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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist.

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely.

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...”

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you.

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him.

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him.

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kiyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #fluff #swearing #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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Part 12

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here!

* You stare at the blank ceiling, the smooth unblemished surface like freshly fallen snow

* you should really put some nudie posters up there or something to lighten the mood a little.

* Light notes from the piano float around your room

* You sigh, so these are the facts as you know them:

* Edward is your best friend who has occasional bouts of brooding and flirtatious behavior.

* Bella is not albino, she has a lovely peach undertone, and a lovely grilled peach scent

* The entire coven has treated your attraction to this young lady’s blood like you got caught masturbating or wetting the bed or something

* “You don’t need to be embarrassed it’s a perfectly natural feeling.” Esme tells you while rubbing your shoulders

* “We’ve all been there” Rosalie reassures

* “Totally not a big deal, it happens to me everyday!” Jasper chimes in

* You wish sunlight hurt you so you could combust into flames on the spot

* The piano notes get louder, and you feel your mouth pinch into a frown.

* “Oh my god Edward! Read the room, I want brooding music!”

* Edward stops, up until then he had been playing a pretty cheerful Mozart piece

* You can tell he wants to ask why, you’ve been radiating joy non-stop since biology. But he decides against it

* “You really shouldn’t eat lying down.” He says as you sip blood while lying flat on your bed.

* “Okay dad.” You snort

* Edward starts to imagine what it would be like if you called him ‘daddy’

* All needy on top of him, your hands curled in fists against his chest, the breathy “daddy please” that leaves your mouth

* All of a sudden he’s ugly turned on

* “Ugh you’re no fun, I’m going to hang out with Rosalie”

* You leave the room and Edward has a total meltdown, is this what a kink is? Is he discovering a kink?!? At 100 years of age?!?!?!?

* Edward.exe is broken

* You don’t even make it to Rosalie’s room, you can smell them a mile away

* Broccoli, sugar and fat, and axe body spray. No peaches you realize with a sigh.

* They’ve only just barely rung the door bell when you open the door

* “Hey what are you guys doing here?”

* Jessica’s standing in front, looking pretty at ease, while Mike and Angela look equally uncomfortable.

* Makes sense, Jessica’s here all the time now either for homework or to watch TV.

* Mike and Angela haven’t been back since your sweet sixteen

* “How did you get down here so fast?”

* “I saw your car from upstairs” you say with a sheepish smile.

* You wish Alice would have given you a heads up, you weren’t planning on pretending to be human right now. Still you probably look raggedy enough right now in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt

* You can probably pull this sick thing off

* “We just wanted to check up on you, I heard from Mike and Angela you got sick during class.” And then in a more annoyed tone Jessica adds “And I guess you’re too sick to respond to all my texts and calls”

* Oh crap, where is your phone.

* You pat your pockets, and think when you saw it last

* “I left it in my locker” you smack your head. You told Edward to go grab your bag from class but you forgot your phone.

* “Hey don’t worry about it, I can get it for you tomorrow if you want.” Jessica rushes to your side and pats your arm. You shake your head

* “No I can get it myself, I’m fine I just ate something bad.” You mumble.

* You’re not missing school tomorrow. You would literally risk murder to smell Bella again.

* It’s not insatiable thirst like described in the books, more like a craving, like someone might have for nachos.

* It itches at you for a while, but if you just distract yourself long enough you can move on

* “Would you like to come in? I think Esme just baked cookies or scones or something.”

* Esme likes to bake for the smell and donate the food to the local shelter. That, or take it for her employees at her architectural firm in town.

* Firm is a loose word, she has maybe four employees, and they get one job a month, but it seems to make her happy.

* Angela and Mike give each other looks but Jessica perks up

* “Is she making those delicious earl grey scones again?” You sniff the air

* “I think she made some of that orange zest butter too”

* “Omg I am so happy you left your phone at school” Jessica giggles walking inside past you, you hear her greet Esme with a squeal

* “They really are good.” You tell them and your remaining human friends enter the house carefully

* “Soooo where is everyone?” Mike asks taking a look around your living room.

