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angelatsumu · 3 years

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gala (m. izuku & b. katsuki)

hello friends! it's been a while, but i am back with some bakugo/izuku x reader food <3

warnings: NSFW! minors DNI or i will eat your whole family. fem!bodied reader, izuku called izzy, izzy calls reader puppy, cucking, thigh riding, m! masturbation, oral (f! giving), cumeating, mean bakugo, dom!izuku & dom!bakugo, very subby!reader, alcohol mention

NSFW under the cut, also not proofread <3

katsuki is not the nicest guy when his gorgeous girl is being so clingy to Deku

your giggle rings through his ears as he watches from across the room, the way you clung to Izuku's arm like a fragile doll was driving him mad. that dress hugged your curves too tight, inching up your side with every keen into izuku, and without thinking he'd slide his hand down and adjust it for you, hands ghosting over your curves. he knew what he was doing, having pro-hero Dynamight's special girl draped over his arm like some prize, some prize he hadn't truly won. katsuki's blood was boiling, but he knew he couldn't cause a scene. after all, Deku had mentioned the gala to him, and he seemed disinterested. when you brought it up, begging to be taken to your first hero gala, he brushed you off, claiming he didn't want to show you off to the world just yet. so, here you were, Deku's prize for the evening. knowing you decided to go with his comrade, Bakugo swore he would only go to the gala to be sure you were safe, that he wouldn't get jealous. the seething was telling a different story.

your emerald ballroom gown that hugged your curves so tightly got hitched on the swell of your thighs once more, catching enough to displace the thigh slit just enough for Deku to blush. once again his hand snaked around your hips, tugging the dress down only slightly, and this time his hand held its place on your hip. a blush rose to your cheeks as your sipped from the champagne flute in your hand, eyes scanning the room for your lover. you knew katsuki too well, and you knew he would be at the event the moment you agreed to Deku's invitation. your eyes met his, and he cut his eyes at you before rolling them. you immediately divert your attention back to Deku as he squeezed you closer to him, clearly aware of your boyfriend's presence. Izuku's touch made you feel hot, the lingering circles he traced into your hips with each flirtacious giggle and stolen glance. you'd be lying if your senses weren't intoxicated on Izuku's hero demeanor, finding yourself at the end of this desire to be saved by Deku.

"how 'bout some water, puppy? you've had quite a few of those." the comment itself was innocent, but the thing that caught you off guard was the nickname that made your knees buckle. he knew, the sly smirk as he handed you a glass of water told it all. "hm, o-okay," you gasped softly, taking the water from him and having a few sips to clear your head. Deku's left hand never leaves your side as he watches you, drinking in your reaction to his words. you felt hot, like you were boiling under your skin. bakugo felt the same, more than aware fo the effects Deku had on his girl. still, he waited. bakugo was amazing at playing the long game, more than willing to edge you for hours to get a point across. still, tonight, watching your hands linger on Deku's chest, eyes gazing into his lustfully, chest heaving at the mere charisma of his friend, he knew something more than edging needed to be done.

just as you were collecting your thoughts from the gutter, deku reaches into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. he grins when he sees the caller and immediately answers. "i knew you couldn't stay away," he starts, eyes scanning the room for your lover. he sighs contently when they lock eyes, listening to your lover's undeciphered words on the other line. "oh, i fully intend to," he remarks, a sly chuckle leaving his lips as he placed his phone back in his pocket. you look to deku with confused eyes, and he beams down at you, squeezing your hip an inch tighter. "puppy, we have business to attend to," he whispered in your ear, placing a chaste kiss against the shell of your ear. you blush deeper, nodding your head slowly and allowing him to lead you from the middle of the ballroom. he ushers you to the elevator, insisting he needed to stop at his hotel room before continuing the evening.

deku has you pressed against the door of his hotel room within seconds of entering, his knee coming between your legs to spread them apart. his lips immediately speckle kisses along your neck, moans leaving your lips. "i-izzy, please," you whine, eyes screwing closed as your curse yourself for allowing your resolve to fade. "i love it when you call me that, doll," he groaned against your skin, large hands roaming your body and settling one on your breast the other on your hip. "call him it again, teddy~". your eyes spring open as you crane your neck to see your beloved boyfriend sitting with his legs crossed in the chair adjacent to the window. deku lets out a groan against your skin, groping your breast over the gown as his presses his thigh into the gap between your legs. "you couldn't just stay quiet for another minute, huh, kacchan?" izuku grins against your skin, feeling your breath hitch as you realize your beloved boys had set you up once again. "daddy wants to watch, teddy. be good to izzy," katsuki scolds you and your cunny throbs at the command. deku's hands reach to bunch up your dress around your waist to reveal you had opted out of panties for the evening, and both boys let out a soft groan. "so you planned on fucking him anyway, huh slut?" deku directs his attention to katsuki, shooting him a warning glare as katsuki holds the menacing, shit-eating grin he normally held.

deku turns back to you lovingly, sliding you onto his thigh so that your bare cunny throbs against his toned muscle. he stood there, entranced by your overwhelmed expression as you worked your hips on his thigh, desperately seeking any stimulation to your swollen clit. "getting your mess all over my emerald suit, puppy~" he teased, earning a chuckle from katsuki. your eyes closed softly as your form subconsciously clung to izuku while you chased your release. you could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that made your blood run even hotter. deku scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the mattress where he sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his thigh between your legs once more. he held your hips in place to halt your movement, left hand reaching to pinch your cheeks and make you look at him. "i want you to make a mess of my expensive pants, and then, you'll do the same for daddy, okay?" your eyes scan his face for any semblance of joking but found nothing. you sighed, realizing you were in for the longest ride of your life. you nod softly, beginning to work your hips over his toned thigh once more. your cunny dragged against the soft material of his slacks, the texture making your body tense with each roll of your hips. deku took the opportunity to slip your dress off of your shoulders, freeing your breasts for his lips to caress. izuku brought his tongue across your left nipple, sending a chill up your spine as he began circling and nipping at the sensitive bud. "izzy~" you whined, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to bend under the pressure of the brewing pleasure. you could hear the sound of skin slapping, and went to turn your head when izzy's hand stopped you, holding your head in place. "you look at me when you cum, bitch," he grunted, sending your body into a frenzy as your high approached. you bucked your hips faster against him, clit catching the ridges of his slacks with every haphazard rock. his words rang through your ears alongside the grunts from your beloved boyfriend's mouth, and you overheated, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. "good girl," deku grinned, helping you rock your hips through your high as your body slumped over him. when he was content, izuku's movements of your hips stopped, and he held you close to him as you took your time recovering.

once the heave of your chest slowed down a bit, izuku placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, but you craned your neck, whining incoherently about your lips. you needed the intimacy, even if you knew katsuki never let you kiss izuku, saying it was only meant for him. "what's this? puppy wants a kiss?" Izuku's sly eyes cut to Katsuki who crinkles his nose in disbelief, resolving on being meaner to you than had been originally planned. Izuku places a sweet, gentle kiss to your lips and you melt into his touch again, feeling the fire inside you reignite. without a second thought, katsuki had stood and scooped you out of izuku's lap, bringing you over to his chair where he'd been angrily steeping.

