#and even if it isnt quite enough i just push through it bc i never wanna lose that advantage idk

[normiewizard]

ibuprofen you are my best friend you are everything to me. promise me youbwill never wear off </3

[jaechan01]

🥹🏆

[leggyre]

You got any adivce for someone who's considering dropping drawing completely since they don't like what they're making at all?

honestly i've been in the same struggle recently bc it just hasn't been a good year for me. i haven't been drawing a lot bc most of the time i'm either sick or i just.. can't. I've been picking myself up as of late and it's a really difficult grind, but honestly the fact i've been able to actually start this grind is already good for now. I guess that counts as advice; be patient with yourself. Self-esteem doesn't come easy and the little steps are worth so much more than you think.

ok so uh,

-if you just started, don't think about it too much. we all start with the weird scribbles. if you stop now you might never get back to it -if you've been trying to doodle often and always end up hating the result, just take a break. art block is seasoning for burnout and you might just be tired. a lot of times i've felt bad about my art i kinda "gave up" for a while and when i came back to it it was like "wtf this easy what was my issue (it was burnout)". so take a break, play some videogames or hang out with your friends for a week. idk write essays about the media you like? it feels like you're being unproductive but resting IS part of productive because just pushing yourself will just result in nothing being done at the end of the day. -look at your favorite work! im not quite out of my latest artblock yet because its a tough one(it's been teaming up with depression caused by health problems it suuuuucks :/), but when i went long enough without being able to draw I kinda started feeling like I can't do shit and can't call myself an illustrator at all specially bc what i do isnt that big of a deal compared to others(<- comparison also big mistake remember youre the only one who can make YOUR art), going through my folders and seeing the stuff I like the most gave me a LOT of motivation to keep going, even if I was still unable to start drawing right away. not giving up is so important. -so yeah love your art. focus on drawing things you like because it's a gift from you to you, and you should treat it as such. i know it's really hard to be positive about it all the time but it can be really good to go through all your artwork at the end of a day and look at the things you like about it, even if it isn't much. -on that note, find something you really like drawing!!! back in high school i had massive periods of depression that kept me from drawing but i occasionally found sort of a 'life hack' for myself which were things i was always able to work with even during the worst times. one of them was just.. bees. i just doodled random characters as these bees and made og designs too and it was fun. the other one was using colored pencils instead of a regular one bc i just like colors and it made me happy :] it didnt matter that they always had the same overall shape or if i couldnt erase when i messed up, i was just feeling good being able to draw something that i liked. -experiment more!! expand your palettes and download some new brushes. i even change from my newest to my old busted tablet that still sorta works occasionally because using a tool that feels different is.. refreshing somehow? idk -when you need to get yourself back up, do the little steps at your own pace. do a little doodle every day. it's okay if it's always the same thing. the same character. the exact same idea. it's okay if it sucks or if it's unfinished because you struggled. Just give it little pushes. What matters is to try. and it's okay if you can't do it every day. maybe every other day if you need a slower pace. -and remember. engagement doesn't measure your skill. art is subjective anyways!!!!! i spent YEARS doodling and posting only my ocs and getting little to no notes. i think one of my favorite artworks from the time i had ~100 followers had like 0 notes for the longest time. to be honest i don't even know if it has any likes at all nowadays i'd have to look it up bc it's a bit buried

[gayspock]

ok .... farscape momence

okay so randdommm thoughts dump time

FIRSTLY: there's some odd moments, huh, where its like. its never HORRIFIC but the "gore" for lack of a better term really pushes whatever the rating is on this show, LOL.... like the hand melting scene in last ep? & crichtons head freaking exploding in outer space in this ep? yeessshhh....

also also also. i see that this ep im on rn (dream a little dream) isnt a zhaan ep but as an aside. its sooo strange bc i love zhaan as a character but SIGHHHH. i noticed that zhaan-focussed eps, thus far, fall sooo flat and thats such a freaking shame!! i feel like they sorta dont know how to deal with her as the focus and they go too hard in the wrong direction. but anyways

and also they do make some odd decisions with her otherwise, even still. not ones im wholly against but... i feel like they sometimes dont pull them off well. and i say that bc usually its, like, with her - whereas with everyone else, i feel like they consistently nail and get right, even if the episode is weaker. its odd. maybe im just misreading her sometimes, or what. but again its a shame bc i rlly like her. and they do do GOOD stuff with her too, ofc- i love the subtleties they pull off with her sometimes- but sometimes im like man what like...

although that being said ido like that this ep did take the time to kinda. explore exactly what she went through in that interim period between s1 and s2 and i DO think, saving it for now, rather than doing it right at the beginning was the right choice. her being imprisoned and put to execution makes her state a lot more understandable. though i willsay- kinda obvious how like.... they were SCRAPING for a way to put this in here lol. its kind of weird to frame it with the nightmare thing but eh its functional and her talk with crichton is nice enough

ALSO i actually reallylove chiana and rygels dynamic and i DID enjoy seeing them in this ep, and i did enjoy bits of this ep BUT theresother aspects.... MY BRAIN is failingtonight so im struggling to put it into words. like a lot of this, like quite a few s2 eps, didnt quite work out for me...

i think courtroom episodes in scifi shows can be cool when theyre done right and cleverly, and really do explore themes of morality, but i cant really say that of this episode. i think chiana and rygel do make a good team but a lot of it is a bit weird and not in the fun goofy farscape weird but like just kinda like... pulled out your ass, weird? like the stick thing and stuff. i think they should have pushed some parts a lot more than they did, and focussed on the wrong bits elsewhere- but even then, i still dont know, bc...

i feel like this episode sort of lost its point in general bc im skimming through trivia on it and it looks like this script was kinda moved about a bit and that shows and thats a shame bc i think. like when this STARTED i assumed it would be a zhaan ep and i think that it really... should have been? like-

DONT GET ME WRONG like i said it was fun and i liked the rygel and chiana dynamic. i think: a) rygel and chiana are alone and have to work together without the team; b) rygel and chiana have to play lawyers and cant use their usual skillet... is a solid story BUT wlike i dont know like. i feel like if youre going to flashback like this and have zhaan introduce and conclude the episode it would have worked better as an exploration of her, and for it to be her narrative rather than that. and then i think that would work better if we focussed more on the injustices of the planet rather than, like, courtroom drama bc they also lost sight of those, too, ro at least they werent rlly developed fully either . i think those two themes would have been stronger to go into for this setup and rygel and chiana antics tabled for another time

anwyays its funny i said so much here bc it didnt feel like that much. i also totally blanked out on last ep too i feel like that... AGAIN. THERES SOMETHING WITH S2 WHERE ITS LIKE- i cant tell if the end of s1 just raised such a bar for me, but the mediocre reallyyyy feels mediocre . I DONT MEAN ITS LIKE BAD BAD and im for sure still excited and continuing with the show BUT YKNOW. i get it man all showshave a bit like this LOL

and again theres still good stuff in there. well i mean last ep. EH. I DONTKNOW. IT FELT LIKE IT DRAGGED FOR SO LONG AND I JUST DIDN CARE...HELP...SORRY. I DONT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS. but maybe thats just because im crazzy fucking out of it rn

[cdroloisms]

Sooo... how about that reveal that c!Sam wasn’t feeding c!Dream? I mean, we all knew it was coming, but still. The auto food dispenser probably broke or smtg bc when c!Sam came down, c!Dream asked if he was there to give them potatoes. (Also with him being shaken up by learning c!Tommy is alive, c!Sam might not remember or care to feed c!Dream, who has none of his stores of potatoes left.) So, assuming the dispenser is broken and he doesn’t know, why would he come down in the first place? 🟩⛏?

hello anon !! yeah that reveal ,, dang, we already knew that c!sam had presumably been starving c!dream, but to see not only c!dream but c!sam confirm it as well as it having lasted AT LEAST a week ,, d a n g . they are Not pulling any punches in this arc (which, i mean, judging on the q stream, isnt exactly surprising anymore,, but still)

in the prison guard stream, we see how the dispenser works - it’s not automatic as much as it’s remote, as c!sam or the prison guards still need to press a button in order to dispense food. he also says “i havent even been around to feed the prisoner” or something along those lines in tommy’s stream, so we can conclude that the decision to deprive c!dream of food after c!tommy’s death is INTENTIONAL,, which i mean. again. yikes. 

anyway, here’s a snippet of c!dream finding out that the “automatic” feeder isnt as automatic as he might’ve thought - here, the dispenser + crying obsidian are installed at around the same time, so it’s between bad and sapnap’s visit

tw: starvation, disordered eating, abuse, mental illness, self-hatred, toxic relationship, gaslighting, disturbing imagery, dark content, c!sam/warden!sam critical (again, be careful with the content warnings)

Dream stares up at the hole in the obsidian, barely able to make out a glint of metal in the dark chute. The dispenser, just as expected, doesn’t respond to his glare, refuses to whir and click in the way that indicates food, and Dream bites his tongue, mumbles curses under his breath.

“Prick,” he blows a breath through his gritted teeth, only more irrationally angry when the dispenser, as expected, ignores him. “Some automatic dispenser, Warden.”

The walls don’t respond. Nothing responds, here, besides the dark dark thoughts swirling in his brain, and he thinks he’d prefer it if those didn’t - or maybe he doesn��t, because company is company, even if said company is the same litany of blood anger revenge pain you deserve this you deserve all of this you have destroyed the world now lie in the bed you have made pounding at the base of his skull. He drags his hand down his face; every minute is an hour, and every hour is a minute. Time has no meaning when your only frame of reference is eternity.

Even so, even he can tell that it’s been a long time since he’s had food, even by his usual standards - several days, at least, because the ever-present ache of hunger in his gut had swelled into something angrier, demanding, no longer as easy to ignore. Another stabbing round of pain nearly sends him to his knees, and just as he always he does, he clings to the feeling, gathers it into his hands, grabs it by the edges and directs the sharp edges into the words he spits at the indifferent walls. Let the Warden hear him - what can he possibly do?

Just as it always does, the fury in him peters out, drains, leaves him alone in the middle of his cell. He sinks the ground, arms wrapped around his stomach; a part of him wants to laugh at the irony. Some people think of silence as emptiness, void; he knows now that it’s anything but. Silence is suffocating, thick, so present that anything he says seems to get lost within it seconds after leaving his mouth. It grows and pushes into his limbs, becomes a weight tied around his throat, expands into the air in his lungs like a slowly inflating balloon until it’s pressed into every corner and space of the cell, every corner and space of him, taking up so much room that he can hardly breathe around it.

The hunger hollows him out, and the silence fills the space that’s left; Dream wonders how much more there is for him to lose before he’s completely empty, just a husk filled with the same liquid misery that drips down the walls. He wonders if anyone would care- laughs. As if.

“Dream.” The intercom crackles; Dream perks up at the voice, spine straightening against his will, and his hands tighten into fists as he realizes - prime, how pathetic is he, now? The voice deepens, becomes more insistent. “Prisoner.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Or maybe I’m not; you better come and check, yeah?” A humorless smile tugs at his lips, and a static-filled sigh comes through the speaker.

“This isn’t the time for games, Dream.”

Dream rolls his eyes. It’s not exactly the time to be a dick, either, but you don’t see me complaining. A flutter of something warm, joyful, rises in his chest at the sound of something- someone, other than his own voice, and he strangles it with a hand wrapped around his own throat - he won’t let them break him, won’t let himself become desperate enough to crave the attention of a man that hates him - he won’t- he can’t-

“Do you need something? Or were you yelling at the wall for no reason again?” Sam’s voice is steely, indifferent, on a knife’s edge between apathy and anger. “Don’t waste my time, prisoner.”

Dream bites down the snarky reply sitting on his tongue, breathes in, out through his nose until the fury is no longer blinding.

“Your fancy automatic jig is broken. The potato one. It’s not- working.” The hunger fogs his mind, makes it hard to think. He feels caged and weak and pathetic and he hates it.

“That’s because it’s not automatic.” Footsteps echo on the speakers, Dream tapping along to the rhythm before he realizes and stops himself, and a moment later the familiar whirring and clicking of the metal box comes from behind him and a small pile of potatoes fall down and splash into the water. “There. Is that all?”

Dream feels the fury rise, again, but doesn’t quite to keep the words back, this time.

“So what was the point of the whole automatic feeder, asshole? You’ve changed nothing! What’s the difference between that thing and you coming over to my cell besides that you’ve wasted a couple stacks of redstone? Congratu-fucking-lations, you’re a goddamn genius-”

“It’s remote now, so I don’t have to come into your cell.”

“Oh, so it’s just the good ol’ Warden looking for more ways to make the prisoner suffer, huh? Should’ve figured, you fucking self-righteous prick-”

“Dream.”

His mouth shuts with a click, a flash of fear searing through his muscles, white-hot, and by the time he’s blinked back the ringing in his ears the silence has stolen all the words from him, once again. Pathetic, he screams in his head, but his jaw remains firmly locked in place - the Warden’s won, per usual, and they both know it.

“Is that all?” He sounds impatient. Part of Dream wants nothing more than to never hear his voice again, and the other half of him rails at the idea of being alone with his thoughts once more. All of him hates himself, and all of him hates the silence; they’re the only two constants in this place. “You’ll have to speak up if you want anything.”

“How- long was it, since you last gave food?”

Static for a moment, then another. “It’s only been about a day.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’d know if you took care of your clock instead of destroying it, prisoner.”

“I’d know if you were less of a fucking prick.”

“Behave, and you might get it replaced.” The Warden’s breathing is harsh, almost labored - he must be angrier than Dream thought, then. “Speaking of which, you won’t be getting any for a day after this stunt.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared. It’s not like you don’t do this - what, every other day?”

“Do you want food or not?”

Dream’s teeth grind against each other; he breathes in, out. He hates this, hates the potatoes, hates the Warden, hates himself. Hates the way that a part of him recoils at the thought of making the Warden angry at him, reaches desperately for a chance to earn his clock- his approval. Attachments are weakness, he tells his traitorous heart, knowing that it, as always, will fail to stay away.

“Yes. Thank you.” The pleasantry burns on his tongue, tastes worse than the bitterness of raw potatoes that seems to be the only thing it knows, anymore.

“Good-bye, prisoner. Don’t make me come into the cell.”

The intercom cuts off with a click, the space that the static made immediately filled by silence. Dream watches it blankly, jaw sore from how tight it had been clenched, and begins to work his way through the first potato, nibbling at the pale flesh just enough to tide over the worst of the pain.

This is fine, he tells himself, and the walls stare at him impassively. He’s not sure they believe him.

He’s not sure how much longer he can believe himself.

[whorefordazai]

could i request a chuuya x reader where the reader comforts chuuya bc he feels like he isnt human bc of arahabaki and how people used him for his ability all his life and he thinks he's useless without it?

Thanks for requesting! I love this idea <3

Only Human

ft. chuuya x gn! reader

genre: a little angst, fluff

warnings: none

The ending got a little corny idek how that happened😔🤚

Chuuya was sitting on his bed, back resting against the headboard. His fedora was next to him, almost torn apart. He had gotten back from a dangerous mission and was now taking a moment to relax. His clothes were ripped and tattered, some areas were drenched in red. His face was a little bruised, cheeks pecked with blood.

He had just used Corruption.

It wasn’t anything new. Chuuya had used Corruption plenty of times but never quite understood how to describe the feeling. On one hand, he was glad he had such a powerful ability and was able to save the city. On the other hand, he felt shame? No...it was more...he felt like a tool.

Chuuya knew that without his ability he would be a useless nobody. That was how the world worked. And he had accepted it. So why did he feel so shitty? Why did he get nightmares every night of the God Arahabaki haunting him in his sleep?

He would see himself in those dreams.

The familiar red glow slithering around his arms and legs. His face coated with blood, eyes blank and white. He would see himself tilt his head back and laugh, teeth practically fangs. The ache for bloodlust leaving his lips everytime he cackled.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst, was you. He would be forced to see you in his dreams. Except, he would be killing you. Your screams would echo and etch themselves in his brain while he watched himself crush you with big balls of gravity. He was terrified of the thought of hurting you.

“Chuuya?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He watched as you made your way to him and sat down on the bed. Somehow, seeing you made all his thoughts wash away.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” You mumbled into his chest as his wrapped an arm around you. He could only nod, as his voice was parched from yelling so much. He hated that you had to see him like this.

You noticed his silence and lifted your head, giving him a smile. Standing up from the bed, you walked to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth.

“You did so good today, Chu.” You whispered, tilting his head up and wiping off some of the blood. He winced a little, but closed his eyes from the comfort.

There was a comfortable silence that enveloped the room. You knew how tired he was during these moments. You were so proud of him.

Taking another peek at your concentrated face, Chuuya shut his closed once again. He didn’t feel human. He practically, wasn’t. You deserved so much better than what little he had to offer.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips and you frowned, eyes a little alarmed. “Chuuya, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He opened his eyes at your question, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. His fingers lifted to his face and when he took a glance, they were wet. Tears...

“Wha-what? It’s nothing...” he muttered, humiliation taking over him. He wasn’t a little kid. He shouldn’t be crying.

You set the towel down and grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand. Handing him the cup, he averted your gaze and took little sips. The more water he drank, the more his eyes would tear up?

“I don’t...what is this? What the fuck is wrong with me?” He furiously wiped at his eyes. But with no luck, they kept on spilling tears.

You gave him a small smile, eyes filled with hurt from watching him breakdown. Chuuya didn’t have these breakdowns very often. It was rare to see him express any hurt emotions.

“Babe...it’s okay. You can cry.” You softly spoke, putting his hands down from his eyes and wiping his tears. Your hands were on his cheeks, but he never made eye contact.

“This is pathetic.” He managed to mutter between a few hiccups. You shook your head and lifted his chin to stare into his eyes.

“Listen to me. You are not pathetic. You are not useless. And...you are not a tool.”

His eyes widened a little, brows expressing shock and confusion. He bit his lip from quivering. How did you say exactly what he was thinking? How did you manage to be there for him everytime he needed you?

He lowered his head, ever so slightly. Your hands went down to his own, grasping onto the cold pale skin. He shakily mumbled, “I’m not human. What are you doing here y/n? You deserve someone better...”

You raised your brows at his words. “Chuuya. I can prove one thing...”

He looked up.

“You are human. See? You’re crying. Humans do that. You love me, right? Humans are capable of love. You’ve gotten hurt, right? Humans are capable of getting hurt.”

He was silent, staring so deeply into your eyes. You continued on, moving closer to him.

“Everytime we’ve made each other laugh until tears sprung from our eyes...that makes us human.” As the words left your mouth, a tear slipped past your eye. You smiled and brought your lips onto his.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling a tear slip past your cheeks. You didn’t know who’s tear it was. Maybe it was his or maybe it was both of yours...

The kiss was only a few seconds but it was enough to send your heart beating a million miles per hour. You pulled away and gently wiped any remaining tears on Chuuya’s face.

You lowered your head and put your ear against his chest. It was beating so loudly. Chuuya raised his brows, cheeks tinted red. “Wha-what are you doing?”

You laughed. “Your heart is beating really fast...that also makes you human, Chu.”

He looked away from embarrassment before you took his hand and put it on your chest. His eyes met yours.

“Y/n...what...?”

“Can you feel it Chuuya? It’s my heart beating. For you.”

He bit his lip and nodded, moving his face closer to yours. “You make me crazy, y/n.”

Pushing his lips onto yours, you felt him smile into the kiss. He lowered you on the bed and your hands weaved through his red locks.

“We are only human.”

edit: just read spoilers for the light novel storm bringer and will be passing away 😆

[heyitsyn]

White Carnation

Ex!Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

a/n: iwa-chan being your ex is so painful and numbing

huhuhu angst isnt my forte but this is an exception bc chi is my sista

anon request: ex-boyfriend/childhood friend iwaizumi would be super angsty but i have no idea what they’d fight about ,, now imagine if after being kitaichi’s manager/medic, reader becomes karasuno’s medic/temporary manager (until kiyoko got recruited),, then she couldn’t come to the seijoh practice match so she has no idea her team fought her ex,,, only to find out during inter-high and everyone’s like wtf??? that spiky haired ace is your ex?? meanwhile kageyama’s like “yall didn’t know?” — chi

ong this finna be painful

so

its always been the three of you

with living across the oikawas came great perks

even way before you could remember, you were always with the 2 other boys: your neighbor across your house, tooru, and his best friend who practically lived there, hajime

hajime first saw you when you were covered in dirt after you were trying to catch a butterfly for tooru at the back and oikawa pushed you out of the way into a puddle of mud when he saw a bug

iwa stared at you then immediately said ‘my name is iwaijumi hajime. i think youre really pretty’

yep thats really how it went

and poor babie didnt know how to pronounce his ‘z’s yet so it sounds like ‘j’s :(

while tooru liked you because you werent like other girls who stayed inside and played dolls instead playing outside

you played with him at his back yard with the volleyball he owned and always made him laugh and have fun

iwa liked you because you didnt shy away from bugs, instead you were braver than tooru and even helped iwa look for any beetles and caught them for him to keep as pets

they liked you because you were like them

you were like one of the bois

but that kinda hurt you in the future

as you all grew up, you started going through yanno teenager things

like you started to have crushes

specifically on your best friend, iwaizumi hajime

thankfully tooru didnt see you like that and still saw you as one of the bois and saw you as that annoying twin sister

but unfortunately, iwa did too

every time you made an effort to do something to emphasize that you were, hello, a girl, he would laugh and tease you

‘hehe i didnt think you even knew what a dress was!’

was his comment when you came over wearing a yellow sundress with flats

tooru, who you shared these secrets with, gave you a worried glance but you smiled, covering up the hurt

‘meh. my mom forgot to dry my clothes so i had to wear these old clothes’

no, they werent old

they were just bought yesterday with the intention of finally being recognized as girl and complimented

but the person it was for, couldnt even be bothered to remember that you werent just one of the boys and that you possibly wanted to be told that you were pretty or cute

your other best friend noticed your quietness and he stood up from his crouching position and placed a hand on your shoulder, making you look at him

your teary eyes made him sigh but he grinned at you

‘its really pretty, y/n-chan! you should wear it more often! pretty things deserve to be seen and complimented’

god why couldnt you have a crush on oikawa tooru instead

why did it have to be towards the boy who was too caught up with catching bugs and playing ball to ever see you differently and has never said a single praise towards you?

