nesta responds by rolling her eyes. “I was wondering how long you’d take to crack.”

“What do you mean?” he says, indignant.

“I mean…” She steps up to him and takes his hands, dragging them up her waist to settle on the bare skin beneath her black crop top. “You haven’t said a word about pole-dancing since I told you I was starting it. One would almost think it didn’t affect you at all, and yet,” she tilts her head, “I get the feeling you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Especially at night, when you’re alone.”

Cassian’s breath goes thin. She knows him too well.

“Cunning witch,” he breathes. Nesta’s smile is slow and winning, which he takes as invitation to slip his hands around her back and pull her in. Her chest is pressed flush against his.

She stares at his mouth, the place she always stares when her mind is five steps ahead of reality. Like she’s already imagining how he’ll take her. “Dreaming about a private performance, are you?”

“Hopefully not right now,” a low voice says from above them.

Nesta jumps, spinning around in Cassian’s arms, but Cassian just closes his eyes and sighs. He opens them to find Azriel sitting in the reading nook that overlooks the living room, various work reports scattered about him.

“Have you been there this whole time?” Nesta demands.

“Unfortunately,” Azriel says at the same time Cassian grumbles, “Of course he has.” Remaining unnoticed is all his brother is good for.

Nesta sighs and rubs her eyes, the mood effectively killed. “I need a break.”

Cassian considers going up to Az and pushing him over the second floor railing as Nesta wiggles out of his arms and heads for the stairs. “And a back massage,” she calls over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right there,” Cassian tells her. But he waits to hear their bedroom door click shut before he also goes upstairs, not towards Nesta but to the reading nook.

“Hey, bro?” He tries to sound lighthearted as he approaches Az. “Do you mind not cockblocking me in my own house?”

Az doesn’t look up from the report he’s reading, flipping a page. “It’s rude to be horny in public spaces.”

“My house is not a public space,” Cassian growls, struggling to keep his temper. “Before you moved in, it was a very, very private space.” For him and Nesta alone, he doesn’t add.

Azriel finally looks up, question in his eyes. “So what?” he says. “You want me to leave?”

Never, is the automatic assurance that nearly comes out of Cassian’s mouth. Of course he’d never want his brother gone, especially when he’s clearly going through… something. But he bites down on the word and takes a seat in the chair across from Az. “I want to know how long you’re planning on staying. For real. You can run from your problems as much as you want, but that doesn’t mean I can provide you with a hiding place forever.”

“Wow.” Azriel’s eyes widen in mock-disbelief and he clasps a hand to his chest. “So cold, brother. I think you caught some of your girlfriend’s iciness.”

Cassian narrows his eyes seriously at Az. “Or maybe I’m being the only adult here.” Cassian now has responsibilities to a person who isn’t part of his traditional inner circle. A person he can see himself making long-term plans with, a person he plans on keeping around. It changes the course of his future in a way that the rest of his family probably haven’t realized yet.

Though maybe Azriel does realize it, because he looks away and murmurs, “No need to rub it in.”

For the thousandth time that month, Cassian wonders what caused Azriel to run away from Velaris. It’s a secret Az refuses to share with even him.

“I’m trying,” Azriel says. His words are slow, unsure. “I’m trying to create space between me and that city, but I’m going to need more time. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take until I can go back. But if you can’t keep me here, I’ll find someplace else to stay.” He shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

Cassian exhales, feeling sympathy twist deep in his chest for his best friend—and he doesn’t even know what the sympathy is for. “Then take your time,” he says sincerely. “Stay here forever if you want. We can Photoshop you into all our pictures. But don’t think I’m gonna make it easy on you,” he warns.

“You already don’t make it easy on me,” Az mutters. “I can hear you and Nesta fucking all the time.”

“First, don’t ever talk about Nesta and fucking in the same sentence ever again.”

Az blinks in surprise, likely remembering the way they would talk about their hookups before Nesta came into the picture. “Damn, she’s got you bad.”

“Second,” Cassian continues, “I will not hesitate to make you sleep outside if you get on my or Nesta’s nerves.”

“With that attitude, I’ll be out of here by next week,” Az snorts. He crosses his feet and picks up his report again, clearly done with this conversation.

Seeing no hope in rubbing the point in further, Cassian leaves Azriel to his work.

***

Nesta is stripped down to her underwear and getting ready to shower when she notices a missed call from Elain on her phone.

She hesitates at her sister’s name on the screen, wondering what could possibly have encouraged Elain to call while Nesta was at dance class. What happened to the times that Nesta could go weeks without a single person checking up on her?

Looking toward the bedroom door as if Cassian will come in and save her from having to call Elain back, she waits a solid minute before giving up.

Elain picks up on the first ring. “I’m surprised you called back,” she greets.

“I’m full of surprises these days.” Nesta settles onto the bed. “What did you want?” She doubts Elain called just for a check-in, not with the stagnant bitterness that’s been between them lately.

“To have a normal conversation with my sister for once.”

Nesta tries not to roll her eyes all the way back into her head, even though no one is around to see her. “Go on and have it then.”

“I heard from Rhys that Azriel moved into Cassian’s place,” Elain says in her honey-sweet voice. “I’ve been meaning to ask how that’s going for you.”

Nesta’s brow furrows at that voice, the one that Elain uses whenever she wants to give her best first impression—or wants to pry something out of someone. “It’s going fine,” she says flatly. “Az and I get along great.”

That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but…

“You’re calling him Az now?” Nesta can hear the way Elain tries to tamp down on her curiosity, but she’s never been as good at affecting apathy as Nesta is.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Why? Do you miss him?”

Elain nearly chokes over the line. “Why—why would you say that?”

“I thought you guys were friendly,” Nesta says, leaning back into the pillows. “Doesn’t everyone miss him back in Velaris?”

“Oh.” The relief in Elain’s voice is palpable, piquing Nesta’s curiosity. “Yeah, we miss him.” She clears her throat. “He left without telling anybody.”

Nesta fiddles with the band of her panties. “You don’t know why he left either?”

Elain is silent for several moments. “No.” Her answer is quiet, truthful. “I don’t know.” She adds, “Keep an eye on him, will you? I would do it myself, but I’ve been iced out.”

Nesta finds this very suspicious. She can’t bring herself to be interested enough to keep snooping, however, not as the door creaks open and Cassian enters the room. “Will do,” she promises Elain, and makes a quick goodbye. When she hangs up, Cassian asks, “Who was it?”

“Elain.” Nesta frowns at her phone. She wonders if someone like Cassian would be better at reading between the lines of the strange conversation she just had. Maybe he could put his finger on the mysterious relationship between her sister and his brother. But since there are no creeks nearby for Azriel to be shoved into, and it isn’t any of Nesta’s business either way, she decides to give him and Elain time to sort their own shit out.

“What did she want?”

Nesta refocuses on Cassian, who leans against the door appreciating her half-naked form stretched out before him. Without words, she holds her arms open.

He shoves off the door and approaches her on the bed, letting her envelop him into a hug. It isn’t the warmest or most comforting hug, and her arms are stiff as stone, but he melts into her either way. There’s a weariness in his broad shoulders that spikes concern in her.

When Cassian pulls away, she traps his face in her hands and scans it closely for answers. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “You fell asleep early during the last two movies we watched and you’re half-asleep now.”

“What are you talking about?” He throws his signature smile her way, but it lacks alertness. “Do I look like there’s anything wrong with me?”

“You tell me.” Nesta shifts so she can slide her hand over the smooth plane of his back, resting her palm on the warm spot between his shoulder blades. It’s her best imitation of a soothing gesture, and it makes Cassian’s lips quirk up lightly.

He hangs his head and sighs. “Is it possible to have growing pains at my age?”

Nesta is confused. “Like, physically?”

“No,” he says. “Just… growing up.”

“I don’t think we ever stop growing up,” she answers honestly. Maybe she’s biased because a part of her is still trapped in that childlike state, and she has more growing to do than most people. “I think it hurts a little every time we have to shift and become someone older. What’s hurting you now?”

Her hand slides up to the nape of Cassian’s neck, gently massaging the muscles there. His head droops even more under her touch. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that when I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he huffs. But he doesn’t look very inclined to argue.

Nesta squeezes the back of his neck. “I can be the stable one, too, you know. I can take care of you.” She should’ve defeated this misconception sooner.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “I meant that I promised you a massage.”

Oh. She nearly forgot about that. “If you tell me what growing pains you’re having, I’ll let you join me in the shower,” she promises. “You can do whatever you want there.”

He looks up at that, dragging his gaze over her mostly-bare figure, and Nesta knows she’s won. “Tell me,” she demands one final time.

Cassian inspects her face, likely deciding how much he should reveal or not. “I’ve been thinking about the future,” he finally says. “It was never something I cared much about before, but now it keeps me up at night.”

Nesta is slow to realize—he’s talking about their future. “You really never thought about the future before?” she asks. At one point in time, Nesta had her life planned out to the age of forty. Her plans hadn’t included this, though.

Cassian shakes his head. “There was nothing for me to think about.”

She runs soothing fingers across his scalp, her heart rate unexpectedly picking up a beat. “And what do you think about now?”

Hazel eyes meet hers with wariness. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “Cars, taxes, insurance.”

At the look on her face, he pulls away from the hand that’s gone still on his neck. “Okay, let’s get you in the shower before I scare you away for good.”

Nesta feels herself being scooped into Cassian’s arms, but she doesn’t quite register it. It’s not until they’re in the bathroom that she remembers words. “I’m not scared,” she says from the cradle of his arms. “I was just surprised.”

Regaining her senses, she squirms until Cassian puts her down on the floor. She straightens. “I’ve never... pondered on the small things like that.”

Except they aren’t really small or stupid, are they? They’re big, inevitable facets of sharing a life with someone. She clears her throat. “The way we live now is already so nice. I guess I forgot things won’t be like this forever.”

Which isn’t the most assuring thing to say from the way Cassian’s face becomes carefully still. But in a blink he’s smiling again, his hands going to unclip her bra. “Don’t worry yourself with that shit,” he chuckles. “I was only dreaming.”

Guilt turns Nesta’s stomach into sludge. She made Cassian share what was weighing on him only for her to brush it off. She wants to talk through it with him until he’s giving her a real smile, but she doesn’t know where to start or what to say. So she lets her bra drop to the floor and steps close to wrap her arms around him.

His breath hitches against her ear, and one of his broad hands comes up to rest on her bare back. “Two hugs in one day?” he says, his amusement covering up some deeper emotion. “I’m either doing something right or doing something very wrong.”

“No. I’m just feeling appreciative.” Her hand returns to that space between his shoulder blades, the spot that seems to disarm him, and pats him there. She gives herself a solid moment to luxuriate in the warmth and size and hard strength of him before saying, “Get undressed, will you?”

One of his hands squeezes her butt. “You need to get off me first.”

She hums in agreement but doesn’t move—hoping he can feel everything she doesn’t know how to tell him.

***

a/n: i bought my eid dress and it’s so pretty yall 🥺

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 6

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“I still think you should wear the blue one,” Missy says from her spot lying on Dana’s bed, having long ago tired of the lengthy debate over what she should wear for her date with Mulder.

It’s now 5:30 and while her hair and makeup have been meticulously complete for over an hour, she’s found herself unable to decide on a dress.

“I was wearing that when Ethan proposed to me, Missy. It’s tainted,” she replies with a glare, alternately holding up a red dress that hits just above the knee and has spaghetti straps, and a black one that is ankle length and has a halter top.

Missy rolls onto her side with an exasperated sigh. “It’s just a dress, Dana. And the man is already in love with you, I doubt he cares that much about what you’re wearing. You’re overthinking it, Sis. Though I think I do have some sage in my bag if you want me to smudge it,” she adds helpfully.

Dana gives her sister a pleading look.

“Fine. Wear the red one,” she acquiesces, moving to sit up. “I better get out of here before he shows up,” she says, and the second the words leave her mouth they hear a soft rapping on the door. They look at each other, Dana still in her bra panties, and then Missy stands. “I’ll let him in, you get dressed.”

Missy pulls the bedroom door closed behind her and answers just as Mulder knocks for a second time. He gives her a quizzical look and turns to check the number on the apartment.

“You’ve got the right one, I’m Dana’s sister, Melissa. We met once,” Missy says as she extends her hand.

Mulder takes it, nodding with recognition. “Right, I remember. Uh, is Scully, I mean Dana, here?”

Missy gives him a sympathetic frown. “No, I’m sorry. She changed her mind.”

Mulder’s expression falls until he hears Scully call out from behind her “Missy, don’t be a jerk!”

She crosses the living room, pausing by the couch to pull a shoe the rest of the way over her heel, and then arrives in the doorway. Mulder is dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt, his dark grey tie patterned with little triangles. His hair looks freshly cut, barely long enough to run your fingers through, and he’s holding a small bouquet of flowers. He looks delicious.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Missy says with a mischievous smile, grabbing her satchel from the dining room table and slipping past Mulder out the open door. “You two kids have fun,” she calls over her shoulder.

Dana rolls her eyes at her sister's remark, then turns to see Mulder staring at her with an oddly intense expression, his lips slightly parted.

“What?” she asks with genuine concern, looking down at her dress to make sure nothing is out of place.

He shakes his head gently as if pulling himself from a reverie. “You look...you look incredible. I mean you always look incredible but now that I’m allowed to tell you that you look incredible…” he drags his eyes down to her shoes and back up to her face where he finds a soft smile on her lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he completes.

She looks away sheepishly, pressing her lips together to hide the grin that it would feel too conceited to let show. “Thank you,” she says quietly, then meets his eye. “You look very handsome yourself.”

They look at each other for a beat, and she can tell he wants to kiss her. She wonders if he will, and if she should let him. They’ve already done much more than kiss, but everything still feels so new. Starting over indeed.

“Oh, these are for you,” he blurts out, breaking the tension as he offers her the flowers.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” she replies, taking them and going to the kitchen for a vase. She can sense his eyes on her back as she fills it with water then sets it on the table. She feels a little tingle in response, one she hasn’t felt in a very, very long time. “Shall we?” she asks as she grabs a sweater from the closet, avoiding his eye lest she throw him down on her sofa and never make it to dinner at all.

He steps just outside the door into the hall, so close as she locks it behind them that she can smell his aftershave. When they turn to leave, his hand drifts to rest on her lower back and it sends a little shockwave through her, and a flush of warmth between her thighs. Knowing that they can actually do all the things she’s imagined is exciting and scary, and she wonders how long she can wait. Wonders how long she wants to.