"you're not cumming anymore, so I hope that was worth it," katsuki groans, shoving you to your knees. "aw kacchan, come on-" 'shut up. she's my brat, and I decide when she's lost her privilege to cum'. you shiver at the idea of katsuki using your throat and leaving you high and dry. he takes his cock out of his pants, swollen pink tip oozing precum as his hand tangles in your hair. you peer up into his eyes, puppy dog like eyes of yours melting that hard exterior. "fuck" he moans, stroking himself in your face. you whine, knowing he's resolved to make you watch. "daddy~" you sniffle, realizing you crossed the line into unforgivably bad girl and he was not one to show mercy to bad girls. his hand moves quick along his member as he stares down at you, pliant and patient as your thighs rub together to create some sort of friction. "f-fuck, 'm close, you little bitch" he noticed the way the harsh name made your legs tremble when deku mentioned it, and the two men exchanged smirks as your shook from the build-up of your desperately needed release. his angry tip oozed more pre-cum as you writhed and whimpered below him, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you anticipated his release. "come here-" bakugo grunted, taking the back of your head and shoving his long, girthy shaft down your throat, the warmth sending him over the edge as he shot his seed down your throat. the harsh speed of the cum burned your throat, eliciting tears from your soft, fucked out eyes.

katsuki came down slowly, chest heaving as his gaze softened slightly as his beloved girl. "good job, puppy~" izuku whined, his own release creeping upon him as he stroked his cock to the sight before him. you held katsuki's member in your throat, leaned forward on your knees enough for izuku to see your glistening, soaked cunny. at the thought of your velvety walls, he shot ropes of cum all over his hands and fingers. katsuki pulled out of your mouth with a pop, a languid whine leaving your lips at the loss. katsuki grinned at his silly girl, gesturing over to deku. "go clean up izzy's fingers, and kiss him. make him taste himself, puppy," bakugo commanded, a blush rising to your cheeks as you crawled over to izzy. Izuku pressed his fingers into your mouth, drooling pooling and slipping out as he depressed your tongue. once you collected his seed, you leaned forward to plant your lips chastely. deku moaned against your lips, deepening the kiss to swirl his tongue throughout your mouth, definitely catching katsuki's residual seed in his mouth before pulling away with a string of spit. "even my cum tastes better than yours, kacchan" izuku smirks at him, and katsuki furrows his brows at him, sliding his trousers off entirely. "give me twenty minutes, i'll send my puppy over to you with a fresher load to taste, cum eater." izuku blushes at the thought, shaking his head as he pets your hair softly.

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

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🖊 pretty please??? lol love you and your fics so much IT PHYSICALLY HURTS BYE-

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Ahhh, ask and you shall receive! :D Thank you so much for the support, I hope you like this little snippet! I've been working on this one-shot for a bit so I hope it'll be done soon :)

Katsuki has a pretty serious concussion but that's okay because Kirishima is the perfect bedside companion <3

[...]

“Hey, man!” Kirishima appeared by his bedside like he’d been summoned from another dimension, and Katsuki jerked back to reality with a pained grimace and a stifled groan as the pounding in his head grew harder to ignore. Kirishima frowned at that, dainty eyebrows scrunching as he fiddled with his iron mask. “You good, bro? Are the lights too bright?”

Actually, yeah. They were fucking blinding. “Makin’ my headache fuckin’ insufferable.”

Kirishima’s concerned expression dissipated into a humorous laugh as he jumped back up to his feet and hustled towards the door, flicking off the light and plunging them into near total darkness save for the little lamp on the bedside table.

“It’s not a headache man, you’ve got a wicked concussion! Doctors want you to stay here the whole night, make sure you don’t fall asleep and everything,” Kirishima prattled on as he closed the door to mitigate the light filtering in from the hallway and even made the effort to close the blinds and shut away from the streetlamps before he finally sat down in the seat next to him again.

“Ain’t concussed,” Katsuki grumbled bitterly, raising a numb arm to press his fingertips hard into his eyelids. The dark helped, at least. “Polly jus’ dehydrated ‘n shit. I save people for a livin’, yaknow? ‘S a tough fuckin’ job.”

Kirishima grinned as he leaned back into his seat, lifting one of his boots to rest on the bed, and he didn’t offer any comment to that as he tossed his ridiculous face muzzle onto the bedside table with a careless clatter and ran his fingers through his falling hair.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asked, and Katsuki’s vision was blurry when he finally dropped his hand in his lap again.

“’M fine,” he grunted, scowling at him. “Could still kick your ass, if I fuckin’ wanted to.”

“Mhm,” Kirishima hummed absently, dirty fingers rustling casually through his vibrant locks as he gazed over at him like he was somehow being highly fucking amusing right now or some shit.

Katsuki would have made good on his threat if he remembered to be angry about it long enough to actually get the words out of his mouth. As it were, they got all caught up in his sore throat, and so he settled for a lackluster glower instead.

“Dude, relax, would ya?” Kirishima chuckled, the tip of his boot bumping into Katsuki’s knee hidden underneath the thin hospital sheet. “You’re making me feel tense just looking at you.”

“’M totally fuckin’ relaxed,” Katsuki snapped again before his mind had the time to really catch up with the words that they were saying to each other. Now that it was being brought to his attention, though, he couldn’t deny the obvious thrumming ache keeping his muscles locked in place.

“You’re so totally not,” Kirishima laughed again, giving him another purposeful nudge that Katsuki half-heartedly tried to swat away. “You look like you have to shit or something.”

“You look like shit,” Katsuki retaliated with tremoring snark and a weak sneer. “Fucker.”

“Hey! Harsh, bro!” Kirishima beamed a row of sharp teeth with another aggressive nudge of his boot. “I said that you look like you have to shit, not that you look like shit!”

“Tch,” Katsuki raised another slow hand to rub tentatively at his temple before he finally released the strain of his muscles and fully relaxed back into the pillows of the hospital bed.

“That’s better,” Kirishima praised with a little goading grin.

Katsuki lifted a middle finger in his general direction and glared up at the shadows on the ceiling. “You don’t have to fuckin’ babysit me. Go back to the dorms.”

A thick silence settled in the air around them after such a stern order, followed by the brushing of fabric shifting in the plastic chair that fought with the low subtle ringing in the depths of his ears.

“I can’t do that, dude,” Kirishima mumbled under his breath, suddenly sounding much more subdued and withdrawn. That damn oaf was probably exhausted, he’d no doubt fall asleep and leave him there to stay awake on his own anyway.

Katsuki kept his gaze laser-focused on a black speckle of something or another in the monotonous patterns swirling above his head. “Yea, ya can. Jus’ take the damn elevator and waltz on outta here.”

Kirishima sighed a heavy sound, and Katsuki managed to rotate his neck enough to look at him. “No, I can’t. And you already know that I can’t, so just–”

“I dunno shit, you should fuckin’–“

“Stop, dude,” Kirishima demanded sternly, and his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth together. His fingers dug hard into the meat of his shoulder as he rested his chin against his chest and stared down at the sterile tiles with a frustrated pout sticking his bottom lip out. “Just stop. Okay?”

Katsuki’s eyelids were heavy as he blinked over at him. His nostrils flared impatiently, still rearing for a fight, but his head was pounding again, and the warm prickling of pressure crawling up the back of his neck was distracting, and whatever.

If that damn dumb moron wanted to spend his entire night crammed into that tiny shit chair, then that wasn’t Katsuki’s fault. It was Kirishima’s fault for being an idiot. Fucking… loser.

“Hope you fuckin’ cramp up over there,” Katsuki mumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Kirishima huffed an exasperated breath with a roll of his eyes, letting his arm drape along the back of his chair before he bumped Katsuki again with his foot. “Be nice, dude… it’s been a long day for me too.”