* “Ummm Rosalie’s in the garage, Alice is probably meditating on the roof, Emmett’s at swim practice, and Jasper’s probably at the barn.”

* “What about Edward?” Angela asks before Mike can ask about the barn

* Last you saw him he was playing the piano in your room, but it’s been a while since then

* “He’s probably in his room monologuing about the degradation of the American dream or something.”

* You lead them into the kitchen where Esme and Jessica are already deep in conversation about the wonder of her baking

* “-side is so light and fluffy, how do you get the tea flavor though”

* “Witchcraft.” Esme jokes, giving a full smile before putting another tray in the oven. Only Jessica laughs, the other two are too nervous to even sit down

* “Why don’t I teach you how when you come over next week.”

* Yeah you’re pretty sure Jessica is really only a fan of the “eating” and not of the “baking”

* You’re half surprised when she seems happy at the invitation.

* “Oh that sounds great, I can’t wait for it!” Jessica’s practically beaming

* Where’s Edward when you need him? You wonder what her motivations are.

* Jasper is not going to like this. He’s already irritated enough that he’s kicked out of his own house every Friday when Jessica comes over to watch arrested development

* Before you can say anything to Esme the conversation moves forward

* “Did you guys hear about that security guard that died in Mason county?”

* She’s just making small talk, you know that. But you and Esme instantly tense at the mention

* Carlisle had mentioned he thought there was a nomad wandering through, they were still far enough not to cause the coven immediate trouble, but anything that brought more attention to them was a disadvantage

* “My Dad says he heard from Chief Swan it was probably a wild animal attack” Mike mumbles over a bite of scone, you figured he would be the easiest to win over with food

* You hide a smile behind your hand, he really is like a golden retriever

* “What kind of a wild animal climbs stairs into a building” Jessica mumbles over another bite of scone. And maybe to fit in, or maybe because she’s always been a nervous eater, Angela takes a bite too.

* “Oh wow, these are really good” she murmurs

* Esme Cullen ladies and gentleman, winning the hearts of teenagers with baked goods since 19XX

* “Well you kids stay safe, stay together if you can.” She pats your head and you nod.

* You don’t know the details of the attack, you get the feeling Carlisle still see’s you as a kid and he doesn’t want to burden you.

* But assuming the small changes that have happened have nothing to do with the large changes, that means Laurent, James and Victoria will be passing through soon.

* Maybe it’s for the best Bella doesn’t get involved with Edward until later.

* You’d really like to not get all mixed up in the whole “James Thing” if you can help it.

* “Are you staying for dinner? I’m thinking of whipping up some pasta, maybe a chicken?” Esme looks to you, yeah you have no idea how she’s going to manage that. Besides the baking basics there’s no actually food in this kitchen. And the one upstairs is just for your blood bags.

* “(Y/N), do you think...Carlisle would mind if we used one of... his chickens?”

* His chickens? The only chickens in the house-

* “No Esme! My chickens are only for love and chicken snuggles” and their blood which tastes very leans yet rich. “Not to eat!”

* “It would just be one-we’ll eat your least favorite!”

* You’re really hoping this is her way of chasing the humans out because she doesn’t want to cook.

* “No- oh my god- we’re going to the diner come on!” You say tugging Jessica and Angela to stand.

* “It was great seeing you again Mrs. Cullen, see you next week!” Jessica shouts as the three of them follow you out.

* “Going out? Is that such a good idea it’s late and a school night.” Edward says as he descends down the stairs

* “Oh my god, yes Dad I’ll be home before my curfew.” You say before leaving, cue Edward crumbling onto the stairs as he imagines you calling him “daddy” again

* “I’m going to hell, I’m definitely going to hell.” He mumbles, his face in his hand.

* It’s a really short drive to the diner, also known as the only place to eat in Forks in the mid 2000’s.

*There’s not even a McDonald’s. It’s almost sad

* And when you get there, while everyone moves ahead to the table you see a familiar face.

* “Oh, Hey Bella”

* Your eyes met and you figured it would be rude not to say anything. It looks like she’s here having dinner with her Dad.

*She really does look like her dad, same eyes, same cheekbones.

* “Nice to see you again Chief Swan”

* “Nice to see you too, how’s Carlisle doing? Heard it’s been busy at the hospital.”