‘what do you think, iwa-chan? isnt she pretty?’

oikawa hinted but hajime remained his eyes on the tv as the players hit the ball, too distracted to even be bothered to look at you

‘she looks the same’

he mumbled and your nose stung and eyes watered, looking down to hide the wobbling of your lips

‘its okay, kawa-chan. can i wear your clothes for now? i dont like this dress thats why i never wore it’

oikawa tried to stop you but you were already straight up the stairs and towards his room

he angrily stomped over to iwa and slapped his arm, startling the other boy and him snarling in pain

‘what the-’

‘youre so dumb. youre so mean. i wonder where she went wrong and what she saw. seriously’

he ranted and moved to sit back on the floor but not before kicking iwaizumi, making him fall on his side

‘OI KUSOKA-’

‘so whos winning?’

your voice interrupted iwa’s mid-scream and he looked up from the floor to see you wearing an alien hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts that were a little too loose so they drooped by your knees

your originally curled and elegantly braided hair was now pulled up into a bun by a scrunchie that you left around the house from years ago

there was a bit of redness around your eyes and iwa scrambled up to check if you were okay since your face looked swollen

‘oi, did you eat something weird? your face is all red so youre probably having a reaction’

he fretted and you watched as his hands glided across your face and held you by the shoulders to take a closer look

‘yea, a reaction from a bad reaction’

thankfully iwa was too busy checking to hear oikawa snarkily whisper and you sent him a glare that made him quiet down

‘haji-kun, im fine’

you dismissed and side stepped to go sit next to oikawa, completely brushing him off

now iwa was confused

you would usually smile up at him, say ‘aw~ are you worried about me, haji-kun?’ then skip over 

not frown and act so coldly

‘oi, y/n, what-’

‘lets go to the bakery! theres a sale going on there!’

oikawa shouted which made you jolt in surprise

he knew of his best friend’s beginning interrogation but he knew you were too upset to be bothered by hajime’s questions

‘they have a buy one get one sale on milk bread! and those-those treats you like! theyre on sale too!’

omg oikawa is a real one 🥺

oikawa blinked harshly at you to go along with the act and you stuttered and nodded

‘uh-eung! yea!’

that was probably the moment that iwaizumi started noticing

except he thought it was a pining between his best friends rather than you towards him

ofc iwa was a loyal friend

he thought that you and oikawa were two people who were crushing on each other yet too afraid to say anything

tbh he shouldve seen this coming because duh you were an incredibly pretty girl and oikawa was the handsomest guy in the whole area!

it was almost,,, natural for you both to gravitate towards each other

maybe thats why,,,

he started to distance himself to give you both the space and want without him in between

maybe thats why,,,

he started to feel these feelings of,, jealousy?? like he started to feel a little scared and honestly he wasnt sure who to be jealous of bc he knew once you started dating, you’d both be too busy to hang out with him

maybe thats why,,,

he was no longer your friend 

iwaizumi hajime became a simple stranger you would just pass by in the hall

it happened around the 2nd year of middle school

you and oikawa were still close friends but you have drifted away into not being as close while you and iwaizumi became,,,, distant

basically strangers

the boy you used to dream about when you were 8 and dreamt of marrying once you were old enough

he was no longer him

before, you and iwa were actually really close without oikawa

like you would hang out when oikawa was too busy with takeru

you both would go to the arcade and play games with no fear of oikawa whining and complaining to take turns

you had a lot of fun together and yet, all of a sudden, everything stopped

because iwa knew how,,, possessive oikawa was

he thought that if he were to continue being friends with you, he would risk losing his best friend out of jealousy or misunderstandings and he didnt want that precious bond to be ruined by a girl

even if that girl,,,

was you

thats why it was so awkward when you came over to oikawa’s house after so long and seeing him there, eating breakfast in the kitchen

your best friend didnt want to tell you that iwa spent the night bc quite frankly, oikawa was already fed up with this

you think he didnt know?

you think he didnt know that iwa distanced himself due to an unknown misunderstanding?

you think he didnt know that you also distanced yourself due to being hurt as he casted you aside?

and oikawa was also worried

he didnt want to ever bring up your name with iwa bc to be honest, he didnt think iwa even liked you all that much

he thought that iwa only tolerated you for so long bc you were the only girl who wasnt in love with oikawa and knew you long enough to be comfortable w you

but babie oiks is misunderstood that :(

he didnt want to ever bring up his name with you bc he knew how sensitive it was for you and how sad and pained you were when he suddenly stopped even replying to your texts

one time when you cornered him, he looked angry and gently pushed you back and quickly walked away 

no he was scared that oikawa could see you both and misunderstand

‘just,,, stay away from me, okay? its better this way’

god you wanted to scream at him and shout at him and punch him but he kept silent and refused to answer your questions and refused to acknowledge your existence

you were so confused and you were just so hurt and eventually, you became indifferent to him and treated him the same way

anyways

you stepped into the house, not even bothering to shout your arrival and quickly wandered through the hallway before turning the corner to go to the kitchen 

but you stopped, seeing the familiar hair with olive eyes eating breakfast on the kitchen island, also stopping with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth at the sight of you

your gazes clashed and you blinked before your lips formed into a thin line, turning and going to the fridge and look for food

iwa wasnt surprised

he figured you were both getting closer to dating and you were already basically living in his house

it all makes sense

BRUH THEYVE BEEN FRIENDS SINCE THEY WERE LTR BORN LIKE BLS THEYRE JUST SIBLINGS

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

‘h-how are you’

he mumbled, trying to fix the awkward silence while cursing inside of how long oikawa was taking to shit

you hummed, taking a water bottle and slamming the fridge door shut, harder than necessary

‘oh, now you see me?’

you really didnt mean for it to be a snarky comment but it came out before you even realized what you said

he winced

‘listen, im-’

‘oh? youre here, y/n-chan!’

oikawa’s voice cut him off and he returned back to his bowl of rice, leaving you standing there furrowing your brows

you shrugged, already knowing that hajime was like this, so you turned to look at oikawa with a wrinkled nose at the sound of the toilet flushing

‘tooru, did you drink straight milk again? you know how it makes your stomach upset’

you chided and tooru turned red at the implication of his dookie

‘o-oi! y/n-chan! of course id know if i was lactose intolerant!’

i just think how funny it would be like the irony of his love for milk bread yet being lactose intolerant at the same time 

he huffed and you nodded but not exactly believing him

‘kay kay’

you teased and walked to the living room but oikawa caught you in a headlock and he ruffled your hair while you complained and whined to let you go

you were giggling as tooru was giving you noogies, feeling the tension leave your body

all while iwa was watching

maybe it was because he stopped hanging out with you and havent seen you like this for almost  a year

so carefree and so happy as you scored higher than him at the hoop game and he would begrudgingly let you hug him when he managed to win you a doll from the claw machine

but yea he definitely forgot your smile

he forgot how it looked like bc the last time you met gazes, you sent him a hurt glance and looked away and he knew he deserved that

god he hated it

but no, he was doing this for tooru

he was doing this because his best friend liked someone who actually deserved him

but dear god why did it hurt

iwa was starting to wonder if he made the right choice

he could easily handle you two dating

right?

maybe that was when iwa started to realize,,, he was starting to feel different towards you

the time apart definitely made him remember why he was friends with you

you weren’t like those girls he saw in tv or outside with the frilly clothes and the makeup and the fancy hair

no that wasnt you

you were different

you were too lazy to even pick out a cute outfit, opting for comfort with one of their sweatshirts and sweatpants

you preferred to chase after butterflies rather than sitting inside bc hajime’s adventurous spirit latched itself on to you too

you would usually climb the tree to get the volleyball that got stuck up in the branches bc tooru was too scared of heights and you wanted to prove your strength and capability

god you were so different

what if you liked him instead?

iwa startled himself with that thought in the middle of eating and caused him to choke on his rice

tooru noticed him coughing violently so he grabbed the water bottle from your hand and threw it straight towards the boy

iwa snapped the cap open,not caring where that water came from, and chugged it down before sighing in relief after the quite scary situation

you then realized what happened and you turned red, speedwalking into the living room

oiks totally didnt do that on purpose and he was doing the lenny face at you before switching masks and wearing a worried one for iwa

‘iwa-chan! you need to slow down!’

he chided and iwaizumi yelled at him to be quiet, completely clueless to the fact that he just shared an indirect kiss with you

but you did and lordie did you hate it

from then on,,,

iwa was just seeing you everywhere

iwa saw you from his classroom when you would go hang out with your new friends outside 

he noticed you not even being too loud, only speaking up when asked while the others opted to continue talking about nonsense you probably gave no care about with how you secretly rolled your eyes

those moments made him laugh

the next time you both ran into each other was during his morning practice

oikawa phoned you in the morning while you were getting ready, saying he accidentally left his knee pads at home and he was already at school but you werent so he wanted you to bring them to him

you knew damn well that iwaizumi hajime would be there but you didnt care because youre not even friends anymore after he just dropped you like that

YES SISTER WE DESERVE BETTER

so thats why you found yourself pushing the metal gym door open at 6 in the morning and shouting oikawa’s name

his eyes brightened at your voice and he dropped the ball to run towards you by the door

‘oh my god thank you so much, y/n-chan!’

he shouted and hugged you out of excitement while you cringed and hit him to get off of you

‘ew dont touch me trashykawa’

you mumbled and he whined, finally stepping away with a pout

iwa was watching you both from the side and he blinked, wondering if you were trying a new hairstyle

if not, then you changed something bc currently, you practically glowing to him

he watched you scold oikawa for being forgetful and him begging for forgiveness but also thanking you before he was scoldede again by the coach

but the coach was relieved that he could finally play with the proper equipment and not risk anymore injuries

oikawa was already bidding you good bye and you were about to turn to leave when you finally met the many gazes of iwaizumi hajime

your eyebrows unconsciously furrowed together and your lips turned to a frown then you sharply turned and walked through the doors

unbeknownst to him, oikawa watched as his best friend’s face turned hurt at your expression and remained staring at the door you just went out of even when you were already gone

‘iwa-chan, lets get to practice’

after that 

iwa has concluded god has decided to be mean to him

bc who was giving him these weird heart attacks and tummy aches at the simple sight of you?

literally he ignored you for a good time yet now hes noticing you again?

what kinda unfairness-

but you proved to accept his previous behavior by not even giving him a single glance anymore

that made him sad so iwa would sometimes stop doing what hes doing so he could freely stare at you laugh at something a classmate said during class

thats totally not creepy iwa lol

he doesnt even know hes doing it sometimes bc hes so absorbed on trying to figure out the answers of his questions

but the worst was when he got caught

you sat at the very front and oikawa and iwa sat at the back 

it was lunchtime and you were eating with a few girls and a guy from another class and yall were laughing and talking together

iwa had oikawa and these other guys makki and matsukawa from the class next door to eat lunch with

can i please just dream that our third year seijoh boys were actually friends since the very beginning like pls and thanks

oikawa was rambling about how some girl giving him cookies the other day when he noticed iwa not listening but staring at you while moving his chopsticks around

poor iwa-chan was confused as to how even with messy hair, you still looked beautiful?

like no matter what angle or how you turned, the light always seemed to hit you perfectly to accent out your features

how was that possible?

‘-and she just-iwa-chan? iwaizumi?’

he called out and said boy jolted, eyes widening at the confused, bored, and knowing eyes

‘hm?’

‘oh? were you looking at y/n-chan?’

oikawa teased and the gojira fanboy waved his hands around to deny that statement

but makki chuckled and leaned in

‘hm, wouldnt blame ya. shes really pretty you know? some guy in our class saw the girls ranking and shes in the top 5′

okay iwa was angry

was it because everyone else noticed how pretty you are?

was it because you were part of this list?

was it because his own friend said you were pretty?

why did he even care anyways?!

oikawa smirked at the clenched fist under the table and decided to poke fun even more

‘oh really? well, it doesnt really matter because its always the girl’s decision right? but most of the time, their choice is utter trash’

the meme duo shared a confused look

‘hah? what are you going on about, oikawa’

oikawa internally apologized to you after what hes about to do because hes so tired and exhausted of having to be so careful and walking on eggshells between you two

so he did an oikawa move

‘yanno how y/n-chan and i have been friends since we were little ducklings right? so ages ago, like ages ago, little y/n-chan had a crush on this brute bc for some reason she thought he was brave or something and apparently thats appealing to girls rather than the nice and gentlemanly type. but of course, yanno how this goes, he pooped up and now hes stuck on doing this weird stalking staring thing. right, iwa-chan~?’

okay im sorry i take it back oikawa is a bitch

iwa shook

you,,, had a what on who?!

a crush on him?!

is he the brute?!

so it wasnt oikawa?

it was to him?

then why did you act like that?

why did you both act like that?

‘what’

iwaizumi mumbled and he met oikawa’s pointed gaze

‘hmm,,,, you dont have to worry about it anymore though since theyre not even friends anymore. but listen to me and listen well, makki, mattsun, if you hurt a girl even once, theyre never going to forget it. my sister said that apparently theres this little voice in their head that tells them that theyre going to get hurt again and thats where their trust issues begin to develop and--IWA-CHAN WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!’

iwa was already out of his seat and straight walking towards you and your group before stopping beside your chair

your friends quieted down at the sight of the known boy and you blinked then turned your head to see him, your eyes instantly turning dark and looking away immediately

‘what the hell do you want’

you hissed and natsu almost choked on his rice ball if it wasnt for another girl patting his back

‘it was me, right? all along, not oikawa, but me?’

his meek voice made you look up in confusion

‘what are you talking-’

‘you chose me instead him’

then it was like a click that you realized what he said

‘how did you know’

‘i-i’

he stuttered but was cut off when the teacher finally arrived to announce the end of lunch and iwa was forced to go back to his seat

the whole class time, you would sneak glances back and iwa would be staring at his paper while oikawa would wink at you and give you smirks

OH GOD HE TOLD HIM

after class you stomped up to the brunette haired boy 

‘how could you?! why did you tell-’

‘lets talk, y/n? please?’

iwa was holding your arm and you glared at him before turning away and walking away

oikawa patted him on the shoulder in good luck and whispered,

‘get your girl’

the rooftop ledge looked really delicious right now

no words were exchanged so you were both just silent with you staring at him while he was looking off to the side

‘so what? now you know and so what do you want?’

you spoke first and iwa guiltily met your eyes

‘everything was,,, a mess. i misunderstood and i didnt communicate and i,,, messed up’

he mumbled the last part but you caught it perfectly causing you to scoff

‘damn right you did. so now you know and then youre going to do the cliche thing they do in those dramas where you magically profess your love for me and-’

‘hey y/n lets date’

you froze and looked at him shocked with wide eyes and jaw dropped

‘excuse me? who are you to say that?!’

you shrieked

‘first you think i have some big crush on tooru and this caused you to basically drop me like a damn pencil and second youre asking me to date you? iwaizumi hajime i thought you were always the smarter one. what the hell are you spouting you damn imbecile-’

iwa did the only thing he thought of

he quickly leaned forward and pecked your lips

he saw some guy do it in a telenovela that his mom watched a week ago and that was how the girl got silent so iwa thought it would be smart to shut you up that way

and it worked

bc you were so conflicted: angry, confused, sad, happy

you was the whole range of emotions in one second

‘i was stupid. and i was dumb. i wanted to give you and shittykawa space because i thought he liked you and he would be mad and misunderstand if we continued hanging out without him. but you shouldve told me you liked me, baka. maybe i wouldve come to like you back’

iwa rambled but your eyes watered and you huffed, slapping him across the face but pulled his collar to kiss him again

tbh iwa was shook bc he got 2 kisses in a row today and hes never been kissed before and its from this really pretty girl

‘how dare you kiss me and still not like me’

you seethed when you pulled away

but iwa held your hands

‘im starting to come to. give me time and i’ll accept your confession’

and give him time you did bc you finally were able to try and mend that friendship again and soon, you were already starting to fall back in love with him 

but iwa also

during the end of your 2nd year, iwa nervously tugged you to the rooftop and you smirked

‘what? you gonna profess your love for me haji-kun?’

you teased and expected him to laugh and smack you gently but he didnt

he turned red and he looked down at his shoes as he magically produced a flower out of nowhere

‘please accept me, y/n!’

he shouted while holding out the single white carnation

your eyebrows scrunched and you grabbed the flower from his hands before punching him weakly

‘stupid! stupid haji-kun! i already accepted you! since we were five! how could you not see my feelings’

you whimpered, trying to hide the blush on your face but he smothered you to a hug, making you both topple over in the process

you had the cliched term of ‘summer love’

of course you still hung out with tooru but you both would hang out other days just you both

like you and iwa liked going over to some old playground by your house and you both would watch the sky on top of the slide assembly while talking about stupid stuff and the future

‘haji-kun, do you know what you want to be when youre old?’

you asked and he turned his head to look at you but you were focused on the stars

‘gojira’

he simply replied and you giggled, reaching over to hit his chest

‘baka. you cant be gojira-san’

iwa found himself giggling with you before he reached down to softly interwine your fingers and hold them up to look at them

‘hm, i dont really know. maybe a volleyball player. or someone in the volleyball team, i dont know’

you hummed, knowing him and tooru’s shared love for the sport

‘i wanna be a doctor. i want to save lives and help people and make money too! my mothers friend offered to intern me but apparently im still too young’

you pouted

iwa listened to you but then a lightbulb rang in his head

‘oi, y/n’

he started and you looked at him

‘you can be our manager. or medic. or doctor person. that bastard is going to push himself even harder because naoki-senpai gave him that damn position and he might kill himself trying to beat that farmer dude. besides, shittykawa is going to be the captain next year and i’ll be vice so youd easily get it anyways. so you in?’

you blinked at him before breaking out to a smile

‘eung! i wanna see my baby play what he loves!’

iwa’s face contorted to disgust

‘bABy?! iM nOt a BABY! im A mAn!! mAN!!’

‘mhm, okay. my mans, haji bara arms is my mans’

your relationship is very balanced with the perfect ratio of crackhead and seriousness and understanding bc as we ALL KNOW EVERYTHING STARTED W A MISUNDERSTANDING

like if he accidentally said something that hurt your feelings like that dress incident from years ago btw you brought it up to him and told him you were practically traumatized by that and he kept on apologizing and appearing at your doorstep with a white carnation in apology you would gently tell him bc communication is K E Y and he would tell you sorry and you guys would understand and make up

you guys were so lovey dovey that ltr oikawa would fake gag and throw up to the side when he catches you guys even doing things like holding hands

like bls he sees that flesh to flesh contact and he wretches his breakfast

‘ew, its the settling down for me’

‘its the flatness of the ass for me’

you stuck your tongue out while he pouted and iwa looked so proud like oml

you guys were still at the honeymoon phase where everything was peaches and rainbows and it continued until your 3rd year

as mentioned above, iwa basically gave you the managerial position

like yall were walking to school during the first day talking about how worried yall were at passing your classes when suddenly he was all like ‘ill see you in the gym later?’

you smiled and blinked confusingly

‘hm? you want a cheerleader there, baby?’

he flushed red at the nickname and furrowed his eyebrows

‘baka, stop calling me that’

you giggled and dodged his gentle smack but he grabbed your hand and pulled you close to his chest

‘i thought we already agreed that you would be our medic slash manager? i mean, it could give you experience for the future right?’

you rested your chin on his front to look up at him and your face held a teasing smirk

‘hmmm~~~ haji-kun just admit it. you want me to be there to cheer you on~’

you teased and nuzzled your cheek on him

iwa scoffed but he couldnt help a soft smile appearing

‘i mean-yea, but its for the future so ill help you every way i can’

‘oya? the future? will you marry me in the future, haji-kun?’