Katsuki grunted something unintelligible in response to that, whatever he was initially planning on saying simmering down to mere smoke and mirrors when his groggy brain finally registered the downtrodden undertone seeping into Kirishima’s tired voice. How come he hadn’t noticed that before? He could usually read that dumbass like a children’s book – he wasn’t very good at hiding things.

“Fuck you bein’ so mopey for?” he tried to push out with a firm tone that sounded a bit more slurred than he would have liked it to. “’S pissin’ me off.”

“Everything pisses you off,” Kirishima quipped nonchalantly as he raised up his other boot and crossed his ankles on the bed.

“Well you’re pissin’ me off times a thousand!” Katsuki yelled, muscles tensing in some form of aggressive display, immediately followed by another painful grimace.

“Oh no,” Kirishima muttered under his breath sarcastically, failing to conceal the upward hitch of another amused smirk. His fingers found their way back up into the drooping locks of his hair, and Katsuki would’ve had more to say if his eyes hadn’t been drawn to the calming movement of it.

“Oi,” Katsuki’s knee jerked up reflexively when he realized where his gaze had wandered to and knocked hard into the dirty boots that Kirishima had so flippantly soiled his bed sheets with. “Be nice to me, fucker. ‘M the one with the damn concussion.”

Kirishima blinked in surprise at that, fingers stalling in his hair before his red eyes swiveled over to lock with his. “I thought you weren’t concussed?”

“Tch!”

Shit.

Maybe he was fucking concussed.

Fanfic Ask Game - send me a question! ☺️

#kiribaku #sick fic #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakushima #bnha #fic ask game #writing #personal #asks

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

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Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

you said forever

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: swearing, a little fluffy, but mainly just pure angst, [spoiler alert] no happy ending Word Count: 2k Request/Summary: @mgglover: “fic based on Olivia Rodrigos new song Drivers license where Reid and Reader broke up and reader still loves him (he feels the same and it was just circumstance or not) and then JJ confesses her love to Reid and Reader is distraught.”

“Here you go, your black bow tie.” You said, handing Spencer a small box. His fingers brushed gently against yours as he grabbed the box causing the air to hitch briefly in your throat.

“I’m sorry it took so long.” You added. “It was buried deep at the back of our- ehm my wardrobe.” A small nervous smile circled your lips. Spencer smiled back at you. “It’s okay Y/N. Thank you.”

He placed the item on his desk before looking back at you. “You didn't have to come all this way though. I could have stopped by our- ehm your place later to pick it up.” You waved your hand dissuasively. “I just thought it would be easier, in case you got called onto a case or something.” You replied, although the real reason was much more simple than that. You just wanted to see him.

Spencer nodded. He glanced around the empty bullpen before turning his attention back to you; unsure of what to say next.

The two of you used to be able to talk for hours on end, about everything and nothing all at once. Now whenever you saw each other, as rare as these meetings were, you bit your tongue afraid to say the wrong thing. Start another argument perhaps. The brunette doctor did the same.

It was heartbreaking really, because you still loved him. Deeply.

“I better get going.” You said, breaking the surprisingly comfortable silence that has enveloped around you. “Have fun at the wedding and please wish the happy couple my congratulations.” Spencer smiled. “Thanks Y/N, and don’t worry I will.”

With one last longing look, you turned swiftly on your heel and headed for the exit. You pressed the button for the elevator and waited patiently for it to arrive. And as you waited, the brunette doctor snuck up behind you.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name escaping his lips was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You turned to face him again. “I was wondering...” Spencer cleared his throat. “I thought maybe you'd like to accompany me to the wedding?” He asked. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I don’t kno-”

“I mean that was the plan before we broke up, and I know Rossi would love to have you there.” Spencer paused, and observed your features for a reaction. Which he hoped would be a pleasant one.

“Are you sure Spencer? Won’t that be weird for us?” You questioned but the the hazel-eyed doctor shook his head. “University of Kansas released a study that shows sixty percent of people maintain a friendship after a breakup.” “And you think we can fit within that bracket?” You asked quietly.

“We should at least try because-” He paused and you immediately noticed the hesitation in his eyes. He swallowed. “Well, truth be told Y/NI miss spending time with you.” You couldn't help but smile. “I miss spending time with you too Spencer.” “Really?” He asked, a hint of confusion to his voice. He thought after what transpired you would never want to see him again.

“Of course. Who else will take me to see midnight showings of black and white documentaries on various battles I have never heard of, or The Cheese Mites, or Global Air Routes.” Spencer chuckled. “I can't believe you remember The Cheese Mites.” “Are you kidding? That two minute video is the reason I don’t eat blue cheese anymore.” The grin on your face spread a little wider. “Which is probably best for my digestive system anyway.”

The hazel-eyed doctor smirked. “That it definitely is.”

The elevator door opened with a slight ding; bring you back to reality. With an inaudible sigh, you stepped inside. You peered back at Spencer and positioned your hand on the edge of the metal door, holding it so it wouldn't close yet.

“I’d love to go to the wedding with you Spencer.” “You would?” You nodded in response. “Do you want to meet there or-” Spencer politely cut you off. “I’ll pick you up.”

You let your hand fall and took a step backwards. With a warm smile, you bid him farewell. “See you then Spencer.” "Bye Y/N.”

The door closed. It was then you realised the silly smile greeting your facial features and just how happy and hopeful you were suddenly feeling. Shit.

A week has passed and no word from the brunette doctor. You texted him a couple of times, just to check in, but no response. You began to feel stupid, foolish even. Spencer was probably doubting the whole thing. You should have known his invite was too good to be true.

With a wine glass in hand, you starred blankly at your phone hoping it would suddenly ring. Hoping his name would illuminate your screen like it did a million times before. How stupid, how foolish.

There was a chance he was away on a case, of course you considered that. His hectic schedule and lack of communication has been the cause of many fights in the past. Which is why you began to feel slightly angry, primarily with yourself but also with the hazel-eyed doctor.

A sigh escaped your lips. You took the last sip of your wine, and gently placed the glass in the sink before heading to the bedroom. Within the hour you were showered and ready for bed. It was then your phone rang, finally.

“Hello?” You picked up eagerly.

“Hi Y/N. I’m sorry for calling so late.” Spencer replied, the tone of his voice soothing as always. “Actually, I’m sorry for only calling now. We were in Los Angeles on a case.”

“That’s okay.” You whispered back. A lie. A big fat lie. Yet you knew omitting the truth was better than getting into a silly argument.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Do you think that maybe I could come over? There uhm, there is something I nee-d to tell you.”

“S-sure, sure.” “Great. I’ll be there soon.” And like that the call ended just as quickly as it started.

You picked out a random clean hoodie from your dresser and returned back to the living room where you waited patiently for Spencer to arrive.

Obviously, you wondered what he wanted to talk about. Could it be about you? About your past? Maybe your future? A thought crossed your mind. What if he wanted to get back together?

You shook your head. No. Spencer made it quite clear when the two of you broke up that would never happen. He said you were better off alone, and perhaps that was true. But then again, why would he suggest maintaining a friendship with you if that was the case?

Sound of the doorbell whisked you away from your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You hurried over and greeted the brunette doctor with a shy smile. Without saying a word, you invited him inside and the two of you sat down on the couch.

A weird atmosphere circled the room. You couldn't help but feel uneasy about what was about to be said. The last time you felt this way, your love story was coming to a tragic end.

