this is weird as heck

2

before & after of these icons

Anniversary [ Stiles Stilinski]

Author: @werewolfmutant

A/N: Yay! I got it done! Okay, don’t know if this is good or not but I still hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think when your done!! :) :)

___________________________

It had been weeks since I had seen my boyfriend Stiles Stilinski. He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts and every time I ask Scott where he’s at, Kira interrupts and takes him away before I could even ask. I didn’t know why everyone was acting so weird or why Stiles had just vanished, and it was bothering the heck out of me.

I back to my house to find my Mom and Dad weren’t there which left me alone for awhile. I went upstairs to my room where all my boxes were packed. I wanted to surprise Stiles on our anniversary that was coming in a couple of days, I was going to be moving into an apartment near his college and surprise him at the university.

I just hope he’ll like it.

Originally, I was going to go back to campus, but I found another school in the same state he was in and an interview was waiting for me there.

I still needed a pickup truck to get all my things but I was mostly ready. I felt my phone vibrate in my pants pocket, taking it out, I saw that Lydia had texted me, telling me to come over and help her chose and outfit for our anniversary party she was throwing. One that I told her wasn’t a big deal.

I texted back, telling her I’m on my way and was already half way out the door. I got to my car and peeled out of the driveway in seconds heading in the direction of the Martin residence.

I couldn’t help but glance at my phone, hoping for a text or something from Stiles, but my lock screen was empty. It made my stomach turn, thinking the worse. What if he got kidnapped? Or what if he’s mad at me for something. Whatever was going on with Stiles and me not knowing did not sit right with me.

I finally got to Lydia’s house, parking the car on the side like I always do when I came over. I got out of the car, shutting and locking the door in the process. Something in the corner of my eye caught my attention, something definitely familiar.

Roscoe.

Why was Stiles’ Jeep here? I stared at the vehicle for a moment, pondering this question for a moment, unwanted theories piling into my head. I shook it, “No, Stiles wouldn’t cheat on me.” I kept telling myself, like a chant.

I approached the front steps, taking out the key Lydia had given me to the house when we were in high school. I entered the house, calling out, “Hello?”

There was no response.

I looked in the living room to find it empty, then the dining room, and then the kitchen. No one was there. All that was left was the bedrooms. I went up the stairs timidly, like I was nervous. I don’t know why I was, I shouldn’t be nervous. It’s Lydia’s house. I’ve been here countless times, why the heck am I nervous?

I finally got to the top of the second floor and went towards the direction of Lydia’s room, but stopped once I heard voices.. Lydia’s and one all too familiar.

Stiles.

“Go on.” I heard Lydia speak first.

I crept closer to the ajar door, their voices sounded more clearer. Stiles was the one talking.

“I don’t know how to say this.” I heard him clear his throat and continue, “Ever since I first saw you, I instantly fell in love with you. Frankly, I don’t deserve you. And yet your still here.” I stood frozen in place, my mouth agape, my throat dry, and I allowed my ears to listen to the rest, “I love you, I always have. And I always will. For the rest of my life.”

I had only let one tear escape from my eye, not allowing anymore to fall. I backed away and bolted down the stairs and darted towards the door, slamming it close. I rushed towards my car, got in, and drove away, not daring to look back

Why hadn’t I just stayed out of the way? Of course it was always Lydia, Stiles crush since the 6th grade, I had always been the best friend, always there to support him. Then I just had to fall in love. I just had to get in the way.

When I got home, I broke down. I sat on my bed for almost two hours, crying my eyes out for someone I didn’t deserve in the first place. Why did I fall for my best friend?

By hour four, my eyes were dry, having cried out all of my tears, I felt numb. During the last hour I had to think and clear my mind, try to get this all in place. For awhile I sat silently, eyes focused on my hands. I haven’t moved an inch since I had came back, not one.

I ignored my phone that had vibrated for the thousandth time, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment.

Well, life’s a bitch isn’t it?

I heard my doorbell ring from downstairs, already knowing who it was, hesitantly, I got up and went downstairs to get the door. Or what awaits behind it, I approached the front door, already seeing his familiar figure through the glass window of the door.

My hand stopped short, I closed my eyes and breathed in and out.
Let’s get this over with. I opened the door, finding Stiles standing there on my porch, giving me one of his cute smiles that always made me melt. “Hey.” He greeted me.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?” He asked.