* “Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t sleep anymore.” You grin at your own joke.

* “Are you feeling alright now?” Bella asks, she looks genuinely concerned

* “Yeah, I um, made some questionable food choices at lunch.”

* There’s an awkward moment of silence. You get the impression that Chief Swan and his daughter are both the “strong silent” types.

* It looks like they’ve both finished eating already

* If you had known she was going to be here you would have made Edward come with you.

* “Oh hey, do you want to join us for dinner?” It just seems like the friendly thing to do for the new girl, something on-brand with human character

* Definitely not because if you get on her good side now, maybe she won’t kick you out once her and Edward get married.

*Father and daughter exchange a glance and the familiar connection they have makes you nervous.

*“Of course you don’t have to, I know you’re here with your dad so-“

* “I’m sure Bella would love to join-“ Charlie says at the same time Bella says:

* “Wouldn’t it be kind of weird since I already ate.”

* Ah, so they’re not as in sync as you thought.

* You give your best “Golden Girl - You can totally trust me with your daughter” smile.

* “I’m actually not eating either,” you place a hand over your stomach like a human might. “The uh, Clam Linguine is still haunting me, so I’m sticking to broth and sprite.”

* Why did you say Clam? You don’t even eat meat, it’s how you’ve been getting away with eating so little at lunch.

* “not a lot of vegetarian choices” You say to your human friends who nod solemnly.

* Father and Daughter exchange another look likening telepathic communication and they both move to stand

* “I’m going to finish up some paperwork at the precinct, don’t stay out to late.” Charlie says, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the forehead

* You watch with warm eyes and a small smile twitching onto your lips

* Bella is so loved.

* You can’t believe she’s willing to break her dad’s heart just so she can be 19 forever.

* Which, as you are 19 forever, you can fairly say is overrated

* “Hey guys Bella’s joining us.”

* Your female friends offer her a polite smile, you see Angela gaze flick from the menu to Bella’s face. Silently calculating the worth of this opportunity

* Any intel on this new girl would be pretty valuable

* Same old Angela

* Mike sits up straight so fast that he actually knocks his silverware off the table.

* “H-hey Bella, Hi, w-what, what are you doing here?”

* “Eating.” Bella says it so bluntly that you can’t help but laugh.

* Mike flushes bright red and Jessica and Angela exchange a look before giggling.

* “I thought it would be cool if she came over since I didn’t get to talk to her much.” You take a seat next to Jessica and Bella follows by taking the last seat between you and Mike.

* You still catch whiffs of her scent her and there, especially when she’s sitting so close to you.

* But it’s not so bad, the peachy smell is making you a little lightheaded, but you can handle it.

* At least you’re not fantascizing about killing her and everyone in this room like a certain dork you know.

* “Do you guys want to do that promotion where we get the basket of fries for the table?” Jessica asks

* “I don’t like sharing fries with Mike he eats them all.” Angela mumbles

* Yeah you remember last time when after a football game the three of them actually sat down and divided the plate in three equal portions

* They even measured out each fry dividing up the extra long ones

* “Says the person who basically eats ketchup with a spoon.” Mike retorts and Angela scoffs

* “It’s America’s best condiment for a reason Mike.” Angela snaps back

* “I think we’re getting off track, I say Mike buys us all french fries to make up for all the times he hogged the joint basket” Jessica’s teasing but Mike takes it seriously

* “What so I’m a French fry monster now?”

* “Yes” Both Angela and Jessica respond in unison without looking up from their menu cards

* “What do you think Bella?” You’re surprised that Jessica’s the one asking. You get the feeling she’s not very happy about Mike’s crush on Bella.

* “I think Mike should buy everyone their own basket since he has such a bad history with sharing.”

* “You traitor!” Mike mocks hurt and you all laugh.

* You look at Bella through the corner of your eye, maybe it’s just the lighting but she looks pinker when she’s laughing.

* She looks happy as she starts contributing to the conversation.

* “I will say the pie here is really good, I wouldn’t share even if someone paid me to.”