“Is everything okay Spencer?” You asked quietly. He nodded slowly, although avoided your gaze.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” You asked, concern spreading through your body. Without really thinking you reached for his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. The sudden contact caused the doctor to snap his head in your direction. His eyes locked with yours, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Something did happen.” Spencer began. And as he spoke, he gently traced circled on your hand with your thumb. “There was a hostage situation, and-” “A hostage situation?” You interrupted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm okay.” He reassured. “That’s not what I came here to say.”

Spencer swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and began to explain. He started with the details of the case, leaving out the more gruesome details because he knew how much you disliked those. He moved onto the hostage situation he found himself in with JJ, and the game.

His tone of voice changed; you noticed it immediately.

“I know we’re over, but in the spirit of trying to remain friends I wanted to be honest with you.” Spencer stated. “JJ admitted-” He gulped. “She ehm- she admitted as part of the game, that she- she’s always loved me.”

You blinked, hand slipping in slow motion out of his grasp. His words ringing in your ears. A gut wrenching feeling twisting your insides, making you incredibly nauseous. Your worst nightmare coming true.

“She said, she said she was too scared to say it before and things were too complicated now.” “Stop.” You whispered but Spencer continued. “She said that I should-” “Stop it!” You jumped to your feet and frustratingly ran your fingers through your hair.

“Y/N...”

“You told me, Spencer you told me many times that I had nothing to worry about when it came to JJ.” Frustration levels rising. Spencer also got up, he reached out to grab you but you took a step back. The hazel-eyed man sighed.

“I swear I didn't know before she felt that way. You have to believe me Y/N.” He took a step toward you, maintaining stern eye contact. He once again tried to take your hand in his, however as soon as his fingers brushed against yours you yanked your hand back.

“I don't believe you.” You muttered. Hot tears began to escape the corners of your eyes, they burned your skin as they traveled down your cheeks. “You’re a profiler, and you literally spend every day with her.”

A broken look spread across the brunette doctor’s face, one to match the complete despair currently gracing your features.

“That’s not fair Y/N.”

“Not fair? Are you fucking kidding me?!” Anger levels spiking. “Fuck Spencer, when we were together you spent more time with her than you did with me!”

“Because we work together!”

“That is a pathetic excuse Spencer and you know it! When we were dating, she always made me doubt! She's older, she knows you longer than me.” The salty tears reached your lips, you began to feel choked up. “JJ is everything I have always been insecure about!”

“Which is why I wanted to come here and tell you what happened in person.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You only came here to ease the guilt.”

“Y/N, please, I am begging you.” The brunette doctor grabbed your wrist before you got a chance to pull away. He held onto you tight, yet not to hurt you. He placed his free hand on your cheek, and for a split second you leaned into his touch.

“Get out.” You whispered while closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. “Get out of my house Spencer.”

“This used to be our house Y/N.” He mumbled back. “Or did you forget that?”

You scoffed, opening your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You said forever, and then you left. So from where I’m standing it seems you are the one who forgot Spencer.”

The sentence seemed to stung the hazel-eyed man. His jaw clenched as he let his arms fall back down to his sides. You watched silently, wiping the wet tears with the sleeve of your hoodie, as Spencer made his way to the front door.

He turned to look at you once again. For a moment, a brief moment, you could have sworn you noticed a genuine hurt in his eyes.

“I know we weren't perfect Y/N.” Pause. “But believe me or not, I have never felt this way for no-one.”

And he was gone. The door shut with a loud bang causing you to jump slightly in your spot. Nausea. Nausea crusaded through your veins. You let out a deep long breath, one you didn't even realise you were holding.

He loved you. It was clear now that’s what he came here to say, and you kicked him out. You pushed him away. Forever.

It was over. Completely, and utterly over.

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor

masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid songfic #dr spencer reid #songfic #spencer reid imagine

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stickyy · 3 years

Note

if it's not too much of a hassle,you can write about hawks with a SugarBaby (reader) because he's like a SugarDaddy BUUUT Instead of being the one who dominates,¿is the reader who does it? hawks only gives her money and gifts as payment for a little of your attention,hawks pays the reader to dominate it and pay for his company,if you step on his crotch he will surely thank you (femdom and ¿mommy kink?). I was thinking a lot about this dynamic and I found it VERY interesting,¿what do you think?.

warnings: sub!hawks degradation, findom, femdom, mommy!kink, cock stepping, spit kink, an instance of face slapping, hawks is a little bitch simp with a fat wallet, reader is kind of a bad bitch ngl

wordcount: 2340

notes: anon this is IT this is what im mf talking ABOUT!!!

PERFORMANCE

Keigo all about spectacle. Chaotic destruction in the pursuit of a villain, the dramatics of combat, blinding camera flashes, cacophonies of squealing fangirls, the sheer wealth that comes with the exclusivity of the top 10- he’s no stranger to the limelight. Popular for a reason, he’s young and powerful, deceivingly coy despite it all, and it drives the public wild. He has them in the palm of his hand. A playboy poster child, spectacle is his middle name, and he wears it well.

He gives you a different performance behind closed doors.

You’re working, finishing an uneventful shift at your dreadfully mundane day job. You’ve been counting down the hours, which, ironically, causes time to slow down. Scrolling through your social media feed, you just want to pass the time. You’re skimming an article about music when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘heyyyy :)’

A grin spreads across your face. The number is unlisted, which is exactly why you know who it is. Excitement bubbles in your chest, the monotony of the day suddenly shattered. Keigo must be in town; he knows not to contact you unless he has something to show.

You check to make sure your read receipts are enabled, before staring at the message on the screen, not bothering to type a response. It’s a waiting game; you want him to work for it, to put on a show only for you.

Two whole minutes pass before you receive another.

‘i’m back in town tonight! :D’

You make no move, not yet appeased. It takes five minutes for him to cave:

‘can i see you?’

‘i need to see you’

‘missed you so much, mommy’

‘let me take you out to dinner? please?’

The prospect of a nice dinner outshines the takeout you were planning to order. A quick google search gives you a few options, and you decide on a steakhouse. They have wagyu, which you’ve been dying to try. Of course, coming in at $120 a steak, you hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

You send him the link, along with a short message:

‘8 pm, wear something nice.’

He instantly responds with a ‘thank you mommy :)’. You can’t help the the giggle that comes out of your mouth.

Keigo takes you back to his place after dinner. You make a point to keep your red-bottomed heels on, the click-click of your stride setting the tone for the night. He slips into his role easily, taking your coat and purse (both gifts from him; $1,790 and $2,850, respectively) to hang up. You take your place on the plush couch in his living room, legs crossed as you lean back, thoroughly satisfied from your meal. You never pay, of course- you don’t even go out of your way to acknowledge the check, but you were able to sneak a peek at the tab, which came in at a whopping $459.85. You didn’t think that two people could spend so much on a meal, but Keigo always found a way to spoil you.

He comes back into the room with a bottle of wine that you had requested last time you saw him (1990 Château Haut Brion, $875; even you had to admit that was ridiculous), handing you a wine glass and pouring your drink. He moves to fill his own, but you stop him.

“I didn’t say that you were allowed to drink tonight,” it’s a casual statement, but your pleasure ignites at the slightly dejected look on his face as he closes the bottle. It’s such a contrast to how you see him in the press. He never stops performing, you know, but this act is different. His fans see his chest puffed and wings flared, you get to see him on a leash.