I hesitated to answer, trying so hard not to glare at him. “No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Stiles sighed out through his nose, “Look, I know I’ve been avoiding you lately and I’m sorry, but babe I need to tell you something.”

I shook my head, “No, Stiles.” I cursed myself for my voice wavering, “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just step out of the way.”

“What do you mean?” He asked with a confused look.

“You can have her.” I shrugged, “It’s what you wanted in the beginning, Lydia has always been your first choice, and I was blocking you from her.” I tried to keep the tears at bay but it wasn’t agreeing with me. And I thought my tears were all dried out, “You love her, I can tell when I heard you confess your love to her, Stiles.”

Realization dawned on his face and he quickly spoke, “No, Y/N, just listen–”

“I’ve heard enough for today. I’m done.” Another year escaped my lips. “We both know it’s true. Everyone knows it’s true.” Stiles didn’t even say anything, he just looked at me, his eyes filled with guilt because he knew what I was saying was true. “And I was going to move in with you.” I mumbled looking down to my feet as more tears fell.

“Y/N I–”

“I’m done Stiles.” I stepped back, placing a hand on the door, “I’m done.” It felt like I was convincing myself more than him.

The door closed and the last thing I saw on his face, were tears.

Listen I’m bi as Heck and as much as I love girls, I also love boys? Boys are amazing and pure and liking boys is a wonderful feeling? I never see a lot of posts talking about cute boys so

Some Boy Aesthetics™ I’m in love with include:

Their tired grins? Have you seen a cute boy grin when he’s tired? Life Changing

Sleeves rolled up to forearms is all good and Well but also when they have Sweater Paws in their hoodies or jumpers? Makes the tallest of them seem so smol? I’m lov?

When they run their hand through their hair and it sticks up in places and it looks So Good

Collar Bones

Soft pudgy stomachs they absolutely make me melt

When ya boy gets flustered A++ Bonus points if he giggles Boys giggling is Everything

Hey, lemme show my cool remote here!
Yeah, it controls through the brain like a broken gear.
Sure it’s a crazy way, and I wont lie
I lost the guide to my mind, but I still get by…

So this thing is inspired by Len and Rin Kagamine’s ‘Rimokon (Remote controller)’ — or the English cover of it in particular (warning: a lot of flashing colours in the video).

…I just really love the idea of video game characters encouraging you to play their game because when you aren’t playing, they don’t exist! :D

On twins and polydactyly...

I know the fandom’s gone over how the probability part of this issue before, but long story short… it would be pretty odd and out of the norm for Stan to- in canon- not have shared his brother’s polydactyly, as identical twins. (As them being identical twins IS what canon seems to suggest.)

While it’d be rare but not impossible for Stan to have only five fingers when his brother’s identical genes gave him six, I give you an alternate concept to consider:

What if Stanley Pines was originally born with six fingers as well?

And their parents wanted to do something about their twin boys. Ma worried about the scorn they might potentially receive from their peers once they ere older, Filbrick more worried about the potential embarrassment it might place on the family… So they decided to have the extra digits on their twin sons surgically removed. 

But once learning how much that surgery would cost, they realized they only had enough money for one to undergo the procedure. They picked one son at random, and that son ended up being Stanley. The doctors removed his extra digits with barely even a trace… leaving only a small crease that perfectly blended into the natural ridges of his hands. 

They planned to do the same for Stanford a few months later when they earned enough money, but by that point the doctors warned them that his nerves developed enough that preceding with the procedure would likely leave him with nerve damage that would hinder his motor skills for the rest of his life. 

So Ford kept his extra digits.

And past then, when you have one child with the normal five fingers and one with six, how are you supposed to explain that you had Stanley’s extra fingers removed when he was a baby, like having six is wrong? Unnatural? Unwanted? Ma dreaded the thought of ever having that conversation, and so she never did. She, nor Filbrick, ever told Stanley the truth. 

And Stanley never asked about it. Never once considered. To him, some people were born with five, and others with six. Just like him and his bro. He never had any reason to suspect his parents were hiding anything from him.

Stanford, however… began to suspect in college, after going through a genetics course and conducting his own research on the topic. At some point he called Ma and asked about it. Asked her, pointedly, to not keep the truth from him. Reluctantly, Ma admitted what they did some twenty years ago… admitted that they only had enough money to put one through the surgery. 

Years pass. Ford was thrown through the portal… into the thickets of the multiverse. Every once and a while he stumbles upon an alternate version of Stan who had fallen through instead of him. Some of these Stans have six fingers. Some of the Fords he meets on his journeys don’t.