* “Omg yes, the cheery icebox pie is out of this world” Jessica responds

* “I’m partial to chess pie” Mike pipes in and Angela laughs

* “You guys are crazy, the fruit custard they make is the best”

* You grin as your four new friends argue about the superior dessert, watching Bella laugh beside you.

* Welcome to team human Bella

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward and bella #bella swan x reader #Bella x reader #bella swan #Jessica Stanley x reader #mike newton #angela weber #midnight sun #superhero--imagines

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bnha-goodness · 4 years

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I dont know of you write for this character, but can I get Earl Grey, Russian Caravan, and Matcha for Present Mic? If you don't do him, then maybe Aizawa?

I’m not super confident about writing for Present Mic but I’ll do my best! (To make up for it, I’ll write them for Aizawa too)

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

If it’s while you’re still in school together, mixtapes. I’m not even kidding. You open up your locker and in it is a little cassette with your name on it and a little heart and a doodle of his face on it. If it’s while he’s a teacher at UA, playlists. With your name as the title with a heart right next to it. When you listen to either of them, you can’t help but smile. It’s got some classics, “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire, “Hey Jude” by the Beatles, “Reptilia” by the Smiths. Songs that make him think of you. It’s so touching that you find him the next day and give him a big hug and a kiss, “I hope you’re dinner pick is as good as that mixtape.” He’ll be buzzing for the whole day.

matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?

He’ll have you come on as a special guest on his radio show, it’s part of a Q&A that he had planned. Some of the questions are directed at him but then he invites his listeners to ask you some questions too. Some of them are, how do you deal with the noise? What’s the most interesting thing to happen on a regular day with him? Each one you answered with a smile and a playful glance to your longtime boyfriend. And then the questions got a little odd, one listener asked, “You sound so pretty, would you marry me?” You laughed awkwardly, “That’s sweet, but I have other plans.” You winked at your boyfriend who seemed surprisingly unbothered by their question. And then another caller asked the same thing, and then again, and by that point you were feeling pretty uncomfortable. “What can I say, honey, everyone loves ya!” “Yeah I guess.” “Not as much as I do, obviously.” “Obviously.” There was a little bit of dead air as the two of you looked at one another, “Everyone had their chance to ask their questions and now it’s my turn, ready to get put on the spot babe?” “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He started off by asking you what his favorite color was, what his favorite food is, and what his favorite hot beverage is. After answering each one perfectly he sighed, “Aren’t they wonderful everyone, knows me inside and out. I’ve just got one last question, the ultimate test, if you will.” You laughed and braced yourself, ready for a tricky question, “Will you kindly tell me,” pause, “If you,” pause “would” pause, “do me the honor of marrying me?” He tried not to say it in one breath but he was still nervous so it came out that way anyway. Silence. “Oh honey...” the tears welled in your eyes as you threw yourself at him, almost knocking him off his seat, “was all of this so you could ask me to marry you? You goof, of course I will.” It was all over social media the next day.

russian caravan tea; how experienced are they with relationships?

Yes and no. His experience comes more from the length than the frequency of them. I’d say before he met you, he’d have been in two or three relationships, each of them six months to a year. He strikes me as a ride or die type, so if there’s an issue he’ll want to have worked it out. Unless it’s completely out of his control, then he’ll have done his best but understands when some things just don’t work, and you can’t exactly force them to.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

If it’s while you’re still in school together, secret letters. He wasn’t quite ready to admit his feelings so he opted for unnamed letters detailing how much he admired you and how much would’ve liked to get to know you. If it’s while he’s a teacher at UA, he’ll be upfront about it. He’ll hang out with you after his classes and will eat lunch with you on campus, eventually he’ll open up and tell you how he feels. In his mind, he’s got a lot on his plate as it is, he doesn’t want to waste time to courting if he knows you feel the same. He’d rather spend that time actually dating you and taking you out on a date.

matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?

