-Won’t break a class rule but would start a revolution
-Listen for hours, even when they know that person wouldn’t let them talk for five minutes
-Always look out for the misfits and the loners
-Do their English homework, “just for fun”
-Will wait up all night just to say good night to someone
-Remember the little things people tell them like their favorite book or their best memory
-Always say thank you to waiters and janitors
-Cry when the dog dies in movies
-Write their feelings out on paper before they can find the words in their mouths to explain them
-Sit in their rooms, late at night in the dark, crying silently because they don’t want to wake anyone up
-Who apologize to the person who ran into them
-Can never pretend that they don’t care because they’ll end up crying or angry
Iwaizumi looked up from his homework and at Oikawa who was laying on his bed. “What?”
“You need to stop,” Oikawa repeated. “Take a break for a while, do whatever, just stop working.”
“Are you trying to talk to me about overworking?” Iwaizumi laughed, “Because you’re not the prime example yourself.”
“You’re stressed and you’re not gonna get anything done if you’re stressed about it,” Oikawa went on. He gestured to the small pile of torn up pieces of paper next to Iwaizumi. “You rip paper when you’re stressed. The smaller the pieces, the more stressed you are.”
Iwaizumi looked at the pile next to him. He hadn’t really consciously been tearing the corners off of his papers, but there was definitely enough to be called a pile next to him. He swiped the papers off his desk into the trash. “There, now I’m not stressed by your standards. I need to work.”
“Iwa-chan, no,” Oikawa whined. “That’s not how it works.”
“I’m gonna ignore you now. I have work to do, and you do too.”
Oikawa sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. “Ten minute break? And I won’t bother you after.”
Iwaizumi’s only response was to write something down on his paper. Oikawa got up and stood behind Iwaizumi. He wrapped his arms around him and set his chin on his head. “Five minutes?”
Iwaizumi ignored him and kept working. Oikawa tightened his arms so that Iwaizumi couldn’t move his own.
“Just five minutes, then you can come back,” Oikawa murmured.
“That’s it?” Iwaizumi asked skeptically.
“And you’ll let me come back to my work after,” Iwaizumi clarified.
“Absolutely,” Oikawa couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice, knowing he had won. “I won’t even bother you. Promise.”
Iwaizumi sighed and put his pencil down. “I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.”
Oikawa practically dragged him out of his chair and over to the bed. “Just lay down and relax. I’m gonna give you a quick massage because slouching like that for so long has to be uncomfortable.”
“Just tell me when five minutes is up,” Iwaizumi muttered, practically collapsing onto the bed. Oikawa smiled softly while he agreed. He started rubbing Iwaizumi’s shoulders, smiling even more when he could see Iwaizumi relax before him.
True to his word, five minutes later, Oikawa nudged Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Iwa-chan, it’s been five minutes,” he called quietly. Iwaizumi rolled over to face him, eyes still closed. He wrapped his arms around Oikawa and buried his face in his chest.
Oikawa could just barely hear the words, “No it hasn’t,” muffled into his shirt.
“Iwa-chan, we said five minutes,” Oikawa said.
“I’ll let you know when it’s actually been five minutes,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He gripped on tighter and Oikawa smiled. He brought up a hand and started running his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair. It took even less than five minutes for Oikawa to hear Iwaizumi’s breathing even out as he fell asleep.
Snippet of my current Lance/Lotor (Lancelot) two-shot that I’m hopefully going to post soon.
“I can do it!” Lance cried and held up his shooter. Prince Lotor stood no more than one arm’s length away from him, smirking. All of Lance’s senses prickled inside him, the adrenaline heating him up as seemingly reckless courage consumed his sane thinking. He was pushing out his breath heavily as his eyes fixated on his enemy in a scrutinizing way. The other four Paladins – and Allura – stood around him, but didn’t move an inch as to not edge Lance to do something silly. Although, at the moment, it looked like that even without any of them interfering. “Just because I’m not half Galra like Keith or have a weapon arm like Shiro or am not a genius like Pidge or have bonded with my Lion like Hunk and basically everybody else or can’t do magic like Allura—it doesn’t mean that I am less of a useful and effective fighter!” As the tension ascended rapidly, whirring noises indicated Lance’s shooter to be loading, power accumulating to get fired off. Driven in blind and mad irritation, Lance had his concentration pointed at Lotor, and Lotor only. The other watched him patiently, grin not faltering at all. At last, Lance cried out, “I am worth a Paladin!”
The distance between the two opponents remained the same - the most was for Lance to step forward than to step back - when he pulled the trigger and released the highly electrically charged and awfully hot beam.
In that moment a curious flicker glittered in Lotor’s eyes and he raised a brow in addition to his sudden interest in Lance. These few words that were spilled from that light-headed brunet guy with the toned skin and longish face, these words were enough for the Prince to come up with thoughts he didn’t know he would ever engage himself in.
Using the insecurities of this particular boy – whose name was apparently Lance – to his advantage.
But that wasn’t all.
It didn’t take more than milliseconds for the glowing light-blue laser to reach Lotor’s positional sphere, but that was enough for him to form these delicate thoughts and the last thing his mind recalled was a soon to be real fact. A final statement. Lotor’s goal. His desire.