“Why don’t you come sit next to Mommy?” you offer, Keigo perks up, meeting your gaze as he moves to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“The floor,” you correct before he can do otherwise. His breath hitches and he hesitates for a moment, but he kneels next to you anyways. He’s so pretty beneath you. It minimizes him, his usually proud aura squandered from your elevated point of view. It doesn’t help that he loves it- loves slipping into his role of being lesser. It excites him, and that, in turn, spurs you on. You thread your free hand through his hair and he visibly relaxes, pressing into your palm as his wings unfold slightly. The two of you stay like that for the moment as you sip on your wine, the luxury made so much sweeter by the hero in your company.

“Did you miss me?” you break the silence with your question, tilting his head up toward you to make eye contact. He nods enthusiastically, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“Yeah,” his voice is saccharine, gaze full of adoration, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Of course, you sick freak. You’re supposed to be off saving the world, and you’re thinking about the girl who won’t even fuck you if you don’t pay up first,” you tug on his hair roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. A grin graces his features despite the abuse.

“You know I can’t help it, you drive me crazy.”

He shifts, and you can see the outline of a bulge in his pants.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you scoff, “all I’ve done is play with your hair and you’re already hard?”

He’s so easy to fluster when he’s like this, willing and pliant in your hands. He nods again, always so unashamed in his perversion.

“I didn’t touch myself at all, like you told me to, and it’s been so long,” his eyes plead with you, slightly rocking his hips for any kind of relief. He wasn’t allowed to jerk off so long as he was seeing you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re easy for it, baby. All it takes is a little affection to get you to empty your wallet. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

He whines quietly, pupils visibly dilating . “Yeah, I’m pathetic, just a slut for Mommy.”

With a hum, you set your glass down and uncross your legs. “Unzip your pants.”

He obeys, getting the zipper stuck twice in his haste. Cute.

You press the flat of your heel against the tent in his boxers. The moan he lets out is sinful, grinding up against you in search of any sign of relief.

“These heels are so nice, aren’t they? Probably one of my favorite gifts,” you reminisce, admiring the way the shiny leather contrasts against his skin. You can already see a wet spot forming on his boxers. “Do you remember how much they cost you?”

He’s lost in the sensation, too preoccupied to answer your question. You step down slowly, watching his face contort into one of pain, though the grinding doesn’t cease.

“Answer me, Keigo.”

“F-fuck, what was it, like $700?” his voice cracks, his breathing labored.

“Close enough. Aren’t you embarrassed, spending all that money on shoes just so you can rut against them?” your words send a shudder through his body. The act is starting to fade as he nears his orgasm, his playful exterior melting into one of desperation.

“I’m close, fuck I’m close,” Keigo almost sounds panicked, his hips desperately bucking in pursuit of his first release in a long time. You remove your heel abruptly, pouting at him. He lets out a pitiful gasp as the loss of sensation, a sob making its way out of his throat.

“You know what you have to do if you want to cum,” you say sternly, feigning disappointment. He jumps up, stumbling across the room for his jacket and reaching for his phone in the pocket. You notice his hands are shaking as he taps his screen a few times, before your phone chimes in its place next to you. You look over, and grin at the Cash App notification.

‘birdbrains🐤 sent you $1,430 for i love you mommy <3’.

“Holy shit, Kei, you’re that desperate to cum? If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d assume you can’t get anyone else to fuck you,” You’ve always made his pay before he touches you, but he’s never broken a grand for just an orgasm.

“Please, Mommy,” is all he gives. He’s already back at your feet.

You spread your legs, unable to contain your arousal at this point; seeing the winged hero so broken always sets a fire in your stomach. “Make Mommy feel good, and I’ll let you stuff that needy cock inside of me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s immediately between your legs, pulling your lacy panties to the side (one half of a custom made designer set, $650) and shoving his face between your thighs. He always eats you like his life depends on it, obscenely slurping on your gushing entrance. He’s good at it too, expert tongue on your clit, pushing two fingers inside and prodding at your velveteen insides, causing you to bury your hands in his hair to keep him in place. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back your noises. This is always about your pleasure, and you make sure to remind him of that first and foremost. It’s not necessary, though; you're convinced that he’d go bankrupt if it meant he could have even an hour of your time. You can do anything to him, say anything to him, and it only drives him crazier.

To prove your point, you squeeze your thighs against his head, effectively suffocating him. He doesn’t let up- if anything, he begins to lick and suckle more enthusiastically, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You keep him there for a solid minute, watching him struggle in your grip. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and you shout as you grind against his face, riding out your first orgasm of the night. You let up, spreading your legs again and he gasps for air, tears flowing freely as he catches his breath.

“Thank you Mommy, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he huffs between gasps, face glistening with your juices. You grab his chin and lean down to give him a kiss, feeling him melt into you as he lets out a little moan. The taste of your arousal on his lips causes you to shiver in pure euphoria. You pull back but keep his chin in your hand, coaxing his mouth open before you spit, tilting his head back and watching your saliva slide down his throat.

“Good boy,” he perks at the praise, smiling despite himself.

“Go ahead and strip for me, and I’ll let you have that orgasm you want so bad,” you say as you stand, peeling yourself out of your dress. He obeys, albeit slowly as he’s more distracted watching you strip in front of him, eyes tracing your curves as you undo your bra and slide your panties down, opting to keep on the heels. You notice, but decide to let it slide this time. You gesture for him to sit and he obeys, grabbing your hips as you straddle his lap. His cock curves against his stomach, an angry red and damp with the obscene amount of pre dripping down his length.

“This looks like it hurts,” you lilt mockingly, gently running a finger up his length to gather some of his pre. You smear it on his lower lip, raw from your earlier abuse.

“It does, fuck- Mommy, please,” he’s back to begging, eyes misty, “Please let me fuck you Mommy, I promise I’ll make you cum again, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want-”

“Shh,” you stop his babbling, positioning yourself over him, “keep your hips still for me, okay?”

He nods, and you begin to sink onto his length, slowly.

He moans, eyelids fluttering as your gummy walls begin to constrict around his length. He struggles to keep himself from squeezing your hips and fucking up into you, but he manages in fear of a punishment. You take your sweet time before bottoming out, staying completely still. Keigo chokes on a sob, thighs quivering with the effort to stay put, and you watch him for just a moment longer, revelling in the sight. He’s flushed down to his chest, eyes lidded and pupils blown, skin dewy with sweat and tears and your slick, wings fluttering behind him.

If only his fans could see him now.

You take pity on him and start to move, allowing him to take your weight in his hands, bouncing you on his cock. It takes a lot of focus not to get lost in the sensation, squelching noises filling the empty air as your mind starts to blur, his cock rubbing against the spongy walls of your pussy. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, moaning unabashedly, eyes trained on your face. He’s already close, but there’s a determination in his eyes that confuses you slightly; he has permission to cum after all. It’s when the blunt head of his cock hits something gooey inside of you that it makes sense; of course he’s making good on his promise to make you cum first. He’s a good boy, after all. It doesn’t take long, his hips jackrabbiting as he abuses that spot in you, forcing the pressure in your stomach to pull taut, and eventually snap. You cum with a squeal of his name, vision darkening as you watch him finish, stray tears flowing down his cheeks. You catch a few with your thumb and lick them up.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he’s breathless, but you can tell he’s not totally satisfied; it’s been weeks since he’s seen you, after all. He begins to roll his hips again, face scrunching in the sweet torture of overstimulation.