‘MARRY?! HOW DID YOU GET MARRY OUT OF THAT, BRAT’

‘AAWWWWW DONT BE SUCH A TSUNTSUN HAJI-KU-ACKDKJFSLKJNOT THE HAIR!!!’

sure enough you were at the gym after school

the coaches knew you werent a fangirl of oikawa bc hes seen you since the very beginning and oikawa clears you are actually a sister to him and you were fit for the job

ofc hes captain and someone as good as oikawa was going to get what he wants

the gym was full of newbies and recruits hoping to get into the powerhouse team and your eyes scanned to find those ridiculously pretty olive eyes that belonged to your beloved-

‘HAJI-KUN~~!!!’

you waved and shouted loudly, gaining his and everyone else’s attention as well

the underclassmen cooed and awed at you bc their senpai who was famous for being really pretty was in the building

‘waaaa its l/n-senpai’

‘shes so pretty’

‘oMG shes righT iN FroNT oF me!!’

yea you get the gist

the poor ‘haji-kun’ was shrinking under the attention and was growling at oikawa’s teasing look but he begrudgingly held his arms out for you to run into them and snuggle into him

‘hmmm i missed you, haji-kun. im really sad we’re in different classes this year. but then again! i can be here with you!’

you pouted and he ruffled your hair affectionately

‘why else do you think i offered it brat’

oikawa rolled his eyes and gagged before taking your arm to the coach so he could sort you out

‘honestly! not in front of the children, okay?!’

but everything was quickly resolved and you were finally officially their manager/medic

you did managerial duties and you were the go-to when someone falls harshly or gets hurt in any way

in between homework, school, reading medical books, and practice, you and iwa havent spent a lot of time together and tbh that was quite straining your relationship??

like it was something that you saw coming and you both even had a talk about it but you still feel like you didnt prepare enough when it did come

one day, it was monday and there was no practice so you and iwa were walking home together

he squeezed your hand occassionally and you would sing and hum while walking

and omg his heart would balloon up when you would smile up at him and giggle when you would catch him staring

he honestly thought youd both hang out and just lay on the couch, snuggle, yanno the routine

but once you pulled out your textbooks, notebooks, and pens, he was confused

like he even held your hands and stopped you from pulling anything else out

‘y/n? i thought we were,, watching a movie or something?’

you blinked and shook your head

‘i need to study for a test and i still need to memorize how to treat a sprain, haji-kun. there’s more important things to do right now. maybe later?’

more important things?!

more important than showering you with love?

more important than even spending a second with him?

now, dont get him wrong, iwaizumi hajime was by no means a clingy and possessive boyfriend

he understood the boundaries and he understood the priorities

but dear god its been WEEKS since he even hung out w you since your entire schedule seemed to throw him out of loop and acted as if he didnt exist

and now, he was aggrivated and irritated and he wanted nothing but to just cuddle his girlfriend

you noticed his huff and pout but he remained silent

you quirked an eyebrow and placed your pen down

‘haji? whats wrong?’

his eyes snapped to you and you knew now he was angry

‘oh? were you able to spare a few seconds for dear old me?’

you were taken aback and you knew there was a fight brewing so you hid your growing irritation and calmly put your things aside

‘hajime, what are you on about?’

you pried and he looked shocked, almost offended

‘what am i on about? what am i on about? y/n, do you know the last time i even came over? the last time i held you and just talked?’

his voice got louder by every word and you quickly stood up 

‘dont you dare raise your voice at me, hajime. if we have a problem, we talked over it calmly. we dont yell or shout, nothing gets resolved. we talked about this’

but he scoffed

‘talked? when was that? when did we actually just talk? hm? because I sure as hell dont remember it’

youve only seen hajime angry once and it was when you lied to him to go spend time with oikawa

okay in your defense, oikawa was having a panic attack and he begged you not to tell iwa because he didnt want to be scolded by iwa even though you kept telling him that iwa wasnt like that

and theres a reason as to why its only been a one-time thing because iwa was known to have patience that was as long as the damn nile river

except for oikawa bc it seems oikawa just cuts that patience by a million

and when he finally snaps, its when he couldnt take it anymore and he finally gets loose

when iwaizumi hajime was angry,  you really done it

you didnt really know how you handled that anger so you were at a loss and you were feeling conflicted and pained at the way he looked at you

‘h-hajime,,,’

you started and he looked at you expectantly

‘well? when did we last actually talk outside the school premises y/n?’

there was that inner witty voice of yours that wanted to say ‘right now?’ but you held it in bc he was completely serious

‘hajime, please understand. i-i dont want to let anyone down! my grades! the team! i-’

‘but what about me, y/n?’

he tiredly asked

‘do those things-those people- matter more than me? and i really really dont want to ask that but im so so confused y/n’

despite sounding manipulative, you knew iwa was feeling defeated and he couldnt help but ask those questions and sound so desperate

so you scrambled to sit next to him on the couch and held him against you

‘of course you matter to me-haji you mean everything to me, you understand? god, if an adult hears me theyd think im crazy but i love you, hajime. i love you and im so sorry if i ever made you feel that way because i really didnt mean to, okay? im so sorry’

you sobbed and he turned to fully envelop you into his arms and he sighed contently, remembering how good it felt to have you right there

‘no, im sorry, doll. i was being clingy and i didnt mean to lash out, i-’

you slightly let go and cupped his face

‘nonono you were perfectly valid. what you felt was perfectly reasonable. i havent been a good girlfriend lately, huh?’

you sadly smiled but he kissed you, holding you even closer

‘youre always a good one to me. always. just with a not good schedule but we can fix that, right?’

SORRY I REALLY DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE A FIGHTING SCENE BC ITS ANGSTY AND I DONT DO WELL WITH ANGST BC IT MAKES ME CRY 😭

tbh that was really your only big fight

even when you guys graduated middle school, you both were still quite happy and you both worked hard to make time for each other

HOWEVER

when high school arrived, you both had chosen an extremely hard decision

you chose to go to karasuno while oikawa and iwa went to seijoh

which was a,,,, hard and difficult decision

in fact, you both didnt have a fight per se, just a disagreement that ended in like 30 minutes lmao

tbh its so scary and concerning of how rarely you both have bad times and how quickly it gets resolved

BUT THEN AGAIN THIS IS AN ANGST REQUEST SO ILL OF COURSE BRING IN THE SADNESS

you were busy with karasuno and you were actually taking college courses since you wanted to have a good record if you ever wanted to get into a medical field

that meant you had a lot of homework and most of your time was spent with schoolwork or interning for that family friend mentioned earlier

and you were also a manager for the volleyball team bc karasuno is a butt and they require you to have an after school club

so that meant,,,

no time for iwa

and fate just so happens to hate you bc the days you did have off, he would be busy with volleyball and he wouldnt be able to spend time with you

even weekends were like that

eventually, you both went for 2 months with no contact, just a few text messages and calls

and that strained your former strong relationship

and you knew that iwa was getting angry again with how he even typed his responses

‘want me to bring over snacks for the team?’

‘its okay. wouldnt want you to waste time or anything’

like that type of bull

you were getting increasingly worried because you havent had a good proper time to talk to him about it and you didnt want to fight over the phone

your best friend, kiyoko, noticed your anxious ticks and she snapped you out of your current daydream

‘hey? y/n? you okay?’

she gently asked and you blinked before nodding

‘mhm. just,,, thinking’

but she didnt buy that lie because you went back to chewing your lips and eyes even watering

‘i can revise your notes for you, y/n. and the team isnt doing anything big so i can handle it. you just go see him after school bc i cant handle you being sad anymore’

kiyoko gently smiled and you almost cried bc finally! you were able to clear your schedule enough to go visit your boyfriend

at the end of the school day, you bolted out of there and you were running and huffing all the way to seijoh bc you really wanted to talk to him as soon as possible

the gym was clear in view and you smiled, looking forward to seeing your beloved boy, when you saw him and oikawa being surrounded by girls

now keep in mind, youve suffered through middle school with oikawa and you were his best friend and has known him since you were a toddler

so you know of his looks and the attraction it brought him from all the females

so that didnt really bother you 

but what bothered you was the horde of girls that stuck on to your boyfriend and he didnt even look bothered

just,,, blank

not even pushing away or feeding into their actions

just,,, standing there

‘haji?’

you called out and as if he had a built-in sensor for you, his ears twitched and he swiveled to look at you

‘y/n’

he breathed out and you smiled gently

iwa quickly moved away from the girls and he grabbed your hand so you both could go somewhere else to talk privately

the back of the gym was quiet and you leaned against the wall, iwa joining you shortly

‘how-how are you?’

you asked and he scoffed, totally surprising you

‘is this how we are y/n? asking each other questions as if we’re friends who are meeting for the first time in a while? wait--actually we are arent we?’

you grimaced and looked to the side, knowing he starts his stages of anger with being passive aggressive

‘haji,, please understand’

you pleaded and swiveled to stand in front of him

iwa didnt meet your eyes, instead shoving his hands in his pants pockets and eyes trained to his shoes as he kicked rocks

‘y/n, ive been trying,, for months ive been understanding. please dont ask me to understand anymore’

he snipped and you sniffed

‘im doing this because-because my grades are starting to matter! my future is resting on these years! i have to-’

‘dont you think i know that?!’

he cut you off harshly

your eyes were shaking at his attempt to calm himself down and his trembling hands

‘dont you think i know that you are doing this for that? because ive known you since i was five y/n and i know you would push everything-everyone- else aside to reach a damn goal of yours. no matter the cost, as long as you get it, right? well youve always been like that and somehow i still accepted that yet years later here we are’

iwa waved his arms around to accentuate his point and hurt was bubbling inside your chest at a subtle jab at your flaw

‘well im sorry mr. volleyball ace player! im not talented in any area so i have to depend on my studies to get me a future! so fck me for trying to survive and create a life for us!’

‘us?! how is this for us?! y/n we cant even last a single year being apart and youre already thinking ahead of the future?!’

‘im doing this for you! for us! just wait hajime! we will be happy-’

‘I DONT CARE IF ITS FOR THE FCKING FUTURE! I WANT TO BE HAPPY WITH YOU RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW! AND WHY DOES THE FCKING FUTURE MATTER SO DAMN MUCH WHEN WE CANT EVEN-’

‘BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND I WANT TO BE WITH YOU!’

you shrieked

‘HOW CAN YOU LOVE ME IF YOURE NOT LOVING ME?!’

he huffed and harshly wiped away tears that fell

your lips trembled, hands shakingly reaching out to grasp his arms

‘ha-hajime,, don-’

‘should we break up?’

was he asking you this right now? 

seriously?

‘what?’

you whispered and he finally looked up to let you see his pained eyes

‘y/n do you know what day it was yesterday?’

he asked and you blinked, looking everywhere as you tried to remember any important events

‘t-tuesday?’

that seemed to snap his patience 

with an angry grunt, he turned to punch the wall and crouch to hide his face in his hands

‘damn it, y/n’

he whimpered and your heart broke as you could hear his cries

then it clicked

anniversary

it was your 2nd anniversary

and you completely missed it

completely forgotten

you shrunk back and let out a cry before placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries

‘ha-haji-’

you sniffled and you tried to go closer to him but he wiped his eyes and stood back up

‘y/n lets break up’

iwa requested with a cracked smile

your eyes widened and you ran to his chest, wrapping your arms around him as if you let go, he would disappear

‘haji, we can talk about this! we cant-please dont do this-i can fix this-’

‘we will only hurt ourselves even more if we continue this. i dont want us to hurt anymore y/n. so please, for once, listen to me’

your heart shattering cries filled your space and he didnt think it was this hard until he finally said it

it was a decision that he has been hanging around for a while and even consulted oikawa about it

‘iwa-chan, if you love y/n so much, its best to let her go. dont make you both suffer anymore’

‘i cant-hajime youre it for me-please dont leave-’

you hiccuped and continued to sob

but iwa remained a pillar and squeezed you tightly against him

‘darling i believe we were meant to be. but we just did it all wrong. when the time is right, lets start over again’

he whispered, finally breaking down with you in his arms

-------

iwaizumi hajime became a taboo word for you

even with oikawa, he swore and vowed to never say either of your names and made sure that you would not be around the area when iwa would come over

like even when he knew iwa would just stay inside, he would be constantly on the lookout to make sure you both didnt see each other

the last time was when you both saw each other in the morning as you exited your house to walk to school

it must’ve been a few months after the breakup and even oikawa felt the raw pain hovering in the air

it was suffocating and oikawa had to motion you to walk because if you both stayed even a second, someone-or both- would start crying

you continued like that for years until you reached your third year

you continued being part of the volleyball team as the medic while kiyoko was the manager

the new recruits were causing up a storm and you were particularly fond of your kita kouhai kageyama tobio

‘kageyama? kageyama tobio?’

you asked once you caught sight of the familiar looking blueberry

he looked up and recognized you as his former manager

‘l/n-senpai!’

he shouted and you ran up to give the boy a hug

‘gosh! youre so tall now! i remembered when you were wee tall!’

you teased and ruffled his hair

‘uh-you know him, y/n?’

suga asked and you nodded

‘eung! we went to the same middle school and i was a manager there’

‘she was friends with iwa-’

ope

something flashed in your eyes 

kiyoko knew that name bc of how you were so depressed about it for 2 years and she started shouting random nonsense, scaring the 2nd and first years

‘y/n! we got new medical tape!’

she sang out and you perked up

‘finally?! we dont have to use duct tape anymore?!’

you excitedly ran over and everyone was both shook that kiyoko was loud and two, you were actually excited over medical tape

kageyama shrugged and continued on training

he kinda figured something happened so he never said anything or asked you anything in fear of upsetting you

and when it was announced that you were going to a practice match with seijoh, kiyoko actually told you she would cover it to make sure you dont see him there

‘its fine, y/n, i got you’

but ofc, you couldnt skip inter high

ltr an event when anyone in the team could get injured so you forced yourself to just ignore it and go

you did a good job of hiding whenever he was in view until the time they actually faced each other

you were walking alongside kiyoko and settling some things down at the bench when you felt his stare

you grimaced at his intense stare and the entire team mistakenly took it as him being interested in you

‘HAH?! LOOK AWAY YOU BEANSPROUT!’

noya growled

‘YEA! DONT LOOK!’

ofc hinata echoed

the 3 seijoh third years exchanged looks of unease when iwa sighed and looked away

‘oi! dont do that, boke!’

kageyama chided and hit the orange boy with a water bottle at the head

hinata whined and glared at him

‘that porcupine was looking at l/n-senpai! he wants to steal her!’

‘boke-’

‘doesnt matter anyways. we broke up ages ago’

you tried to say it jokingly but they couldnt miss the crack in your voice

‘hah?! he broke up with you?! you?! goddess l/n-san?!’

tanaka raged and noya had his own face of shock

the famous seijoh ace dated you?!

this handsome bara arms muscle buff man had the priviledge to date you and yet broke up with you?!

‘yall didnt know that?’

kageyama questioned and everyone glared at him

‘how do you know’

‘i just did. i didnt want to say anything for this same reason that you guys didnt know and she wouldnt want her business out there’

he simply replied and continued filing his nails

you looked up and smiled

‘it doesnt matter anymore. it was years ago so its fine’

‘L/N-SAN WE WILL AVENGE YOU!’

‘WE WILL! WE WILL!!’

the three stooges swore and you smiled softly, ruffling each boy’s hair

‘then go out there and make me proud’

but we know how this goes

they lost and you were so devastated for the others and you dropped your bag to go and comfort a crying hinata

‘sshh, dont cry dont cry. im right here’

you cooed and he accepted your embrace, hugging you tightly

once he finally calmed down, you were able to get him to a good enough condition to walk to the bus to go home

you went back to get your bag when you found something on top of it

a single white carnation

and a small ripped piece of paper that said,

‘my name is iwaizumi hajime. i think youre really pretty’

a/n: iknowiknowiknow i died but im not back to life and this request was lowkey difficult and i dont think i did a good job w it because angst always gets too angsty for me but i couldnt resist giving this a sad ending like bls!!! and uwu im still working on that oikawa route bc ya girl cant decide how angsty she wants it to beeee and i have like 4 different versions of the route in my drafts hehehe,,,, but i hope yall liked this and uwu ive never been in a serious relationship before so i wouldnt know what to fight about and came up with this:(

[junova]

never been in love — single dad!steve (headcannon)

pairing: single dad!steve x teacher!reader

abstract: the one where steve likes you a lot and his daughter does too. 

warnings: it gets a lil smutty towards the end (18+) not really tho, this is so much longer than i intended jfc, bucky being kind of a dick, hint of daddy kink, cheating? 

[a/n]: this was totally inspired by @marvelouspeterparker​ post. i read it and it pulled me out of my writers block so thank u ! also this is so unnecessarily long but i have no excuse other than im a hoe for steve rogers?? 

*** gif isnt mine — i forgot creds srry :/

                             -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-  

oh god this one is going to hUrt me

but can you just imagine when steve really gets to see you, not just in passing as he picks up his daughter

he nearly shits himself because how in the hell had he not noticed you before?

one any given day, he’s right on time to pick up shai

he’s always punctual

— until today

not only was he late, but he was an hour late and in his mess of mind he was fully convinced they’d never let him bring her to the school again

to make matters even worse his phone had died and his cable was nowhere to be found in his dying, old pick up truck

not to mention his sweet little angel, more than likely frightened out of her mind

— but he was so wrong

practically in a full sprint, he quickly made his way to shai’s classroom when he found her perfectly peaceful while she talked with her teacher

even though, she was facing him and could see him she paid him no mind. it didn’t faze her that her father was so late because you had stayed to keep her company

“well, it looks like he finally decided to show up.” shai spoke to you, loud enough so her father in the doorway could her. the edge in her tone pushing sassy all the way through

of course as soon as shai found her way in steve’s arms he profusely apologized and graciously thanked you for staying with her saying he would repay you for it

— and it definitely had nothing to do with how attracted steve was to you. nope. not at all

you dismissed his gesture, it was a delight to be with shai and you told him such but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let it go

— and he didn’t

the very next day, when he dropped shai off and handed you a dozen pastries he had made fresh this morning

the way you gushed over it, cheekbones high and happy over his kindness made steve’s heart swell

they were still warm and you just couldn’t believe he made these with his bare hands

it was easily the kindest gift anyone ever gave you and you told him that too before you could stop yourself

then he just started bringing you a pastry or two every other day, even if you’d refused them the next day he would bring double the amount he brought the day before

you stopped refusing him bc you already felt guilt since he wouldn’t let you pay for a single one

after two weeks, steve asked you out. you weren’t shocked he had, he had been buttering you up but no matter how charming you thought he was you couldn’t.

he was a parent of one of your students and you just couldn’t allow yourself to go there

it wasn’t necessarily against the rules, but it was frowned upon

accepting your rejection with grace and humility he grabbed shai before bidding you goodbye that day

you thought that was the end of it, until you saw him the following friday night at the bar you frequented at

— alone

you wanted to talk to him, the tequila in your system giving you an irresistible urge to but you were on a date with on of your friends’ coworkers

james buchanan barnes

he definitely was a smooth taker, those dazzling blue eyes sparkling like they knew something you didn’t

you really wanted to be interested, he was a loose shape of a man you’d dream about. maybe you could even pretend he was the one you really wanted

not when steve was sitting at the bar, alone.

but you left that thought behind and you convinced yourself you really were smitten with bucky

two weeks later, bucky and you had been on a few dates and he seemed to like you but you knew you had to end things.

whatever little fling you had going on

your heart got more of kick when steve used to bring you pastries in the morning before class than when bucky kissed you after your first date.

then he asked if you would come to his house, he was having a small get together and would love if you’d be there

— reluctantly, you went

bucky’s friends were nice, each one of them making you feel welcomed into their tight circle.

it turned into a better night than you thought and bucky seemed to be super touchy, guiding you onto his lap as you sat around the fire in his patio

natasha, bucky’s long friend since high school, had you all in fits on the stories from the past

everyone was too busy reeling to recognize his presence but you had the to be blind not to

there steve stood gaping at you’d like you were a ghost, certainly surprised to see you perched on bucky’s lap

yep you wanted to just crawl under a whole a stay there forever

“Glad to see you showed up, punk.” Bucky gesturing for him to make his way over to you, even when you pulled at the sleeve of his henley to stop him.

— of course your efforts to tame bucky in did nothing

he grabbed a cold one before making his way to the two of you

and dear god was it as awkward as ever

“Honey, this is my best friend, Steve.” Honey? He had never called you anything besides your name. By the way he pulled you even closer to him made you think there was something else entirely going on.

you certainly didn’t miss the way steve’s jaw clenched or as he held his right hand picking at the piece of bark rather aggressively

“Um, we actually know each other. Shai is in my class, actually.” Feeling rather suffocated by the weight of Bucky’s arms now that the man you felt too much for was here. “Really? I had no idea.”

steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, infuriated. it wasn’t just that bucky knew you were shai’s teacher but he knew just how much steve liked you.

he didn’t shut up about you since he you with his daughter — something inside him changing in an instance

it wasn’t just that he thought you were the most wonderful woman he’d me — shai also raved over you

shai’s mother leaving a gaping whole in her heart she didn’t quite understand at the age of five was filled by you

you were kind to her, your patience never wearing thin as you gave her the attention she deserved

it may be your job but you enjoyed every moment with her and steve noticed

“Oh? She’s the one you would wake up an hour early for to make the pastries?” Bucky blurted out.

he woke up an early just to make those for you?

the way steve looked at the ground, grinding his fingertip against the label of his beer made you want to cry. his neck flaring pink at the embarrassment only made you wish you were in his arm instead

— even more than you already did

“You really should have seen the smile on his face when he came back from the school gushing over how much you liked what he had made.”

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist before saying. “Or when you reject him, I still can’t decide which is better.”

“That’s enough, James.” You tone harsh, before you ripped yourself away.

you couldn’t even look at steve, you don’t think your heart could handle it so you practically sprinted to your car

you needed to get the fuck out of here

until you reached for you keys, but they weren’t in your pocket

“Looking for these?” His hands looping through your keys giving it a twirl. “Star Wars fan?” Steve gesturing to you baby yoda key chain. “Maybe just a tad.”

“Thank you, Steve.” He tried to ignore the jump you ignited in his heart whenever you said his name.

handing your keys, he turned away from you, heading back into the house until you yanked him forward

the force so strong he though he was going to body slam into you before he pushing his weight against the car.....and you

“I’m sorry about, Bucky. I never would have gone out with him if I knew you two were friends.” You admitted while Steve just stood there looking embarrassed.

god did you always have to ruin everything

“I-I just, um, have these feelings for you. These very complicated feelings that make me want to throw every morally sound thought I have to the wind.”

“Which thought did you want to get rid of right now?” Stepping outside of his comfort zone, Steve grabbed your hands and just on instinct alone you cradled his face like it was the most natural act in the world. Like you had done it a thousand times.