———

He steals glances at every stoplight or stretch of straight road, basically any chance he gets to look away without causing an accident, to take in the stunning beauty in the passenger seat beside him. That little red dress hugs her curves in all the right places, the pale swell of her breasts peeking out and rising gently with each breath. He shifts in his seat, willing his dick to behave and not make him look like a sex crazed lunatic. Though he is pretty sex starved, so it wouldn’t be an entirely untrue assessment. Every bit of self control he’d mustered when they spent time together last year has worn thin, and though he knows that she is no longer off-limits, that doesn’t mean she’s ready to get physical. He would have waited forever for her, so what’s a few more days, or weeks. Months? He really hopes it’s not months.

They pull up in front of the restaurant and he jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for her before the valet can get there. She gives him a shy little smile when he offers his hand to help her out of the car, pulling her to stand in the small space between himself and the doorframe so that the front of their bodies are nearly flush. She tilts her face up towards him, her tall shoes still only bringing her to his shoulder. He lets his eyes fall to her mouth, which is bare of any lipstick but naturally pink and pouty. He could kiss her now and not smudge anything at all.

“Sir?” the valet interrupts, holding out his hand in request of the keys.

The spell broken, he gives over the keys and takes Scully’s hand, her slim fingers threading between his own as her thumb brushes against his palm, a secret acknowledgement of the moment they shared. He smiles to himself as he leads her to the front doors of Marcel’s, looking over to see her curious appraisal of the venue. She clearly hasn’t been here before, which makes him happy. They are led by the host to a small table near the window draped in white linens and she gives him a skeptical glance as he pulls out her chair.

“Are you always this chivalrous? Don’t set expectations you can’t live up to, Mulder.”

He chuffs a laugh. “I actually am, it’s not an act. I was raised in a very upscale, old money environment. I can also tell you which fork to use for each course, if you’re interested.”

She lifts her eyebrows in surprise, watching him curiously as he takes the seat beside her, not across. He doesn’t want an entire table between them.

“Really? Where was that?”

“Martha’s Vineyard,” he answers plainly, not ever wanting that to sound like something he’s bragging about. “What about you, where are you from?” He changes the subject as quickly as possible.

She makes a face. “Nowhere in particular. I was born in Annapolis but my father was in the Navy so we moved a lot. The place he was stationed the longest was San Diego so that area feels just a little bit like home, but we’ve also spent quite a bit of time on the East Coast. We lived in Japan for a bit when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it.”

The waiter comes by to take their drink orders and Mulder orders a bottle of red he assumes they’ll have without looking at the menu. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Scully opens her menu and her eyes expand in shock. She closes it quietly and waits for the waiter to leave before leaning towards him.

“Mulder,” she says very seriously, as though she’s about to deliver devastating news, “that bottle of wine is three hundred dollars.”

He leans further towards her so their foreheads nearly touch. “Scully,” he says in an equally serious tone, “I warned you I was going to go overboard.”

He watches her try to suppress a surprised smile as she leans back, eyeing him appraisingly. “You’re quite the enigma, Mulder. With your fancy country club upbringing and expensive taste in wine in contrast to aliens and worn down bachelor pads.”

“Worn down?” he says in mock offense, “Priscilla will be horrified to hear that you said that.” The full-toothed smile he gets in response makes his heart swell, even if he suspects it has more to do with the mention of Priscilla than his winning sense of humor.

Wine and water are delivered, and Scully tries to order the cheapest thing on the menu before he insists that she wants the surf and turf and she acquiesces with a pained look.

“I think you’ve mischaracterized who among us is the enigma, Scully,” he picks up after their menus are collected. “I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered another Navy brat brainiac babe who cuts up dead people for a living.”

“Really?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed as though this is surprising to hear. “I’ll have to invite you to our next chapter meeting.”

“You’re also funny, add that to your list of enigmatic qualities,” he retorts, and she shrugs demurely. “Speaking of enigmas, there was a case I did a little poking around on, about some suspicious deaths in a community of carnies. There was a sideshow act where a man who was tattooed head to toe in jigsaw puzzle pieces ate live animals. He was sometimes called The Conundrum, and other times he went by The Enigma.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of his old work. “Was this an x file?” she asks excitedly.

“Not technically, no. This was just a couple years ago so the files were closed, but every now and then I get a lead and take some time off work to run it down.”

Scully looks a little disappointed. “Have you ever tried to have the X files reopened?” she asks, taking a sip of her wine and making a little expression that he takes as her being impressed.

“Sure, especially at first. The people at the heart of these government-run conspiracies don’t want the files open again, but the main reason bureau leadership gives for now is that I don’t have a partner, and they won’t let me work on them alone.”

“Couldn't they just assign you a partner? I’m not a field agent, but I was under the impression they somewhat randomly pair people off.”

He smiles sheepishly. “In theory, yes. But I haven’t had much success with the partners I’ve been assigned in the past. One might say that I don’t play well with others.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she says with a skeptical look, “you strike me as fairly easy to get along with.”

“Maybe so, Scully, but there’s a significant difference you’re omitting,” he leans forward and lets the tips of his fingers brush her bare knee. “I like you.”

There’s that million dollar grin again. This night is going so much better than he possibly could have hoped.

———

She could not have possibly imagined how good it would feel to be with him and truly be with him. No boundaries, no barriers, no lines to walk between what’s acceptable for ‘just friends.’ They openly flirt and smile at each other all through dinner, casually touching an arm or a leg, holding hands briefly a few times. She feels like a giddy schoolgirl and can’t recall the last time she felt this happy. So when the waiter collects their dessert plates and drops off the bill, she feels a little wave of sadness that the night is coming to an end.

She knows that if she invites him to come up to her apartment, he will say yes. And she knows that if she does that, they will end up having sex. She would very, very much like to have sex with him. But she’s also worried that she’s rushing things and potentially ignoring possible red flags or other signs that they might not be compatible because she wants this to work so badly. She decides she’s not going to invite him up.

They stand on the curb outside Marcel’s, waiting for the valet to bring the car around, and she crosses her arms and shivers against the cool evening air. Mulder notices and slides his arm around her shoulders, rubbing his palm briskly over her upper arm. Not satisfied that he’s done enough, he then moves to stand behind her and opens his suit jacket, pressing his chest to her back as he wraps the jacket around her, folding them both up inside it. He’s warm and firm and she lets her weight rest against him, the back of her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She sighs contentedly, feeling safe and cared for. It’s a feeling she’s really missed, being single.

On the short drive back to her apartment, he slips his hand over the console to rest on the seat next to her, an invitation, and she presses her palm against his, feeling the ache of missing him before he’s even gone. He pulls up to the curb in front of her building and they don’t let go, looking at each other in the dim glow of the street lights.

“Can I walk you to your door?” he asks, and she feels a mischievous smile creep over her lips. She nods.

They walk slowly, hand in hand, through the front doors and up the elevator. When they arrive at her door, she unlocks but doesn’t open it, leaning her back against the frame instead.

“I had a really nice time, Mulder. Thank you,” she says, her gaze lingering on his hooded green eyes and that full bottom lip.

“Me too,” he replies with a shy smile, stepping forward and placing his fingertips cautiously on her hips.

Her pelvis tips toward him unconsciously, seeking out the contact she has every intention of denying herself for now.

“Can I...would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asks, his eyes on her mouth. She opens it reflexively, tilting her chin up further.

He seems to take that as his answer, dipping his head to meet her at her level, and the pillowy press of his mouth against hers feels like such a relief she sighs audibly. His fingers on her hips press more firmly in response, pulling her gently towards him, closer still. She puts her hands on his forearms and slides them up until her fingers are gently scraping through the hair at the nape of his neck, and she feels his tongue slip out to taste hers. One of his hands leaves her hip and she feels it flutter over the side of her neck, cupping her jaw gently as they kiss slowly, languidly, like they have all the time in the world. His thumb brushes over the front of her throat and it somehow feels more intimate than if he were touching her in a more private place. To touch her in a vulnerable spot, one that can hurt and even kill someone, but to do it so tenderly feels erotic and exciting, and she takes his lip between her teeth and bites down gently to encourage him. He emits a little groan and arches his pelvis towards her, the stiff ridge of his erection grazing her belly.

“Mulder,” she says between kisses.

“Mmmmm,” he says in response, brushing his lips over the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t...I think….we should probably say goodnight.”

He makes a little sound somewhere between a whine and a sigh, but pulls away from her.

“I just...I don’t want to rush this,” she says earnestly, holding both his hands in hers. “I want to do things right this time.”

He nods, pulling her into an embrace. She has that feeling again, like she could crawl inside his chest cavity and make a home there, though this time it’s accessorized with an erection pressed against her.

“Sorry about that,” he says without embarrassment, and she laughs.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she replies, pulling away and reaching for the doorknob.

“You really, really, should,” he retorts, and she opens the door, backing in slowly. Once she is fully inside and looking at him through the slim crack she’s wedged herself into as though she were trying to keep him out, he leans forward so his face is inches from hers. “One for the road?” he asks hopefully, and she nods.

He presses his mouth against hers, chastely, no tongue, and holds it there for a very long time. Long enough that she starts to feel her resolve cracking. She pulls away.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she says in a sing-song voice, and he backs away from the door with a dopey smile.

“Night, Scully,” he replies, not leaving until after she closes the door. She knows because she watches him through the peephole as he stands there smiling like a fool before looking up and possibly thanking the gods. Finally, he leaves.

Goodnight indeed. It was such a good night.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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storiesbymads · 3 years

Text

THIS BIKINI’S MADE FORE DANCING (AND HITTING THE FLOOR)³ ( sun kissed desires . )

Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.

warnings: smut

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

Your morning ventures ended with probably the best mid morning nap you’d ever had in your life. You woke up without a headache, thankfully, and with the way you’d guzzled the water bottle on your nightstand before you’d crashed out, you felt halfway ready to take on the world.

You dug through your duffel bag in an attempt to find one of the twelve bathing suits you’d packed three days ago. Hopefully you’d packed your cute ones, you’d been in such a rush you honestly had no idea what all was in your bag or if anything really matched. Finally, you found a black set at the bottom that was simple enough that it wouldn’t require too many of your brain cells to put on, still being kinda sleepy and everything.

Finding your way to the pool was easy, considering it was in the dead center of the boat. You were surprised to see the number of kids sitting around the edge of the pool when you got down there, feet dangling in the chlorine filled liquid. You glanced down at the phone in your hand to see the time. 12:08. Adult Swim.

You crossed the short expanse of wooden walkway over to the lounge chairs, dropping your few belongings onto the small table beside the single free one you could find before covering your phone and key card with the towel you’d just barely remembered to bring down so the sun wouldn’t wreak too much havoc on them. The chair was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked when you situated yourself on it.

The sound of a whistle sent your head snapping in the direction of the pool only to see a few dozen kids jumping into the water as the few adults scrambled to get out in time.

And, of course, your eyes found Sidney’s in record time. God, how could one man be so pretty? The fact that he was practically dripping wet didn’t help, either.

He had a pair of teal swim trunks on, oddly enough, and they seemed to cling to everything as he climbed out of the water. To you, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, but it probably only took him about thirty seconds before he was walking in your direction. No. Right. To. You.

He shook his head slightly as he did so, attempting to conceal the grin making its way onto his face. God, he’s cute, too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, louder than the other times you’d spoken with him—you gave that up to the fact that you were outside. He’d still yet to adjust his swim trunks and the tent in them seemed to be staring you right in the eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that came up to me,” you scoffed dismissively. Sidney just cleared his throat in response, nodding toward his belongings in the seat next to yours. The only thing separating his belongings from yours was the tiny metal table, and even that was covered in your personal items. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he mocked lightly. He opted to sit on the edge of your chair rather than take the last two steps towards his own, the warm skin of his thigh brushing against your own. The barely there touch sent tingles up your spine. You couldn’t imagine what having all of him pressed up against you would feel like.

He picked his hand up off the plastic of the chair, hesitating slightly and letting it rest in the air above your leg for a second too long, before letting his rough fingers meet the smooth skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “About your offer earlier.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, dangerously close to the flimsy bow holding the fabric together.

“M-my offer?” you stuttered out.

“Are you sober...” he trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He was fiddling with the nylon string at this point.

“Y/N,” you hummed out a response. “And, yes. Took a nap and everything.”

“Good,” he said before abruptly getting up so that he could collect his things from his own chair. Your skin felt cold without his touch despite the scalding heat you were being exposed to. He turned back around as he shoved his phone into his still damp pocket, “C’mon, pretty girl. We don’t have all day.”

You practically jumped up from your seat to grab your things, in spite of a chuckling Sidney behind you.

The walk to the lobby happened in what felt like half a second and before you knew it, Sidney had you pressed up against the outside of his room door. Maybe being on the first floor wasn’t such a bad thing.

His hips were pressing into yours, his fingers were bruising against your waist, and his lips. They were everywhere. You don’t even remember when he’d started kissing you, you just know you didn’t ever want him to stop.

He pulled away just enough to leave you panting and chasing his lips.

“I gotta open the door,” he whispered, lips grazing yours as he did so. The door clicked seconds later which allowed the two of you to slip inside only for Sidney to halfway shove your against the other side of the door the second it closed. Your palms fell flat against his exposed chest, slipping lower and lower as the moments passed until you were thumbing the hemline of his shorts.

“Please,” you whimpered out.

“Please, what?” he asked.

“Just. Please,” you answered. His hand found the tie to your top in a matter of seconds, undoing it slowly before repeating the process with the one around your neck and letting it fall to the floor between you.

His lips attached to the column of your throat as his fingers traced the edges of your bottoms. His mouth moved lower and lower until he was circling your left nipple with his tongue.

Stopping suddenly, he rose back up to his full height, motioning for you to jump with two taps on your hip as he lifted it to his waist. He carried you across the short expanse of his room, dropping you on the recently made up comforter of his bed.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mumbled before reattaching his lips to yours. He tasted like heaven. There was a faint mint flavor that you chalked up to being his toothpaste mixed with the distinct taste of Minute Maid lemonade and a sweet tea brand you couldn’t identify.

His clothes cock rutted against your core, sending flickers of the sight of him getting out of the pool glittering through your mind again. Those swim trunks left nothing to the imagination.

He shifted lower over your body, tugging your bikini bottoms down in one swift motion and quite literally tossing them over his shoulder.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So pretty and pink and wet for me. You’re dripping all over my sheets, pretty girl.”

