*fortnite dances over him* good morning
@quirkjokes , why are you like this?
the bed dips. the sheets catching & pulling against his body as something climbs over him. at first, he had thought nothing about it. —- assumed it to be one of the strays he’s temporarily taken possession of —– until an elbow ( or is that a knee?) threatens to do him in when it hits his thigh. there’s a cackle——– one he knows way too well —— & a pair of hands clamping down over his legs as she works to steady herself in her ascent. & even through the double layers of the canary-yellow sleeping bag, & military grey sheets he can feel the way she hooks her feet under his calves, anchoring herself, & then all hell breaks loose.
the bed rocks like it’s lost in the vices of a maelstrom. —– he can even hear the not so subtle creaks & moans of the bed’s frame. —- & he swears to whoever is listening, that if emi breaks his bed doing whatever the hell she’s doing, she’s buying him a new one.
it doesn’t stop, & he knows her well enough by now to know that it won’t stop until he gives in & looks. so, begrudgingly, he does just that. —– only to be greeted by teal tresses thrown over a shoulder, & a grin as large as the cheshire’s: ——- a true parallel to his sharkish one. she’s straddled over him, & it suddenly makes sense as to why she’d lock herself in like that, because, as he watches on, she just continues to grin & swing her arms back & forth in a way —- dance — he’s seen kirishima & kaminari do what feels like millions of times now.
exasperated, his jaw locks at the sound of her voice, caught between the grinding gears his mind’s woefully trying to spur back into motion at the sight of —– this & the fact that he doesn’t even remember the night before. can’t recall the when & how he’d fallen into his bed. ( upside down, judging by the fact that the balls of his feet keep hitting the headboard as she continues to move. ) finally, a hand snakes it’s way out of its cotton-plush coffin to rack through the tangled mess of his hair. a breath —- a sigh —– a contemplative hum passing over his lips before —– he strikes.
his leg ( both, thanks to the clutches of his sleeping bag ) hooks into hers, uprooting her anchor-point & snagging her all in one. a hand, the one previously freed, takes a heaping hold of the front of her shirt —- where it promptly slides up to her shoulder for better purchase. ( because the last thing he’d want was to accidentally send her toppling into the ground at the foot of his bed. he had neighbors after all. ) —– & drags her down into the mattress at his side.
“it’s 5am, on a saturday. we’re both going back to sleep.” honestly, it’s an awkward, near uncomfortable tangle of limbs now, but he can’t bring himself to care. if she wants to move & adjust she’s welcome too. but he’s going back to bed. & he does just that as he burrows himself back into the cocoon of his blankets only to find himself distantly pleased by the additional heat her body gives off.