“I mean, for one I’m telling myself I shouldn’t be this close to you.” Steve taking you by surprise as he tilted his head to the side, kissing the palm of your hand.

did he really just-

“What else, sweet girl?”

oh, you really were a goner

“I don’t know.” You spoke softly. Admitting to not only him but yourself — you couldn’t think when he was this close to you.

“Oh, but I think you do.” Steve diving right in as he latched his plump lips to your neck. Making whispers of his name drip off your tongue.

before you register what was happening steve had you pressed up against the car, rough hands gripping your thighs as your legs clinged to his slim waist

not to mention the ratio from his broad shoulders to his hips had your pussy drowning more

making you forget why you’d ever rejected him in the first place and he had hardly even touched you yet

then his lips met yours and you knew he had ruined you for anyone else. no one would ever compare to him and not anyone from your past did.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, completely in awe of what Steve was capable of doing to you in a matter of seconds. The proud smirk he wore in great contrast to what he felt back by the fire when he saw your body entangled with Bucky.

“If I ever see you sitting on my best friend’s lap again, I will go fucking crazy. Do you understand?” Steve eyes burning with envy.

“Yes, Daddy.”

brb gonna cry that i don’t have my very own steve rogers rip 

                            -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

 tags: @tonystankschild​ @parkastoria​ @kayteewritessteve​ 

[pluviophile-imagines]

Could I ask what your sexuality headcanons are? I love comparing mine with other peoples’!

Ok second half of this; this is just like. non-students who i Actually have thought about HJBAFV not at all a comprehensive list. Again disclaimer i write all these chars as bi in my fics, also i am bi myself so the vast majority are also bi, and also leaving a lot of these vague so u can imagine ur favorite ship or urself or w/ever

ok lets start this off with Aizawa. I think....... hes another one who's rlly unlabelled, doesnt super care to think it through and define it, but calls himself gay bc his interest in women is very, very rare and it's just way easier to say than explain all that. Definitely do buy into the idea that he had a crush on Oboro in hs but i do NOT buy into the easermic agenda sorry. Definitely not someone who goes looking for dates, but doesn't say no if someone asks him and hes interested (also im not gonna give her a whole section but i saw a hc a while back that the Ms. Joke stuff is literally that shes a lesbian and hes gay and shes fucking with him and i love that so much i just wanted to put it out there)

on the topic of the erasermic agenda: Hizashi's pan and knew it before HS, had a sudden & intense crush on Aizawa for the first month they knew each other and then immediately got over it in favor of a similar sudden, intense, and then immediately fading crush on Midnight. Hizashi and Aizawa r just rlly good friends imo; maybe they messed around for a bit in their twenties but it never went anywhere serious. He dates around a lot, not even necessarily to settle down just to have some fun

Midnight is aro/ace but does get in qprs & gravitates towards women wrt that. Most people dont read vigilantes but theres a woman in that, Kazuho, who i imagine she's been in a long-term qpr with; her relationship with aizawa and hizashi leans a little more towards a qpr than a normal friendship, too, but it's not rlly defined that way

All Might is married to justice queer but v much not interested in relationships. He and that one guy from the first movie are ABSOLUTELY exes and i won't hear otherwise; it's the only relationship he's ever had, and they broke up bc he had to go back to japan. He was heartbroken but did eventually get over him; his lack of romance afterwards is from genuine disinterest and not being hung up on his past. I can see him finding someone else in his later years, after he's retired. Definitely feels like he's not worthy of it tho

Hawks is bi but unfortunately didn't get to figure that out until like Now in the timeline...... if youll let my dabihawks history shine through i think dabi was the reason JHBASFGJHB he was basically brainwashed by the commission to become a hero so he didnt have time to Figure That Shit Out; he knew he was into women bc that was easy & what the commission expected from him but then he started this undercover assignment and met dabi and realized Oh...... Fuck. Hawks is hard tbh, bc i think between the control that the commission has over him and his own convictions as a hero he doesn't pursue any romance (tho he does get crushes or find people attractive) and most of his flings are done to keep up his prettyboy act, not out of genuine interest in being a fuckboy. Can't imagine him having a relationship until well after canon but I do see him being interested eventually

Onto the villains, Shigaraki is unlabelled but probably would call himself queer if asked. Definitely admires women more but isn't very interested in romance; AFO actively encourages him to pursue the things interested in so imo if he were he'd talk abt it more lmfao. I kinda see him as demi as well, not the type to fall immediately but requiring a friendship beforehand; tho unlike Bakugo as i said in my last post I dont think it happens suddenly but rather slowly. Y'all know im a big fan of shigaraki being absolutely whipped for his s/o so i do thing hes a big piner, tho he's also pretty bold and unashamed of his affections. I'm a big fan of him falling for a member of the league or a civilian; definitely can't see him falling for a hero unless the hero was already halfway to turning sides already. I think he's also attracted to intelligence and someone who pushes him to think more abt his ideology...... maybe im just projecting at this point JSHDFBVAJKSHD but my point is that the gender of his partner is definitely the least of what he considers/notices

Dabi is bi and, here's my bold take, demisexual; not interested in sex unless its with someone he loves. Absolutely doesn't even think abt romance for most of the years where he's on his own. He's got revenge to plan. By the time he joins the league that hasn't changed much, and he's demi so he's not interested in sleeping around, plus he rlly denies any attachment to people at all. As I said in that other ask tho I do rlly like the idea of him with Magne, so I think they have a fling for a bit before her death :( it's one of the things that leads him to isolate himself further, unfortunately, even from Jin and the other League members with whom his relationships aren't romantic. I can see him dating someone post-canon bc i think hes gonna be redeemed lol. It could be someone he knew before but they probably didnt date again bc he was v guarded; i think magne was rlly the only person he dated

Magne is pan and heres the kicker: I think shes t4t, which led to a little moment just before she and dabi got together where he was like "she wouldnt be into me :/" but she was into him anyway so all was good. She got around in her circles, mostly casual stuff tho she yearned for something more serious.

Spinner's bi & trends towards women but does occasionally get things for men and they're almost always intense. He thought he was straight for a while even once he joined the league and then suddenly got a crush on Shigaraki (around the time of MVA) and realized otherwise LMFAO he's definitely a hopeless romantic type, the whole mutant prejudice thing makes it rlly hard for him and i can see him being rlly happy with another mutant-type; i feel like as he matures he starts to gravitate towards them

Toga is canonically pan to my understanding, iirc her interest in Uraraka and Deku is the same (and romantic) in canon tho i might be wrong. Poor girl just needs therapy. I like the idea of the two of them becoming her friends over her being involved with them but i totally can get behind her having a thing with Uraraka (and maybe Tsu) at some point post-canon (presuming she gets redeemed), tho I think a qpr between the two/three of them would be longer lasting. And again presuming she gets therapy i can see her settling down with someone, gender irrelevant

Jin is unlabelled bc he hasn't much thought abt it, definitely had a thing for dabi and for hawks which does make me sad on both counts. I think he likes women slightly more abstractly/aesthetically and gets crushes more on men,. The dabi thing fades as they get closer and start to view each other as brothers. In his later years he doesn't rlly care about romance, I think he enjoys the experience of crushing but doesnt like dating people; his found family in the League is far more important to him. But i can see him falling head-over-heels for someone quite suddenly and having a bit of a whirlwind romance. Also someone for whom gender isn't much of a factor

Mr Compress is also queer and also hasn't rlly thought abt it. Definitely leans more towards women; he's like 30 but i like to think he also goes for older partners, 10 or 15 years his senior KJBADSJFHB idk he just has that Vibe with the way he calls himself an old man etc. A lot of the league i cant see sleeping or dating around much, i feel like they prioritize each other, but I do think mr compress gets around more than the others. i can see him having a bit of a fuckbuddy who he catches feelings for

Kurogiri is fun; as Oboro I do think Aizawa's crush was reciprocated, tho he wasn't around long enough for them to act on it :( he's bi, tho kurogiri isn't supposed to have personal interests. I like to imagine the brainwashing isnt as good as AFO wants it to be tho so I like the idea of him falling for someone anyway. I also like the idea of the heroes managing to undo the nomufication and I 100% can see him, aizawa, and someone else (someone he was involved with as Kurogiri) ending up in a triad as a result of aizawa and the third partner helping him through the aftermath of all that shit

Lady Nagant is a manga-only minor character but im in love with her so imma talk abt it. Shes bi and leans VERY heavily towards women, probably spent years questioning whether she was rlly bi or a lesbian before finally having a fling with a guy that she genuinely enjoyed. Has only ever been in long-term relationships with women and I v much think she has a gf at home who stayed even when she was arrested 🥺

Finally imma talk abt Natsuo bc i love that boy. He's one of the few unmarried chars with a love interest and he canonically has a gf. I do see him as IDing straight in canon ngl, but the kind of straight where he might actually be bi but his preference leans so heavily towards women and he grew up in a bad home so he just doesnt rlly think abt it bc hes v happy with women anyway. In shiganatsu thoughts shigaraki is the first man he has a thing for; i rlly can see the two of them in a triad with a woman specifically, who helps the two of them find each other and is the one who initiates bc its definitely a weird situation for natsuo

[sparring-spirals]

Okay so, an absolute word vomit of thoughts around beau and jester in recent eps. Speculation and possibly projection abound.

TL;DR: first, this meta by @luckthebard. aka: beau doesn't quite know jester. 

imo, its bc they lost touch for a bit, and now the smaller differences/arguments all underline the bigger fact of They Don't Quite Know Each Other As Well. I think it will take an argument for them to realize. BUT, after that, I think this is something they can overcome, which is good bc I really miss the blue gals talkin.

alright. thats the gist of the post. you can stop here. read on if you want the trainwreck line of thought in its full glory. its so long. im sorry.

- the thing is, i do really like beau and jester interactions. i dont mind the shipping aspect of it, mostly because i think there are/were paths to it that would also have interesting in implications for both of their individual character development.

- but the point, of their relationship was never exactly based in romance for me. I always liked all of their interactions, the push and pull of "i see that there is more to you." and "i will fight you to make you believe your self worth" and "as your roommate i will see uninentionally vulnerable moments from you but handle them with grace". ...all of which, I guess, some people would argue are points towards the ship, but. Honestly? IMO, you don't need a relationship for those kinds of sentiments. You don't need to be In Love with, or Dating or Romancing someone for any of what I mentioned.

- which is why, its felt disappointing to me that the apparent halt of these conversations coincided with beau focusing romantic attentions on yasha. [also, i fuckin LOVE the disaster lesbians, dont get me wrong. i had to delete a whole paragraph here about it/intricacies of their rel. pls believe me.] They still care about each other! But there’s that something else, a distance there. and like. I get that a lot of times, this is a real life thing that happens if you've got a crush and then something else pans out instead. but that doesnt feel like the extent- or end, of it, for me. maybe this is wishful thinking or something but:

- In my opinion, what happened was more akin to any instance where a relationship predicated on an inherent closeness suffers a- shock? a crack? Some unexpected change, or distance. Not always because of a romantic confession or a betrayal. Like when a close friend moves far away.

- Its not a change in love, exactly, but in people. When you are close to people, a lot of little things can be ignored; you develop shorthand and easy assumptions and ways to read them. But sometimes, for whatever reason, you lose access to them, or that- long enough for things to shift. For the person to change, for you to change. And- both in the case of misplaced romantic affections and otherwise, you end up in a space where you still care, but there is a distance, and your efforts to pick up the easy camraderie don't quite fit the same. The shortcuts you're used to lead to abrupt misunderstandings, maybe terse words. You try to double down on what you know about them, make harder judgements, and it backfires more. Its a tragedy, and almost an insult because: you know this person. You love them. So why does everything suddenly feel so clumsy and wrong?

- but you don't know them. For whatever reason, things slipped a bit and you lost connection for a bit, and now you don't know them anymore.

- I think this is where Beau is now. I think that partly because Beau was wrapped up trying to keep her own feelings under control, partly because they rarely split into rooms in inn's anymore, partly because they've both been a little focused on other people, other things, bigger concerns.

- and I think jester might be guilty of it too, but to a less noticeable extent, maybe because how beau has been treating the traveler, and she has perhaps, been holding a little distance. i think maybe beau notices, and the overfamiliarity, and occasional rudeness is its own form of trying to fix it; like being overfamiliar as an extension of friendship. except the inside jokes don't land correctly, and doubling down on them makes it worse.

- i think that even in the beginning, they didn’t fully understand each other, beau a little more than jester. But it was something that could’ve been worked through, in inn rooms and boat talks. Now, where there’s this distance and some assumption of knowing each other that is making it worse, it requires more.

- and i'm not sure this will be understood until there is a breaking point- or at least a very honest discussion. about the traveler. or about them.

- BUT LISTEN! good news. after that, this is fixable. this is fixable in a way that "beau treated jester good bc she had crush, now she doesnt" isnt. It is rough and hard to fix, because it requires admitting you don't know this person as well as you wanted to, and requires relearning them, a bit. But it's doable. And worth it, because being close to people and knowing them and being known has never been something reserved for romance. Beau and Jes still care about each other- instinctive dimension door grabs, panic when one goes down, general support. That part isn't in jeopardy. And as long as Beau and Jester are both willing, to spend the time to relearn and reconnect to get back that extra something, i think it'll be okay.

- just a bit of a bumpy road to get there.

[kikyozoldyck]

ENTROPY

PAIRING: senju tobirama x uchiha!reader SUMMARY: the gradual decline into chaos WARNINGS: swearing, degradation, dirty talk, cheating, cunnilingus, mildy dubious consent (just bc verbal consent isnt given), 

"Even a simpleton could see the way that Senju dog looks at you."

Madara's smooth, dry voice stops Tobirama just before he rounds the bend to the corridor hosting your medical ward. His spine locks, jaw clenching with unease.

"Dearest elder brother, I feel it prudent to remind you that he is a married man." A short, meaningful pause, your voice lilting through the torch-lit air. "And that his wife is employed at this very hospital."

Madara scoffs, and Tobirama's gut churns.

"It is how the Senju are," your brother spits, his voice echoing gently throughout the unusually silent halls. "A Senju has no true lover, as a beast has no true mate. Why do you think he and Hashirama differ in appearance so?"

Fists bunched at his sides, Tobirama rounds the corner, his shadow breaking harsh and abrupt against the torchlight.

"Lord Senju." You blink at his entrance, only mildly startled, your dainty hands falling from Madara's newly healed abdomen, your chin rising. "Are you in need of medical aid? I was just finishing with my brother. I shall be with you in a moment."

"It would seem I injured my shoulder in the last battle. Thank you," Tobirama nods, then, not knowing why he feels the need he calls you by your first name.

(Or perhaps knowing why but being unable to admit to it.)

Madara stands, eyeing Tobirama with barely contained fury as he does so. Your fingers twitch in empty air as you turn your gaze toward him. "Elder br—."

"Watch yourself, Tobirama." Madara's voice comes out low and tight. "That is the Lady of Uchiha with whom you assume such audacious familiarity – my sister."

"Of course, Madara." Tobirama inclines his head in deference, but there's an air of boldness to it. "I wouldn't dare presume familiarity with anything of yours."

"Elder Brother," You say again, your voice soft and warning, this time laying a hand on his arm.

Tobirama glances at the motion with a knowing smirk, before his gaze alights on you once more. "Apologies for any transgression, my lady."

Something in the way his mouth forms the words seems strikingly inappropriate — brazen in its fondness. You have to tighten your grip on Madara's arm to keep him from lunging.

"Touch my sister — even look at her again with those foul eyes of yours — and I'll have your head, Senju, do you understand me?"

Tobirama blinks steady, unfazed eyes at him. You suck a sharp breath between your teeth, "Madara, please."

Madara snarls once more, his tenebrous eyes purposely set to Tobirama's, letting the silence speak for him. He takes his leave before any of you can say more.

A steady silence pervades the corridor in his wake, the flicker of torchlight licking heat at your backs.

"Sit, Lord Senju." You finally tell him and gesture to the newly empty cot, "remove your coat as well."

He shrugs out of his coat, folding it over the backs of one of the empty chairs, and takes a seat.

"Thank you for your aid, Lady Uchiha." He says as he does so, "I imagine you have been quite busy as of late and are eager to return home."

"It is no detriment. As I have said before, you are my compatriot, it is my honor and duty to assist you. Though, as your compatriot, may I offer you some advice?"

Tobirama blinks at you, catching the unbidden heat in your eyes, the slight flare of your nostrils, the heavy rise, and fall of your chest.

"I welcome any counsel you may offer, my lady."

"As thrilling as it may be to a brain as small as your own, you must stop goading my brother on." You tell Tobirama, pausing for a moment, hands moving to smooth over imaginary wrinkles in your skirt, "one day, he will strike you down where you stand. He's killed better men for less."

"Lady Uchiha, I must admit I am quite flattered by your concern." Tobirama narrows his eyes, a rare smile finding itself on his lips, "but you may rest assured. I'd sooner fear my own shadow than your elder brother."

"You jest," you frown, stalking off to the side and crossing your arms, "but every morning when he wakes, he lights a candle in hopes for your death."

"And you?" He asks, his voice heavy with something unfamiliar even to himself, "Do you light candles with such morbid intention?"

"No. Why would I?" You huff your incredulity, arms uncrossing as you stalk back to him. "The war is over, our two sides have become one. Battle prowess such as yours would be a shame to lose."

"I killed your brother. That is why Madara despises me so, is it not?"

"It is." You concede, "but I have come to learn the reason Izuna has died while you live, and it has granted me peace."

"And what, may I implore, is this reason?"

"The souls of good men are the finest spoils of war."

He stops, rears back. "Am I not a good man?"

You seem to hesitate a moment, mouth opening and then closing.

"No. Lord Senju, you are not."

"May I inquire what lead you to this conclusion?"

"To begin," You step closer, and gesture towards the space between you, "you are here with me feigning a medical emergency instead of with your wife, in your marriage bed."

"And why," It comes out more like a warning than a question, and he can see how your shoulders straighten at the tone, "do you think that is? "

You look off to the wall. "Honestly, my lord, I am unsure. I do not presume to understand the intricacies of your marriage. "You reply as he stands, your eyes drifting cautiously back to his.

His chest hums with his frustration as he steps even closer, close enough to reach out and grasp you if he so pleased.

(Does he?)

"What does your dearest elder brother say?" he snaps, sneering the familiar phrase with vitriol so acute he can taste it on his tongue.

He can see the muscles in your throat work as you swallow. He's close enough to you to hear it.

Tobirama runs a hand through his hair roughly, his jaw tight with aggravation. "Surely, you have sought his counsel on the matter?"

You seem almost ready to speak it, and then something passes over your face that he doesn't recognize. You're stepping back, out of his proximity, head shaking, and he moves before he can stop himself. He grabs for you, catching you by your arms and dragging you back against him.

He's just so tired of this quiet, violent game between the two of you.

"Tell me," he growls, and the feeling is heady in its fervency.

You stare him down, mouth a harsh frown. You don't resist his hold — though you both know you easily could — you don't ease into it either. “He says that you lust after me."

(Distantly, he understands that it's shame he should be feeling, perhaps regret, maybe even indignation if it weren't true.

And that's the hindrance, though, is it not?

Because it is true.)

Somehow, it's only keen anticipation that fills him. Were he a good man, he'd stop right now — this very instant — and return home to his wife, slip into their bed and never think of this night again.

(But were he a good man he would have never deemed to so fervently crave what he shouldn't in the first place — namely you.)

Tobirama draws a slow breath in through his teeth, glancing down to your plush, parted lips for a single, illuminating moment. He almost curses himself because when he looks back up, there's the imperceptible widening of your eyes and the gentle quickening of your breaths.

He pulls you tighter to him. "What else?" he bites out, because fury is easier, fury is an acceptable smokescreen. And he finds that wrath is an effortless cover for desire.

(He doesn't let himself think too long on why that is.)

"Lord Senju, you are being —"

"What else?" he barks, suddenly aflame, and he isn't sure whether it's ire or desire that truly lights his bones this time.

"What is the matter with you?" You squirm in his grasp, scandalized. "Unhand me right now, you scoundrel."

But you aren't looking him in the eye, and your struggle is half-hearted at best.

(If he looks closely, he'd be able to see the faint dusting of pink coating your cheekbones, the girlish flutter of your eyelashes, and the tight curl of your shaking fists.

But he can't.)

He's too busy watching how torchlight catches along your collar bone above the modest cut of your yukata. "What else?" he rasps out, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He suddenly realizes this was a mistake, a mistake he can't find in himself to undo. He's glancing back to your face, catching the sharp cut of your widened eyes against his own.

"Nothing that is of any importance to you." You arch against his hold.

"Now, Lady Uchiha, we both know that is untrue." Tobirama scoffs, stepping into you. You stumble back with the motion, and he follows. "Tell me what depraved things your elder brother whispers in your ear about me." 

It's a challenge, he knows, and even still, he's alight with anticipation at the prospect of such vulgar words staining your lips. His cock stirs even at the thought, his control wavering dangerously as he holds you, presses into you, guides you slowly back to the cot.

He watches as something steels in your gaze, and you stop your backward tread, mouth firming into a thin line.

"He says it's your Senju blood that gives you such unsanctified cravings."

Tobirama barks a laugh, the fervor high and vibrant in his tone. It overtakes him. "My Senju blood, hm?" His hands flex along your arms, sliding lower, slipping toward your waist with more surety than he's touched even his own wife with. He's delirious with it suddenly – this potent hunger, this violent fury. As he watches you glower up at him, he thinks that perhaps he isn't the only one. He thinks this because you don't voice your protest when his hand settles at your midsection, his fingers gripping at your waist like a threat. "Then what is it, Lady Uchiha, that grants you your own…unsanctified cravings?"