One of his digits slipped between your folds, spreading the wetness around as he circled your clit with the pad of his finger.

“I think you’re a little-“ you cut yourself off with a moan when he slipped the finger inside you. “Overdressed.”

“Patience,” he said, inserting another finger into your hole. He curled his fingers in a scissoring motion, eliciting a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. His thumb quickly found your clit which sent your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said. You ignored his comment, head hitting the pillow underneath you only for his movements to stop. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped back open.

“I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock,” he said, pulling his fingers from you so that he could shove the teal shorts down his legs just enough for his dick to slap against his stomach.

He grabbed a condom out of his wallet on the nightstand, ripping the packaging open with his teeth before rolling it down the length of his dick.

“Fuck me,” you groaned out as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

“I was planning on it,” he exhaled. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he pushed in halfway.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” you said, unintentionally clenching around him. He shuddered before fully bottoming out.

“And you’re incredibly tight,” he said. It didn’t take him long to find his pace as his hands molded bruises into the sides of your hips.

His lips found your neck soon after, running his teeth lightly along the top of your collarbone as your hands found his hair. You would’ve commented on the softness of it if you had a coherent thought in your head. But all you could think about was the burning pleasure building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-“ you repeated like a mantra until your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, hips snapping into yours at an even faster rate. He lasted about two more thrusts before you felt him still inside you. He stayed there for a moment before he pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

The thoughts started rushing into your head before the post-orgasm bliss even had the time to fully wear off. You couldn’t believe you’d just done that. Sure, he was gorgeous and, sure, he was practically the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. But you were gonna be stuck living next door to him for the next two weeks.

You were already off the bed and grabbing your things from where they’d been dropped at the door—something you didn’t remember doing in the first place—when you heard Sidney turn the shower on. You had your bikini back on before his eyes hit you again.

“You can join me, if you want,” he said as he watched you scramble around his room from where he was leant up against the ensuite’s door frame.

“As much as I would love to do that, I’ve gotta get going,” you said, throwing open the room door and letting it shut before he could get another word out.

You had other things on your plate, anyway. Current mission: find Sigma. She might not be your best friend in the world, at least, yet, but you needed to tell someone about what just happened.

And judging by the way you’d scrounged what felt like the entire ship at this point—not really, you really only checked like three, very public areas—your mission was proving more impossible than you would’ve liked. Then, when you thought all hope was lost, you remembered the teensy tiny little tidbit of information she’d given you this morning when you were in six mimosas. She was staying in Room 215.

“Y/N! How unexpected,” Sigma said as she opened up her door wide enough to let you in. Her southern charm was seeping through every word and it really was no wonder how she’d already gotten married at 23.

You saw a man laying on the bed, thankfully, fully clothed with a remote control laying on his stomach. You heard a woman’s voice coming from the TV and what sounded like a murder documentary.

Sigma was ushering you out onto her balcony before you had time to really search her and husband’s room any further.

“What’s this surprise visit all about? I thought you’d gotten of me this morning,” she said as the two of you sat in the bolted down, metal chairs out there.

“You know that really hot guy in the room next to mine,” you said.

“No,” she exhaled. Maybe you’d forgotten to mention that this morning. Course, you barely remembered anything you’d mentioned this morning.

“Well,” you started. “There’s a really hot guy in the room right next to mine. And I may or may not have just hooked up with him.”

“You’re kidding!” she gasped.

“I almost wish I was,” you groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Was it that bad?” she asked with a wince. You looked over at her with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“It was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” you said.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda like my neighbor for right now, and somehow we manage to bump into each other everywhere we go. I just don’t want things to be even more uncomfortable for me on this stupid boat.”

“Honey.”

“I know, I know. It’s dumb,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready to get involved with another guy. Not after what happened with Max,” you said.

“Look, sweetheart. You’re never gonna find someone if you don’t give yourself the chance to open up. And who says this whole thing with your supah hot guy has to go any further than it has. I say if you get the chance, go for it.”

“Get the chance?”

“To have sex again! According to you, it was the best sex, like, ever.”

The next twenty minutes went on like that until Sigma’s husband practically forced her to go back inside and get ready for something. You took that as your cue to leave.

You were glad you’d gone to find her today. As weird as a start that you’d had for your friendship, she was probably one of the easiest people you’d ever had the opportunity of talking to.

The walk back to your room was quick. That was when you realized the only item you currently had in your possession was your phone. And not your key card. You knew you’d had it before the incident with Sidney and you were sure you’d grabbed everything on your way out of Sigma’s room. Which left one option. It was still on Sidney’s floor.

Sighing, you dropped your head in defeat, walking the two steps it took so that you were face to face with the wooden door you were pressed up against over an hour ago. Your hand hovered in the air until you worked up enough courage to actually knock.

“Here for this?” he asked, holding up the white card in one hand after he opened the door just wide enough to see you.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, reaching out to grab it from him only for him to pull it back, inches from your grip.

“You could’ve just gone to the front desk,” he said.

“I-“ you started. “Forgot that was an option.”

“Why are you always wet when we see each other?” you asked with an eye roll as the door swung open.

“Actually, I distinctly remember you being equally as wet when we met earlier,” he said.

“You’re insufferable,” you scoffed.

“And you’re adorable,” he said before actually handing over the key.

“Says the guy that takes hour long showers,” you said.

“I got a little preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed.

“You sure you have to go to your room?” he asked, tantalizingly slow, allowing his words to hang heavy in the air around you as his tongue slipped past his lips. Your eyes stayed glued to the water droplet running down his throat.

“I guess-“

“Well, come on then. Wouldn’t want you getting cold out there, pretty girl,” he said, the hand still holding your key card clasping around your wrist as he pulled you into his chest, and consequently, back into his room.

tags @kiedhara @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @hannabritta @monalicia @mymanshawn @butgilinsky @pierreslucdubois @damndunner @klutchnetsov @stampiej @punkharts @heatherawoowoo

#sidney crosby series #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby smut #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl series #nhl smut #sun kissed desires

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kaitycole · 3 years

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Love One: the love that looks right

Summary: Ushijima has been your neighbor and best friend for most of your life, so it's no surprise that you two end up being each other's first relationship. But can a relationship that's label as perfect from the beginning, that's seen as being 'The One', can it last?

Parings: Ushijima x Reader

Word Count: 4916

Warnings: Fluff? Light angst.

Rating: 16+

A/N: This series is based on an article that talks about how in live, most of us experience three types of love. I’ll link the article in the series master post for anyone who wants to read it!

2000 – 6 years old

“Toshi! Toshi!” You ran down the steps in front of your house, skipping across the yard and into the neighboring yard, continuing to shout out of the young boy. You found him, watering can in hand, inspecting some plant whose name you can’t remember even though he’s told you several times.

A smirk appeared as you slowed your pace, creeping up behind him before you jumped onto his back, yelling his name a bit too loudly and too close to his ear. He gasped, water spilled everywhere as the can fell, and before he could balance his footing, you fell off his back, landing directly on his plant.

“Oops, sorry Toshi.” You took the hand that he offered, fixed your eyes on the tips of your shoes, tears pooled in your eyes. “It was an accident. Promise.”

He didn’t say anything, gentle hands tried to get the plant to stand, but the broken stem caused it to just fall back onto the soil. His face remained stoic and you couldn’t help but feel terrible, waiting for him to get mad at you. But he didn’t, he just stared at the broken plant, small hands tightly gripped the watering can handle.

He finally looked over at you, tears fell down your cheeks as you stood there, trembling.

He looked around until bright yellow and blue caught your eye, walking to the other side of the yard he picked up the volleyball, turning towards you. “Let’s play.”

A huge smile tugged at your lips before you eagerly agreed, running over towards him, this time just throwing your arms around him. Even though you do most of the talking and he’s usually just going along with one of your various demands, Wakatoshi always seemed to know how to make you feel better. After all, you had both promised to be best friends forever.

* * 2010– 16 years old

You let out a sigh, tugging at the purple tie around your neck before glancing out the window. For some reason that day just won’t end, each minute creeping by at a snail-pace, but the blur of green catches your eye. You watch at Ushijima walks through the courtyard, carrying some large box for a teacher who seems to be repeatedly thanking him and you can’t help but smile.

The Ushijimas have been in your life since before you were even born, both of your dads had attended Shiratorizawa Academy back in the day and never really lost contact, even when Utsui moved overseas. Unlike Ushijima, you have a younger brother who’s five years younger than you, but most days the two of you would be found together, usually with either him suggesting volleyball or him just dragging his feet to follow after whatever you wanted to do.

The bell finally rings, signaling the lunch break and you eagerly pack up your books before grabbing your bag and heading out to the courtyard. At first you were worried about school, wondering how you’d be able to fit in, but you ended up going to the same schools with Ushijima and even if you’d only get a small head nod, you still knew he was there. The downside was the amounts of classmates that would try to use you to get close to him, those confessing their crushes for him to you in hopes you’d spread it along with a good word. Not to mention the lack of confessions you’d receive due to the intimidating aura that surrounded Ushijima and the well-known fact you two were close.

“Y/N!” Your best friend, Ren, smiles as she waves you over to your usual table. Ren is one of the only girls who hadn’t tried to get you to talk them up to Ushijima, her sight is set on Yamagata Hayato.

“You okay? You look tired.” Tensei asks, sitting across from you, unscrewing the bottle of juice in his hand.

“The day just feels like it’s dragging for some reason.” You let out a small yawn, excusing yourself as you start to eat the lunch you packed.

“Are you—” Ren starts before she’s interrupted, a random second year coming up to your table.

“Hey, L/N-san,” she starts, “is Ushijima seeing anyone?”

You want to roll your eyes, to let out an agitated sigh and tell her to just leave, but you don’t because it’s not entirely her fault that you get asked this frequently. You couldn’t blame her, he was easy on the eyes, but it didn’t stop part of you from getting a tad bit jealous.

“He’s actually in a committed relationship with Mizuna.” Tensei says, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Or was it Misaka?” Ren teasingly add, watching the second year cross her arms as she storms off.

“You two are trouble.” You laugh, taking a bit of the sandwich you brought, “what are you gonna do when she figures out they are sporting brands?”

“I doubt it. She’ll probably spend the rest of the term trying to figure out which year and class they are in.”

You just shake your head, completely entertained by that idea, mentally noting to use that next time someone asked you about Ushijima’s relationship status. Ren and Tensei are talking about something, but your focus shifts to Ushijima as you see him and Tendou walking through the courtyard, missing the smirk that your two friends share.

“Y/N,” you snap your attention to Ren, “speaking of Ushijima, when are you two going to date?”

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but when you try to breathe in, it’s an icy sensation like winter air. The topic has come up before, several times in fact, but why did this time feel different? You feel your cheeks heat up when Ushijima makes eye contact, he throws up a hand, the closest anyone gets to a wave from him.

“You guys would make a good couple.” Tensei adds, getting an encouraging nod from Ren.

“We’re just friends.” You wave them both off, hoping they’d let it go.

Ren shrugs, “I don’t know. He looks at you differently than everyone else.”

You feel your heart start to thump against your chest, the heat from your cheeks rising to your ears and all you can hear is your racing heart. Did he? Was there a chance that maybe he felt the same way you had? It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s handsome or that even if he’s not the brightest academically, he makes up for it with his athletics.

It never bothered you when you had to help him study, in fact you preferred it because the little crease he got between his eyebrows when he was determined to get something, it was one of your favorite sights. You just never bothered to voice those feelings, hoping that maybe it would help things hurt less when he started dating someone else.

** “Y/N~”

“Tendou!” You jump up from the spot you’ve been sitting outside the gym, wrapping the middle blocker into a hug.

“Have you been out here the whole time? It’s cold, Y/N!”

You give him a sheepish smile, “I forgot my jacket and was waiting for Toshi.”

Tendou shakes his head before tightening his hug around you, he’s warm and you try to soak up the heat. “Ushijima, give me your jacket.” “You have yours on, why do you need mine?” “Just hand it here.” Tendou leans his head backwards to see Ushijima, “please~”

Unfazed, the wing spiker slips out of his jacket, handing it over. Tendou takes it and drapes it over your shoulders, it practically swallows your smaller frame.

“Thanks,” you mumble, basking in the warmth the oversized jacket brings you, your nose burying into the collar as you take in Wakatoshi’s scent. Your eyes widen when you realize what you’re doing, the heat you felt at lunch covering your face again.

“Y/N?” The tall olive-brown haired boy calls out to you and you slowly peak around Tendou, who has a mischievous grin on his face.

“Hey there, Toshi!” You grip the strap of your bag a bit tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, I’d have given you my jacket before practice.” There’s a flicker of concern in his eyes as he walks closer to you.

“I was fine, really.” You smile up at him before Tendou announces his departure leaving just the two of you. It’s not an uncommon situation, you grew up together but for some reason ever since lunch, just the topic of Ushijima leaves you a mess. Ren’s comment from lunch running through your mind repeatedly.

He looks at you differently than everyone else.

“Ren said we should date.” You tell him, laughing as you recall the conversation. The walk to your dorms is rather peaceful, the two of you exchanging highlights of your day, er well more of you talking about everything that happened while Ushijima listens.

“Okay.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s date then.” Ushijima says matter-of-factly, before he leaves you standing in front of your dorm, dazed and confused, as he heads towards his.

** Your eyes are closed, sleep still weighing them down as you sling your bag over your shoulder, opening the door of your room to head out. But you stop abruptly when you feel yourself run into something, or rather someone and looking up confirms it’s Toshi.

“Uh—” You’re at a loss for what to say, this wasn’t something that happened…ever. Sure, you’d both would sometimes hang out in each other’s rooms, but he never just showed up to yours first thing in the morning.

“Good morning, Y/N.” His voice is his usual even tone which confuses you even more because Ushijima didn’t do anything without a reason, everything had purpose.

“Toshi?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, “don’t take this the wrong way, but uhm, why are you here?”

“Tendou said people in relationships do things like walking to classes and such together. Should I not have come?”

For the first time in 10 years, Ushijima looks unsure and even a bit nervous which is new to you. He’s always put together on the court and at school that it’s almost refreshing to know this was as nerve-wracking for him as it is you.

“I like that you came.” You smile up to him, closing your door before you both begin walking down the hallway. The warmth his hand brings yours causes your heart to thump against your ribs, his larger hand embracing yours. “Tendou tell you about that too?” “No, I figured this out on my own.” He clears his throat, looking away from you but slow enough for you to catch the faint blush under his eyes.