It’s quite sweet actually. It’ll be Sunday, he’s caught up in grading papers so he takes the opportunity to be a little lazy. You guys will sleep in a little bit and he’ll wake up with you in his arms, he’ll kiss the top of your head and climb out of bed quietly. With a yawn he’ll make coffee for the both of you and heat up some toast, he’ll set his coffee down on his bedside table and walk over to your side of the bed. He’ll move your hair and kiss your forehead, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” “Shouta I thought today was a lazy day.” “It is, but you still need to eat something.” You groaned as you sat up but hummed in delight as you took that first sip of coffee. He’ll climb back in bed and wrap his arm around your shoulder pulling you in close. After your coffee you lay back down and switch on the TV, switching to a show you can idly watch, chatting in between scenes and commercials. He looks down at you and gently brushes your hair out of your eyes and just stares at you with all the adoration his body can muster, “What?” You laugh under the intensity of his loving gaze, “You know what I want to do today?” “Hm?” “I want to marry you.” Your heart sped up and the shift didn’t go unnoticed, “Sounds wonderful, Shouta, don’t you need to propose first?” And then you look down at his hand and your heart stopped in your throat, “When did you-?” “Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth?” The ring was delicate and beautiful and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You held his hand and leaned up to kiss him, your other hand resting on his cheek. “Absolutely.”

russian caravan tea; how experienced are they with relationships?

Same as Present Mic. He’s a ride or die type so his experience comes more from the length of the relationship than how many he’s been in. However, I would say he’s had a few more short term relationships than Hizashi. He’s not as stubborn and can see when a relationship just isn’t cut out or when it’s just a passing fancy.

#hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada #present mic #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #bnha #mha #request #prompt

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pixiegrl · 3 years

Note

and one more, “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.” but lashton, specifically NOT lingerie lashton (broaden your horizons LMAO)

Hi!! This was not lingeire Lashton (ha!) just regular old emo Lashton. What else is new for us. Please enjoy projection emo Luke

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763520

Luke’s been out of sorts all day. He feels foggy and staticy, waking up like he has cotton in his head. He feels like he’s wading through the day, stuck in the mud. He’d gotten up far too early, woken up from a nightmare that he can’t put his finger on, but that had filled him with terror. Ashton had been long from bed, up at the crack of dawn to go on his morning run or do his sunrise yoga or whatever it is that Ashton likes to do in the morning that seems terrible and unholy to Luke, who enjoys sleeping in. He’d laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until Petunia had started whining to go on a walk. Luke had dragged himself out of bed to take Petunia on a walk, which had only managed to make Luke feel even worse outside in the damp and cold.

Luke’s been sitting on the couch for the last 30 minutes since coming back, staring at the TV without actually absorbing anything he’s watching. He thinks it’s a movie he’s watching, something older and in bright Technicolor, but it feels hazy watching it, like Luke’s seeing it all through a screen. He can’t focus, can’t concentrate and he's completely lost track of time until he hears the front door slam, Ashton calling for him.

Luke calls out a weak response, voice hoarse and scratchy from disuse. Ashton comes into view in the living room, frowning when he sees Luke.

“Bad morning?”

“Bad sleep, bad morning, bad life. I just feel like scrambled eggs,” Luke mumbles. Ashton lets out a sad sigh, leaning down to press a kiss to Luke’s temple.

“Interesting phrasing.”

“I just...I’m here but my brain isn’t? I feel so mixed up I can barely think straight, let alone keep track of what’s happening around me. I just feel out of body and miserable,” Luke mumbles. Ashton hums, turning to look at the TV.

“Have you eaten?”

Luke shoots a glance at Ashton, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m going to take a shower and then I will make us something to eat. Do you want water? I think you need some water,” Ashton says, pushing himself off the couch and going into the kitchen. He comes back a few moments later, holding a glass in his hand. He holds it out to Luke, clearly intending for him to take it. Luke does, sipping on it lightly as Ashton stares at him. When Luke’s had enough water to satisfy Ashton, he nods, leaning down to plant a kiss on Luke’s forehead again and leaving the room to go shower.

Luke turns back to the TV, watching Audrey Hepburn scream into the rain about her missing cat. Luke wonders how much of the movie he’s lost sitting here in a daze, considering that he knows this is the end of the movie. Luke watches the end of the movie, watches the two kiss in the rain as the end credits roll, movie bleeding into the next one, something else in Technicolor and bright tones, her name stamped across the screen again. Luke doesn’t have any interest in changing the movie, sitting there as he watches her drive a car down the road to her large, sprawling mansion.