You push at his chest, your outrage splashing along your cheeks. "If you think that I would crave an unprincipled miscreant like yourself, then you are truly twice the fool I thought you were."

"I assure you, I am not stupid." Tobirama's fingers curl into the fabric of your yukata, holding you flush against him. "And though I may not possess the demon eyes of your clansmen, I am far from blind. I've seen the way you look at me. I've felt the way you covet me. Deny it if you please, Lady Uchiha, but the truth is known."

You bare your teeth, your wrathful hiss breaking against the heavy air between you like a deadly promise. "I have never —"

"Never what? Never entertained the idea?" His hands are trembling fiercely at your sides, his lungs struggling under the weight of his own aphrodisia. "Never touched yourself to the thought of me? A married man. The same one who slaughtered poor Izuna."

"You truly are a bastard," your eyes narrow dangerously.

(The snarl that leaves him has your mouth parting, your throat flexing beneath a soft whine, one so sweet he fears he will fall down dead if he never hears it again. He wants to catch the hitch of your breath between his teeth and drag his tongue long and slow against your untouched throat until you're whining low and breathless at his ear.)

He wants it so violently he's shaking with it.

(It's such a pretty little picture. The Senju Lord. The Uchiha Lady. Surely this was his brother's intention when founding Konoha was it not?)

"You needn't be ashamed," he breathes just above your mouth, walking you back until your legs hit the cot, "it is only natural for a whore like yourself to be plagued with such…sordid thoughts."

You stare him down with a heat so intense that it has him hardening instantly.

"That is why your brother frets, isn't it?" he whispers lowly, like a threat, like a promise he's spent too long trying not to break. "Any dutiful brother would, what with a sister who lusts like a bitch in heat."

(And here's the truth of it all:

You never say no.

You never still his hands — though you so easily could. You never do anything but mold into his embrace — even when you're glaring at him so malevolently. Even when you're holding the cut of your words behind a practiced tongue.)

You lick your lips, ignoring the avidity with which he watches your mouth. "Lord Senju." There's still anger lining your tone, still, bite behind your words. But there's something else there too, isn't there?

"Your brother has declared me a beast," he slips a hand boldly up your side. His thumb brushing the edge of your breast so barely it could be called a mistake. His fingers sweep languidly along your collarbone – a thrum of possessiveness to the motion. "So perhaps I shall fuck you like one, hm?"

You gasp against him, your body rocking into his zealously even as your nails dig crescents into his arms with your indignation. He holds his hips to yours, his desire apparent. You don't quite collar the moan that leaves you when you bite down on your lower lip. A beast he may be, but you're the one gripping him to you. You're the one not letting go.

It sets his skin ablaze, his body racked with instant heat, a coil of desire anchoring low and sharp in his gut. "Lady Uchiha," he says on a dangerous exhale, the hand along your chest dragging up your throat to grip your jaw in his haze. His hold is firm and unrelenting, his fingers digging into your skin. He brushes a thumb along your parted lips, eyes trained to the motion. He pants raggedly above your mouth. "You never quite told me what your brother has accused me of – what vile thoughts I must entertain." Another swipe of his thumb.

You drag a heated breath through your lungs, chin tilting high.

(And it really is an easy guilt to bear, he thinks – this desire, this shameful hunger. Easier now that he can see the same sinful need in your eyes.)

Tobirama licks his lips, his thumb pressing harder at your bottom lip, the edge of your teeth grazing his skin and your tongue — your tongue, right there —

"Or will you tell me that a lady of your stature cannot repeat such utter filth?" Tobirama groans, dipping his thumb just past your lips, feeling the wet heat of your breath splashing across his skin. "That this prim and proper little mouth of yours could never speak such blatant obscenities, hm?"

Something darkens in your eyes. A sharp clarity – a single flare in the shadows of the medical ward, and — instantly — Tobirama knows there is no going back now.

Slow and sure, with your eyes never leaving him, you press your tongue to the pad of his thumb at your mouth, your lips parting in invitation. You never blink. The groan that leaves him echos through the empty room, his hips bucking into yours unconsciously as he dips his thumb into the heat of your mouth. You take his thumb between your lips, curling your tongue around his knuckle and sucking long and slow, drawing back until you release him with a dull pop.

He's staring at your spit-shined lips, transfixed, panting, drunk on his own arousal.

"He told me that beasts such as yourself take what they want."

It's all the confirmation he needs.

The hand along your hip moves to the obi of your yukata, tugging impatiently.

Your hands slink deep into his hair as you move your mouth to his cheek, your breath hot and wet at the shell of his ear. "He told me that you'd part my legs without hesitation – that you'd take your fill again and again and again."

Tobirama snatches the loosened material of your yukata from your shoulder. Tearing holes in the diaphanous silk in his hurry to press his mouth to your bared shoulder with a feral bite. You throw your head back, a keening cry breaking from your lips.

"What else?"

"He told me you'd fuck me without restraint."

In a single, furious swipe, he drags the torn fabric from you, leaving you in your hadajuban. You step from the fabric easily, and then your hands are pulling at his breastplate shirt, helping him loosen it, dragging it over his head, and then doing the same with his tunic. His hands still halfway through, unlacing his breeches, his cock straining against the fabric. You grab him by the face, leveling your gaze to his, your flushed chest rising and falling so quickly he's lightheaded at the motion.

"He told me that you'd ruin me for any other man — mark me in ways too vile for me to even fathom."

It overtakes him – this insanity, this desperation so stark and vibrant it lights his tongue with delirium when he kisses you, hard and needy and wrong. So wrong, it's got him crashing into you. His large hands dug into your hair, teeth-gnashing against yours, tongue hot and wet in your mouth as he falls into you. He collapses you to the cot, a fumbling mess of limbs and gasps and yes, please god, yes.

He's already rucking up your hadajuban. Already palming at your thighs, shoving his hips so roughly between yours that the cot creaks beneath the strain.

"Say my name," he pants against your bruised lips, licking at them like a starved wolf.

You arch against him, one hand dug into his hair, the other fisting in the bedding at your head. 

Tobirama snarls into your mouth, biting down on your lip, rutting into you, his cock achingly hard against the slip of your underclothes. "Say it," he demands again. This time harsher – this time with the kind of desperation that has him bracing his forehead to yours, panting at your mouth, gripping at your hips with bruising fingers.

You dart your tongue out to taste him, licking into him, up along the roof of his mouth, and slowly back out. He wraps a hand around your throat, urging you face to the side, his teeth sinking into the skin just below your ear. You keen at the brutal swipe of his tongue along your sweat-soaked skin.

"Say it," he releases your neck with a hiss, fingers scrambling for your underclothes. He drags them down past your knees, and you raise your hips instinctively, letting him claw them off of you.

Your voice catches in your throat, arms sliding around his shoulders to keep him to you. Finally, you whisper: "Tobirama" Then, his fingers are dipping into your cunt so abruptly and unexpectedly that you arch off the bed like a strung bow, mouth parting in a silent cry.

Tobirama groans your name into your neck, fingers sliding out just enough to plunge back in, swift and brutal. Again and again, without mercy. "How wet you are." He hums, appreciatively, "is it all for me?"

"Yes," you whine, tongue flicking out against his ear. Tobirama growls into your skin, fucking you harder with his fingers. You cry out, a broken sob catching, nails digging into his shoulder blades, his scalp.

Tobirama pushes his cock into the mattress for some relief, for any kind of relief, aching and tight and breathless. "Will you — will you allow me to taste you?"

You nod dizzily, and then he's dragging his body down the length of you. His mouth setting kisses over your shoulders, your collarbone, stopping for a moment to bite softly at your nipples before trailing down your stomach. Before you can even breathe his name, before you can also process the pressure of his palms pulling your dampened thighs apart, Tobirama buries his face between your legs and swipes his tongue slowly up your soaking cunt, harsh and firm and greedy. He moans into you with abandon, desperate to be deeper, to have you rutting against his mouth like an animal.

"Fuck!" You shout, one trembling hand latching onto his head instinctively. His hips jerk at the sudden break in your composure, at the breathless grunts leaving you.

He opens his mouth over your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue up and down your slit once more, sucking at your folds, your clit, lavishing in the ambrosial nectar that seeps from between your thighs. He moans into your heat with a hunger that shakes you. Rutting into the bed in time to his licks, eating you out like a man absolutely fucking starved, your slickness coating his lips and cheeks, his chin drenched in your juices.

He tongue fucks you so roughly, so sharp and hard and ravenous that your hips are arching up off the bed. You chase the heat of his mouth, grinding down on his tongue, the heavy, ragged sound of his breathing lost beneath the gush of your slickness. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you into him, keeping your cunt flush against his mouth, his tongue licking you up with a deep-seated groan, drowning in your harsh pants. 

He's completely and utterly lost in you, so absolutely soaked from your sopping cunt, the taste of you, that pungent, slick taste of you and he can't get enough, can't fuck you deep enough with his tongue, and so he dips two fingers into your heat, groaning at the broken sob that drags from your lips, curling his fingers tight and sharp, anchoring you through the violent shudder that racks your entire body, teeth catching on your clit, pushing deeper, eating you out so loudly and obscenely he thinks he may just cum from the sounds as you fuck yourself on his mouth. You twist your fingers in his hair as your thighs tremble at his ears, and he has to look up at you, has to watch you fucking his mouth, wild and shameless and so sinfully wet he's close to drowning in you.

He has to see if you're watching as this Senju beast eats your cunt with hunger so savage he could cum into the bedsheets right there.

Tobirama catches your gaze through the sweat-damp fringe of his hair, your eyes sharp and brilliant and intent on his own, your bare chest rising and falling heavily, your lips bruised from where you've bitten them too harshly, and he watches as your head falls back against the pillow, your hips arching higher, angling off the bed, and the sheets are soaked beneath you, and yet somehow, through the haze of his own mindless moans, and the broken, breathless whines spilling from your mouth, and the slick, loud flush of his tongue along your cunt, over and over – he hears it.

A murmur at first – hesitant, low. And then louder, surer, until he recognizes the sharp edges of your voice, your begging, your fervent commands.

"Fuck me, Tobirama. Please. Oh, Gods. Oh, please." A desperate groan leaves you as you curls your fingers in his hair, grinding against his mouth shamelessly. The sheer vulgarity of the words coming from your mouth makes his cock unbearably harder. "Fuck me like the beast you are. Please."

Tobirama stops abruptly, his breathing ragged, fingers going still where they're buried in your cunt, coated in your slick, arousal. You howl at the interruption, arching impossibly sharp, clawing at his scalp, your gaze whipping down to his. "Why have you—" you pant, eyes gone wild and unfocused, cheeks flushed. "What are you —"

You blink down at him, your face going pale as you realize what you've said, and Tobirama stares at you, still impossibly hard, still ready to finish you off with the brutal swipe of his tongue against your trembling cunt, until he catches the firm press of your lips, the sharp glint in your eye as you keep your heated gaze to his, the way you pant without shame, without regret.

You won't take it back.

And suddenly — blindingly — Tobirama realizes that he doesn't want you to.

Something splinters in him, clawing its way out his throat, thrumming dangerously through his veins. He slips from you, ignoring the way you whimper in his absence. His hands fumble for the half-done laces of his breeches, dragging them down his thighs, his cock springing free, already seeping at the tip, already harder than he's ever been. "Come here," he snarls, one hand hooking around your ankle and dragging you down the rickety cot.

You yelp at the jarring motion, moving to rise but got his mouth is on your breast, smearing your slick over your flushed skin. His teeth scrape a nipple so sharply you cry out before he clamps down on you, sucking eagerly—his other hand palming at your other breast roughly. There is no forgiveness in his touch, no mercy behind his tongue. Your whines only grow louder.

"Tobirama," you pant, tugging at his hair, "please."

He moans long and low along the slope of your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple once, twice, almost languidly, before releasing you. You have only a moment to catch your breath, reaching for him, but he only shoves your hands away, grabbing at your thighs.

His hands dig into your hips with a savage need as he tugs you, turning you to flip over, one of your calves dragged over by his calloused palm. He's urging you, guiding you, steadying you as you stumble along with your knees, your hands bracing against the sweat-drenched sheets, and it's a graceless claw of limbs as he yanks you back against his throbbing cock, your palms slipping along the bedding, the wet slap of skin jarringly loud in the room, his following groan drowning out the blood rushing in his ears.

(Distantly, he recognizes how pliant you are in his hands, how eager your moans, how you allow him to touch you with all the sinful ferocity he's denied himself these many moons.

He knows now – even if you'll never say it – he knows now he isn't the only one.)

Tobirama winds one hand around your hip, and then further, fingers fumbling for your engorged clit. You bite off a shriek as he pinches the nub, bucking into you from behind. You push back into him seamlessly, tilting your head back so that your sweat-soaked hair catches along the back of your bitten neck, spilling over your other shoulder.

"How could I ever deny a request spoken so earnestly?" he growls along your shaking spine, fingers slick along your folds.  He bends over you with a fierce single-mindedness that blacks out any other thought but heat and wetness and you. Tobirama drags a greedy palm down the length of your back, curving over your ass, kneading the flesh, fingers bruising as he bites down on your shoulder blade. "It would be my pleasure to fuck you, my lady, in fact, I believe I may be honor-bound to do so."

You cry out, arching against him, pushing your sodden cunt into his hand.

"You like that, don't you?" His cock slides against your folds, coated in your slickness, so fucking hard it's near painful. He pushes the tip into the heat of your cunt, a sharp breath sucked between his teeth. And then you release a huff of impatience, reaching between you to wrap your delicate fingers around the rest of him, hurriedly guiding him into your dripping cunt.

Tobirama releases a low, shuddering groan, buried suddenly and deeply inside you, his teeth catching along your spine. "You are so, ngh, warm, so tight." He pulls nearly completely out, a heated hiss breaking through his barred teeth, before plunging back in, slamming into you so hard you rocks with it, a soft gasp clawing its way out of your lungs. He places a hand along your back and pushes you down, one of his knees nudging yours apart until you fall near flat to the thin woolen bedsheet, braced on your elbows, his other hand trapped between your cunt and the cot. He grinds into you, even deeper than before, rubbing at your clit desperately.

You groan his name – a wet exhale breaking against the sheet by your face.

"You like a beast between your legs, don't you?" he growls above you, lowering himself until his chest is pressed flush against your back. "What would your brother say were he to walk in now and find his darling sister being so thoroughly debauched?" he gets out on a choked gasp. His hips crashing into your own, "and by the man who killed Izuna, no less."

"Fuck you," you spit, glaring over your shoulder, gaze heated and dark, "what, ngh, what of your wife? What would she say if she found you reveling in the taste of my cunt? I somehow doubt you fuck her with half as much ferver."

"You would be correct. My wife is no whore. Therefore, she needn't be fucked like one." Tobirama bites down on your shoulder, silencing you but for your moans. "You, however…"

In a pique of indignant fury, you push uselessly back with your weight on your elbows. Even as you arch into him, even as you suck your lip tightly between your teeth and moans.

Tobirama drives into you with a punishing pace, his cock slamming into your slick cunt as he rubs at your clit, his hand still caught between your body and the cot. "You need it. It is truly all you are good for. How long have you wanted this, whore? How long have you wanted me buried so deeply in that tight little cunt of yours, that pretty little Uchiha cunt – it is so full of my cock, so fucking — nggh. Only I can satiate that starving little cunt of yours, you know that, don't you? Only me. Only my Senju cock can make you feel this way." Tobirama winds a hand around your throat, fingers clawing up your jaw, searching for the wet heat of your mouth, again. His weight bears down on you fully, pressing you completely into the cot, into his fingers, the pool of your slickness drenching the sheets and his hand alike, and it's like he can taste you again, his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth with his moan. Two of his fingers curl over your lip, your ragged pants hot against his flesh, and you curve your tongue around his fingers instinctively, taking them into your mouth.

He fucks you even harder then, the groan dragging from him. His teeth sink into your shoulder, as he nearly cums right then as he grunts out your name. "Yes, that's it. You would take my cock between those pretty wet lips just as eagerly, would you not?" A breathless grunt escapes him when you suck that much harder on his fingers. He drags a struggling breath through his lungs, dips his tongue to the mark of his bite at your shoulder. "Of course you would. I suppose the only real question is where you would have me cum? Would you beg me to paint those lovely breasts of yours? Your face? Or would you, perhaps, have it down your throat? So that you may swallow it all up? "

You hum around his fingers, your cunt drenching his other hand, and he can feel you tightening around his cock, his pace ruthless. "That's it, whore. Louder for me. Let the whole village hear you. Let them all know how the pious Lady Uchiha so eagerly spread her legs for me. Let them know how you let me cum inside you — like only a beast would. Come on, let them know how that pretty little Uchiha cunt aches for me and me only. How absolutely fucking soaked you are for me. Louder. I want them all to know when I cum inside of you."

You rut against his hand, your tongue sliding between his fingers with every thrust of his cock inside you.

"You're so tight, so wet – so fucking wet – allowing me fuck you this way as you suck my fingers.” The graze of your teeth along his fingers is warning and promise in equal measure, and he can't stop the rush any longer, can't stop it even if he tried. "I want you to cum for me. I want you to cum around my cock. I want to hear you scream when I spill inside you when I fuck you like the beast I am," he snarls at your ear, rubbing out an orgasm from you so hard. So violent, you actually scream around his fingers in your mouth.

You buck back against him viciously, one hand ripping the sheets from the bed with trembling knuckles. At the same time, the other reaches back for him blindly, nails digging into his hip, holding him to you. He's buried inside you so deep, his vision inks black for a terrifyingly delicious moment.

Then he's cumming with a roar. His breathing is hot and choked against your matted hair, panted out in broken grunts as he spills and spills and spills, fucking you even still, feeling the slick, hot gush of his seed seeping from your cunt as his thrusts even out, slowing with his exhaustion, until it becomes a languid, breathless rut against you.

Your moan is long and low, your voice hoarse. You squirm beneath his crushing weight, and Tobirama barely has the sense after such a furious orgasm to slide off of you. His fingers slipping from your mouth beneath a trail of saliva. He feels you jerk and shudder when his other fingers pull away from your overstimulated clit, dragging your wetness over your hip as his hand retreats.

Tobirama's chest heaves, his breathing sharp and ragged as he blinks back to clarity. He glances down at the tattered remains of your yukata. The Uchiha fan the stares back at him from the ultramarine fabric he's now defiled beyond repair. He turns his head to watch you, finds you staring steadily at him, your flushed cheek pressed against the bare cot, your sweat-soaked hair plastered to your neck and back. You're breathing ragged as well, cheeks flushed, fingers curling into the air.

Something startlingly like possession flares in his gut. He reaches for you, fists a hand in your hair as he drags your mouth to his, taking it roughly, licking into your mouth with a selfish sort of need. He breaks away panting, eyes fluttering open to watch you. He keeps his fist in your hair, his mouth close to yours.

You wind a hand up to his jaw, curving your body into his, and there's something covetous about how you splay your hand over his sweat-drenched throat.

"You should return to your wife, Lord Senju." You tell him, the promising flex of your fingers along his neck all he needs to understand.

He nods, eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, and you to your brother, Lady Uchiha." he agrees, pressing his mouth back to yours. He kisses you hard and slow, shifting over you, trapping you beneath his weight, one hand already hitching your thigh up around his hips.

-- entropy is also a rlly great song by daniel caesar

[snakeningel]

not to be starting homestuck race disk horse in 2019 but yknow what? I Will.

being an asian fan in the hs fandom is kinda, not great actually. in fact, it not only feels like we’re not here at all, that we’re erased, but its honestly? downright harmful. people treat the trivialization and fetishization of your culture to be,,, like a Big Joak. yall joke about weebs like these people havent been literally grooming and abusing asian girls, like we havent been made fun of enough for Their actions, like we aren't already viewed as the strange punchlines to jokes that still seem somehow acceptable. its somehow funny to joke about how you hate every sign of asian culture that shows up throughout the comics, like how dirk’s kotatsu was dumb and pretentious as if people in japan dont literally live with one and use it every single day!

even asian-coding in characters get swept away in favour of other headcanons. even the megidos, who are as close to canonically asian as they possibly can be in a medium like homestuck, are often drawn white or something completely different altogether. the stridlondes are also heavily asian-coded, and the fans who do pick up on that, who finally feel comforted by someone like them as protagonists? they often just.. give up on that, because they see so little representation in the fandom. (theres only like one popular artist i know of that draws the strilondes asian? but like, hats off to u pal, youre fighting the good fight). also, it seems strange, to be represented so little considering almost 3 billion people on earth is asian, which is, Quite A Lot to be not represented a lot. dont get me wrong, i adore the outpouring of more diverse art of the kids, but a hard truth to swallow is that pocs being weebs/fetishizing asian culture, is just as harmful as white people doing the same. there is a world of difference between japanese dirk, trying to interface with his lost culture by clinging to the most performative and popular parts of it, than another dirk, appropriating people’s cultures because he thinks its funny or interesting based off a show he watched once. i love how people are like "wow the striders like anime and care about traditions and use japanese words and overall just seem like diaspora kids" and the conclusion they draw from that is "clearly,, they cannot be asian" bc a non-asian person being interested in those things is better than an asian person whose interested in their own culture i guess??

in fact, a lot of these narratives are so much more interesting once theyre looked at through their coded lenses!