** A month had passed since you and Toshi started dating before you had been able to go home and tell both sets of parents. You felt that a phone call would’ve sufficed, if you were honest, Toshi’s mom scared you a bit, but he persuaded you that in person was better.

The first half of the dinner is awkward, the atmosphere feels heavy around you as you engage in simple small talk about your studies and clubs, luckily for you Toshi had lots to say about volleyball and took over the conversation.

“Anything new in your lives?” Toshi’s mom gave you a look and you could’ve swore that she already knew.

“Actually, Y/N and I are dating.” Toshi’s tone is flat and even, throwing you off on how he just continues eating after dropping such a bomb. It wasn’t lost on you that his family still has traditional views and part of you wonders if you’re good enough to fill the spot at his side. A comforting hand is placed on your thigh, as if he’s read your mind and you smile to yourself.

“That’s wonderful news.” His mother smiles, turning to yours before they start discussing officially announcing the relationship (whatever that meant) and how it was about time the two of you got together. Listening to them going on and on about things made a lot of your worries fade away, it was a relief that they both were so onboard with the relationship.

* * 2011 – 17 years old

It’s been a year since you started dating Ushijima and it’s been a lot different that you thought it would be, not that you thought about it that much. And while things didn’t seem to change all that much, they changed completely. You weren’t just two friends walking to classes, but a couple. You weren’t just watching his matches like a childhood friend, but as a supportive partner.

When you had thought of dating, of being in a relationship, there was always the anticipation of getting to know your partner, but with Ushijima, you don’t get that. With Ushijima, it’s just seeing what you’re always known within a different light, but somehow that makes you feel like he’s ‘The One’ because how romantic is it to fall in love with the one who has been by your side for as long as you can remember? Even with the deep level of comfort you two share, your face still heats up when he reaches down to grab your hand, when he leans to kiss you goodnight and even when someone refers to him as your boyfriend.

* * “SHIIIIRATORIZAWA!!”

The beatings of drums and cheers of support fill the gymnasium, your voice getting hoarse from chanting as loudly as you can. For as long as you can remember, you attended Toshi’s volleyball games and somewhere during one of the games you found yourself truly loving the sport. Nothing really changed now that you were dating, other than the fact you seemed your swell up with even more pride when he hit spike or made a service ace and you were also seen sporting one of his spare athletic jackets with a simple purple shirt.

There was just something special about seeing the person you love doing something they’re so passionate about that make it impossible to not smile the whole time you’re watching them.

“You two are the cutest couple!”

“Oh, thank you.” Even after a year, you still weren’t used to people commenting on your relationship, mostly because no other relationship was talked about as much as yours.

“Talk about a perfect match!”

Another classmate seems to appear out of nowhere, adding the other comments, “I’m so jealous!”

You try to drown out their conversation, not wanting to hear about their surface deep comments, but you can’t. Standing up you look at the court one more time, Ushijima clearly in his element, a few points away from taking not just the set, but the match. Then, for the first time since you started attending his matches, you left the game early.

** “So, Y/N, when’s the wedding?” Ren jokes, getting a glare from Tensei who wants to get back to the focus of their gathering: studying for their upcoming math exam.

“What?” There’s a lot more panic in your voice that you intended and you can’t help but feel your face burn with embarrassment. You grab your math textbook, trying to hide your face before either of them sees, but of course they do.

“You and Toshi, are you planning to get married out of high school? Or waiting until after college?”

“Clearly Y/N wants to get back to studying. You remember, the whole reason we are here?” Tensei side eyes Ren before shaking his head. The two start to bicker back and forth, arguing about if breaks are really needed during studying or if they just cause unnecessary distractions that derail the whole point.

Your thoughts have you far from their debate and more so on what Ren asked. Marriage, it wasn’t like you didn’t think about it happening…eventually. But lately the whole concept, even the word alone has you on edge.

Back when you first started dating, you two were quick to share the news with your families and while you had a feeling they assumed this would happen eventually, they still seemed thrilled. Part of you could barely contain your happiness that your relationship had been accepted so quickly, knowing from movies and books you’ve read, not all relationships get family support. Another part of you was filled with a sinking feeling, a fear that eventually as your relationship grew and matured, the expectations from your families would increase, and they were doing just that.

Just a few weeks ago, you heard both of your mothers talking about it between themselves, seemingly making plans without any consideration of you or Toshi’s feelings. After that it left you wondering about your future and how your plans would fit into the heavy expectations the Ushijimas seemed to already have. Remembering the almost pitying laugh Toshi’s mother had given when you mentioned going to college and how she was quick to remind you that someone had to be the stay-at-home parent with children and Toshi couldn’t since he had a promising future in volleyball.

** “Happy birthday, Y/N!” Ren, Tensei and Tendou shout at you, crossing the courtyard to get closer to the table you were sitting at. Embarrassment crept across your skin, feeling like everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you, something you hated.

“Thanks.” You give them all a tight ‘please never do that again’ smile which just makes them laugh.

“Y/N.”

The voice causes you to quickly turn and you see Toshi standing there, a slightly obnoxiously large bouquet in his hand and you wish you hadn’t felt so embarrassed over your friends because now you definitely knew people were looking.

It had been a while since you and Toshi had gotten together for more than ten minutes, his schedule had gotten busier, you couldn’t remember when he was ever this busy before. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he remembered your birthday and gotten you something.

“Toshi!” You throw your arms around him, smiling even more when he tells you happy birthday, loud enough for just you to hear.

Comments about how cute you two were, how great a relationship you had start to fill the courtyard and while you usually get sick of hearing it, it reminded you that you didn’t have much to complain about. Sure, Toshi’s schedule seemed to get busier every day, but he still carved time out for you and that’s what really mattered.

* * 2012 – 18 years old

You look up and towards the door when you hear the bell ring, hoping that it’s Toshi. The two of you agreed to meet up at a café before seeing a movie, he was running a bit late because he had a meeting with Coach Washijō. A deep sigh leaves you as you realize that it’s not Toshi and instead you are still alone.

DING!

Toshi: Coach Washijō wants me to meet with some alumni players. (12:31PM) Toshi: I can’t make it today. (12:32PM)

You should’ve seen it coming, honestly. He has always been a force in the volleyball circuit, but with graduation coming up and professional scouters about, he seems to be in even more demand. You are proud of him, proud of all he’s accomplished, but as his partner, you felt like you were just getting the short end of the stick most of the time.

** “I’m all yours today, I promise.” Toshi says, standing at your room door, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You can’t help but smile, you’re still upset about yesterday, but you know he’s trying and that the small amount of free time he actually gets, he spends with you. You step aside and let him in and he takes a seat in your desk chair, even after years of being friends and almost two years of dating, he refuses to just sit on your bed. He really could be a huge dork sometimes.

“Did you have something in mind?” You wrap your blanket back around you, originally planning to spend your free Sunday catching up on shows you missed.

“Anything you want to do, I owe you.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you jump up, rushing into the bathroom. “Face masks!”

He nods, “whatever you want.”

** You look over at your calendar that’s hanging on the wall, today’s date is circled and you feel a little silly for being so upset. Today marks two years with Toshi, but for what felt like the hundredth time this month, you were in your room alone. He had sent flowers and a small gift, of course, he never missed sending something on anniversaries, birthdays or other holidays, but coming second to volleyball was getting old.

The part of you that is petty wants to think Coach Washijō is doing it on purpose, but what did you think would happen when dating one of the top 3 aces in Japan? Still, you just thought this time could be different. Then you were hit with an overwhelming feeling that this would be your life. At least your life if you ended up staying with Toshi. He would go pro, you knew that and with his family’s traditional ways, you’d end up staying at home with children your mothers had envisioned for you, not bothering to ask either of you what you wanted.

Waiting, that’s what their future held for you, just waiting for him to come home. And just like yesterday and today, every day would just feel the same.

Did you want that?

There was nothing wrong with those who wanted that life, but it wasn’t ever what you thought yours would be. You wanted to go to a good university, to join the career field you dreamed of and definitely saw traveling in that future.

What’s worse that the feeling of a bleak future is knowing if you told Toshi, he’d do anything he could to fix it. And what’s worse that that is the feeling that while you love him so much you could feel it deep in your bones, a future without him was more desirable that one with him.

How could a relationship that seemed so perfect to everyone around you, feel so wrong to those in it?

** “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

Finals were just around the corner and Toshi had thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to visit home, not to mention being at home meant less volleyball obligations and more time he could spend with you.

“I don’t think things are going to work out with Toshi.”

The room stilled, though you’re sure if it had been a movie scene, the glass vase in her hands would’ve shattered as it hit the ground.

Yesterday when you two got home, both your parents had been acting strange, so happy that it was like they were floating. It wasn’t until later in the night when you met up with Toshi for a walk that he told you his mother mentioned you two getting engaged, dropping not subtle hints of a post-graduation proposal.

The ground fell from beneath you, all the air in your lungs being sucked out, the only thing saving you was how Toshi told you that he didn’t agree with her plans. That you two should be the ones discussing it, not your parents and that his focus on volleyball blurred out things like proposals and weddings. Even with those words, you still knew how hard it would be for family-oriented Wakatoshi to go against his family; the thought of how different he would be if his dad had raised him crossed your mind.

“Whatever the problem is, I’m sure you can fix it.”

You snort, how cliché for her to blame you. “I just don’t know if our futures line up. We both want such different lives.’

She finally turns to face you, her jaw clenched, “nonsense, you two are perfect together.”

Perfect.

That word has long been on a list of words you hate, one you are tired of hearing, sick of being called that when you know it was far from true. By definition, it means having desirable qualities or characteristic, something that was as good as it could possibly. If you tried hard enough to see your relationship from an outsider’s perspective, maybe after you squint hard enough you could see it. Could understand why perfect was used, how great things looked. You had a boyfriend who would try to move the sun for you if you asked, one who did his best to be there for you and see every chance he got, on the surface level you really had nothing to complain about.

But on the inside, you were two ships passing in opposite directions. Maybe it was true that some relationships are just too good to be true, that some people are better as just friends, that some friendships can’t last when changed to a relationship.

** “Y/N~”

You look over to see Tendou practically skipping towards you, a smile on his face while he wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Tendou!”

“What’s wrong?” He lets go of, taking the empty seat beside you. You had been sitting on a bench, hoping some fresh air could clear your head. It was just a few days until graduation and the looming expectations of both families started weighing down more, plus Toshi was even more busy with volleyball since word got out that he had gotten a few offers already, so you didn’t have anyone to really talk to about it.

“Nothing. Just tired.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know Tendou doesn’t believe you. He had an uncanny ability to pick up on things like that.

“Tell me, Y/N.”

That’s all it took for you to finally break, the mix of the gently words and his soft tone. He listened as you tell him about Toshi’s traditional family (most of which he already knows) and the over the top expectations both your families seem to have.

How a future together seems more like a nightmare than a dream come true but not because you don’t love him, maybe because you love him too much. Love him so much that you don’t want him pushed into some life just or being with you. And by the time you finish up by telling him how it’s been hurting you to hold everything in, not wanting to burden Toshi, you are in tears.

** “Can we talk, Y/N?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. Graduation had been a week ago and since coming home, your parents (namely mother) had been discussing wedding plans and wondering just when Toshi would pop the questions, so it’s no surprise when they light up when seeing it’s him at the door.

He takes your hand, gently squeezing when he feels you flinch, the notion instantly calming you. He motions for you to sit on a bench in the nearby park that you’ve been walking towards, but when he sighs, you start to worry.

“I spoke to Tendou a few days ago and he helped me understand a few things.” “Toshi, I—”

He holds up a hand, “please let me talk first.”

You nod, noting a small crack in his voice as he squats in front of you, taking your hands.

“My life has always been volleyball, it’s what I’m good at and I know that being a boyfriend isn’t something I’m good at. But even with that, you still carried our relationship even when you stopped being happy.” He keeps his eyes focused on your hands, leaving you to look at the top of his head. “Now It’s time for me to take the burden from you and I’m okay with being the bad guy if it means that you’ll smile like you used to. So, Y/N, will you break up with me?”

You burst into laughter and tear, knowing that he must’ve been given that words from Tendou and practiced them ‘because it didn’t sound like him. “Our parents are going to be disappointed.” He shrugs, “I’ll blame volleyball.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, the sleeve of your sweater gets a bit damp. “It hurts because I love you so much.”

He grabs your wrists, tugging you into his chest, the calming scent of his body wash soothes you. “I love you too.”

“Is it selfish to ask if we can still be friends?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, fresh tears pricking your eyes. How was it fair that two people who love each other so deeply, just weren’t meant to be? You didn’t have a breakup to compare this one too, but you didn’t think anything else could ever hurt this much.

“I believe someone declared we’d be friends forever. I might have been a bad boyfriend, but I think I’m a good friend.”

Smiling, you look at him, he wipes the tears away with his thumb, his hand cupping your cheek. “I don’t think you were a bad boyfriend, just a busy one.” “You were a perfect girlfriend.” He stands up, pulling you to your feet as well.

“I can still come to your games, right? Having an ex wouldn’t be too weird?” “No. I’ll always need my number one fan.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Interested in the rest of the series? --> Series Masterlist

Interested in other works? --> Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #haikyuu au #haikyuu ushiwaka #hq fluff #hq angst #my three loves #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #ushijima x gn!reader #haikyuu mini series #kaitycole MTL #the love that feels right #hq first love

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kagedaddy · 3 years

Text

you hangout - haikyuu!

Warnings: none

boyfriend scenarios [3] [masterlist]

miya atsumu

It had been happening for a week now, since you were the ‘girlfriend’ of the great Miya Atsumu it was expected of you to sit and watch your all so ‘lovely boyfriend’ at his practice.

At first you didn’t want to waste your time sitting until he finished practice but it soon became enjoyable, the boys warmed up to you and treated you nicely.

They were definitely a fun bunch to hang out with and they love to tease Atsumu.

The last bell for the end of class rings and you gather your things, you knew Atsumu was already outside your classroom from the fangirling of all the girls. You push your way past them and you’re met with the sight of Atsumu leaning on the wall ignoring all the fangirls around him.

“Miya-senpai!”the girls bombard him, clinging on his arm and screaming in his face, you catch the setter’s eye and he sighs in relief. His arms finds your waist and he leads you to the direction of the gym leaving the crowd of girls whining at him.