“What are you watching?” Ashton asks, startling Luke as he comes back into the room, hair damp, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Luke shrugs, tearing his eyes from Ashton back to the screen. He drops two bottles of nail polish down onto the coffee table, holding his hand out for Luke. Luke grabs on, letting Ashton tug him into the kitchen to make food. Ashton pulls a box of waffles from the freezer, grabbing the peanut butter for him and syrup for Luke from the cabinet. Luke watches as Ashton puts the waffles into the toaster, grabs the kettle to start boiling water.

“Get some tea?” Ashton asks. Luke obeys, pulling down the box of Earl Grey tea, grabbing their favorite mugs from the cabinet and dropping a tea bag into each.

“I can’t believe they’re playing How to Steal a Million on TV. They never play that movie.”

“It’s better than My Fair Lady,” Luke mumbles, earning a laugh from Ashton. He feels a flare of warmth in his chest having earned Ashton’s laugh.

“That’s just because you roll your eyes at musicals.”

“They’re long and drawn out. There’s no need for them to be that long,” Luke says, feeling impassioned about this.

Ashton chuckles, shaking his head, “Whatever you say Lu. Too bad we missed Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I know you like that one.”

“Caught the end of it. Must be some marathon,” Luke says, grabbing the kettle when it starts to boil. He pours the water into the mugs, hears the toaster pop, Ashton grabbing the waffles and cursing quietly when they burn his fingers a little. Luke giggles at it.

“Oh hush,” Ashton mumbles, spreading the peanut butter over his lightly.

“One day, you’ll learn to give it a minute,” Luke teases gently. Ashton grumbles half heartedly, smile at the corner of his lips betraying him. Luke sets the timer, watching as Ashton pours the syrup onto Luke’s waffle, knowing the amount that Luke uses by heart. Luke still feels funny, foggy, but less in a hazy as he and Ashton dance around each other to bring their dishes to the living room, sitting on the floor to eat at the coffee table, grabbing the tea when the timer goes off, commenting on this Audrey Hepburn and her tall, blonde, male counterpart in this movie.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ashton asks when they’ve finished, cleaning up the dishes and settling in to watch the end of this movie. Ashton picks up the bottle of red polish, shaking it and holding out his hand for Luke’s. Cautiously Luke gives his hand over, watching as Ashton brushes the bright red over his nails.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about. My brain just feels funny is all. I can’t put my finger on it and I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke says. Ashton nods, blowing lightly on Luke’s nails to dry them.

“Do you want to talk about it later?”

Luke shrugs, looking back to the screen where they’re throwing a boomerang around to set off the security alarms. Luke feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Luke feels odd, smiling to the movie when he still feels so out of body and foggy. He feels like he shouldn’t be enjoying something when he feels so out of sorts.

“What made you want to paint my nails?” Luke asks, turning his attention back to Ashton. Ashton hums as he keeps painting Luke’s other hand.

“Just felt like it. Wanted to paint my nails and realized you hadn’t done it in a while. Thought it might be cute if we both did it,” Ashton says, pulling back to look at Luke’s nails, nodding when he sees them. He sets the bottle of red polish onto the coffee table, picking up the black polish and starting to paint his nails. He gets through the left hand, satisfied, before he turns to Luke, expectantly. Luke realizes that Ashton wants him to help with his right hand. Sighing, Luke takes the brush, holding Ashton’s hand in his as he paints over the nails. Ashton watches Luke as he keeps brushing, painting the nails a shiny black. They finish painting their nails in silence, waiting until the nails dry before they climb onto the sofa.

The movie bleeds into the next in the marathon. Luke’s only half focusing on the movie as he climbs into the corner of the couch, leaning back against the arm rest as Ashton sits properly on the couch. Luke curls his legs up, leaving them inches away from Ashton’s.

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready,” Ashton says, softly. He picks up Luke’s legs and places them into his lap, squeezing Luke’s ankle. He leaves his hand there, wrapped lightly around Luke, tapping at his skin. Luke stares down at Ashton’s hand, watching the black nail polish glimmer in the light, feels the warmth of Ashton’s skin on his. Luke can feel the beat against his ankle bone, a soft thumping that he thinks he can feel in his heart.