You land a firm slap on his cheek and he gasps, giving you a surprised look.

“You know what you have to do if you want another orgasm.”

The show goes on.

386 notes · View notes

kythed · 3 years

Text

an age of miracles

synopsis: why do the most beautiful people always seem to get the short end of the stick?

tagged: atsumu miya x reader, mentions of illness, mentions of god.

commitment level: 3,617 words.

hospitals are liminal spaces. transitional, gateways between birth and death and the whole mess in between. (life.) they’re sites of both tragedy and miraculous recovery, and you’re not yet too old to stop praying for the latter.

his name is atsumu. you skim the documents pinned to his door — atsumu miya. age 21. cirrhosis.

cirrhosis is late stage liver scarring. nasty stuff. evidently, atsumu miya is in his third stage — portal hypertension. abdominal swelling. jaundice.

for a bedridden guy with a serious illness, he’s not as justifiably depressed as one might assume.

“hey, doc,” he says when you come in. he’s facing the window, letting the sunlight cast a saintly halo across his cheeks. blonde hair, an angular sort of face that’s been hollowed by illness. in another life, he might’ve been handsome.

you clear your throat, and he glances back, surprised. “ah. you’re not my doctor.”

“nope. nursing student.” you sit at the foot of his bed. “i’ll be monitoring you the next month or so as part of my studies.”

“monitoring,” he repeats drily. “you make it sound like i’m a lab specimen in a test tube.”

“means you’re special.”

“sure. ‘specially fucked up.” he’s younger than you are, but there’s an aged weariness in his gaze.

“aren’t we all, mr. miya?”

he cracks a grin. “touche. call me atsumu, though. mr. miya’s my dad.”

“as you wish, mr. miya,” you say, biting back a smile. (there are those who say sarcasm has no place in hospitals. you do not fall into this category.)

atsumu likes to play chess. the second day of your clinical, he’s got a travel sized chess board set up on his bedside table. “been dying from boredom the past few hours. think you could take a break from ‘monitoring’ me to play a game?”

you set your clipboard down. “i could. i’d advise against it, though. i’m a pretty good player.”

atsumu grins. “not better than me.”

he’s right. he beats you three games in a row before you finally snag a checkmate. (and you suspect this is only due to pity.)

“what’d i tell you, baby?” he crows, and you shake your head, raising your arms in surrender.

“it was an off day. if i’d been on my game i could’ve swept the floor with you.”

“prove it,” atsumu says, leaning forward. he’s pale from a lack of sunshine, but you notice a faint pink glow in his cheeks now. “come back tomorrow.”

tomorrow’s a saturday, and you don’t have clinical. “of course i will.”

you’re not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how trivial. plus, atsumu is fun. (and kind of cute.)

“hi. brought you something.” you set a tupperware of cubed fruit on atsumu’s lap before pulling up a chair next to the bed.

“did you make this?” he says, eyes wide.

“i just chopped up a few apples and stuff,” you say, plucking a blueberry from the container and popping it into your mouth.

atsumu shakes his head before biting into a chunk of pineapple. “you’d think it’d be hard to mess up fruit salad, but somehow this damn hospital can make a strawberry taste like cough medicine. everything they serve here tastes like cough medicine, actually.”

“delicious.”

“disgusting.” atsumu sets up the chess board. “so, like, thanks. for the fruit. can i keep the tupperware?”

you laugh. “why do you wanna keep the tupperware?”

“it’s a reminder of normality.” atsumu shrugs. “i only ever eat off chipped hospital dishes here.”

your chest throbs. “oh, atsumu.”

“don’t you ‘oh, atsumu’ me,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“sorry. yeah, you can keep it.”

(he wins at chess again.)

you’re only required to come in to the hospital three times a week, but you get into the habit of visiting atsumu every day. the first time you visit after class, you’re wearing a sweater and jeans. atsumu wolf whistles.

“damn. you look good when you’re not in scrubs.”

“are you saying i don’t rock scrubs?” you press a hand to your chest in mock offense.

“nobody looks good in scrubs,” atsumu says. “except for me, probably. i look good in anything.”

you laugh. “i believe it.”

“you’d better.” atsumu has a nice smile, you notice, wide and shiny.

you plop yourself down beside him on the bed. “hey, you wanna see a picture i took on the way here? i found a stray cat near the convenience store.”

“i’m a dog person,” atsumu says, but he nonetheless leans forward to get a look at your phone. “oh, cute.”

“isn’t he?” you say, zooming in on the little orange cat. “i think i’m gonna name him after you.”

“what?” atsumu huffs. “why?”

“because he’s good at chess,” you say.

atsumu furrows his brow. “you played chess with a cat?”

“no, i just have a feeling,” you hum, and atsumu rolls his eyes with a small smile.

“you’re stupid.”

you slip your phone back into your pocket. “in a cute way, though.”

“if you say so,” atsumu says, and you flick his shoulder. “ouch. way to bully a sick man.”

“you deserved it,” you laugh, and he joins in.

“yeah, i did.”

the next time you visit, atsumu’s family is there. his parents have kind, tired faces.

“nice to meet you,” his mom says, grasping your hand warmly. “i’m glad atsumu has a friend here.”

“mom,” complains atsumu. “i have friends.”

“none as cool as me, though,” you tease, and he smiles.

“you’re right,” he says, and his dad rumples his hair before turning to shake your hand.

“it’s great to meet you, mr. miya,” you say, returning the shake.

“the pleasure’s mine,” he says. he looks nearly identical to atsumu, just a little grayer. right next to him, there’s a boy who really does look exactly identical to atsumu, though his hair’s dyed dark and he’s a little more filled out. he has an air of begrudging maturity about him, the telltale sign of a young man who’s been forced to carry burdens that aren’t his.

“i’m osamu,” he says. he’s sitting on the chair near atsumu’s bed. “this little asshole’s brother.”

“i don’t know why you keep calling me little,” atsumu says, lightly punching osamu’s forearm. “i’m the older twin.”

“yeah, but you act like a baby.” osamu grins and leans out of reach when atsumu tries to swat at him. you chuckle behind a hand, leaning back against the wall as mr. and mrs. miya question you about your studies and hobbies.

on your way out of the hospital a half hour later, you run into osamu at the lobby coffee shop.

“so,” he says, sipping from a steaming cup. “you’re a nursing student?”

“mm,” you say, handing a fiver to the cashier to pay for your sandwich. “i’m in my fourth year at hyogo university. are you in college, too?”

“nah,” says osamu. “i play volleyball. professionally, i mean.”

“oh!” you notice the lettering on his sports jacket for the first time. msby black jackals. “that’s really cool.”

osamu shrugs. “sometimes it is. tsumu’s wanted to be a pro player since we were kids — but he won’t ever be able to do that now, of course. so that’s why i play. better to have one miya in the pro circuit than none at all.”

your heart sinks. “you’re a great brother, osamu.”

osamu shakes his head. “i’m really not. it should’ve been me in that hospital bed.”

“osamu…” you trail off as osamu just shakes his head, giving you a sad smile.

“it was nice meeting you,” he says before tossing his cup and heading back towards the elevators.

“no,” atsumu says staunchly, crossing his arms. “definitely not. i don’t read.”

“come on,” you wheedle, dangling the book in front of his face. “it’s one of my favorites, and i thought it might stave off some of that stifling boredom you always complain about.”

“i’m bored, but not that bored,” atsumu says, squinting at the book. “what is that about, anyways? the little prince? sounds lame.”