“Aww why so grumpy Miya-senpai?”you imitate his fangirls and he groans in response, you burst out into a fit of giggles. “You don’t have to meet me at my classroom, I’ll head to the gym myself.”you crane your neck to look at the male whose face was still annoyed.

“But they’ll still annoy me at least if you’re around they’ll back off.”

Once you enter the gym, you take your usual spot at the benches while Atsumu gets ready, the other members of the Inarizaki volleyball club greet you. Atsumu checks on you from time to time, since he basically dragged you into watching him but it was more so the fangirls wouldn’t swarm the gym.

Since the team didn’t have a manager you make yourself useful by filling up their water bottles and setting out their towels, it was also a good way to kill time.

It was break time for the boys and you hand them each their water bottles and towel to help them dry off. You return to your seat and the boys start to crowd you, Atsumu takes the seat next to you and Kita on you other side.

You pull your bag and bring out the snacks you had purchased for the boys,”(last name), you are a God sent,”Aran grabs a packet of snacks, Osamu following as well as Kita and Suna who all hum in contentment.

“Isn’t my girlfriend the best!”Astumu’s sweaty arm slides on your shoulders,”eww you’re so sweaty, to away!”you swat his arm away and he pouts at you. You take the spare towel and run is over his forehead and his arms. He smiles and you can’t stop the blush tinting your cheeks, so handsome up close.

don’t forget (first name) this relationship isn’t real.

You shake your head and Atsumu throws his arm over you again, you slightly lean into him and listen on to the random ramblings of the team, at one point Osamu’s shoe connects with Atsumu’s head.

Practice had finally ended and you assisted the coaches with their paperwork and returned the volleyballs, you stand by the side waiting for Atsumu to finish but all of a sudden you were cornered by the team.

It was quite intimidating, they were tall muscular men, they bowed to you and chorused.

“(last name) be our manager”

miya osamu

You were invited over to the Miya household by the grey haired twin, you both had a practical exam on the five French mother sauces. You weren’t good but Miya Osamu offered to help you in mastering them.

Who were you to turn down such an offer.

You ring the doorbell and after a few seconds the door opens but it’s not the Miya twin you expected,”I’d appreciate if yah fangirls didn’t come to my house,”the blonde twin sighs but you look at him in confusion, you weren’t here for him.

Did you look like his fangirls?

“Oh, I’m sorry Miya-san I’m no-”you try to tell the male but he proceeds to shoo you away,”Tsumu-baka! I invited her,”the poor blonde is senting flying by his grey haired counterpart and you had to stifle a laugh at the comical scene.

“I apologise (last name) you had to deal with my idiot of a twin,”he lets you in the house, it had a homely feel to it. You remove your jacket and shoes before he leads you to the immaculate kitchen, you knew it was well looked after by him.

“Here yer go.”he hands you a black apron with the words ‘Mr. Good lookin is cookin’ you raise an eyebrow at the taller male in amusement. “My mom got it for me!”he flushes in embarrassment as he turns away from you, you giggle at Osamu’s flustered state. “That’s cute!”

You tie the apron around yourself and you both begin making the French sauces, the tomato sauce was the easiest to make but once you got to the béchamel it was hard just like attempting to pronounce the damn word.

“Are you having trouble?”Osamu side glances at you as you try to add more flour to get the consistency right but it wasn’t doing anything,”yeah a little bit,”you sheepishly say, rubbing your cheek in frustration.

He stops what he’s doing and stands behind, you freeze and blush a dark red. This is a too intimate position, you’re both standing so close to each other, this is not alright your heart beats wildly in your chest.

He takes your right hand and guiding as you stir the mixture, his breathes fans on your ears when he speaks and you can’t control the shiver running down your spine. You became more clumsy than usual.

After you both somewhat mastered the sauces you were both a mess as well as the kitchen, there were ingredients all over the place. You quickly help him clean up, bumping into each other occasionally causing you to turn pink.

“Uhm, thank you for helping me today.”

herro herro! i’m in a better mood, been working out and burying myself in my work. i’m looking into starting a journal but i don’t know how to, if you have any advice shoot me a dm. if you enjoyed the post today leave a like and comment, thanks. have a great day!

my twitch

all the love xx

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tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar · 4 years

Text

Post It's

Pairing: JJ Maybank x You

Summary: JJ and you both work at the hotel. Never meeting each other, you leave notes on the others locker.

Word Count: 1,787

Warning: Fluff that's its tooth rooting.

Note: Knowing that JJ works as a bus boy in the show and seeing how well he looked in episode 5, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Tumblr was keep messing up as I was writing this so I'm going to post this and throw my phone out of my bedroom window now :) I hope you love it! :)

━━━

"DON'T EAT SOMEONE ELSE'S LUNCH!"

"Or what? ;) - JJ"

"I'll end your whole career. Side note: I found out who ate my PB & Jelly sandwich and it wasn't you so don't get any idea's now. - Y/N"

━━━

JJ bullshit his way through the hiring process. It might not be his dream job, but it was easy. He had to do something when he realized he had to grow and man up. His father didn't teach him that. His the reason.

The small tips he gets from all the older women after he gives them more attention than their husband's - they're either on 'work' call or still playing a game of golf - doesn't hurt. It's adds up quick. He normally buys more groceries for him and John B as an unspoken thank you for letting him basically live with him. Then he treats himself with new weed. He needs it after surrounded by Kooks and playing the part of a little bitch for them.

As soon as he clocks out for the day, he undo the tie harshly. That's another thing he hates about this job - the uniform. White button up long sleeves, black dress pants with black dress shoes. If it's a morning and evening shift, the finish touch is a black vest. For nights, it's a black tie. Even if he is only walking around to give people refills, asking if they're doing fine, and cleaning up afterwards, his hair must look well put together.

He is unbutton his shirt when he stops in front of his locker. He's smiling at the post it on his locker before he even reads it. He knows who it's from.

It started a month ago. Someone left a message taped on the fridge in the break room for everyone to read. He knows he didn't have to, but he wrote down a response on the piece of paper. He wasn't expecting one back. When the front and back got filled up, he started looking for the same name on a locker. He left a post it note.

He reads the newest one on his locker.

"Fun fact of the day: you're reading this. - Y/N"

He rolls his eyes. He pulls it off and opens his locker, grabbing his normal clothes to go change. He adds it to the pile with the others.

JJ decides to stop at use book store. When a co-worker asks him if he is back for extra hours, he says no. He's carrying a shopping bag.

━━━

Your morning doesn't start on a good note. Your mind wakes you up ten minutes after your alarm should've gone off. You didn't plug in the charger all the way last night, so you're phone is at 14%.

Somehow you get to work on time. You notice you forgot your nametag.

At least there's a new post it on your locker.

"Funny. Not. Look inside and thank me later ;) PS. Don't write your new comb on the back of your lock again. - JJ"

You curse at yourself underneath your breath. You start laughing when you read the title of the book he left for you.

"365 Jokes For Kids: A Joke A Day Book."

You put it in your bag and grab your clear water bottle before closing your locker to clock in.

━━━

The giant clock on the wall taunts you. Only ten more minutes until your break and you can finally eat something.

From the dinner-room area a cute blonde starts walking towards you. By his outfit, you can't help to silent pray that he isn't a boy on a vacation and just knows how to look hot as hell all dressed up. Underneath a black vest, the long white button up shows off his muscles and the sleeves are rolled up, which is just another level of attractiveness itself, and his legs look long and firm in the dress pants. It's his hair that got your attention in the first place and now you can't help to watch as he pulls it, running his fingers through it.

Checking out cute guys all day is definitely a perk for you. Sitting behind a desk all day and being first person people see as they walk in, helping them check in or out, and answering calls is not how you wanted to spend your summer.

Last month your dad pulled some strings over a game of golf to land you this job. He sounds like a robot every time he tells you that you need to work your ass off to get the money you deserve. How is this doing that?

You get out of you thoughts when the cute blonde doesn't go in front of the desk. Instead you have to spin your chair sideways. He learns over the pull-up door and does a hand gesture, telling you to come over. You do.

"Hey."

"Hi?" It comes out as a questin since you're confused as to why he is keep looking back at the dinner room. He seems like he is afraid of getting caught. "Can I help with you something?"

"Can you make an announcement? Over the speaker loud enough for all they to hear?" He looks over again and points.

"It all matters about what you want me to say."

"Say that it's hard as fuck for me to do my job when lil Satan's are running around and how great it would be if parents tell them to stop before I do. I can't get written up or life my job because of them."

You try to hide your excitement when you find out he works here. He's not wearing a nametag. You know that it's only bus boys who don't. Briefly, you wonder if he knows JJ.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could but I can't. Parents will come up and start yelling at me that I should keep my mouth shut and thoughts to myself."

He clenches his jaw and mumbles, "yeah. Right, of course."

"When I come back from my lunch, you can-uh everytime you want to lose your shit, look over here, and I'll give you a thumbs up for not killing someone. Especially the kids."

His laugh makes you wish he is JJ.

Someone comes from behind him to release you. He doesn't say anything before walking away.

But later, you lose track on how many times he looks over at you and mouths, "help me".

━━━

The next day on his day off, he gushes over the front desk girl to his friends. "She made me not want to hurt a room of kooks. I think she has superpowers or some shit."

Kiara takes a hint of his blunt. "I'm kinda jealous, not going to lie. What's her name? I need her to tell how she did it after talking to you for only a couple of minutes when I've been your friend for years."

"I don't know. She wasn't wearing a nametag and I forgot to ask." Pope slaps him on the back of the head. "You forgot or worried she wasn't Y/N?"

"Oh my god!" Sarah squeals, "What if the front desk girl is also post it girl?"

JJ chokes on the hit he was taking. "Life doesn't work like that." For me. He thinks to himself. He makes eye contact with John B. Curse him for being able to read him.

"I think it's time to ask Y/N meet up, dude."

━━━

When he walks through the front doors, he catches himself getting upset seeing someone else at the front desk. He still waves and says good morning. On the door of the back room, there's a sign.

"MANDATORY STUFF MEETING WEDNESDAY, IN THE LOBBY AT 6PM"

On the very bottom, he notices Y/N handwriting.

"Looks like we'll finally meet. ♡ - You Know Who"

He kicks the door open.

━━━

He is still thinking about the stupid little heart when a waiter calls him to come over towards the kitchen. "Can you bring this to the front desk?"

"This isn't a drive in restaurant- you know what? I shouldn't be surprised and know not to ask stupid questions." He salutes the waiter and grabs the bag.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The front desk girl is now there, talking on the phone and writing stuff down. When she feels someone looking instantly at her, she looks up. She smiles and gives a small wave.

JJ cringes at himself and tries to not trip over his own two feet. He puts down the bag, and looks at everything and anything but her as he waits for her to finish the call. When she does, he quickly states, "Someone ordered food to get pick-up."

"Ah yes, Mr. Hough. He called saying he was carving for some of the all you can eat bread rolls."

When she says the name, it's like a lightbuld goes over his head as he remembers. He doesn't listen to the rest of what she says.

Before he can ask, the phone is ringing. "I should answer." She smiles and it makes him feel a tug in the corner of his mouth. "See you at the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah. I should go back to working too."

━━━

Your eyes go wide when the cute blondie sits next to you at the same time the manager says the meeting will begin shortly.

"Hey, how are you?" You ask after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Fine." He splits out.

"Doesn't sound like it." You cross your arms against your chest. He doesn't say anything, only rolls his eyes and takes his red snapback hat off. In the corner of your eye, you watch him pull on the loose trends.

Grabbing your bag off the ground, you open it to see what you can do to pass the time like him.

"Holy shit."

You look up at him, confused. You notice he is staring at the joke book JJ gave to you. With the way he makes eye contact with you, you can tell that he is nervous.

But why would he-

"Oh my god."

"JJ, Y/N." Both of almost get whip flash to look and listen to your manager. "Pay attention please."

━━━

You're going through all the post it's in your locker, dropping some when an arm wraps around you and your boyfriend. He kisses your cheek. "Are you ready?"

"To meet your friends? I'm kinda nervous. But you've told me so much about them that I already feel like I know them."

"Trust me, they'll say the same thing about you. Ignore the names they call you."

━━━

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly. - JJ"

"That's the cheeses thing you have ever said. Say more. - Y/N."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist: @harrysbbby @sunflowerbecca @latenitewolves @outrbank @katerosexx

#jj outer banks imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj x you #jj one shot

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postapocalyptic-cryptic-hold · 3 years

Text

Writing Tips: Armor Edition

Good lord, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Regardless, what follows is a non-comprehensive, entirely subjective list of advice on how to write characters with armor. This is based on my own experience with hockey equipment and is largely geared towards Star Wars Mandalorian-style armor (including clones and storm troopers), but could hypothetically be helpful to anyone.

If it's your armor, it's going to be so comfortable you won't even know it's there.

Actually, on that note, you'd notice right away if something was different. You'd also be thrown off by the absence of the armor, either in part or in its entirety.

When you wear armor a lot, you don't need to think about putting it on. It's instinctual.

It takes five minutes to put a set of armor on and fifteen minutes to bitch about it, catch up on locker room gossip, and realize that the insides of your boots aren't as dry as you thought they were.

Again with the putting on armor being instinctual thing... If you're distracted, worried, etc., it's not at all uncommon to forget a piece of your armor. You put it on in the same way every time, so sometimes your brain just... skips, and you end up with shinguards and no skates.

There are several ways to put on any given set of armor. It's a pretty flexible process, but there are some things that have to be done in a certain order.

That being said, everyone has their own "right" way of putting on armor. It usually doesn't vary much within a team or squad, but get a bunch of strangers together and you can bet your ass someone will start a fistfight over the order you put your tops on in.

Armor usually has some sort of padding system inside, especially if it's stiff. This is the part that gets sweaty and gross. It does not dry quickly, but it does get cold and slimy quickly.

With the sweat thing, weearing armor for an extended amount of time gets gross. If you're working out, you're going to get hot really easily (example: 20F ice rink + 2 hour practice = 20 people complaining about how hot it is). There are always parts of your kit that get really itchy and sometimes, the best way to scratch is actually to hit. If your character is wearing a helmet, have them punch themselves in the head repeatedly to scratch an itch.