“Ready for what?”

“For you to talk.”

“Will you?” Luke asks quietly, doubt and insecurity creeping into his tone.

Ashton stops tapping to glance over at Luke. Luke’s floored by the look of love and adoration on Ashton’s face. Under Ashton’s gaze, Luke feels safe and warm, secure.

“Of course I will be, Luke. I’ll always be here for you, whether you want to talk about it or just sit here and watch a movie or you want to go drive around in the dark just to get out of the house and breathe. Even if you’re never ready to talk about it to me, I’ll still be whenever you need it. I love you.”

“Just because you love me doesn’t mean you should have to do that.”

“That's what love is. It’s support and understanding and being there for each other, through the good and the bad and the medium parts. Not everyday has to be amazing. Some days are just okay. And that’s okay because it means we can wake up tomorrow and try again to make it a better day,” Ashton says, turning to Luke.

Luke blinks back tears, holding his hand out for Ashton. Ashton responds, grabbing a hold of Luke’s hand and squeezing it, lacing their fingers together, rubbing his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. The world is still heavy, Luke still feels world weary and bone tired, but some of the tightness releases in his chest, heart warm. Luke’s lucky that he gets to spend everyday with Ashton, knowing that no matter what, he’ll always have Ashton and his love to come home to, to wrap himself in. Luke isn’t certain of much, but he’s certain of this. He’ll always have Ashton, he’ll always have his love.

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #non lingerie lashton who am i #i mean really #just emo vibes #my writing

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waywardmoeyy · 5 years

Text

Just Relax

Sam Winchester x Reader Drabble

Warnings: mention of sickness, fluff.

A/N: This is written for my wifey, @thoughtsoftheantagonist . I send you some domestic(ish) Sam. Feel better love! 💜

You groaned lowly as you turned onto your side. Your head was throbbing and your nose was completely clogged up, making it impossible to get comfortable. The fluffy comforter you wrapped yourself in was the only thing keeping you even remotely warm while you tossed and turned. And the best part was, it was your anniversary with Sam... who was currently missing?

You turned over in your bed again, groaning from your fever chills. What the hell? He was always right there when you woke up. Did he forget? Did he leave you a note? Or did he and Dean leave on a hunt without you? No, they never left without you. They wouldn’t dare.

“Mornin’, a low, tender voice greeted you from the doorway. “You okay? You were moving around a lot last night.” And by now, Sam knew exactly what that meant.

Your gorgeous boyfriend held two mugs in his hand. One, on his right, was his favorite T-Rex mug that you got him before you started dating. That was filled with black coffee and just a splash of French Vanilla creamer. In his left hand, he held your favorite Caticorn mug, filled with what must have been your favorite lavender Earl Grey tea.

“Honey and two sugars. Hopefully it will help whatever’s bugging you.” You smiled and opened your mouth to thank him, but all that came out was a violent cough. He stepped back until you were done, then handed you the mug. “Before you drink that, we need to take your temp—“

“I have one, trust me. The chills say it all.” You took a sip of the warm liquid and sighed. He always knew how to make your tea.

“Then aspirin it is. Drink that and I’ll be right back.” He disappeared out the bedroom door, but quickly returned with a bottle of aspirin. He quickly dispensed two pills into his palm and handed them to you.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry I’m like this on our anniversary.” Sam’s eyes widened at your words.

“Anniversary,” he muttered. “Oh my gosh. That’s right. I’ll just have to move the reserv—“ you smiled as he caught himself. He made plans, that sweet man.

“Sam, it’s okay. It’s just another day.” He smiled down at you as he approached his side of the bed, then slowly climbed in. “We can just stay in. Maybe watch a movie?” He rested his coffee on his bedside table.

Sam’s muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you against him. “Your pick, babe.”

“Um, Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone.” You leaned your head against his chest as he pulled you close.