“it’s not lame,” you promise, bouncing slightly on the bed. atsumu sniffs. “okay, what if i read it to you? you don’t have to do anything but listen.”

“i’m not a child.”

“you’re acting like one.”

atsumu throws his hands up in defeat. “alright, fine. you win. we can read the little prince.”

“excellent.” you beam. “scoot over?”

“what?” atsumu says, but he scoots to the side of his bed as you kick your shoes off and curl up next to him. you feel his breath hitch as he lightly lets his arm curve around your waist.

you sigh, content, and flip to read the first page. “once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”

it takes three visits to finish the entire story. atsumu sniffles when you read the last line, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“did he die?”

you trace a light circle on atsumu’s palm, smiling slightly. “i don’t know. i think it’s up to the reader to decide. he left his body, but is that really death? or is it just… moving on?”

“i think he just moved on,” insists atsumu. “he moved on and returned to the stars. he was just a kid. he was too young to have died.”

“look at you,” you tease, and atsumu flushes. “waxing on poetic.”

“it was good,” atsumu says gruffly. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” you breathe, and when atsumu buries his face in your neck, you realize he’s crying.

he kisses you for the first time a week later. it’s late in the afternoon, and both your faces are tinged with gold. he slips a hand beneath your jaw, and you let him slowly guide your lips to meet his. they’re soft, hesitant, and sweet, pressing against yours with an uncharacteristic shyness.

you sigh happily when he pulls you forward to straddle his lap, slipping your hands into his thick blonde hair, letting him press light kisses down the length of your neck.

“hey, beautiful,” he breathes into your collarbone, and you laugh.

“hey, pretty boy. nice to see you today.”

atsumu’s discovered a newfound love for reading ever since you read the little prince outloud to him. you’ve been bringing him secondhand books from the thrift store near your house, and now there’s a sizeable stack of novels out on the table.

“i think i’ve read more in the past couple months than i ever read in high school,” he admits, running a finger down the spine of treasure island. “you’ve turned me into a nerd.”

“you’re welcome,” you say, straightening his collar.

“it’s kind of nice, though,” he says thoughtfully, tossing the book back on the table. “to read about all these different people, all the things they do. all the stories i’m never gonna get to experience.”

“you’re getting to experience them through reading,” you correct. “that’s the beauty of fiction.”

atsumu laughs. “you’re such a sap.”

“it’s true,” you insist. “god knows life is too short to live through everything we’d like to. that’s why he gave us imagination.”

“do you believe in god?” atsumu asks softly. his stare grows distant.

you think for a moment. “sometimes i do. do you?”

“same. sometimes.” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “sometimes i wonder, though… like, if there’s a god, why does he hate me?”

you chew on your cheek. “why do you feel hated?”

atsumu laughs a laugh tinged with slight bitterness. “sweetheart… i’m not going to live past twenty-five, if even that.”

you swallow the knot in your throat, letting it sink deep into your stomach where it sits like a lump of copper. “well… the little prince is less than a hundred pages. sometimes the shortest books are the best reads.”

atsumu nods silently. he’s not convinced. you’re not sure if you are, either.

atsumu sleeps a lot these days. you spend as much time with him as you can, but more often than not, he’s in a half conscious daze, curled up beneath the white hospital comforter. during these times, you just set your backpack by the door the slip into bed next to him, wrapping yourself around his back and pressing your palms to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. it’s faint, but it’s steady and rhythmic. ba-dump. ba-dump. ba-dump.

sometimes, atsumu’s his usual, lively self, cracking bad jokes and poking fun at you. his smiling face has come to be your favorite picture. on these days, you bring him a hot chocolate from the coffee shop and split it with him, kissing off the whipped cream that finds its way onto his lips. he still likes to play chess, and, though he won’t admit it, you’ve been getting better. one day, you beat him, two games to one.

there are solemn, quiet times, and there are bright, cheerful times, but you savor all of them. every moment spent with atsumu is valuable in your book. occasionally, you’ll go with him out into the hospital garden, into the warmth of the sun. every so often he’ll stop, lean on you to catch his breath, but he never complains.

“look,” he’ll say instead, pointing at a vine of jasmine, or a single daisy swaying in the breeze. “almost as pretty as you.”

one day, as you’re leaving atsumu’s room, you run into his doctor in the hall.

“keep your chin up,” she says, straightening her glasses. “it’s possible he could still recover. strong young men often do.”

you nod slowly. “is he going to need a transplant?”

“well,” says the doctor, clicking on her pen absentmindedly. “if it gets any worse, yes. but i’m going to be honest with you — it’s unlikely we’ll find a donation with both a matching blood type and in good condition.”

“ah.”

“so just hope for the best.” she slips into his room before you can say another word, leaving you to lean heavily against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. miracles happen every day, you remind yourself. there’s no reason atsumu shouldn’t be the recipient of one.

“hey,” atsumu says. he whispers your name with an unusual tenderness. “i have to talk to you.”

it’s been five months since you first met atsumu on a clinical, and it’s been three months since he began to call you his girlfriend. you lace your fingers between his, giving his hand a light squeeze. “yeah, ‘tsumu?”

he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i don’t think i’m going to… be here much longer.”

“no,” you say, chest tightening. “don’t say that. you’re gonna be fine.”

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low. he takes your chin and firmly turns your head to look at him. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i just… i’m sick. it’s hard to think straight sometimes, so i just wanted to tell you before i can’t anymore.”

“tell me what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“tell you that i love you.”

“atsumu,” you breathe. a frustrated tear finds its way down your cheek. “i… i love you, too. but please… just hang on. they’ll find a donor. they have to.”

“they might not,” he says, and he smiles, pulling you close. you knot your hands in the front of his t-shirt, pressing your face to his chest. “don’t cry. i’m just going to go live in the stars, right? like the little prince.”

there’s so many things you want to say, like, you nerd, can’t believe you’re making literary allusions or shut up, asshole, or i’ll miss you if you do, but you say nothing, because if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll just sob.

“don’t cry,” he says again, but he’s crying, and you lift your face to see the tears streaming. “i love you.”

your throat is too thick to say it back, but he sees it in your eyes. i love you, too.

you spend the rest of the night with him before leaving at a little past 2am, and the next morning, you get a text from osamu.

he’s gone.

you don’t cry at the funeral. it’s small, just his family, a group of close friends, and you. you don’t look in the casket, either, because you want to remember his smile, and empty bodies don’t. you sip on a paper cup of water and lean against a wall, where osamu finds you.

“hey,” he says, and you nod in return. “he left this for you.”

you take the letter from him, and after he gives your shoulder a squeeze and heads back to his parents, you tear it open.

hey, you. i’m writing this two months after you first came into my room in that god-awful set of scrubs. right now, you’re napping in the chair near my bed. you look cute. we had our first kiss last week, and i’m still walking on air. fuck, that sounds dorky. oh, well. guess i’m a dork. only for you, though.

anyways, if you’re reading this, it’s because i’ve died. whoop-dee-doo. i’ve moved on to the great beyond. i’ve fallen past the veil. whatever it is you nerds like to say. there are probably things i’m going to say to you in the next few months that are a little more… intimate, i guess? but i wanted to tell you this while it’s still fresh in my mind: you’ve honest-to-goodness saved my life. i mean, it might not go on for much longer, sure, but you really have, in a way. being sick is weird. it makes you a lot more sensitive to miracles.

you start. you don’t remember ever talking to atsumu about miracles.

someone from the outside might look at me and call me unlucky, but i feel pretty damn lucky right now. meeting you was without a doubt a miracle, and if i never got sick, it never would’ve happened. take that as you will, i guess. all i know is i’m not angry at god, even though maybe i should be. i mean, i’m still not sure he’s even out there. but there’s gotta be something, or someone, because how the fuck else could i have possibly recieved something so… great? i sure as hell never did something to deserve it. (god, i sound stupid. but it’s just hard to chalk up to coincidence.)

anyways, i love you. not sure i’ll ever get the guts to say that out loud, so i’m saying it here. i love you, and i hope you love me, too.