Dave’s struggle with coming to terms with his emotions strikes such an interesting chord when the striders’ concept of irony and never showing their emotions Correspond so well to the idea of honour/face, where youre not supposed to show that youre Ever Sad or anything that isnt a positive emotion because it shows that youre a Failure and You Failed and that makes you a Bad Person, which is exactly what dave struggles with because hes So Guilty about it, which ties to the guilt and shame a lot of asian people feel about not being able to live up to impossible standards set by their parents, which is another theme we see reflected in all four strilondes. 

rose’s strained relations with her mother are mirrored in so many of our second-generation lives and makes so much more cultural sense when looked at that way. the weird distance you hold from your parents, where you cant look each other in the eyes anymore, because every interaction feels more like a business transaction. you hand in your good grades and praise from teachers, talking about how mature you are, and they return with some present or gift that you don't really want. you dont know anything about them, and they dont know anything about you, Not the person you Actually Are, anyways. but there is a yearning, to be close, to know eachother, but you only feel it in return when its too late. as well as her Obsession to be mature, to be smart and adult-like because thats what shes praised for, because you Need to be academically the best always and that means reading dictionaries until the sun goes down, repeating each word until they are engraved into your mind. always finding competition, subtle or not, because if you are not the winner, what are you?  dirk’s wild performative love of japanese culture (which also, in turn, lead to non-asian fans literally trashing it like it was a funny joke to call someone’s culture lame and stupid) seems like ‘ironic’ weebism, but its also being Exactly the type of over-the-too performative reclaiming of our culture that so many asian diaspora kids do when they’re teens! they feel bad about pushing away their culture as youth, but they’re not quite mature enough to actually care about the rich history and ‘boring’ parts, so they cling to pop culture, to social media and something so much more easily consumable, like anime. which is not even to mention the idea of him trying desperately to connect to a culture that he has never grown up in, but still belonged to by consuming mass amounts of media, being Such an immigrant story. as well as his massive competitive streak and need to make other people as good as he is (but not better), is the type of internalized pressure that a lot of asian kids feel as well. 

and all the stridlondes have various anxieties about not performing well enough, of not living up to a standard that they have set for themselves, feeling like even a single step back or even one mistake is a catastrophic failure that’s branded to you for life. Which is just as much of a mental health thing as it is like,,, an asian thing

this is getting really long so im cutting myself off here but please if you want to hear more about my Thoughts and Hot Takes feel free to shoot me an ask. 

in conclusion: please treat asian people better hs fandom i literally beg you. like,, im Not tryna make waves but,, asian erasure in fandom is a huge issue and no one ever talks abt it!! dont trivialize, fetishize and erase cultures blease  big thanks to @ernikerr and @wyndryga for encouraging me to go Off and helping to write this.

anyone please feel free to rb but non-asian people please watch your mouth

[andreils-keys]

kay so ive been taking prompts from my instagram and

why would you tell me not to kill one and if i do to bring him back please you’re taking all the joy out of writing >:(

anyways lets get into it <3 (tw: small mention of domestic abuse)

(disclaimer yes i am a kandreil shipper :))

andrew is cursed in the same way blue was sort of where if he tells someone that he loves them they’ll die (yes i changed it a bit)

but instead of doing the whole 'you're cursed zap magic' thing (bc i don't think it'd fit very well in the aftgverse) im gonna try something else             

andrew had some pretty shitty foster homes when he was young

but the worst one was a small house by a family-owned ice cream shop

he remembers the ice cream shop very vividly. it was where he went when his foster mother was out working or drinking. it was where he went to feel safe.

he was pretty young, maybe 4 ? 5 ? impressionable. in that stage where santa claus and the boogie man were real, where hiding under a blanket protected you from nightmares. (he learned pretty quickly that hiding under the blanket did not protect you from anything.

he was bashed and battered with fists and words, words that cursed his very being and proclaimed that to love him was to die.

he was so young

he was only a child

and he did what children do best

he believed        

there was a time when he doubted

another foster parent, a run down house made beautiful with love and mismatched furniture

the road to healing is rocky and dangerous, but easier to traverse when you have someone behind you

finally, he let himself love

he let his foster mother in, little by little, and he thought: maybe im not a curse

and he said: i love you

the day after, she died in a car crash

the car brutalized

her body brutalized

his heart brutalized

coincidence? he says out loud at the entrance of another foster home. because it needs to be said. because lies always become crystal clear when said out loud.      

bc of this he's never directly expressed love for anyone and he tends to distance himself from people just to make sure there's 0 risk of him causing someone's death

but if he does care for someone he shows this through actions (no i love yous because that's what he believes caused his foster mothers death)            

he's always had people he's cared about, people he's wanted to protect and keep safe

but ever since the car crash, hes never had anyone hes wanted to say i love you to     

until     

[enter kevin day]         

the first person that consumed him was kevin, the boy that sought him out in high school with desperation in his eyes, raving about a sport that had made andrews days in juvie a little more bearable. 

the man that always appeared on television with a cardboard smile stamped onto his face, always a step behind riko moriyama, always hiding in his shadow.

the man that inexplicably made yet another appearance in andrews life, this time with a shattered hand and a plea for help.

the man that pushed and pulled andrew just enough to get him through another day, another week.        

and then neil, so different from kevin and yet so alike, as sudden as a gunshot, as tantalizing as death. 

the boy that's as invested in riko and kevin as andrew is. 

the boy that is impenetrable and distrusting, the boy that lets no one in. 

at first andrew thinks he's safe. as long as neil doesn't let anyone in, that means andrew won't have to let him in. and kill him.

aha sike. turns out neil is the trusting-no-one-but-andrew-minyard-and-kevin-day type           

the three of them form a twisted complicated pyramid; each side leaning against the other two. immovable. strong. inseparable, unless andrew deliberately pushes himself away when the feeling ballooning in his chest is too much.

(although he will always get pulled back in. the gravity of neil and kevin is too strong for andrew to stay away.)

he promises to protect them because that's what he does for the people he cares about.

but falling in love is a whole other ball game.

andrew is so afraid.

afraid to love them, afraid to let them in.

he knows he can't allow it; every time he thinks of how much he feels for them, he remembers the car, the shattered windows, the pieces of glass tipped with blood.

but andrew is only human.

even if he tells himself not to fall in love, the heart and body tend to ignore the mind.

he let’s himself be selfish

the hard press of kevin's lips against his, the gentle tug of neils fingers threaded through his hair, a hand clamped against neils neck and the other gripping kevin's arm.

that is all andrew allows

he doesn't mind if kevin and neil go gallivanting off somewhere on their own (s a f e l y; if those idiots get taken by the yakuza it would be extremely inconvenient for andrew)((andrew: dammit now i have to save them from the mafia nicky: you don't have t- andrew: no im gonna)), even if it prods unpleasantly at a sensitive point in his heart. if they're happy, hes happy. 

(well, not quite happy. satisfied is the proper word. and he supposes that's the most he can ask for.)       

he doesn't tell them about the nightmares. the dreams of fire and blood and twisted metal, of fists and a curse and a small, dark room. more often than not neil will wake to find andrew sliding out of his bunk and going to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream.

neil won't pry, but he'll wake kevin and they'll join andrew in the kitchen, standing on the other side of the counter from andrew with their shoulders pressed together, a reminder to each other and andrew that they are there for each other.         

and then neil disappears. like a dream. like smoke. 

andrew took his eyes off neil for one second, and neil vanished in the crowd of angry fans.

they search and search but neil is gone.

all they find is neils exy racket lying on the ground in pieces, broken from the stampede of fans.

andrew whispers, the words dredged from a desperate, vulnerable place inside him: i love you. neil, i love you. come back to me. come back to kevin. come back to us.     

the next day, the fbi tells them that they found neils gym bag. it was covered with tire tracks and spattered with blood.

they couldn’t find neil.    

and the pyramid falls.

the grief and guilt and heartbreak andrew feels is unparalleled. never has he felt so broken. never has he felt so dirty. he did this. he did this.

kevin insists neil is still alive. lost and floating, but alive

but andrew knows better.

his nightmares get worse. sprinkled in with the mauled car and heavy fists is a shattered exy stick, a gym bag dripping blood, an unreachable figure with red hair and a slash of a smile.

andrew spirals. 

he refuses to speak to anyone. even kevin. he'll stay with kevin and press his palm into the side of kevin's neck, his pulse grounding andrew and keeping him in the here and now, but he will not speak.    

cabeswater brought gansey back right and i feel like the one closest to magic would be renee (thank you neils jortventures fairy magic huzzah) except she doesn't use magic. 

so remember how she was affiliated with a gang when she was young 

there was a member of the gang that continued to reach out to her, especially once they escaped from the gang a little after renee did

renee did respond to their messages, but she tried not to initiate conversation because they were part of her old life and she was living and loving her new one. 

essentially she was nice enough not to cut them out completely. 

unfortunately the kid got caught up in another gang that was closely associated with the butcher of baltimore

when nathan dies they text renee about how their gang is in pieces because the butcher is dead. 

renee isnt there to receive the message right away (she and andrew were sparring, as they were keen to do now that neil was gone and andrew was out of sorts) and kevin is the one to catch the word butcher when the notification pops up

he scrambles for renees phone and sees: the butcher is dead.

he is so relieved because the butcher, the man kevin always had to fear and avoid, is dead

and then he starts to think

neil’s father was the butcher. does this have something to do with neil? was the butcher the one that took neil? if the butcher is dead, does that mean neil is still alive?

it’s a bit of a stretch, but kevin is willing to believe anything if it means that neil is alive

he tells andrew

he doesn't expect andrew to do anything but he still wants to tell him, just so that andrew will know, just so that kevin himself can taste the words.

kevin asks renee if they can reach out and she's like wtf y'all doing going through my phone but she understands how hard it hit them, andrew especially, and if it'll help them she'll go along   

they meet up with the kid

renee seems nice enough, but andrew can tell how strained she is by the way she keeps cracking her knuckles one by one

they get the info from the kid about a red haired blue eyed cut up burned kid

kevin is distraught about the cut up burned part

andrew is close to vomiting from a whirlwind of relief (they never said he was dead) and denial and fear for neil

he refuses to get his hopes up; he said the cursed words. he saw the blood on neils’s gym bag. he saw the shattered exy stick. (or was that a dream? his nightmares and reality are so tightly interwoven he can hardly tell what's real)

the kid warns kevin and andrew that the last time they saw neil was in the basement and that the probablity of him still being there is relatively low

kevin makes a sort of impatient gesture at the kid and they bring kevin and andrew to the house (renee stays behind; she made a lame excuse about needing to make a phone call but she just wanted to give them space, either to reunite with neil or grieve their loss a second time)

from the outside, it’s a nice looking house and it doesn’t look threatening in the least, but andrew knows how deceiving appearances can be

once they go inside everything is in shambles. the couch overturned, the tv screen cracked in multiple places, ceiling plaster and pieces of porcelain all over the counters and dining table

the kid points them to the basement

kevin is the first to go down

andrew is surprised mainly because kevin is usually always so careful

andrew follows more warily, afraid to find nothing, afraid to find neil; afraid to have his heart broken all over again, afraid of the prospect that he has wasted his entire life living a lie.

he reaches the basement to find kevin wrapped around a small beat up, bruised, burnt, and shivering lump.

neil is hurt and bloody, and it drives a stake through andrew’s heart, but the fact that neil is breathing and alive alive alive causes a different kind of pain, the unique pain of relief and sorrow and love swirled together.

kevin is stroking neils hair and very obviously trying not to have a panic attack and andrew goes to them

sits down

both kevin and neil look up at him, and andrew watches as some of the fear and pain in their eyes fades.

he can feel the words bubbling up and he wants to say them, to scream them, but they are stuck inside his throat, twisted around his tongue.

it is a language andrew has taught himself to unlearn.

the road to healing is rocky and dangerous, but easier to traverse when you have someone behind you

it’s even easier when you have two people behind you, people who have seen what you have seen, people who make an effort to understand you.

andrew eventually does say it.

the words, no longer cursed, are still clumsy and fall in a messy jumble at his feet

but there they are, light as a cloud, heavy as a storm:

i love you

[tim-stonker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, mentioned Georgie Barker/Melanie King Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Elias Bouchard, Melanie King, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, mentioned Basira Hussain, im sorry queen it was a 5+1 and u were number 6 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, more like AU elias isnt a bitch, 5 Times, Mutual Pining, implied Nonbinar Jonathan Sims, he's gnc, Getting Together, Comfort No Hurt, bc we need that, Just Pals Being Soft, dimples as a plot point Summary:

5 times people didn't see jon's smile plus the 1 time someone did

i wrote some gay shit about jon smiling and it became this. whole thing is under the cut, check it out on ao3 if u wanna !

-5

Jonathan Sims was an unexpected candidate for the position of Archivist, following Gertrude Robinson’s rather abrupt retirement (Elias still wasn’t sure if she was actually telling the truth when she said she wanted to spend more time travelling with her grandson. He didn’t even know if she actually had a grandson.) When word got out that there was an opening for head archivist, it surprised both Elias and Jon’s manager when he put his application into the pool. While Jon wasn’t the highest position in Research, he wasn’t at the lowest tier either, and everyone knew that being Head Archivist was much like being the mayor of a ghost town. Sure, you had a fancy title, but not much else. The Archives were in the basement, they were cold and dusty, and typically, if a budget needed to be cut, it was the Archives that took the brunt of the slashes. But, Jon was organized, faked his confidence well enough, was willing to put in the work, and, if Elias was being honest with himself, there wasn’t exactly a queue out the door to take over the vacancy that Gertrude left. 

The interview went well enough, though Jon was clearly filled with nervous excitement. He kept reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear - it was too short to stay in place, but much too long to not be a bother. His voice almost echoed in Elias’ office, strong and precise, even when he struggled with some questions that Elias asked about his strengths and weaknesses. Elias appreciated the way that Jon carried himself, the slight aura of grandeur and pride that he seemed to give off, contrasting starkly with his awkward attempts at being personable. 

Though Elias told Jon that he’ll be in touch within a few days to inform him whether or not he’ll be transferred to the Archives, he’s already certain that there’s no better candidate, and, if nothing else, he loathes having new hires from outside the Institute. He can overlook a few missing qualifications if it means he can cut down on the number of interviews he has to conduct. 

Elias waited a few more days, finished up more interviews, and found his suspicions were correct. Jon - despite the roughness around his edges, and his lack of a library sciences degree (an aspect that makes Rosie raise her eyebrows at Elias when he mentions it) - is the best fit for the archives that Elias has. He calls Jon into his office again, watching as Jon delicately maneuvers into the chair on the other side of Elias’s desk, fingers picking at the sleeves of his cardigan.

“I’m happy to tell you, Jonathan, that after much consideration, that you have been promoted to Head Archivist. Your transfer from the Research department will be put through promptly, and - unless you have any objections - you can begin your new role as soon as next Monday. Congratulations.”

As Elias spoke, he watched as Jon’s eyes widened, eyebrows raise, as the tension melted out of his shoulders. The corners of his lips seemed to flicker, wanting to curl upwards, but not quite able to.

“I, oh, wow. Thank you, Elias. I, uh, I’m really excited to be working in the Archives.” Jon stammered out. His voice had less of the confident bravado that it had during his interview, and while that would usually make Elias reconsider his choice, the fact that all of Jon’s nervous ticks seemed to have disappeared sated his concern.  

Elias nodded, hummed, and launched into the less fun aspect of promotion, namely discussion of new contracts, pay raises, the fact that Jon would be able to ask some of his co-workers to become his assistants, but any vacancies will be filled at Elias’s discretion. Jon nodded along and asked the appropriate questions at the right time.

Perhaps he’s just bad at expressing emotions, Elias thought, though the thought is both fleeting and insignificant. It gets pushed out of the way, quickly, and is discarded, not to be thought again. 

When the meeting was over, Elias stood up to show Jon to the door. Just before Jon left, Elias stuck his hand out, and once again said, “Congratulations, Jon.”

Jon looked startled for a second, before reaching out and giving Elias a hearty handshake.

“Thank you, Elias, really,” Jon replied. While saying that, the corner of his mouth twitched once again, and for a moment, Jon’s face began to break out into a smile. Eyes excited and bright, before he schooled his expression back into one of vaguely happy neutrality. 

Elias released Jon’s hand, and when his office was once again empty of everyone except himself, he briefly wondered why anyone cares enough about smiling to prevent themselves from doing it.

Like most intrapersonal thoughts, though, Elias waved it away, going back to his own work, just glad that he didn’t have to get Rosie to put up any more job listings on Linkedin. 

-4

Tim was surprised when Jon approached him with the job offer. Sure, he and Jon had worked together for a few years and Jon frequently complimented Tim on his work and whenever Jon actually showed up to work get-togethers, he seemed to awkwardly stick to Tim’s side like glue until the event was done. But Jon always declined Tim’s invites to non-work social gatherings, and sometimes it was hard to tell if the snark in Jon’s voice came from malice or…. Something else. 

Tim had chalked all that up to awkwardness or to Jon’s work ethic, but for some reason, he never thought that Jon actually considered Tim to be a friend, even though he did tentatively think of Jon as one. So it was rather shocking when Jon marched up to him, a small stack of papers in his hands at the end of the workday, and announced, 

“I’ve been promoted to Head Archivist.”

“Oh, well, congrats, Jon,” Tim said, smiling. He clapped Jon on the shoulder. “Yeah, I heard you put your application in.” Tim didn’t mention that he heard because some of their co-workers were making jokes about hoping to see the last of Jon, with his insane work ethic and snappish remarks. 

Jon nodded. “I’m also allowed to pick my own assistants since many of Gertrude’s have quit or been reassigned since her absence.”

“That’s cool.”

“I was wondering if you would like to join me in the Archives, Tim.”

“Oh,” Tim said, eyes widening. Jon looked straight at him, unflinching, though his hands were curled into tight balls at his sides. This was certainly unexpected. 

“I think we work well together. You do really good work, and while I’m not exactly sure what… extra work transferring to the archives will entail, I’m that your presence will be beneficial.” Finally, Jon broke Tim’s gaze. “Also, I… quite enjoy your company.”

“Wow, well, thank you, Jon,” Tim managed to stammer out. He looked at Jon’s now sheepish expression and how his cheeks had taken on a slightly red tinge from the honesty. “Uh, can I… think about it? For a few days? It’s just… kind of a big change.”

“Oh, of course, Tim,” Jon nodded earnestly, passing Tim the stack of papers, which Tim now saw as a would-be employment contract, with different sections highlighted, presumably the parts that Jon thought Tim would find important. Jon made like he was about to turn to leave before he paused and said, “Also I. I won’t be offended if you decide to stay put.”

“Oh, I know,” Tim said, even though he wasn’t sure why he knew. Jon nodded again.

“Well, see you tomorrow.” And with that and a brief wave, Jon walked away, leaving Tim to stare at the employment papers and to think about what to do. And Tim did consider it. He had a pretty good thing going on in the Research department. He was well-liked, and many of his managers said that he could probably get promoted to a higher position with a better salary in a few years, and though the entry position of archival assistant was better paying than his current gig, Tim knew he was never going to get promoted from that role. 

Tim had friends in Research, but he also had friends in artifacts, and finance, and HR. The more he thought about it, it wasn’t like his work-social life would end if he went to the basement. And, as much as his co-workers liked to poke fun at Jon, Tim did genuinely enjoy his company. He liked his wit, and snark, and the way he tried to play off his awkwardness and usually failed. And despite his somewhat clumsy attempts at socializing, anytime Tim talked about his life outside of work, Jon listened, made jokes, and was friendly. 

Jon was also quite easy on the eyes, in his own strange way. 

Tim found it wasn’t really much of a hard decision after all. So when he walked into work the next day and tossed the signed contract on Jon’s desk, all he said was, “It better not be as dusty as everyone says it is.” 

Before walking off to his own desk to finish up his own projects, for a moment he thought he saw Jon duck his head to smile. But when he looked back, Jon was just holding the contract, and though his eyes were happy, his face was straight. 

-3

Sasha enjoyed her work as an archival assistant, despite all the dust, and Jon’s moodiness, and the strange errands that the statements sent everyone on. It was an unorthodox job, cleaning up the decades of bizarre filing that Gertrude left, hunting down follow-ups from people who were clearly drunk, sick, or delirious at the time that these ‘occurrences’, well, occurred. 

She certainly enjoyed her co-workers, basement dwellers that they were. While archives and research had many employees and had been on floors where different departments mingled, the four of them - Tim, Sasha, Martin, and Jon - were stuck down in the cool basement, surrounded by files, and books, and old foundation. While she had been on amicable terms with Tim before, the forced proximity brought them much closer, and she was happy to meet and befriend Martin. Pretty quickly the three of them began to go out for drinks after work, plan dinners, and movie nights, and get-togethers on weekends. They sometimes invited Jon, but the answer was also unanimously no.

Still, despite Jon’s rebuffs at having a social life, Sasha always felt like her relationship with him was… different than the others. While Tim and Jon had prior acquaintanceship, Sasha only briefly knew Jon in research; and Jon was either oblivious or blatantly ignoring Martin’s crush on him, rebuffing his attempts of flirting and courtship with harsh words and mumbled, unfocused ‘thank yous’ when Martin brought him tea. 

It surprised her how highly Jon thought of her, and how well they got on. 

“Here’s that statement you were after,” Sasha said, after knocking on Jon’s office door. Jon turned in his chair to face her, hand outreached to take the folder when she got close enough.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, as he grasped the folder. Sasha nodded and was about to let go when she glanced down and saw Jon’s hand.

“Is that nail polish?” She asked suddenly, voice coming out more accusatory than she intended. Jon snatched the folder away from her, curling his fingers into his palms as soon as the paper hit the desk surface. He still wore his face of neutrality, but his jaw was tense. Sasha was surprised at how defensive, and how quickly, Jon reacted to the question, but immediately saw she needed to remedy it. She quickly added, “It looks nice.”