Even grosser, the sweat that accumulates has nowhere to go. Under a helmet, this means that it occassionally escapes captivity and runs down your face in CLEARLY VISIBLE streams that sting your eyes and taste gross. Under parts of the kit like shin gaurds, you will often find an accumulation of white slime on the skin, clothes, and armor. This is salt from your sweat. It's gross. It looks like ectoplasm.

If you've been working out and you take your armor off, you'll be visibly steaming.

Hair under helmets. GOD, this is always how you can pick out a writer who's never worn a helmet. Lots of people who wear helmets often will cut their hair short, but there's a set of rules to it. If your hair is long enough to tie up, it stays up. All the time. Best styles are low ponytails or braids, as anything too high will probably be uncomfortable under a helmet. The real thing to pay attention to, though, is short hair. If you've got a character with short hair, make sure it's short enough to stay FAR away from their face. Hair in your face is the #1 cause of insanity in helmet-wearers. Shit that's hanging around your ears or, God for-fucking-bid, your chin, is a major no-go.

Thick hair is also a fun thing with helmets. If you've got thick and/or curly hair, you'll need more helmet space for it. If you've got hair that's notoriously a problem, the helmet is going to turn it into snarls. When I had long hair, I would put it in two braids every time I put my helmet on. Every time I took it off, I had to cut the hair ties out.

Hair will also make you hot and itchy under your helmet. Some people will wear skull caps or some other form of tight hat under their helmets to prevent this. Then again, I had a teammate who regularly wore waist-length, THICK box braids under her helmet and never had a complaint. Some people are just built different.

Helmet hair is not cute and fluffy. It's a flat, greasy mess. That being said, the concept of helmet hair is hot, so please continue writing this as you wish.

Armor can be a pain in the ass, but ultimately, when you wear it all the time, you form a deep emotional connection to your kit. Obviously, this varies from person to person, but it almost always plays a key role in your identity and often revolves around themes such as safety, body image, pride, privacy, protection, or sense of unity/team/family. (Side note: depending on the character, armor can also be an expression on individuality, rank, affilitation, or superiority)

Armor smells really bad. That's all I'll say on that topic.

Actually, no it's not. Some people's armor smells REALLY bad. Like, extremely bad. It's a problem. Other people take really good care of their armor or magically don't sweat, so theirs smells better.

If your character is on the move a lot, they probably have some sort of bag for their kit. This bag will be full of the most random shit you can possibly imagine. Socks enter and never return. Some people carry around extra shirts. Isn't that my water bottle? Is that an orange or a rock?

Upgrading armor is a big deal. People agonize over what to get, where to get it, whether or not they can make it, how much it's going to cost, and whether or not to spend three months of pay on it for MONTHS.

Really old, ill-fitting, broken, or otherwise subpar pieces probably have a story to them. They might be good-luck pieces or a long-running joke. Sometimes, you just forget to buy a new jockstrap for four years (not that I would know from personal experience).

If your characters wear helmets a lot, they probably head-butt each other a lot. It's the easiest way to show affection through gear. Other ways include fist bumps, picking each other up by the back of the chest plate, and grabbing the front of someone's helmet (if there's a way to do that, of course). Fist bumps are less personal and helmet-grabs usually denote a superior-inferior relationship [think of it like "I could beat your ass" (affectionate)].

Some people like to keep their kit flawless. They don't like marks or dents. Other people (most people, actually) prefer the look of "broken in" gear. It's a mark of experience and also, it's actually kind of nervewracking to work with a new kit. No one wants to be the first one to scratch the $400 skates.

There will always be a piece of armor that pinches you. It's probably on your elbow.

There will always be a piece of your armor that comes unfastened. It's probably on your elbow.

Loose armor is much harder to move in and much less protective than tight armor. It might seem counterintuitive at first, but you want the most form-fitting kit possible.

That's pretty much all I've got to say about armor. As always, if you've got something to add, don't be afraid to leave it in a reblog or comment. I hope you all enjoyed me once again turning my skating into writing advice!

#writing advice #postapocalyptic-cryptic's writing tips #writing tips #advice #armor #writing armor #armor kit #the clone wars #star wars #star wars writing #sw #tcw #swtcw #character building #worldbuilding #writblr #creative writing #hockey #okay i'm tired now

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asa-sauce · 4 years

Text

those forgotten things

❀ haikyuu!! x (ukai’s kid!) reader

flavor: honey mustard

warnings: none!

a/n: hi, sorry for the long wait! if you're coming from my tiktok, thank you for the continued support! i don’t know who the specific love interest is going to be, so for now it’s basically the entire karasuno team x reader.

note: ukai is your adoptive father. and this takes place at very very end of season 1/very beginning of season 2. you are 16.

+ Your dad, Ukai Keishin, forgets his water bottle at the convenience store before practice. You decide to bring it to him... Big mistake.

The bell on the door announces your presence with a gentle chime, and the cool air coming from the ancient air conditioner hits your face. It's a heavenly relief from the sizzling heat, and you thank heaven for the store being so close to school.

"Hi dad! I'm home!" You call out, but no answer comes.

"Where is he?" Misaki asks, head bobbing up and out like a buoy. There's a prep in her voice now, like a child at an amusement park.

"He's probably in the back or something, I don't know." There's no one else in the store.

She sets her heavy, multi-key chained school bag next to the chair, and you notice that the normally happy face of the plush bunny keychain is smushed against the table leg, smile distorted into a frown.

She starts her jaunty browsing around the store, weaving in and out of each aisle. You do the same, not knowing what you're in the mood for, and meet her at the candies and gum.

"Seriously, Y/n, how do you not find your dad attractive?" The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself quickly scanning the front of the store for any customer that might have just walked in. Did she really just ask that?

You swivel around in a slow, dramatic way, giving her an incredulous look that just about asks that question. She looks at you with that casual—but all too serious—charm, as if she had simply asked what the weather is going to be like tomorrow.

"'Cause he's my dad." She rolls her eyes, dissatisfied with the answer, then juts her head forward just enough to add more emphasis on her next words.

"But he adopted you. You aren't blood-related."

You stare at her. She can't be completely serious, right?

You and Misaki met last year on the first day of school. Meeting her was like something out of an anime. The rambunctious airhead meets the quiet, down-to-earth girl who just can't say no to people.

She literally proclaimed your friendship to the world on that first day of school.

So this: her apparent infatuation for your dad, is very far out there, yes. Yet in retrospect, it's nothing beyond her character.

"Jeez, you're weird," you say, deciding to smile it off. You turn to grab a neon blue bag of chips from the shelf beside you. Misaki laughs, head thrown back, in a maniacal way, and disappears behind the aisle end. "Did you get your food yet?"

"Yeah." She's chosen a popsicle today, already unwrapping it while she continues to peruse the aisles more, just for fun. Her fingers drag along the underside of each plastic price tag, making a clackclackclackclackclak sound that's almost ominous.

"How much is it?" You ask, to which she tells you. You go over to the cash register and take out the appropriate change from your wallet, placing each bill and coin into the correct spaces. Even though you're a member of the family-owned store, a business is still a business, and the small ones like this especially need anything and everything they can get to thrive.

Misaki sits at the table for a few minutes, and you guess that she's waiting for your dad to come back out. She's slouched over her brightly lit cellphone screen, her thumbs continually pattering as she responds to all her messages.

It's awkward.

Even though you and Misaki have gotten pretty close since meeting each other, those uncomfortable silences still sometimes appear.

But then she begins talking about a boy she's been texting these past few weeks, mostly talking it out with herself then seeking your advice. You give simple reactions, and comment when she expects it. A simple 'he did not!' or 'ugh!' will satisfy her.

Of course it's not all that one-sided. She talks, you listen; you talk, she responds. And quite frankly, you don't mind it.

But then the silence emerges once again, until she lets out a big, audible, intentional sigh and stands up.

"Well, I gotta head home, my mom's getting fussy about something again." She shoves her phone in the side pocket of her bag, short hair whipping around as she hoists her bag over her shoulder.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Misaki." You can feel the breath of relief beginning to grow inside your lungs as she collects her things and heads for the door.

"Yup. Tell your dad I said hello!"

"I will."

No you won't.

And with a final automated jingle of the door chime, she leaves. You wait until the white bunny keychain on her bag is no longer in view to release that breath of relief.

And then, you smile.

"Alright, dad! You can come out now!" you announce, your head tipped back towards the blue curtains. In a comical way, just the face of your father appears, with tufts of yellow hair sneaking out behind him. With his eyes wide he scans the room, side to side, searching for any trace of your friend.

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah, she is."

The rest of him appears then.

Ukai sits himself on the slanting, rickety stool behind the counter that is literally almost on its last legs, with his feet propped up. It's his way of "intimidating" all the "shitheads" that come through after school—is what he says.

You hop onto the counter, splitting open the chip bag. A puff of flavored air travels up into your nose.

"How was that English quiz today?" Ukai asks, catching a whiff as well while you pop the first chip into your mouth.

"Good. I got a 97." you reply after swallowing.

"That's my girl."

You hum in response, munching on another chip. Looking into the bag, you spot a wider, saltier chip that curls at one end. It takes up half the amount of chips, you realize as you take it. It should be a crime, you think, to fill up more than half of the bag with air.

"I'm gonna leave here a little earlier for practice tonight. A few of the boys wanted me to help them with a couple new combinations."

He swings his legs off the counter and sits up, mumbling something about wishing he had taken a nap before walking back into the house to change.

You go through the motions of unpacking your school bag, decideding to work on math first.

You spread your textbooks and papers out on the counter, an organized mess as you like to say, of calculus.

Your pencil moves rapidly across the page, the little flower charm on dangling back and forth with each squiggle.

Your dad leaves around ten minutes later, but not before giving you a quick kiss on the head. The sun is still high and proud, and has no intention to descend until an hour or more later.

It's your favorite time of day. The sun falls through the glass doors in a way that makes the entire world seem just a little more fanciful. It's usually quiet in the store, and after an entire day of constant conversations from you and those around, you can't help but yearn for these peaceful moments. It's entirely why you agreed to take over Ukai's shifts ever since he began coaching Karasuno's male volleyball team.

If anyone comes in at this hour though, they're likely to be a student from Karasuno, but in about five minutes the store's most frequent customer, Etsu, will stop by, and will no doubt be mewling for a meat bun.

You plop down on the seat behind the counter, taking a moment to your self to breathe. You tug at the base of your long ponytail, releasing your unruly hair from the confines of your hair tie. Although you aren't directly related to Ukai, over the years you've inherited parts of his look. One of those being your 'lion's mane' (as your grandmother calls it).

Ukai had adopted you when you were ten, but the six years you've known each other feel like sixteen. You don't remember much about your biological family, and for privacy reasons Ukai doesn't know any more than you do.

You have no harsh feelings towards them--no contempt or ill-wishes for leaving their own daughter. Of course, there are days when you wondered where they are, and what life might be like if they kept you.

Perhaps it is for the best, you always came to. Maybe it is meant to be this way, because at least the life you are living now with just your dad and grandparents is good. It's good—

You hear a dull chip as the lead snaps. It flies off to the side, leaving a small pencil marking etched into your paper. It's minor, but still an annoyance when deep in thought or concentration. Still, it's nothing that can't fixed with two pumps at the end of the pencil. You start over again, scribbling out the final numbers when familiar happy mewl grabs your attention. Before you can even look over, your cheeks lift into a smile.

"Hi, Etsu!"

It's a reaction that happens as soon as the sound reaches your ears. You set your pencil on your paper, math equations and theories slipping from your mind.

Etsu hops onto the counter, his blazing orange fur shimmering in the sunlight. Despite him being a stray, his fur is the softest thing on the planet. You hope he is a stray, because that's how you connected to him in the first place. Sometimes you wonder if he's had those long, quiet nights alone.

"You ready for a meat bun?" You say, sliding a hand back from his head to mid back. He anticipates your touch, always tilting his head up before you caress him again. The mewl he gives, so meek and mild, is what you understand to be a 'yes'.

And so you go over to the pork bun warmer and carefully pluck a bun from the middle shelf, trying your hardest not to touch the metal racks in between. There's still a little splotch of red on your hand from the last time you burned yourself.

The doughy flesh of the bun is warm under your fingertips, and droops slightly, heavy with pork. Steam escapes from every pore, and then, as you slice the bun open, it billows out.

The soft sounds of Estu enjoying his meal brings you a gratification that only comes on—again—during peaceful moments like these.

But as you watch him, you notice your dad's tall, black water bottle and cellphone sitting next to the rotary.

I should probably go and give it to him, you think, watching the bottle now instead of Etsu.

It's about four minutes walking distance from the store.

It wouldn't hurt.

"Nana! Dad left his water here. I'll be right back!"

You wait until you hear the warm, candied voice of your grandmother to leave the store. For a moment, a part of you misses the cool air conditioning.

****

As you enter the breezeway leading to the gym, you realize that you've never been here after school. There's a different vibe, you immediately notice; one that has your steps slowing.

You have never seen the boys your dad coaches. It's not like he forbade you from going to games; and it's not like didn't have any interest in the sport. It's just that you...never.. saw them practice.

You can hear the shoes squeaking and the ball slamming against the waxed floor. It's starts to sound like a horror movie soundtrack, in a weird way.

You peep your head in, carefully clutching the metal door frame.

Five boys, the ones your dad mentioned about earlier, are the first things to catch your eye. One of them, with hair as orange and fiery as Etsu's, is mid-air.

You spot your dad fifteen feet away to the left, arms crossed over one another, head tilted down and eyes wound up--his Focus Face, as you liked to call it. He's deep in his concentration, watching every move of the players on the court. You don't want to interrupt him, so you wait till one of the sides makes a point.

That point comes no sooner after you decide, and after it does, the boisterous cheers of the side closest to you fill the room. You take one step in, more confident, then another, till you're past the metal threshold.

"Dad?"

The man in question turns on instinct. He knows that voice. For fifteen years he's heard the sound of that word, the specific pitch and inflection. So he turns, void of any hesitation or forethought, only wondering why you're here a good few seconds after he sees your face.

Everyone else turns too. The word is so foreign in that environment it feels like slime against skin. The cheers stop. Even the ball stops rolling, and all eyes are on you.

"(Y/n)? What are you--" your father begins, still wide-eyed and surprised. They stay like that for only that moment, however, before returning to their sharp gaze. He turns to the boys, and says, "Excuse me for a second."

You meet him halfway as he walks towards you, neverminding the boys' stares. Haven't they ever seen a girl before? Wasn't that a girl standing right beside your dad?