Some thirty odd years later, Stan and Ford are at sea, peacefully reminiscing about their happier memories together. After a while, recollection of their past turns to confession, and Ford imparts Stanley with the knowledge he learned from their mother years ago… That Stan was born with polydactyly too. The pair search across the side of Stan’s palm, eventually discovering an aged crease that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them upon close observation… one that Stanley never thought to look at with much scrutiny before. Tears built up in his eyes, and he laughed, the sound both joyous and melancholy, somehow at once.

“Guess we were both Sixer, then,” he says, holding up his hand against his twin’s and imagining a world in which the number of fingers on their hands matched.

Judy: Not so fast, Nick. You heard the chief, we’ve got adventures to go on, Nick, just you and me. And sometimes Clawhauser, and sometimes Finnick, but never Jack. You wanna know why, Nick? Because he crossed me.

Nick: Okay, take it easy, Carrots. That’s a little dark.

Judy: Oh, it gets darker, Nick. Welcome to the darkest year of our adventures! First thing that’s different: no more Jack Savage. He threatened to turn me in to the ZBI, so I made him and the ZBI go away.

Nick: Oh h*ck.

Judy: I’ve repla(hic)aaced them both as the most powerful rabbit in your workplace, and your universe. Chief Bogo wouldn’t have accepted me if I came back without you and Clawhauser, so now you know the real reason I rescued you. I just took over the ZPD, Nick! And if you tell the Chief or anybody I said any of this, I’ll deny it, and they’ll take my side because I’m a hero! And now you’re gonna have to go and do whatever I say, Nick! Forever! And I’ll- and I’ll- I’ll- I’ll go out and I’ll get some WildeHopps content, Nick! Be-because that’s- that’s what this is all about, Nick! Th-th-that’s my one-armed mammal! I’m not driven by making the world a better place, Nick, that was fake! I-I-I’m driven by finding that WildeHopps content, Nick! That’s my entire arc, Nick! If it takes nine movies, I want my cute, heartwarming, adorable WildeHopps content! We’ll adopt, or make a hybrid, or adopt a hybrid! That’s what’s gon- what’s gonna take us all the-

Nick: What are you talking about?!

Judy: -end, Nick! Movie- nine more movies, Nick! Nine more movies until I get that WildeHopps content! For 97 more years, Nick! I want that WildeHopps content, Nick!

vimeo

Oh look it’s my senior film from last year! It’s been in a few festivals, but now it’s ready to be shown online… !

anonymous asked:

today is the met gala! if ya feelin peachy and up to it, would you write a wee lil drabble about our friends from hmc there?

this is a continuation of this drabble, kinda. don’t ask what the gala theme is it’s some weird combination of 2015′s through the looking glass and this year’s art of the in-between lolol. and yes, i’m making kubo a designer that gets her own met gala solo show in honor of kawakubo bc their names sound alike O K

12 hours to open

The Victor from four hours ago is gone, neatly tucked away like one of his silk ties or a pair of ankle socks. Folded and hidden into one of the several drawers of Victor Nikiforov’s wardrobe of a personality. Yuuri wonders if he’s glimpsed into a good amount of those drawers, but considering Victor’s actual wardrobe drawers have their own MUJI brand compartments inside of them, it is entirely likely that he’s missing even smaller facets of Victor; his drawers have drawers, his secrets have secrets.

Yuuri watches him now as he scrutinizes each display of the exhibit, murmuring with the curator and periodically adjusting the garments on the mannequins. Victor looks up briefly and gives a small smile—in the way that Victor only ever gives smiles, small and subtle but brilliant, still, and Yuuri mentally adds that to his collection of memories of Victor to lose sleep over.

Yuuri smiles back (hesitant and timid and awkward, he’s sure).

4 hours to open

“Oh my god, what are you wearing?” Georgi asks in horror.

Yuuri looks down at his outfit, still in the sweats he’d slipped into in his rush to get to the Met at half past three in the morning. Around them, preparations for the gala are in full-swing, museum officials and staff bustling around the venue as the ticking clock winds down.