As soon as the compliment was said, Jon seemed to relax a bit. His jaw unclenched and slowly he unfurled his fingers. His nails were a simple black, though it was a messy job and they were already chipping. 

“Oh, thank you.” He said softly.

“Did you do them yourself?” Sasha asked, even though she couldn’t imagine Jon asking for help to do his nails.

“Yes, er. As a child, I always wanted to paint my nails but I couldn’t, so.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “They’re not very good, are they?”

Sasha shrugged. “Pretty good for a first time, though. Next time you’ll want to push your cuticles back first, and you should probably get a varnish too. It’ll stop them from chipping so much.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, clearly not expecting advice. Sasha gave one last nod, and a, “No problem.” before leaving Jon’s office. 

After that - or maybe Sasha just noticed it more afterwards - Jon seemed to come to work ‘prettied up’ more often. He seemed to listen to her nail advice, and while he often sported plain, black nails - sans chipping, thanks to the nice clear coat he put on - a few times he came into work with blue, or red, or green nails. While Martin and Tim always complimented them, if they noticed, Jon began going up to Sasha to show her every fresh set. Often it would be a week or two between appearances; Jon seemed to just let the previous coat chip off completely before repainting them, approaching Sasha with his hands curled in a way so that he could view his own nails before showing them off to her. Sasha always made sure that she seemed excited to see them, even if they weren’t always that good. The way that Jon seemed to loosen after every compliment, the way his face would soften just a tad made it worth it. 

Soon it became their little routine, even as Jon’s habits changed. While it started with nails, soon Jon would awkwardly approach her to show off the fancy braid he just learned how to do with his growing hair. Often, they were messy and uneven, large strands falling out of the cheap hair ties, but Sasha would say it was nice, before offering to fix it for him. Jon always declined, disappearing into his office and coming out later, braid abandoned and hair in its usual neat bun, but Sasha always offered. For a while, Jon had taken to looking at the clothes Sasha came to work in, awkwardly complimenting her on whatever coat or blouse or shoes she had worn. It took Sasha a few times to realize what he was saying - or at least thinking. 

“I like your skirt,” Jon mumbled one day, as he and Sasha walked into the archives. “It’s very pretty.”

Sasha hummed, looking down at it. It wasn’t anything fantastic, just a black a-line skirt with a vaguely plaid pattern, long enough to be work-appropriate without annoying her. She mostly wore it because the growing pile of dirty laundry in her flat left her few other options. 

“Thank you, Jon,” she replied, before pursing her lips. “You know, I think you would look quite nice in a skirt.”

A bold move, Sasha knew, but after Jon sputtered for a moment, he managed to choke out, “You… you do?”

“Oh, yes. You got nice, slender legs, and if one a little longer it would just add to the frumpy librarian look quite nicely.” Sasha laughed a little, unable to resist the urge to tease a little. Jon gave a polite chuckle and nodded. 

They repeated this process a few more times, over a few weeks. Jon would give Sasha a sincere, if not a bit bumbling compliment on her wardrobe or appearance (often for items Sasha did not care for that much) and after thanking him, she would flip it around and say, “I think this lipgloss colour would suit you better than me” or " a blouse like this would make your collarbones look good” or even being as bold as saying “You should get a dress like it, then we can match.” 

Jon would brush the comments off with a laugh or a denial, but Sasha could see the wheels in his head-turning, the way he would occasionally look at whatever pair of pants he was wearing that day and frown. 

Eventually, Sasha’s hard and not-so-subtle work paid off when she saw Jon shuffle into the archives, not in his usual attire of plain cardigan and button-up, tucked into a pair of boring pants, but with a new look: a cardigan and plain button-up tucked into a shockingly boring skirt. It suited him, though; the long grey fabric skimming his ankles, the way it would flow behind and the way his feet would kick it in front. Jon’s fingers seemed to be absent-mindedly twisting themselves into the fabric, as he made his way towards his office.

Sasha was right; Jon did rock the frumpy librarian look.

“Good morning, Jon,” Sasha greeted, cheerfully. Jon looked up.

“Morning, Sasha.”

“New wardrobe?” She asked, nodding at his outfit. Jon seemed to falter a little, standing still, waiting for her assessment. “I like it! Really suits you.”

And while that was a bit of a lie - Sasha found it to be a bit boring, and she would never have even considered buying herself, though it did quite Jon wonderfully - Sasha couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit bad, when she heard Jon mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before hurrying to his office. For a split second, Sasha would have sworn that his lips were pulled into a smile, thought for a moment she saw a flash of his teeth, but he was opening and closing his office door before she could confirm.

-2

Despite all her grumbling, thrown insults, and jabs, Melanie didn’t actually dislike Jon. Well, no, she did dislike him, immensely. He’s smug, and rude, and has a know-it-all attitude, and he absolutely did not take her show seriously. But, behind all of that, he respected her abilities and her competence, if not the way that she uses it. She thought of it like she wouldn’t want anything to hurt Jon unless it was her giving him a good slap around the head. 

Still, when she ended up hanging around the Archives more - and shockingly, no one, not even Jon, tried to stop her - after her show fell apart and took most of her professional network with it, she’s surprised how much common ground she shares with Jon. At first, they needed someone else in the room with them, to grease the wheels of conversation - either Sasha siding with Melanie every once in a while, or a well-timed joke from Tim, or Martin’s placating tone - but every time they found themselves able to stand each other without any assistance, even starting their own conversation. Without her show, with its staged dramatics and clickbait titles to feed Jon’s antagonisms, they find that they have similar opinions and histories with the supernatural. 

“Most statements and stories are completely false,” Jon had repeated many times. But soon he began to add, “But the ones that are real are… deeply concerning, and hard to come by.”

More than a few times Jon had caught Melanie digging through filing cabinets, looking for a statement with a shred of truth in it, anything to follow up or make a story out of. After the third time that Jon threw open the door to the filing room and nearly gave himself a heart attack when the light illuminated Melanie’s hunch over figure, reading through a pile of folders that she most certainly was not going to put away properly, Jon sighed and asked, “Why don’t I just give you some statements that seem real.”

Melanie looked up from the file in her hand that she was about to discard. “You’d do that? Isn’t that against ‘policy’ or something.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s no more breaking rules than allowing you in here in the first place.” He eyed the pile of statements on the floor, the open drawer with crumbled papers shoved in. “Besides, I’m tired of having to spend an entire day refiling after you pop in.”

And so, Jon started keeping track of statements he believes. First on sticky notes, then on looseleaf paper, and eventually in a notebook so that Melanie can keep track as she goes along, Jon wrote down the name and case number of what he believes are credible cases, and Melanie dug them out of their dusty tombs. Even if she didn’t put them away - which she rarely did, can’t go making Jon’s life too easy, she thought with a grin - it was clear that he appreciated knowing exactly where they came from. She still browsed around, skimming through statements that Jon doesn’t believe, but she puts those ones back where she finds them if they weren't worth her time. 

Their strange friendship continued like that for a few months. They steered clear of personal topics, even, no, especially,  as Melanie began going on dates with Georgie. Occasionally, a personal detail would slip in; Jon mentioned that he hates denim skirts after telling Melanie about a statement that, for some reason, explicitly mentions them (“And what makes you an expert on what women should wear?” Melanie asked, annoyance clear in her. 

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No, I’m talking about me. I hate wearing denim skirts.”

“Oh,” Melanie says, the wind coming out of her sails. “Uh, me too.”). At one point Melanie mentioned that she loves artificial blue raspberry, which made Jon scrunch his nose in disgust. Before they knew it, Melanie and Jon knew about the other’s thoughts on movies, books, fashion, the weather, politics, animals, food, and whether or not Rosie is dating that one woman from HR.

It was a slow and gradual shift, one that caught both of them off guard. But neither was anxious to prevent it and really, Melanie was kind of interested to see where it would go. It’s with that thought in mind, seeing how this will go, that she throws a folder onto Jon’s desk. He hadn’t looked up when she knocked and entered without waiting, but with the manila folder obscuring whatever paperwork he was doing, he sighs and lifts his head. 

“Yes, Melanie?”

“This statement was misfiled,” Melanie said, glee and gloating oozing out of her voice. She cackled when she saw Jon scowl, arms crossing automatically. He glanced down at the casefile.

“It most certainly was not,” Jon huffed, picking it up. He doesn’t even mention how it wasn’t a file he gave her, so keen to prove her wrong. “It was filed by year, 2006, subsection ‘non-human creature’, subsection ‘false’ and-”

“Exactly,” Melanie interrupted. “It’s not fake.”

“What do you mean it’s not fake.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “It’s about a bloody sea monster!”

“A sea monster which is described in another statement from 1984,” Melanie threw another folder onto his desk, which Jon hadn’t noticed in her hand in his haste to disagree, “And, one that causes damage similar to this accident report,” Melanie unlocked her phone and shoved it into Jon’s face. His eyes crossed and squinted as he tried to read the news article on the screen. “Which, by the way, all occur in the same region of the Barents Sea.”

Jon lifted his eyes from the phone screen, still slightly glaring at Melanie. He looked away after a second, raising a hand to scratch the side of his face.

“Well, then, I guess we will have to look into it some more,” his voice was different than what Melanie was used to. Behind the movement of his hand, Melanie thought she saw some falses of teeth and saw a slight twinkle in his eye. He quickly dropped his face, expression and voice back to normal, “But, this is not permission for you to go back to rummaging through my files!”

Melanie grinned wolfishly, putting a hand on her hip. The gentle voice and expression were already leaving her mind. “Like I ever needed your permission, Jon.”

-1

It was almost surprising how well Daisy got on with Jon. She supposed it was because they were both a bit quieter than the people around them, got a bit more drained from human interaction than others, a bit more like old souls. Only, Daisy was more of an ‘old soul’ because the thought of all the therapy she had to go through years ago still made her tired and because she was literally about fifteen years older than everyone else in the Archives. 

“Why is it that your joints hurt more than mine even though you’re a baby?” Daisy asked, after finding Jon laying on the floor of his office, hair and dress fanned out on the floor. When she had questioned his state, he just mumbled, “m’back hurts.”

Calling him a baby made him grumble more. “I’m not a baby, I am a grown man-”

“More like an old man.” Daisy joked, sitting down cross-legged by his head. “Seriously, you’re too young to be aching this much.”

Jon shrugged, shirt rustling against the carpet. “I’ve always ached. I guess having a desk job just made it worse.”

Daisy nodded. She couldn’t really relate; all her old aches hadn’t been physical, and before the archives all her jobs involved in a lot of moving - whether it was fast food as a teenager, or retail as a young adult, and then the police. 

“You should go to a chiropractor, get a massage.” She suggested.

“Chiropractor and masseuse are two different professions.”

“Piss off, you know what I’m saying.” Jon rolled his eyes and squirmed a bit on the floor. 

“I don’t like the thought of someone… massaging me.”

“It feels really good,” Daisy replies, thinking back to the few massages she had gotten in her life. “And chiropractors don’t really massage, they just snap your joints back into place and then give you weird exercises to do.”

Jon shrugged again and didn’t say anything. Daisy wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t have anything to say, or if his previous movement made something along his spine twinge. After a minute of silence, with Jon’s face occasionally morphing from boredom to discomfort, Daisy got an idea. 

“Stand up,” she said, getting to her feet herself. Jon looked up, startled.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Daisy stuck her hand out for Jon to take. With a little effort, Jon sat up, groaning a little, before taking her stand to stand. As soon as he was upright, Daisy reached down to hold Jon from under his armpits.

“Uh, Daisy, what are you doing?” Jon asked, arms sticking straight out, stiff, as Daisy brought his body closer to her.

“I’m going to reset your back,” Daisy said, as Jon’s face squished against her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this a few times, it usually helps.”

Jon mumbled something, before yelping when Daisy stood closer to her full height and he was lifted a few inches off the ground. Jon’s arms instinctually went around Daisy’s shoulders, even though she was fully supporting his weight. 

“Okay, you gotta relax your body, untense your muscles- Jon that is the opposite of untensing. There you go, okay, you’re going to hear a crack,” She said, before squeezing Jon into her body, forearms pressed across different parts of his back. There was a loud crack as she felt Jon tighten his arms around her and give a little yell into her shoulder. 

She loosened her grip, but still held him close for a second, just in case. She felt his mouth move against her shirt, and at first, she thought he was mumbling something, but then the movement ceased for a few seconds. Another small movement, and then no motion once again. Finally, she lowered Jon to the floor and released him. He stood, and quickly went to smoothing out his shirt.

“How’d that feel?” Daisy asks, noticing how he wasn’t automatically going back to lie on the ground. Jon stilled for a second, before saying,

“It feels a lot better. Thank you, Daisy.”

+1

Martin knew he wasn’t subtle, at least not when it came to Jon. He knew practically anyone who came down to the Archives could tell he had a crush, knew that his attempts to coddle, and talk to, and make Jon proud were just about as sly as painting a banner that said: “I WANT TO DATE JONATHAN SIMS.”

He almost couldn’t help it. Sure, he had gotten a bit better at not letting Jon treat him like a doormat over the years - sometimes Jon even seemed pleasantly surprised when Martin told him off for being mean - but there was still an undeniable urge to be gentle with him, to treat him kindly, to make him smile. 

Not that anyone had any recollection of Jon smiling - hell, Tim even made a few jokes that Jon was probably in a terrible accident as a smile and ‘broke his smile muscles, but left his annoying muscles intact’. It wasn’t very funny, but Martin and Sasha still laughed. 

Still, in some masochistic kind of way, Martin enjoyed this prolonged courtship. And even though his friends were sure that nothing was advancing, that Martin was still being a pining fool (which wasn’t an inaccurate description) and Jon was still being an unrequiting idiot, Martin was sure that he was making progress. Jon and he were having more… moments. More times where they would make eye contact and Jon’s face would soften, more conversations where Jon would ramble off-topic, at ease and relaxed, before remembering himself and Martin and roping him back into the conversation. There would be times where Martin would pass Jon a cup of tea, mug angled so that Jon could easily grab the handle, and yet Jon would take the mug in such a way that their fingers would brush. Sometimes they even lingered there, the heat of ceramic burning his hand, almost unnoticeable in comparison to the heat of his face as Jon glanced at him through his eyelashes, saying, “Thank you, Martin.”

Maybe it was just because no one else was privy to these moments, or maybe Martin really was just a yearning fool, desperately grasping at anything that suggested Jon returned his affection, but no one else seemed to understand these moments or take them seriously. 

“Your crush is getting out of control,” Tim said one day, after watching Martin bring Jon tea in a mug covered in hearts. “Like, legally speaking, I think it’s too much.”

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon had stared at the mug for a few seconds before taking it, and even though it was still piping hot, much too warm to comfortably drink, he took a sip as soon as it was in his grasp. “This is lovely, Martin. Thank you.”

“Leave it alone, Tim, it’s fine,” Martin replied, going back to sit at his desk. 

“No, it is getting a bit ridiculous,” Sasha agreed. “I mean, how long have you been after him? Like, I love Jon, trust me, but he’s either oblivious or ignoring your, uh, flirting attempts.”

“He’s not ignoring them.”

“So he’s just oblivious?”

“I don’t think so.” Sasha and Tim looked at him strangely. He sighed. “Look, things are fine, okay? It’s fine, just let me… do my thing.”

“Fine, we will ‘let you do your thing’ but, for the record, you probably could have gotten with at least three people in the time that you’ve been lusting after Jon,” Tim said, earning a laugh from Sasha. 

But it was fine, whatever he and Jon had. It was certainly more than what he had been getting before, and even though he wanted more - chest aching at the sight of a frazzled or tired Jon, feeling the need to brush his hair out of his face, to press tender kisses to his eyelids, the near unbearably desire to just hold him, and care for him - Martin wasn’t unhappy. And somehow he knew Jon wasn’t either. 

Sometimes Jon even sought Martin out, intentionally leaving his stuffy office only to walk over to Martin's desk and chat with him for a few minutes before returning. Often he would have to return a minute later, muttering about leaving a pen or a pencil or a hair tie. (One time, as Jon turned around to leave, Martin saw the pen on the edge of his desk, and said, “You left your pen.”

Jon had turned around, looking almost disappointed. “Oh. Yes, thank you, Martin.”

He collected his pen and returned to his office. Martin didn’t see him until he said goodbye for the night. The next time he saw Jon dropping something at his desk, he didn’t mention it.)

When Jon actually remembered to eat lunch now, he would only come out to eat if Martin hadn’t eaten already, as he had taken to sitting either across or directly next to him during meal times. If Jon was sitting next to him - usually because Melanie or Basira were sitting across the shifty breakroom table - Martin could feel Jon gently, almost shyly, pressing his knee against Martin’s leg. Jon’s face was always blank, but if Martin made any move to shift away, Jon’s head would snap towards him until contact was either completely broken or restored. 

Of course, there wasn’t an easy way to explain this to anyone else. How could Martin have possibly hoped to quantify glances, and touches, and the new intonations when Jon said ‘Martin’, the name now completely different than what Jon used to call him, despite no letters changing. How to explain it when no one else seemed to notice the magnitude of these changes if they noticed the changes at all?

So Martin rolled his eyes and made jokes with the others as they teased and prodded him about his ‘crush that was going nowhere on the boss’, and hoped, like so many times before, that Jon couldn’t hear them through his office door.

As pathetic as it sounded, Martin was prepared to play the long game, to continue this dance he and Jon had begun as long as it took, to tolerate the unbearable loneliness that crept up on him at home so long as he got to see Jon at work, to keep bringing him tea every day until, well, until something happened, or until one of them left the archives. Martin had made peace with that fact, though he loathed to admit it, even to himself. 

And then, Jon asked for his help one day. 

“Can you stay late with me this evening? I need some assistance looking into a statement.” Jon had been formal, professional when he asked. 

“Of course,” Martin said, if not because any time spent with Jon was a good time (usually, not even Martin was in deep enough to enjoy some of Jon’s moods), then because he did take his job seriously. “Anything you need.”

“I can stay behind too if you need extra help,” Basira offered, turning to look at Jon.

Jon nodded at her. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll only be needing Martin.”

And he has to admit, hearing that did bring warmth to his face and to his chest.

The help that Jon needed was minimal. Some of it was just reaching a file of a self that was too high since the stepladder that he used to use had broken, and Martin knew that Jon had too much pride to ask for help reaching something when everyone was in. Otherwise, all he needed assistance with was looking over a few files to see if a name popped up in all of them. All in all, it only took about half an hour, including the time it took to re-sort the files and put the relevant ones on Jon’s desk. 

As Martin was preparing to leave, Jon approached him one more time, also clad in his winter coat and bulky scarf tucked under his chin. He stood in front of Martin, looking intently. Martin waited for, well, something. Jon took a deep breath.

“Would- Are you- Do,” Jon scowled at himself, took another breath and reached up to tug his scarf lower again so that more of his face was visible. “Martin, would you like to go out to eat with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Martin replied, cheeks reddening slightly. Jon paused for a moment.

“I mean this as a date.”

Martin looked at Jon, bundled in his winter wear, hair slightly tangled, fumbling over asking Martin out!

“I knew that’s what you meant,” Martin said with a smile. He looked down at Jon’s hands, clenched tightly into themselves. He reached a hand out and carefully brushed a finger along the knuckles of on. “Of course, I would like to go on a date with you.”

And when he looked up, he saw Jon smiling, and it felt like seeing the stars for the first time. Jon always said he looked much older than he was, which Martin was inclined to agree, but when he smiled, he looked more his age. The tiredness and stress that plagued his expressions disappeared under the glow of his grin, eyes crinkled, and. Dimples. 

Jon had dimples, nestled in between his smile lines, a secret that Martin knew he was now the only one in the Institute besides Jon who knew they existed. 

“You have dimples,” Martin said, a smile creeping onto his own face. “They’re cute.”

Jon sputtered a, “No they’re not!” and Martin could see he was trying to return his face to its usually impassive expression, but it seemed that every time he got close, his grin would break through. Eventually, Jon tugged his scarf up to cover his mouth, but Martin still saw his eyes crinkled, somehow still felt Jon smiling through the layers.

“They’re cute,” Martin repeated, wanting to pull Jon’s scarf down again. This want was different than what he usually felt, a desire not tinged with sadness or loss. Maybe it was presumptuous, but Martin knew that this urge would be met. Maybe not now, but soon. 

And Martin thought about Jon’s smile, even when he asked, voice muffled behind the layers of wool, where Martin wanted to go to eat, and would Martin like to walk, transit or take a cab there, and, and and.

Martin thought about Jon’s smile, knowing he was one of the few people to see it, knowing that he would get to see it again

[ghoulangerlee]

the first taste of love (oh bittersweet) ; malex

i posted this on ao3, but i am nothing if not predictable so i’m posting a tumblr version too! 

basically uhh i wrote a roswell new mexico fic, oh no. im very nervous and very anxious bc there’s so many good writers in the fandom and i am. me. but like, i saw that post, with the still from the episode tonight and my brain went okay sure here’s this. 

its definitely AU because yknow. obviously what i think could happen isn’t whats gonna happen but sdlkfj. ANYWAY. title comes from strawberry wine by deana carter bc tbh michael guerin definitely listens to country music’s greatest women artists 

also yes i know the whole alien thing isnt like anyone but said aliens thing to tell maria but yknow. guilt. being in on something someone else isnt in on. blah blah

=========

He doesn't know how long they’ve been sitting there, just talking, but Alex isn't going to complain, not when it's the first time in ten years that they've been able to have this.