A chuckle radiated through his chest. “Of course. We’ll start from the beginning.” He huffed softly before turning on the TV, cradling you against his warmth.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester and reader #sam winchester drabble #same winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader fluff

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party-hard-or-die · 6 years

Text

For some African-Americans, Meghan Markle is cause for celebration

(Reuters) – Ishea Brown and more than a dozen of her black friends will gather around the TV set in her Seattle home on Saturday to watch the biracial actress Meghan Markle marry Britain’s Prince Harry and to toast a union the hostess never imagined possible.

FILE PHOTO: Britain’s Prince Harry’s fiancee Meghan Markle attends a reception with delegates from the Commonwealth Youth Forum at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre, London, April 18, 2018. Yui Mok/Pool via Reuters

Brown is not a longtime devotee of all things royal, and she was not particularly interested in the House of Windsor before November. All that changed with the announcement of the wedding of the queen’s grandson to Markle, whose mother is black.

“These are things that growing up I never would have thought that we would see,” Brown, 33, said, referring to a woman with African-American heritage becoming a royal in the United Kingdom.

“I hope that women, but particularly black women, are able to see themselves in her and her mother, and know that there are no spaces that are not meant for us,” she said.

Brown has dubbed her party “Black A.F. Royal Wedding Brunch” and is using the hashtag of #WakandaWeddingWeekend, a reference to the fictional African country Wakanda featured in the blockbuster movie “Black Panther.”

Hundreds of thousands of royal watchers around the world will tune into the royal nuptials on May 19, and interest is particularly intense in the United States, with its historical, cultural and linguistic ties to Great Britain.

There has been a surge of interest and excitement among some black Americans, especially black women, who are inspired by Meghan Markle’s new-found status, said Sarah Gaither, a Duke University psychology professor who has focused on diversity issues and race relations.

“Most communities of color really aspire to have representation or role models, said Gaither, who is also a biracial woman. “That’s what I think is really unique of Meghan Markle – because she’s biracial.”

That said, Gaither pointed out some people within the black community do not fully identify with Markle because she is a biracial woman.

Kim Love, a black American with a large Twitter and YouTube following who frequently comments on social mobility issues, raised that point in an online post on Tuesday.

“Meghan Markle’s marriage does not represent a win for black women,” Love said in a tweet. “Besides, she doesn’t even self-identify as a ‘black woman,’ so please stop forcing it.”

In New York City, Claire Osborne, a 34-year-old stage manager and a fan of “Suits,” the USA Network television series that starred Markle, is one of those black women fascinated by the wedding. In fact, her interest runs so deep, she says she now spends much of her free time on Twitter to learn more about the festivities.

“A lot of my friends, we all weren’t that interested in the royal family but now she’s in there, as a person of color, we want to follow now,” Osborne said, who also plans on waking up early to watch the wedding on television. “We’re kind of rooting for her because you see someone in that world who looks like you and representation matters.”

The wedding service starts at 1200 GMT (5 a.m. PDT), and to get in the spirit, Brown and her friends will wear tiaras or fascinators, a style of headwear favored by women at British weddings. But in a nod to the bride’s heritage, the Seattle women will lace their hats with African prints.

In Seattle, Brown initially scheduled her get-together to start before dawn, but too many of her friends had schedule conflicts, so she changed the party time for noon, when guests will watch the festivities on delay.

Brown and her friends will sip glasses of English rose champagne and Hennessy refresh tea, a mix of the cognac and English Earl Grey black tea, which she said “is the best of both worlds.”

“We’re going to do cucumber sandwiches to be traditional, but we’ll also have fried chicken sandwiches,” Brown said. “We know that his favorite stuff is bacon and pizza, so we may have a breakfast pizza.”

While the party is mostly about having fun, Brown says her identification with Markle runs deep. Like the royal bride, she also went through a divorce and is currently in an interracial relationship.

Brown says Markle represents the kind of woman whose life was not limited by preconceptions and arbitrary social boundaries.

“I find it inspiring,” she said.

Reporting by Gina Cherelus in New York; Editing by Frank McGurty and Lisa Shumaker

The post For some African-Americans, Meghan Markle is cause for celebration appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Iue4gf via Breaking News

#News Headlines #News Update #Sports Update #Business Update #World The News

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dani-qrt · 6 years