“Um—”

"I’ve got it.” Victor’s voice, soft but clear, calls from Yuuri’s left and when Yuuri turns he stops breathing. Victor’s changed, and he’s still in a suit, of course, but it’s stunning. Custom-made by Kubo herself, the designer being celebrated for that evening. Half of the suit is lined with icy blue crystals, tiny sparkling things that glint where the sunlight catches on them. The other half is a more muted blue, calm but compelling and homey. It divides in a diagonal across Victor’s front, and the stark contrast of the suit’s design is jarring, but—so’s it’s owner.

Yuuri doesn’t notice the garment bag hanging over Victor’s arm until he steps in front of him. “I don’t know if you already had something picked out,” Victor tells him. Yuuri remembers to breathe, can’t decide whether to look up into Victor’s eyes or to the matching blue of the bright part of his suit. “Sorry for having dragged you here, though, you’ve been here all morning and all night—”

"It’s okay,” Yuuri says quickly.

Victor pauses, gives his small smile. He holds out his arm, pushes the garment bag over to Yuuri. “How about you go change, then?” His voice lowers. “Before Georgi gets an aneurysm. And before Michele arrives,” he adds, teasing.

Yuuri shudders. “Michele.” He takes it from Victor gratefully. “Thank you.”

"Of course.”

2 hours to open

"Where the fuck are you?” Mila hisses into her phone. “They’re rolling out the carpet.”

Whatever JJ says on the other end, it only mollifies Mila slightly. She sighs as staff members around her iron down the red carpet, making it smooth and impeccable for the star-studded guests who would arrive later in the evening.

Sara rubs Mila’s shoulder soothingly as she clicks off. “It’s gonna be okay. Look, Otabek’s running the livetweets right now,” she says.

Mila rolls her eyes. “Please tell me that—”

"Leo and Guang are helping,” Sara says quickly.

"Thank god.”

Open - Gala Stage

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Victor says grandly behind the podium on stage. He flashes a wide smile as the crowd applauds, but it doesn’t sit right with Yuuri, not really. He watches from off the side of the stage, standing with Mila, who’s busy typing away on her phone.

"Georgi says Kubo’s not ready yet,” she stage-whispers, looking at Yuuri with wide eyes. "She’s got some, I don’t know, there’s some drama with the—”

“What?” He glances at his watch. “But the schedule—”

"Fuck the schedule, we need to—”

"Okay.”

"Okay? Yuuri, we need to—Yuuri, wait, what are you—”

Victor’s voice booms from the speakers around them. “And now, may I present our—uh… Yuuri Katsuki?”

Two hours after close

Yuuri finds Victor by one of the displays, looking thoughtfully at the satin train of a Renaissance-themed dress. He’s shed his suit jacket, loosened the tie around his neck. He still looks flawless.

"I hope that was okay,” Yuuri says quietly.

Victor doesn’t startle, as if he’d expected Yuuri to come to him all along. He’s quiet for a bit, before turning to face him. He speaks, breathless, even though he hasn’t moved from his spot since he’d been there after the last of the guests had left.

"That was amazing,” he tells Yuuri meaningfully.

It’s too much. Yuuri tears his eyes away. “Roughly amazing,” he says jokingly. Deflects.

There’s the small smile again. “Roughly amazing,” Victor agrees. He gazes back at the mannequin on display, and that’s where Mila finds them later, when she tells them the car’s waiting.

And Taako you remember Lup now. Of course! How could you forget Lup? Those memories that you had- in the Chalice- of your lonely childhood, of you just on your own out on the road- there was something there that you couldn’t quite perceive Some static It was Lup. It was your sister. Out there on the road… 
Outcast, but never a l o n e.

and I promise if I take you home, I'll sing you a song; never leave me alone

Read this on AO3!

For @amalasdraws, inspired by her Hip Hop AU!! Ahh you are great, thank you for all the AU FEELS, the screaming, everything!!! You are great, I love you and your AU!


Oikawa can’t help the smile that lights his face when he gets to talk in interviews with Iwaizumi.

It’s not just that they’re together now, in a relationship.

Okay, so, yeah. That part is pretty fucking fantastic. They’ve come so far from where they’ve started, overcome so much shit that Oikawa doesn’t even want to think about anymore. It really doesn’t even matter that they’re not out to the world because they’re together.

But… it’s still so much more than that.

It’s the fact that they’re a team, here. The music that they make together is so much better, so much more inspired than anything they have ever come up with alone.

Oikawa’s never worked so closely with the same lyricist for so long. Usually it’s a couple of songs, or he works out a few beats for someone else and isn’t really involved in the rest of the process. It’s… hard, really, to share so much with someone else, because music is his life.