And it's comfortable and nice and Michael's leg is warm where it's pressed against his, his posture open and welcoming and Alex can't help but lean into it, watching, as if hanging onto every word—and he is, hanging onto everything Michael's saying, unsure of when they'll get this chance again, with everything going on.

He's so caught up in everything, in how right all of this feels that he doesn't realize Michael's stopped talking, that he's staring at him with this horribly vulnerable look on his face, something morphing into determination and then, then —

Michael's lips are soft against his, soft and dry and chapped at the corners where Michael constantly darts his tongue out against the skin when he's nervous or annoyed and Alex’s breath catches, his eyes open wide and Michael just pushes forward, firmer, hand coming up to cup the side of Alex’s jaw.

He inhales, sharp through his nose and then, then he relaxes, his hand gripping the center of Michael's button up shirt, holding on tight as the kiss deepens, as Michael presses into his side, other hand warm against his thigh, warm through his jeans.

A noise leaves Alex’s throat, something soft and pained and desperate all wrapped together as he kisses back, gives as good as he can, feeling something warm and heavy in his chest at the needy sound Michael makes.

At once, it all comes rushing back and Alex pulls away, jerks out of Michael’s reach, panting and flushed and wishing for once he could be selfish.

“Guerin, we can't do this,” he says, wishing his voice didn't waver as obvious as it did, wishing to be anywhere but here right now. “ I can't do this to Maria. She doesn't deserve this.”

Michael's face does something weird then, a look crosses it—half pained, half ashamed, and he pulls his cowboy hat off, runs his fingers through his hair, Alex’s eyes tracking where his fingers get caught up in the curls. “Yeah well, no worries. She's not really in the picture right now.”

Alex frowns, feels something protective bubble up in his chest, “Just because she's not here—”

“ No , Alex,” Michael says, cutting him off. “She and I didn't last. Y’know. We're on an indefinite break.”

“So what happened to Maria being something easy ,” Alex can't help but ask, the words twisted with grief and pain, “If you two can't last, is there even any hope—” for us , he doesn't finish, but Michael goes rigid beside him and once again Alex is hit with the stupid realization that he's reactive , that he doesn't think before he speaks.

Michael stands up, putting distance between the two of them, hat held tightly in his left hand as he paces in front of Alex. “Look, I fucked up, okay? I fucked up big time, I just. Didn't tell her about the big green alien thing and then she found Rosa and well, now she knows.” His voice is quick, not quite panicky but not all calm either, “She’s pissed at me, at Liz, probably at you too for keeping her in the dark the whole time. And well, lying is sort of a relationship deal breaker in the grand scheme of things.”

Part of him hurts for Michael, for Maria, bit the quiet vindictive part of him just whispers if I can't be happy neither can he , but he pushes that away, quietly berates himself for even thinking that and inhales deeply. “Give it time,” he says instead. “Maria might come around. I. We still haven't quite talked since everything but I can put in a good word for you. Bring up dear old dad’s plot to destroy all aliens, you included, help you save face.”

And even as he offers to help Michael fix his and Maria’s relationship, he feels tired all of a sudden, feels like he should be selfish in this situation but, but—

“No, no,” Michael says, shaking his head hard enough to make his curls bounce. “She's made it very clear she can't trust me or Liz right now. That we're on her shitlist and it's looking like we might not get off of it anytime soon.” He breathes in deep, steels himself, “And I’m coming to realize that kissing you was a mistake,” he continues, “Just. You don't deserve that from me, I’d be doing the same chicken shitted shit I said you were doing to me.”

Alex watches as he deflates a little, his shoulders go limp, and he stands too, taking a step closer, “Look, Guerin,” he pauses, “ Michael ,” he corrects, “I get it, okay? You just started something with Maria, now you're not together and it hurts , and the physical thing between us? It's always been easy. Something to fall back on when words or whatever hasn't been enough.” He rubs his hands on his jeans before crossing his arms against his chest, posture going stiff, “I said some things I shouldn't have and this is not like me stringing you on all those years.” He swallows, “You're hurting, and I get that. Sometimes, it's easier to mask the hurt with something physical than try to parse through it mentally”

Michael looks up at him, raw and open, incredulous, “You really are a self-sacrificing piece of shit, aren't you?” He asks, something akin to wonder in his voice.

The deprecating laugh escapes before he can stop it, “Who told you that?”

Michael snorts, rubbing his right hand across his face in annoyance, “Liz briefly mentioned it when she said you'd reenlisted, said you didn't know when to quit. That you'd rather see those around you thrive even if it meant you had to suffer.” He presses his lips together, “That's why you just left after that night, wasn't it? In the shed. If you didn't leave, what, your dad would have come after me again? Hassling a teenage boy for sleeping with his son?”

Alex swallows, feels dread creeping up along with the urge to leave, but he tilts his chin up, stares across at Michael, “I did it to keep you safe.” He says, voice more steady that he expected. “And as much as it hurt, I'd do it again, if it meant he'd never lay another hand on you.”

A sour, pinched look flits across his face, “And what, you'd rather be in his shadow than have your own happiness?”

Alex squeezes his arms tighter against his chest, “I don't like seeing the people I care about hurt,” he says, and he suddenly feels vulnerable again, like a teenager, “I knew if I'd enlisted he’d leave you alone. If I distanced myself from you, he wouldn't have a reason to go after you. And after Caufield, I’m glad I did, all those years ago.” He breathes in shakily, “And yeah, I know, it's selfish, I should have asked you. I should have talked to you before making those sorts of decisions for you because it hurts , it's what makes our relationship hard and painful for you. I know .”

He goes quiet for a few moments, then, “After the way he ran my mother off, after doing that, I couldn't let him destroy you too, Michael. That's absolutely no excuse for anything I did, because I did fuck up, I fucked you up, I fucked us up, everything. But god ,I’d rather have fucked any chance of us up than lose you permanently.”

Alex rubs his arm across his face, feeling his eyes well with tears, “So yeah, I’m a self-sacrificing piece of shit but if it keeps people alive then I’ll continue to do it.”

Michael stands there, across from him and Alex feels a pull of something, sees the way Michael straightens his shoulders, makes himself look taller, and then he's closing the space between them, arms wrapping around Alex’s shoulders.

“You are a goddamn piece of work, Manes,” Michael says, voice half muffled by his shirt. “When I said loving you was hard, I didn't mean for you to fucking lie to your dad about cutting me out of your life. I didn't mean that we couldn't still be friends , that you had to sell yourself back to the air force.” he says the words so fiercely that Alex believes them.

“I want you and Maria to be happy, I want you to be happy, and that makes me selfish. There's part of me that wants to convince you to be with me, but the other part of me wants you and Maria to have a chance because. If she makes you happy? Then I want that for you.” Alex says, voice shaky as his hands rest on Michael's sides, gripping his shirt. “As much as I want to just kiss you and forget about all of this, I know we can't. We can't do that. If you want to be with Maria. If you want a chance at happiness.”

Michael squeezes him tighter, and then he's pressing their foreheads together, “But what do you want?”

Alex blinks at Michael, eyes wet and red rimmed, “I want you to be safe. That's why I enlisted again, so I can take down whatever this is my dad's planning. I can't do it from the outside. I have to be inside.”

Michael makes an unhappy noise, “Stop. Think about yourself for once. You said you wanted to convince me to be with you? So do it, Manes. Show me you're even worth my time. Show me that what we had in highschool wasn't just a fling for you.” He challenges, “I know you want what's best for me, but maybe. Hell maybe I don't know what's best for me yet. Maybe I still want you. Maybe I still want an us .”

“I don't want to force you,” Alex says, fierce, “I recognize I fucked up and I know you were with Maria because you like her and it doesn't hurt to be with her. I'm not going to ruin what little chance you have left.”

“We both fucked up, Alex,” Michael says, “We both did, and it's unfair that I blamed it all on you. We were teenagers who didn't know shit about each other except that we had feelings.” He looks into Alex's eyes, “I’d like to think that we're adults now and we can handle this more. Maturely. We can sit down, figure out shit out. And hell, maybe in the future we'll be at a place where we can be us again.” He slowly withdraws from the hug, dragging his thumb gently down Alex’s cheek, aching inside at the way Alex closes his eyes and leans into it. “Right now, we need to focus. We need to talk about all this. We need to shut your dad’s operation down. Somehow help Max and Rosa and Maria.”

When he pulls his thumb away from Alex's face, Alex opens his eyes slowly, staring at him with a sad sort of look on his face, “And if you and Maria somehow fix the mess between you, I don't want you to give up on that for me. Okay?”

Michael sighs noisily out of his nose, “I really need you to stop thinking about me and other people and please act selfish this once .” He says, “This isn't about Maria and me, this is about you and me, and the two of us reconciling , because I had a fucking good time today before I forgot to tamp down the unbridled lust I feel for you, and I want more of that. If we can be friends first, I’d just. I'd really like that.”

Alex inhales softly, nods somewhat tentatively, fighting back the urge to argue with Michael, stamps down on the voice telling him that they can never be friends because Alex feels too big for him. “Okay. Okay. You're right Guerin. I need this. We need this.”

“Just two guys talking about the past trauma they've inflicted on each other and the imminent doom of one's dad on an entire alien race,” Michael says, “Seems simple enough.”

And then, Alex pulls himself together, takes a few relaxing breaths, “We've also got to somehow bring Max back to life,” he adds dryly.

“Nope. No way, that's all on Liz. I'm an engineer not a biologist.” Michael says, finally placing his hat on his head again. “I’ll help where I can but she's taking point on that.”

Alex snorts quietly, and the tension eases out of the air, as he sits back down on the log, Michael joining him again, leaning back to stare up at the sky, their thighs pressed together.

“We're gonna figure this out, Alex,” Michael says into the evening sky, and though Alex is unsure of what exactly this is, he believes him.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

harder than a bullet could hit you

fandom: roswell new mexico

whumpee: kyle valenti

uhh idk what this is really but im rewatching the series and im always gonna be upset that there’s zero aftermath of kyle getting shot!!! like just bc you have a vest does not mean ur magically okay (especially emotionally !) so yeah heres this, the title is from river by bishop briggs. (@deepwoundsandfadedscars i know this isnt the fic i said i would write but i thought id tag you, lmk if it sucks lol)

He wasn’t expecting to see Kyle Valenti here-at least, not sitting in a chair in the hospital reception area, staring blankly ahead, looking off in a way Alex thinks looks very odd on him. 

“Hey, Valenti,” he says, walking to the front desk. He sighs. “I’m here for Jesse Manes? They said he was in some sort of coma.”

The woman behind the desk nods, gives him a room number, and pats his arm in a sorry-about-your-dad kind of way that would be nice if it were anyone else’s dad. He smiles tightly, and heads off to find the room.

He doesn’t realize until he’s standing in the doorway that Kyle hadn’t said hello back to him, which shouldn’t be a big deal...he’d give it more thought, maybe, but right now, here is Jesse fucking Manes, in a coma and for once rendered completely harmless. It’s what he deserves, Alex thinks. Better than what he deserves, really. But what had happened? His father was certainly not the type of person to slip quietly into a coma. 

He leans against the doorframe, staring daggers at the unconscious form on the bed. His father had the nerve to come back from Niger (probably because of a certain incident which Alex would rather not think about at the moment) and then promptly fall into a coma before Alex could even threaten him with...something, anything to keep him away. 

He stews in his thoughts for several minutes before someone taps his shoulder. He jumps slightly, spinning quickly around. 

A nurse smiles apologetically at him. “Sorry about that,” he says. “Alex Manes, right?”

Alex nods. “Do you know what happened to him?” he asks, gesturing into his father’s room.

“Not exactly,” the nurse says. “Dr. Valenti brought him in maybe half an hour ago, said they were working on a project together and he just collapsed.”

Alex nods again, and thanks the nurse, who tells him that as soon as they know more, Alex will be the first to know. Alex doesn’t bother to tell him that he really couldn’t care less. 

He makes his way back to the hospital reception, thinking less of his father and more of Kyle. Questions like, Why is he still here? and Did they get into a fight? swirl around in his head as he emerges back into the room. 

Kyle is still there, still staring off into nothing, a blank look on his face. Hesitantly, Alex approaches him. “Hey,” he says, tapping Kyle lightly on the shoulder. “You good? I heard you brought my father in.”

Kyle doesn’t say anything, just takes a sharp breath in, then winces. Alex frowns. “Kyle,” he says, more insistently. “Did something happen?”

And Kyle runs. Shoots up from his chair and bolts out the hospital doors. Alex stumbles backward in surprise, staring ahead out the doors for a second in disbelief. Something is wrong, he thinks, and he’s just about to follow Kyle outside when there’s yet another tap on his shoulder.

He whirls around. “What,” he says, sounding more irritated than he had intended to. 

It’s the same nurse from before, who gives him that same apologetic grin. “Sorry again,” he says. “I just thought I’d let you know we’re going to be moving your dad to a new room tonight, if you want to come and visit him again.”

“Yeah,” Alex says distractedly, craning his neck to see if he can spot Kyle somewhere outside. He accepts the card the nurse gives him with his father’s new room number on it and says a terse goodbye. He doubts he’ll be doing much visiting.

Alex heads outside, hoping to catch Kyle, if he’s still here. Something is most definitely wrong with him, and considering everything they’ve been involved in lately, he’s sure it’s going to end up involving him too, at some point. Better to learn about it now than later, he reasons. Plus, he can’t shake the feeling that this has something to do with his father, which is never a good feeling to have.

He’s in luck-he’s no sooner left the hospital reception area than he sees Kyle-or rather, the back of Kyle. He’s hunched over a trash can, clearly having just been sick, and Alex sees his hands shaking where they grip the edges of the can. He stands there for a second, unsure of what to do. 

Kyle abruptly pushes himself away from the trash can, walking backwards until his back presses against a pillar. He sinks to the ground and runs a hand down his face. Alex clears his throat, and finally, Kyle looks at him.

“Hi,” he says, his voice scratchy. He lets out a shuddery exhale, and Alex, without particularly thinking, sinks down slowly next to him. 

This close, he can feel that Kyle is shaking, and it scares him a little. Kyle is steady and strong, and this is extremely unlike him. He tries his question again-“what’s wrong?”-but Kyle just shakes his head. 

Alex sighs, unsure of what to do. He can’t just leave Kyle here-he’s in no condition to drive, and he doesn’t seem like he has any intention of moving, anyway. But can Alex just...make him leave? They aren’t that close, not yet, not anymore...but Kyle is, if not a friend exactly, then an ally, and you don’t leave an ally behind. Especially if he may be in some serious trouble. (With Jesse Manes involved, it’s always serious trouble). 

Alex stands up, pushing against the pillar for balance. Once he’s on his feet, he extends a hand to Kyle, who looks at it, then at him, blankly. 

“Come on,” Alex says. “I won’t ask what happened,” not right now, anyway, he thinks, “but you can’t just stay here and I’m not gonna let you drive like this.”

Kyle nods, finally, takes a deep breath which he aborts halfway through, and takes Alex’s hand. 

They drive in silence for a while, Alex absentmindedly tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to turn the radio on, so there’s at least something. Beside him, Kyle is uncharacteristically quiet, hands in his lap, staring out the window like he wants to melt the buildings of Roswell with his brain.

It’s weird.

And then, as Alex makes the turn onto the road that leads to the cabin, Kyle...well, he doesn’t say anything, but he makes a noise, anyway, one which sounds panicked and afraid.

Alex glances over at his passenger, who is now trying frantically to remove his shirt, but his hands are shaking too much to undo the buttons. He reaches a hand out, moving Kyle’s hands away from his shirt. 

“You’re fine,” he says, keeping his voice quiet and calm. “It’s okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what’s got Kyle like this, but he’s growing more and more sure that it has something to do with Jesse Manes.

His vague words of reassurance do the job, mercifully, and Kyle’s hands return to his lap. Alex can practically feel the stress rolling off of him, and he hates it, without really knowing why. He drives a little faster.

Eventually, they make it to Alex’s cabin. Kyle practically falls out of the car, and Alex has to nearly drag him up to the door. Once they get inside, Alex shrugs out of his jacket and hangs up his keys, directing Kyle to sit on the couch but giving him a second to get comfortable. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen and returns to the living room, where Kyle is once again trying-and failing-to remove his shirt.

Alex sets down the glasses on the table and sits next to Kyle on the couch. “You need some help there?” he asks, trying to keep the mood light. 

Kyle looks at him, his expression pleading and anything but light. “Alex, please, I can’t…” He fumbles with a button, cursing as his hands refuse to steady enough to keep a hold on it.

“Yeah, I got it,” Alex says gently, unbuttoning Kyle’s shirt. He stops when he feels a familiar material underneath.

“What...Kyle, this is a bulletproof vest…” he stops talking for a minute as the pieces rapidly connect in his mind. “He shot you,” he says finally, hating the fact that he believes this so easily. Shooting civilians...not like this would be the first time his father’s hurt someone he cares about. He shakes himself out of that line of thinking in time to hear Kyle’s whispered, “yeah, he shot me...I was gonna buy a gun, Alex, but I-I couldn’t, I-”

He’s on the verge of hyperventilating, Alex notices. He hesitantly reaches out a hand, places it across the stiff fabric of the vest. “It’s okay, Kyle,” he says, taking a deep breath in the hopes that the doctor will copy it. “Just breathe, okay?”

Kyle takes a breath, wincing. “It hurts,” he mutters. “Like...like someone hit me with a baseball bat. Or, like, a truck.”

Alex nods sympathetically, reaching to undo the straps of the vest. “That pain will most likely be the worst of it. People don’t usually break ribs or anything, not with this kind of vest, and my father’s kind of gun. You’ll probably have a nice bruise for a couple weeks, though.”

Kyle gives him a shaky smile as Alex slides the vest off. “Now who’s the doctor?” he jokes, and Alex half smiles back, glad that Kyle seems to be doing a little better. His smile turns to a grimace as he observes the damage his father has inflicted. Kyle looks down at himself, at the dark bruise forming over his heart. 

“I would have died,” he whispers, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe it. 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. There’s no point in sugarcoating it-he is fully aware of what his father is capable of, and he’s sorry that Kyle had to learn those capabilities like this, but it’s the truth.

Kyle nods slowly, then looks around. “I can go,” he says at last, not sounding particularly attached to the idea.

Not that Alex would let him, not like this. He tells him as much: “Kyle, there is no way I am going to let you leave when you’ve just been shot, and by my father, no less.”

A thought occurs to him then, and it scares him with how much he hopes it’s not true-maybe Kyle does want to leave, because Jesse Manes shot him, Alex’s father shot him, and-

“You’re sure I won’t be a bother?” Kyle asks, jolting Alex out of that particular line of thinking. He looks so genuinely unsure, like he doesn’t believe Alex wants him to stay, needs him to stay-he needs some kind of stability right now, honestly, and while he never would’ve thought that would come in the form of Kyle Valenti, he’s not going to complain. 

“Of course you won’t, Kyle,” and then, because he has to be sure, “as long as you’re okay staying with the son of your would-be murderer.”

“Hey,” Kyle says, his voice stronger than it had been a second before. “Don’t say that-I mean, you can say the part about him almost murdering me, but it’s not like you chose to be his son. You didn’t make him shoot me. Nothing he does is your fault.” He smiles again, like that will negate the seriousness in his voice. There’s something like fondness on his face, and his hands have stopped shaking, Alex realizes. He doesn’t really know what to do with that, so he simply says, “yeah.” It feels nice to hear that, he manages to admit to himself. He gives Kyle a genuine smile and moves to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asks, reaching out a hand to stop him.

“I’m gonna grab you some painkillers, maybe get a snack. You want anything?”

Kyle shakes his head, and Alex heads off to gather his items, listening to the sounds of the long-awaited storm rolling in. All the more reason to keep Kyle here, he thinks. 

He heads back to the living room, passing Kyle a bottle of ibuprofen and a hot mug of tea. He watches as Kyle takes the medicine (more pills than Alex would usually take, but Kyle’s a doctor, so Alex trusts that he knows what he’s doing) and wraps his hands around the steaming mug. He shivers a little, and Alex, without thinking, tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and carefully drapes it around Kyle’s shoulders. 

Kyle startles a little at the contact before relaxing into the warmth of the blanket with a light sigh. He stares into his mug of tea pensively for a few moments before he says, “thanks, Alex. For all of this.”

Alex nods, shifting to prop his legs up on the table. “Thanks for stopping my father.”

Kyle shifts uncomfortably. “He’s gonna wake up eventually,” he says. “I didn’t really think about that, I didn’t think-”

“Stop,” Alex cuts him off gently with a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, he’s out of the picture, and that’s good enough.”

“Okay,” Kyle agrees, leaning back against the couch. He looks exhausted, and rightfully so. Alex reaches for the remote, turning on the TV, as outside the first drops of rain begin to fall. 

“What’re we watching?” Kyle asks, setting down his relatively-untouched mug of tea and curling deeper into the blanket.

“Star Wars, Episode Four,” Alex says, grabbing a second blanket from under the table to drape across his legs. 

“Four? What about the first three?” Kyle asks, sounding legitimately concerned.

“It’s not like that,” Alex replies with a laugh. “This is the first one.”

“What-”

“Shh! It’s starting.”

Kyle raises his right hand in mock surrender. A deep rumble of thunder booms overhead, and he unconsciously leans into Alex, who scoffs slightly but allows it, carefully shifting himself to avoid jostling Kyle’s injury. It’s not quiet, not with the storm raging overhead, but it is peaceful. In the morning, it will not be. In the morning, the damage from tonight’s storm will become apparent, and they will have to begin repairing it, as best as they can. But for now, for just a moment, all is well. 

yeah so here was this brought about by my rewatch,,,,it may suck idk but i simply Had To Write It yknow?