"You forgot your water bottle," you half-whisper. The stares are getting to you, and you start to feel like you're being cooked alive. "I thought you might need it."

Behind him, a soft murmur lays low in the air. You're hyper-aware of it. What are they saying?

"Thanks, sugarplum." Your dad smiles, something that you know others rarely see, and takes the bottle.

You follow the same path back towards the doors, every now and then peaking glances back at the curious boys. They look kinda goofy, you think, just standing there like they had just witnessed a miracle, like the Lord Jesus Christ himself had come down from the heavens.

But as you turn the corner, a wall that wasn't there before blocks your path. It takes two seconds to register this, but in that first second, you're already colliding into it.

You stumble back, and so does the wall, giving you enough space to look up and see two eyes staring down at you. They're brown and wide with fear, as if had just broken an ancient artifact and was about to be executed.

A squeaky sorry tumbles from your lips at the same time he apologizes.

"Are you okay?" The wall--boy...man?--says. You're still in a daze, but lucid enough to give him a reassuring smile. You've seen him around before. You've never talked to him, but always feel bad that others perceived him as villainous or criminal. Deep down you he know has a kind soul... and a cute face.

"I'm fine! Don't worry about it."

"(Y/n)! You alright?" Your dad calls out from where he is, leaning over to see who you bumped into.

"Yeah! Everything's good!" You pip.

The wall in front of you shifts to the side, clearing the way for you to exit.

You walk with your head down all the way back home, afraid that anyone and everyone could see how red your face was.

God, that was embarrassing.

****

"Coach, was that your daughter?!" Tanaka says, almost teasingly. He's the first to break the silence, and has an apparent death wish.

Soft eyes go razor sharp again. No way was he going to let any one of those hormonal teenage boys near his precious daughter.

"Get back to work, Tanaka!" Ukai barks. All the color drains from Asahi's face, who is still standing by the doors.

"Wait, you mean... I just ran into your daughter?"

"It's okay, Asahi, don't worry about it."

"But...but..."

"Does she go to Karasuno?" Hinata asks over Asahi's blubbering, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yes, but don't you dare even think about--

"Is she a first year?"

"SHE'S A SECOND YEAR, FIRST YEAR, NOW GO GET READY FOR PRACTICE."

"Y-yes sir!"

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo #ukai keishin #ukai x y/n #ukai x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke #asahi azumane #haikyuu fanfiction

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imo-chan-imagines · 4 years

Text

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 5 』

· Sept. 29th → Habit is Second Nature ·

Characters: female!reader, Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi (+ bonus characters: Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Testurou)

Prompts: A. best character development + B. patterns and habits

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), PG, fluff, headcanons, patterns and habits, best character development

A/N: I haven't done any character x reader stuff for this challenge yet because I tend to do NSFW stuff. But I thought I'd do some fluffy stuff about the characters with the best development and their habits as your boyfriend! (Plus a couple of bonus boys, because I couldn't help myself!! 🥰)

All my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts will be SFW, but I have NSFW stuff on my blog too. Feel free to take a gander. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ Imo~

Haikyuu × reader / patterns and habits

☆ Kageyama Tobio ☆

Gets up at 5:30am to go for a run every morning but forgets to send you a 'good morning' text don't be upset, it just doesn't really occur to him

Gets all giddy when he receives one from you, though literally cannot stop smiling. Doesn't know what to do with himself

Often forgets his pencil case and comes by your class to borrow stuff

When he buys milk from the vending machine, he will start buying some for you as well without you asking he's trying to show he cares

Milk makes him happy, so it should make you happy too, right? 😭

Frowns and blushes when you start hugging and nuzzling him in public he'll start stammering, too, if you took him by surprise

But then he pouts when you stop 🤭

Is embarrassed about asking you to touch him my poor touch-starved baby 😭

Blushes and looks at the floor whenever he talks about something romantic or intimate

Leans his forehead against yours when he wants to express how he feels but doesn't know how I might be crying...

He loves hearing the sound of your voice, so he often falls asleep while in the middle of a late-night phone call with you you can hear the soft sound of his breathing through the receiver 😭😭

Writes down important dates you tell him because he just knows he's going to forget them

Discretely interlaces his fingers with yours when he feels vulnerable prOTECT HIM

Lots and lots of hugs from behind because eye contact can be a bit much for him, and he's sometimes nervous about you seeing his face

Can get angry and shout at you without warning when he's stressed or upset, and he feels terrible after

Writes out his apologies on reams and reams of paper and rehearses them a million times in front of the mirror but somehow still forgets most of it?

Smiles like a literal angel when he does something to make you happy that's all he wants, y'all 😭

Will try his best at everything, whether it's trying new things with you or doing the same old stuff he's always done

Nuzzles the back of your neck when you're spooning, and kisses his way across your shoulders and down your back as a way of saying, 'I love you and you're mine'

☆ Hinata Shouyou ☆

Says the cheesiest, most romantic things to you with a straight face, but blushes and hides his face when you return the favour

Bounces around the room when he's excited

Always asks you how your day was and is genuinely interested

Rests his head on your shoulder when you're sitting together

Shouts really loudly at random moments because of surprise/frustration/excitement/any sudden emotion, really 😅 gives you mini heart attacks

Always sneezes really fucking loudly??

Sends you adorable cat videos when he knows you've had a bad day

Subtly presses his leg against yours whenever you're sat together, especially when you're both supposed to be studying 👀

Wipes your cheeks and kisses the end of your nose whenever you've been crying

Sings in the shower because he thinks you can't hear him

Will give his gym towel to you with a smile whenever you get soaked in the rain rather than dry himself off

Treasures every little gift you get him

Is fine becoming a human hot water bottle by little-spooning every month when your period comes around he runs at a really high temperature, and actually really enjoys it. So cute 😍

Runs down the halls to your class every break to bring you your favourite drink from the vending machine

Loves sharing cakes with you and feeding each other it sounds cringy, but he makes it so cute and natural

Always pulls goofy faces when he Snapchats you

Leaves you cute voicemails when he wanted to talk to you but you're busy

Shows up unannounced at your house when he's troubled because he just really needs to see you

If he just sees your face, then he knows that it's somehow going to be alright

Y'all, I can't 😭😭🤧

☆ Tsukishima Kei ☆

Teases the crap out of you on a regular basis just to see you all pouty and frustrated

Pretends not to remember your birthday/anniversary/etc. every year so he can drop by your house later that day and surprise you with a gift

Pulls your cheeks when he thinks you're being too cute

Kisses the ends of your fingers when he wants to show affection but doesn't know how

Flicks your forehead whenever he thinks you're being stupid or irritating 🙄

Lowkey blushes every time he sees you cheering for him in the stands I SEE THAT LITTLE SMILE, TSUKKI

Makes you sit on his lap all the time for no good reason other than to tease you bruh

Often ends up taking the teasing too far and winds up feeling rotten because you're now genuinely upset

Sucks at applogies, but will always try to set it right if he's at fault, even if it's awkward

Gives the biggest, warmest hugs when he wants to which isn't much, but hey. Take what you can get

Always sends you a text to make sure you've got home safe, but it's never in those words. It's always under the guise of something else Tsukki, pLEaSE

Grumbles to himself out of jealousy whenever you show attention to other guys, especially his brother

Deliberately gives you his sweaters and hoodies to wear after a shower because he thinks it's super cute, but acts like it's nothing you ain't slick, Tsukki 🤣

☆ Yamaguchi Tadashi ☆

Reaches for your hand first whenever you're together

Nose and forehead kisses when he sees you in the morning

Hand-picks a bunch of flowers for you every Monday because he knows you hate Mondays 🥺🤧

Waits for you at the gate after school every day

Always stands up for you, no matter what he may be soft, but he's not a WUSS 😠

Asks to borrow your other earphone whenever you're listening to something

Wants to spoon with you whenever he's feeling down and you'll never refuse

Always arrives 15 minutes early for every date despite changing his outfit several times out of nervousness

Blushes in pride whenever he lends you his jacket because you're cold adorbs

Sends you little pick-me-up messages when you're busy so you can read them when you're free

Helps you tie up your hair for gym class, and is surprisingly good at making pretty hairstyles

Traces his fingers over your palms and other body parts whenever you're curled up together

Has your name saved on every social media and contact list as something cute like 'My Sunshine 💛' or 'My Honeybee 🐝'

Twiddles his hair around his finger a lot, especially when he's daydreaming about you let's hope he doesn't start balding 😭

Will rush to your class with an umbrella on rainy days in case you forgot one

Loves sitting on the swings with you whenever you pass them on the way home, and making you giggle by pushing you higher and higher

(Bonus boys)

☆ Bokuto Koutarou ☆

Sends a stream of soppy hype-texts every morning for you to wake up to

Will stop by your house and pick you up for school, even if you live literal miles away from him he just wants to see you

Grabs you by the waist and picks you up at least once a day, often in front of a crowd of people he's a fan of PDA

Peppers you with kisses when he sees you for the first time each day

Hypes you up to no end. Literally cannot sing your praises enough

Is constantly looking for compliments, and is not-so subtle about it

Gets easily depressed when you don't notice he did something differently etc.

Will kiss you in front of everyone when he wins a game and you come down to congratulate him literally doesn't care. He's too proud of you

Is constantly asking for massages, whether or not he needs them, because he enjoys the contact

Sometimes you want to staple his mouth shut because he has a habit of getting too excited and talking with his mouth full 🙃

Doesn't stop texting you and sending you Snapchats

Is kind of oblivious if he's done something that upset you, and starts freaking out when someone Akaashi finally tells him

Doesn't plan or rehearse his apologies, because he literally just says exactly what he means 100% of the time

May start choking up and crying if what he did was bad enough, because he just feels so, so guilty

Constantly reminds you when you said you would make him a lunchbox because he loves it so much and wants to boast to his friends

Likes you sitting on his lap while you do stuff together I mean...👀

Calls you 'puppy' and 'kitten' etc. unabashedly in public boi, pLEASE

Insists on giving you piggyback rides whenever your feet hurt 🐷

Saves every single selfie you send him. He treasures every single one, and tears sometimes come to his eyes when he scrolls through them he's so whipped for you, my gal

☆ Kuroo Testurou ☆

Stays up all night texting you he might be getting bags

But it's fine. It just adds to the emo look

Takes your bag and carries it for you without you asking him to

Facetimes you randomly

When you ask what it's about, he says he just missed you/wanted to see your face smooth mf

His hand always finds its way around your waist whenever you're walking together

He scrolls through your old conversations when he misses you

Will ruffle your hair to tease you just so he can spend the next 20 minutes brushing it for you

Steals food from your lunch every day he's lucky he's pretty

Stands outside your house with a boombox blasting love ballads like a giant nerd when he wants to surprise you just imagine it for a second. Let the image sink in

Ends up stroking your hair when you're cuddling together

And subconsciously cradles your stomach a lot because he really wants to start a family with you Testu!!! 🥺😭🤧

Always sends you 'Send This To Your Crush Without Context' videos, despite the fact that you guys have literally been dating for years no caption or anything, either. Just the video

Will probably continue to do it even once you're married, tbh

Always, always, always walks you home

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resident-fungi-fren · 3 years

Text

Rainy Gays

Summary: Virgil hosts a radio station with Janus, and since it’s the only station that runs in their small town, just about everyone listens to it.

He still didn't expect one of those people to be his soulmate.

Ships: Intruxiety (Virgil and Remus) and hints at Roceit (Roman and Janus)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning gaybies and gentlethems, you’re listening to Rainy Gays Radio, and we’re your hosts, I’m Janus,”

“And I’m Virgil, clearly the superior host, and that’s why it’s my turn to talk about the weather. Let’s see, looking outside, there’s some clouds, oh shit is that a bird? Nope, false alarm, it’s just another cloud. Rude little shits, pretending to be birds. That’s false advertising. Anygay, it’s supposed to rain later this week, so we really will be rainy gays then.”

“Wow, what an original joke Virgil, you totally don’t use that one every time it rains.”

“Nope, never in my life, shove off Janus.”

“Why Virgil, I’m wounded. I thought we were friends, and now you betray me? I never thought you’d be the one to stab me in the back, my dearest friend, how can I go on without you?”

“Perish.”

“Well, just for that, I’m not paying for coffee later. You can buy your own latte.”

“Rude, how dare you revoke my caffeine privileges, and on today of all days!”

“Wow, what a subtle transition into today’s caller topic, you’re a master of subtlety.”

“Shut-“

“No. Today’s topic is what everyone’s talking about. The new drink over at [INSERT COFFEE SHOP NAME HERE], the only coffee shop in town, and therefore the lifeblood of said town.”

“What would we do without it?”

“Perish.”

“Bite me, you’re not allowed to use my tactics against me.”

“I just did darling~. Now listeners, here’s your chance to burn no more than ten minutes and call in, tell us all about your thoughts on the new drink, Virgil dear, remind me of the name?”

“Black Hole Latte, I think it’s supposed to be blackberry or somethin? I haven’t had my coffee yet today, is it showing?”

“Yes dear, you look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Anytime darling. You know the drill by now, we’re taking callers starting, now.”

“Here’s our first caller, that’s quick, people must be extra bored today. You’re on air now, spill the tea. Or the latte.”

“Hey, it’s Thomas, have either of you tried the latte?”

“Not yet”

“Negative Thom-a-roony.”

“Well, it’s not bad, it’s definite blackberry, but honestly I’ll be sticking with my usual, I’m not a huge fan of branching out.”

“You gotta mix it up sometimes, keeps things exciting.”

“Indeed, variety is the spice of life.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, but for now me and my regular coffee are going to chill in the nice safe bubble.”

“You know man, that’s such a mood.”

“Thank you for calling Thomas, lovely to hear from you again.”

“Anything to burn a little more time away from work. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go there now. Later!”

“See ya. Say, we’ve known Thomas for a few years now, does anyone know what he does for work?”

“Of course we do, he’s uh, hmm, actually, I don’t think we do. A real enigma, that man.”

“Yeah, he’s a real tough walnut to crack.”

“Here’s our next caller, you’re on air now.”

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey Pat”

“Hello Patton, aren’t you at work right now?”

“Yeah I am, but I just wanted to let you both know how proud I am, you’re doing great! And I tried the new latte on my way to work, it’s super yummy! I think you’d like it, Virge, it’s got some nice fruity notes! Just make sure you don’t drink it too late or you’ll never sleep!”

“Will do Popstar.”

“That’s all, love you both!”