It’s not just a job; it’s a passion. A dream.

It’s huge to have it be so intricately intertwined with someone else’s work, but honestly? Now that he’s here?

Oikawa can hardly imagine things working out any other way.

On their own, they were good; but together, they’re great. He’s so proud.

Oikawa looks over at Iwaizumi on the other end of the couch, biting his lip to try and keep himself from smiling too wide. He listens to Iwaizumi speak, answering the interviewer’s question with ease, arms moving around as he talks. It’s what always happens whenever gets really excited about what he’s talking about. He talks with his hands, and Oikawa couldn’t be more pleased with the fact that he knows Iwaizumi well enough to recognize this.

“Well, Oikawa? What do you think?”

Hearing the interviewer calling his name, Oikawa turns his attention back to him and hopes he wasn’t staring too hard.

“Uh, can you repeat the question?” He asks, grinning a little. Iwaizumi just laughs and shakes his head, adjusting his hat. He must have realized Oikawa was staring at him, but his smile tells him he’s been doing the same thing.

“Do you think you’ll keep working together for a while?” The interviewer asks again, leaning forward in his seat, awaiting his answer.

Oikawa just grins.

“I’ll keep making his beats as long as he’s still spittin’,” he replies, shooting Iwaizumi a look before looking back at the interviewer. “And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

Iwaizumi hides his smile behind his hand.

The interviewer laughs, clearly pleased by the conversation; they wrap things up, saying their goodbyes and making their way out of the studio. Oikawa’s tired and wants nothing more than to curl up back at home on the couch, but he has to wait.

Iwaizumi must know, or at least he wants the same thing, because he doesn’t seem surprised when Oikawa joins him on his way back to his apartment.

Okay, he must want the same thing. Oikawa keeps looking up to steal looks at Iwaizumi only to find that he’s looking back.

So cute.

Thankfully the trip back isn’t long and as soon as the door slams closed, Oikawa’s kicking off his shoes, tossing down his bag, ready to flop.

Iwaizumi laughs, watching him fumble with his shoes. He tries to step out of his right shoe but it refuses come off properly. He resorts to shaking his foot, groaning when his shoe flies across the hall and slams into the wall. Oikawa fidgets like he wants to go and grab it but ends up just shrugging it off, waving his hand dismissively.

“Tired?” Iwaizumi asks, stepping close enough to rest a hand on the back of his neck. The soft hairs at the base of Oikawa’s neck tickle his fingers and Oikawa sighs into the touch.

“Mhm,” Oikawa hums, letting his eyes flutter closed, “Well, didn’t get to sleep much last night.. By the time I got home, it was pretty late… and besides…” he sighs when Iwaizumi dips his hands under the neck of his sweatshirt, cold fingers pressing against his bare skin. “It’s harder to get to sleep when I’m by myself.”

“Were you lonely?” Iwaizumi grins, but it’s lacking his usual attitude, coming out soft. Sweet. Oikawa smiles, turning to press their lips together for a single chaste kiss.

He tastes warm and sweet, like those candies he was eating on their drive home, like the warmth of the cuddles they share at three in the morning after a long day of recording, when they get silly and snuggly and Oikawa doesn’t even want to get up for food-

Okay, that last part is definitely Iwaizumi projecting, but whatever. He still licks his lips when Oikawa pulls back, cheeks flushed, smile burning wide.

Iwaizumi immediately wants more of it.

“Yes,” he admits. “Your bed’s comfier. Or… maybe it’s just that you’re there. I dunno.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, but allows it when Oikawa presses their palms against one another, fingers lacing together. He tugs, and Iwaizumi lets Oikawa pull him down the hallway, heading straight for the living room. He knows where they’re going, but he still lets Oikawa take him there. It’s much more fun to have Oikawa leading the way, whining when Iwaizumi slows down, making his strides shorter, purposefully drawing out the walk. He laughs, but succeeds; Oikawa reaches for his other hand, pulling him along by both hands until he trips backwards over his feet and they land on the couch in a heap, laughing and snorting.

Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, trapped underneath him. Iwaizumi’s landed pretty much on his lap, straddling his waist, and Oikawa pouts at the restricted movement.

“Yes, babe?” Iwaizumi grins down at him, brushing some hair off his forehead, thumbs lingering on his warm skin. Oikawa looks up, a little surprised, still in their public mode - hasn’t moved over to how they can act in private, the pet name making him blush, goofy grin lighting up his face.

Iwaizumi sighs. He’s too damn cute for his own good.

“I can’t kiss you properly like this,” Oikawa says, proving his point by trying to arch up against Iwaizumi and failing. He pouts pathetically, too tired to really put any effort into trying to push Iwaizumi off of him, settling for resting his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips. He digs his thumbs under the fabric of Iwaizumi’s jeans, rubbing circles on his bare skin. It’s nice, light, relaxing; teasing, almost, but really just affectionate. It sends little sparks of warmth up his back.

It really hits home now, how important this is to him. How good it feels… How right.

With a hum, Iwaizumi moves to shift off Oikawa. “Okay, fine.”

Oikawa laughs happily when Iwaizumi flops down next to him on the couch, wasting no time in curling up to his side, hands working off all those clothes that he’s still wearing for reasons unknown - but not for too much longer. Oikawa makes quick work of that. He unzips Iwaizumi’s hoodie, moving it off his shoulders, tossing it down to the floor. His shirt is next, soft fabric sliding over his head before it too is tossed away. Iwaizumi just watches with an amused grin, letting Oikawa move him as he pleases. He unbuttons Iwaizumi’s jeans, too, guiding them off his hips and down to the heap of clothes on the floor, looking quite satisfied now that there are markedly less layers between them.

He loves it when Oikawa is like this. So focused on what he wants, knowing exactly what they both need. He works his way out of his own hoodie, lifting it over his head, grumbling when he gets suck and flails around a little bit before Iwaizumi helps him out of it. He guides it up and off his frame, offering Oikawa a smile once he’s free. Oikawa smiles back, all warm and sweet and Iwaizumi just loves that smile.

A whole hell of a lot.

Oikawa’s too busy watching Iwaizumi, gaze shifting from his face to his strong, broad chest, so Iwaizumi helps him along a little. Unfastens his pants, helps slide them off. Reaching behind the couch for a blanket that he knows Oikawa is going to need.

As soon as he turns back, Oikawa drops back to his side. He hooks his legs over Iwaizumi’s, sliding a hand behind his back, worming his way in close. Iwaizumi chuckles, not moving until he’s sure Oikawa is comfortable.

“Good?” He asks, before draping the blanket over the both of them. Oikawa hums in approval, so Iwaizumi slides his arm around Oikawa’s shoulder, burying his fingers in his soft brown hair.

Oikawa’s quiet, for a moment. He rests his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, eyes fluttering closed, until-

“Hey.”

Iwaizumi moves his hands in Oikawa’s hair, fingers curling in the soft hairs at the base of his neck.. “Hey.”

Oikawa sighs happily at the touch. “You know what?” His voice is light, airy.

Iwaizumi can’t help but smile. “What?”

“You were so great in the interview today…” Oikawa presses a tiny kiss to his neck. “I love listening to you talk about your music-”

“-Our music,” Iwaizumi interjects, which makes Oikawa get all silly and cuddle in closer.

“Yeah. Our music.” He grins, almost in disbelief. “I feel so lucky… you know? You were amazing… you’re so passionate… you always bring your best to the table…”

Iwaizumi squeezes him a little tighter. “So do you,” he says, kissing the top of Oikawa’s head, feeling the shiver that trails down Oikawa’s spine. “You gave so many amazing answers. You’re so good at what you do… and you love it so much… I could feel all of that in everything that you said.”

Oikawa tucks himself in closer, burying his face against Iwaizumi’s neck, mumbling something quietly that Iwaizumi can’t make out.

“I can’t hear you,” he says, nudging Oikawa with his nose to get him to look at him properly. “Getting shy all of a sudden?”

Oikawa chuckles, moving enough so that he can talk, but Iwaizumi still can’t see him. He can imagine how his cheeks are flushed, just like always do when he gets real honest. “I’m just…” Oikawa starts, hesitating a little, which isn’t quite his style, so Iwaizumi doesn’t press. He lets him go at his own pace. “I’m just really happy. I wanted… for so long… and was never sure if-”

“Me, too,” Iwaizumi interrupts, “I know. All that - that’s in the past now, though, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Oikawa nods, voice wavering, “Okay.” He turns back against Iwaizumi, and his skin is so warm to touch. The skin on skin contact feels so much better, and like this, Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa’s heartbeat.

Slow and steady; rhythmic.

A beat that he will never get tired of hearing.