“Love you too Pat”

“I do as well.”

“See you both later tonight!”

“And that was our resident puffball, Patton.”

“At least she didn’t drop another pun, I’m not sure how many more Logan can take.”

“Yes, we might have been in need of a new soundboard tech had Patton not resisted the temptation to pun.”

“Oh shit there’s been another caller waiting.”

“Oh dear, sorry for the wait, you’re on air now.”

“Really babe, keeping the sole provider of coffee waiting?”

“Oh it’s just Remy.”

“Just Remy? Careful Virgil, or you’ll be getting decaf for the next week.”

“Please forgive my sins, oh merciful coffee god.”

“Relax, I didn’t call just to blackmail you. I just wanted everyone listening, which we all know is pretty much anyone, that if I hear any shit about my new latte I have no qualms about putting you all on decaf for the next two weeks, so think carefully before you call.”

“Remy, I do think that’s considered censorship, which is in fact, illegal.”

“So is fishing off a giraffe in Idaho, that didn’t stop me then, and this won’t now.”

“Wait, you went fishing off a giraffe? In Idaho? When exactly did that happen?”

“A story for another time, I’ve got a coffee shop to run, later babes.”

“Alright, later-“

“Oh, one more thing, some weirdo came in and ordered it and poured in half a bottle of green Gatorade, and it was the most interesting thing that’s happened all day.”

“Did you say Gatorade?”

“I did, and now I’m saying bye, see ya, sianara, farewell, later bitch.”

“Wait who- and they’re already gone. Well, now I know there’s someone new in town, no one here would ever add anything to one of Remy’s coffee.”

“Excellent deduction Virgil, you should start a true crime radio.”

“You’re right, I should.”

“That was sarcasm, you’re not allowed to quit on me now.”

“Yeah yeah I know, but a guy can dream.”

“Dreaming is for the weak and the innocent, and you are neither.”

“I’d get mad but you’re right.”

“Did you just admit that I was right?”

“Oh look a new caller, how convenient-“

“Virgil answer me damnit- hello you’re on air now.”

“You know, I thought the coffee was good and all, but it was much better once I added my usual shot of Gatorade.”

“Did you just say- oh dear I think Virgil might need a trashcan.”

“Wow Virgil, do always make that wonderful gagging noise? I’d like to see what other noises you can make, with that lovely voice~”

“Dear random stranger, I think you broke my co-host, and possibly my back as well, seeing as I just fell out of it”

“Is that what that thump was? I was almost concerned for a moment.”

“Who the hell puts Gatorade in their coffee?!?!”

“Oh Virgil, glad to see you’ve recovered.”

“Don’t you play innocent, I will end you on air.”

“Wow, the sexual tension between the two of you is reeling right now.”

“Uhh, no thanks. Janus and I go way back, there’s no romance there, plus, we’re not soulmates.”

“Yes, Virgil is a dear friend, and while I love him, it’s purely platonic, and we’re happy with that.”

“Cool cool, does that mean Virgil’s single?”

“That’s what you got from that?”

“Yeah, you sound like you’re pretty hot.”

“I think you broke Virgil again, Gatorade stranger.”

“Oh, my name’s Remus! Though Virgil can call me whatever he wants, lover, dear, daddy, all acceptable.”

“Dude, you’re on the radio.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that fact emo.”

“How do you know I’m emo?”

“You sound like it Gerard Gay.”

“Fair point.”

“As riveting as this conversation is, I think my brother is gonna stab me if I keep talking, so bye for now!”

“Why is your brother- and he’s gone, okay.”

“Final caller, you’re on air now, please don’t flirt with Virgil again”

“Is that what he did? I’m so sorry about my brother, Remus has zero filter.”

“Dude it’s fine, surprisingly we’ve gotten weirder calls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one time we got a telemarketer for a lingerie company.”

“That is weird, but trust me, doesn’t even touch on what Remus is capable of.”

“Good to know.”

“If he turns out to be a frequent caller, will you keep calling to apologize? You do have a lovely voice, so I wouldn’t be disappointed with the arrangement~”

“Oh I, um,”

“Stop flirting with the callers.”

“Callers? Do you do this often?”

“Only when they sound like a sunrise personified.”

“I’m hardly a sunrise, but yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to calling in again, Remus’s contributions aside.”

“Oh my god, I know the show is called Rainy Gays, but please stop flirting before I vomit again.”

“Apologies Virgil, we’re almost out of time anyway. Any chance I can get a name before we have to go, my dear?”

“Oh, Roman, my name is Roman.”

“A name fit for royalty~”

“Janus I swear to god-“

“And that’s all the time we have, for now, tune in later for your daily traffic report and water cooler conversation.”

“We’re not done talking about this-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil glared at Janus as he packed up, the smug bastard smirking every time their eyes met. They had no right, looking so self-satisfied, how dare they flirt so smooth when Virgil was cursed to be an eternal gay disaster?

He huffed, and Janus snorted, and he threw them a glare.

“You could at least pretend to be sorry.”

“But Virgil, that would be a lie, and I would never lie, it’s a blatant mark on my character!”

“We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

Logan walked out of the sound room, rolling his eyes. “With the way you two carry on, it’s no wonder the listeners think you’re romantically involved.”

They both gasped and spluttered, grievously offended. “How dare-”

“Just try not to flirt with the callers so much? You’re both incorrigible.” He straightened his tie, and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading out. “Don’t forget to lock up, we don’t want another raccoon breaking in.”

“Logan, don’t say such things about Virgil, his eyebags and crummy food choices don’t warrant name-calling!”

Janus just smirked when Virgil hissed at them.

“Plus, his hissing is distinctly cat-like.”

“You little-” was all he got out before he threw his balled-up scarf at them, which they caught with ease. Smug bastard.

He ruffled through his bag, then his coat pockets, then his bag again. He sighed, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Have you seen my keys? I can’t find them, and Joan will skin my alive if I lose another set.”

Janus sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose. “Virgil, have you ever considered getting a keyring? Or something to keep track of them?”

“Hey, I do! I got the stormcloud one, remember!” He protested sheepishly, “but then I lost that too. It’s with my keys, wherever those are.”

“Virgil, you are a disater, how are you still allowed to live on our own?”

“I have you and Pat as neighbors.”

“Fair enough, your keys are hanging on the key rack, right where you hung them up when you got here.”

“Oh.” He sheepishly proccured his keys, and then held the door open for Janus once they were ready, and the two headed home together.

“You taking the bus?”

“Not today, it’s quite nice out and I have the energy for it, a walk will be good for me, and for you too, a little vitamin D won’t kill you ya know.”

Virgil gasped dramatically, feigning offense. “Exxxxxcccuuussseee you! That bright motherf***er,” he pointed to the sun, “is absolutley trying to kill me. Skin cancer, sunburns, heatstroke, cataracts? All from the sun!”

“Virgil the sun doesn’t have an vendetta against you, it has one against all of humanity.”

“Bold of you to assume he’s human!”

The voice came from behind them, making them both jump, and Virgil couldn’t help what blurted out of his mouth, truly it wasn’t his fault.

“MOTHMANS LITTLE HOE! WHo the F*** STILL SNEAKS UP ON ME!?!?!”

He spun around, and dropped his jaw as he layed eyes on the most drop-dead gorgeous man he’d ever seen. Was showing that much skin even legal?

The man gasped and looked down at his wrist, and his eyes widened before he looked back up at Virgil, grinning. “Well well well, looks like you’re my soulmate, Gerard Gay!”

Virgil sighed, “f*** me and my big mouth.”

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shawnssongs · 4 years

Text

A New Start

pairing: topper thornton x reader

wc: 1478

warnings: unedited, mention of parental disappointment

summary: topper is a mess after sarah goes missing, and the reader wants to help him out despite protests from JJ

masterlist

gif from @water-aesthetics

“That was weak!” JJ mocked as the two of you made your way back up the beach from a rather unsuccessful session of surfing. Well, unsuccessful on your part.

“Shut up, JJ.” You joke, punching him lightly on the arm, causing him to laugh.

“You know, you really gotta get better at that now that John B’s gone.”

You gulped at the mention of your friend. Gone. Missing. Maybe dead. The fact that you weren’t sure is what killed you. You friends could be alive and having the time of their lives down in Mexico like they’d planned, they could be stranded in the middle of the ocean with no food or water, they could be lost at sea. There was no way of knowing.

“I was just distracted,” you mumble, your thoughts upsetting you a bit.

JJ quirks his eyebrow. “Distracted by what?”

You turn slightly, your best friend following your gaze to a certain blond boy, sat in the sand with his knees bent in front of him, staring out to sea. He was wearing a pair of board shorts and a dirty looking tee shirt, sunglasses covering the bags under his eyes. He’d been there since you and JJ had arrived, and he only ever moved to lift the bottle concealed in a brown paper bag up to his mouth for a swig.

JJ scoffs. “Topper distracted you? He’s been sitting there like a statue, drunk off his ass for days.”

You just roll your eyes and help JJ tie your boards to the top of the Volkswagen which he’d inherited when John B left.

“Chateau or your place?” JJ asked. He’d been staying at your house often, your parents being gracious enough to offer him as much food as they could spare. He hadn’t even tried to go back home after taking the phantom other than the one time he went to pack clothes, but he made sure his dad wasn’t home first. When JJ wasn’t at yours, he spent his time at the Chateau.

“Um, my mom’s cooking, so you can head to mine. I’ll meet you there.”

You start to turn but JJ stops you. “Wait meet me? You’re going back?”

You nodded your head. “JJ, he lost someone he loved too. And he has no one.”

“Oh please.” JJ countered. “He’s the king of the kooks. He has everyone.”

You shook your head at JJ’s ignorance. “He can’t talk to his mom. He can’t talk to Kelce. He can’t talk to Rafe.” Kelce didn’t understand the feeling, and Topper lost someone he loved, but Rafe lost his sister. He couldn’t talk to them.

“Rafe fucking caused it-”

“JJ,” you warn. Every time JJ let his mind wander to the kook, he’d let himself get mad. You’ve spent a few different nights trying to clean up the messes JJ made in the Chateau from his outbursts, punching walls and kicking things. If he didn’t already hate Rafe, he sure did now.

“Look, Jay, just go home. I’ll meet you there.”

JJ shook his head, still disagreeing with what you were about to do, but he obliged and let you go.

When you could no longer hear the hum of the engine, you padded through the sand toward’s Topper’s form. Not a muscle moved in his body as you sat down next to him in the sand, and if you couldn’t see that his eyes were open behind his sunglasses from the angle you were at, you probably would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep.

You sat there for a few minutes, staring out to sea like Topper. You weren’t sure what to say, but you wanted to keep him company.

After taking a sip of whatever alcohol he had in that paper bag, he reached his hand across his body, offering the bottle to you.

You shake your head, “I’m good,” so Topper shrugs and takes it for himself once again.

“How are you?” You ask, cringing at the words.

Surprisingly, he answers you. “Upset.” Pause. “Lonely.” You give him time to continue, but just as you were about to speak, he adds on one more. “Angry.”

You nod.

“Why are you here?” He asked, finally turning to face you.

You shrug. “You looked like you needed someone.”

“I don’t.”

“Topper, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve known John B since I was born. He was practically my brother.”

“Y’know, it doesn’t even hurt that it was John B.” Topper spoke quickly, interrupting your story and catching you off guard.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Sarah. It doesn’t bother me that she left me for John B.” He clarified.

“So what is it?”

“I loved her and she didn’t love me back, and I was an asshole about it because I knew. I knew I couldn’t hold on to her. Now she’s...” He trailed off, turning to face the horizon once again.

“John B was my first love.”

Topper scoffed at your confession.

“Hear me out, Top. I used to have the biggest crush on him. I followed him everywhere, did everything he did in hopes for that small chance he’d like me back.” You chuckle at yourself. “It lasted years.”

Topper turns to you and you can tell he waiting for the point of your story.

“And then I got over it.”

“How?”

“Because it wasn’t really love. It was infatuation.”

“How do you know the difference?”

“You don’t.” You shake your head, trying to look into Topper’s eyes, but staring right back into your own through the reflection of his sunglasses. “Not until it’s over.”

“Well things are pretty over between me and Sarah,” he sneered.

“Yeah, but your feelings for her aren’t. They will be, Top. Trust me.”

Topper didn’t respond and the two of you sat in silence, yet again. When your eyes drifted from the horizon to the dirty blond next to you, you couldn’t help but see Topper in a different light. He had been horrible to you and your friends, but he was just like you. He was just like JJ. He was a teenager that felt too much, gave into peer pressure too easily because he had no confidence in himself. Here he was, contemplating everything because he didn’t know who he was without Sarah or Rafe. He just needed time to find himself.

Topper could feel your eyes on him, so when you looked away, he would take the chance to watch you. The two of you had never been friends. He was horrible to you and the pogues, so why were you here? Why did you seem to care about him? The longer he sat there, the more he studied you. You were tanned from the sun, freckles adorning your skin. Your hair was mostly dry now, wavy and tangled since you hadn’t gotten a chance to brush it after surfing. Topper had noticed that too. He’d deny it, but he’d been watching you surf all day. Something about you was so intriguing to him. He found himself regretting all his choices in the past. He wasn’t a good guy, just like his mom would always say to him, and he wanted to fix that.

After a little while longer, Topper stood up, reaching his hand out to you.

You took it with pleasure and let him help you up out of the sand.

“Do you want to um, get something to eat?” He asked, his voice unsteady.

You give a soft smile to the boy in front of you before answering. “Um, I would...”

Of course, Topper thought to himself. You were just being kind, you couldn’t really car—

“but my mom is cooking,” you continued. “I have to get home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I do want to, though.” You assured, placing your hand on Topper’s arm.

He hadn’t realized it, but Topper hadn’t felt any sort of human contact, any touch in days and your soft skin sent tingles throughout his body.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’d um, I would invite you over but JJ’s there...” you trailed off. Topper would get the gist.

“No, I get it. If I were JJ, I wouldn’t want to see me either.”

You smile at the boy, finally removing your hand from his arm. “Bye, Top.”

He was about to let you go, but there was something left unsaid. “Wait!” He stopped you, this time him being the one to grip your arm. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.” You accept his apology. You could tell it was genuine. You’d usually say there’s no reason to be sorry, but in Topper’s case, there was.

Topper knew he should let you go, but for some reason he couldn’t. “Do you, uh. I know I can’t be there but, can I walk you home?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

part 2?

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