- atsumu

“i do,” you whisper. “i do.”

on your way home, you stop at the convenience store for a bottled water, and the little orange cat comes out and winds itself around your leg, purring.

“hey, ‘tsumu,” you say, squatting down to scratch its head. “fancy a game of chess?”

it meows back.

“yeah?” your eyes grow wet, and you wipe them on the sleeve of your sweater. “wanna come home with me?”

it meows again, and this time, you break out into full scale crying. you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can see a tear in the cat’s eye, too.

he follows you home, and the next day, you purchase a water dish, a big bag of cat food, and a blue collar. (blue was atsumu’s favorite color.)

three years later.

“honey?”

“yeah?”

your husband comes out from the hall, buttoning up his shirt. “you almost ready to go?”

“almost, ‘samu,” you say, slipping on a bracelet. your hands are shaking, and he notices it, too. today’s the third anniversary of atsumu’s death, and it’s also the date of osamu’s first big press conference. “he’d be so proud of you, you know.”

osamu smiles. “he would. he’d be proud of you, too.”

you laugh. “what for? for marrying his little brother?”

“no, he’d probably be kind of pissed at me,” osamu jokes, before coming to stand behind you. he wraps his hands around your waist. “he’d be proud of you for finding happiness, i think.”

“i am happy,” you say, tilting your head as osamu presses a kiss to your temples. there’s a beat of silence. “but i miss him.”

“i do, too.” osamu rests his chin on your head. “he probably misses us.”

“mm,” you say. “i think he might be having too much fun for that, actually.”

“maybe,” says osamu, and he leans forward to grab the keys from the counter. “i’m gonna go heat up the car, okay?”

“sounds good,” you say, as the cat dashes into the room with a meow. a nameplate that reads ‘tsumu’ dangles from his collar. “oh, hey kitty. i forgot to feed you. i’ll be out in a minute!”

after you fill the cat’s dish and pull on a cardigan over your dress, you slip outside, shivering in the night air. the sky is clear and full of stars, and as you walk to the car, you crane your neck up to see.

“hope you’re doing well, ‘tsumu,” you whisper to the gleaming constellations.

you still have things you want to say to him, even after all these years. you want to ask him how the weather in the cosmos is, and if the fruit salad is better up there. you want to ask if he’s read any good books lately, or if he’s seen how great osamu’s serve has gotten recently. you want to laugh with him.

most of all, though, you want to let him know that he was your miracle, too.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader

321 notes · View notes

troubatrain · 3 years

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adore you - m. tkachuk

a/n: when i asked for fics to bring back i had a few people ask me for this one - i have the biggest soft spot for this fic because it was the first one that ever got a decent amount of notes on my old blog so I hope you guys love it a second time :)

Matthew Tkachuk was the bane of your existence. He was egotistical, a little dumb and flat out annoying. But, no matter what you did you could never get rid of him. You were forced to spend time with him because your best friend, Hannah, was dating his teammate, Noah. You actually liked Noah, he was kind and extremely good to Hannah. You couldn’t understand how he put up with Matthew and you honestly had a second thought about your friendship when he explained to you that they’d played together on US teams when they were younger too.

Matthew had been a nightmare since the first night you met, when Hannah went on and on about how she thinks you guys should meet because you’d be perfect together. As usual, you told her you weren’t looking for anything right now, because you were just too busy for it. But, you went along anyway and Hannah introduced the two of you. You’d never met a more annoying human being in your life, who was so sure you were going to sleep with him that night that you ended up chewing him out in the middle of the bar. When you’d finally finished ranting, he just went on about how cute you looked when you were mad at him and you felt your blood boil. That was two months ago, and in those two months he’d spent every waking moment of his day trying to bother you about something.

Which would explain why, as you were home catching up on some work, there was a knock on the door of your apartment and you already knew who it was. You’d opened the door and like you’d received once a week for almost a month, there was someone delivering a bouquet of flowers for Mrs. Tkachuk. You’d signed for them, not bothering to explain to yet another random delivery man that you were not in fact married and tossed them immediately in your garbage. Snapping a picture and sending it to Matthew like you’d done every other time.

Glad you signed that contract, because you’re going to go broke sending me flowers.

You’re worth every penny wifey ;)

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, annoyed with how often this went on. You called Hannah who’d been the cause of all of this in the first place, and waited for her to pick up the phone.

“Hey Y/N what’s up?” Hannah asks.

“If Matthew sends me another bouquet of flowers you can tell Noah he’s going to have one less teammate,” You practically growl into the phone, hearing Noah’s laugh in the background.

“Give Chucky a chance Y/N, the kid wants to marry you,” Noah says, taking the phone from his girlfriend’s hand.

“He’s a nightmare Noah,” You say, sighing into the phone.

“He ADORES you,” Noah explains, “He literally never stops asking about you, speaking of, are you coming to Sean’s party with us tonight?”

“Will you keep Matthew away from me?” You ask, deciding that’s the only way you’d want to even go.

“Yes, I will try and keep Chucky away from you,” Noah promises and you reluctantly agree to go to the party, earning a cheer from Hannah through the phone.

When you get to the party, it’s in full swing. The room is filled with people you knew and didn’t and you were honestly shocked Sean knew this many people. You were thankful though, because you knew it would be extremely easy for you to avoid Matthew all night.

You were doing great with your initial plan of avoiding Matthew. You were having a good time, dancing and drinking with your friends. You definitely were drunk but so was everyone else at the party. You’d escaped to go to the bathroom, walking down the hallway to one of the bathrooms in Sean’s large home. You stopped in front of his wedding photos, looking at the pictures from his nuptials that happened the summer before.

“When we get married it’ll be even better than Sean’s,” You hear behind you and instantly knew was standing behind you, “Think about it you can plan one of those pinterest weddings, we’ll get hitched, I’ll take us on a sick honeymoon and we can hang our wedding photos in some big old house together.”

“You’re insufferable,” You say, turning around to face the pest behind you, but when you turned your heel caught the edge of the rug you were standing under and you stumbled, falling directly into Matthew in front of you.

“And you’re drunk,” Matthew says, holding you up so you don’t hit the floor.

“I’m fine,” You say, your words slurring together more than you’d intended, you push yourself away from Matthew to stand up yourself.

“No you’re not, I saw you, you had like 4 shots with Hannah,” Matthew says, knowing just how much you’d had to drink.

“How do you even know that, stalker,” You say back, crossing your arms across your chest.

“I was keeping an eye on you, there’s a lot of people here, and you’re absolutely oblivious,” Matthew says and just as he was saying something genuinely kind, he had to ruin it.

You shook your head at his comment, “You’re honestly the worst.”

“I know, can I get you home now?” Matthew says, holding up his keys.

“I can get home myself,” You say, stumbling over your own feet when you try and move down the hallway.

“Y/N please let me just get you home safe, no funny business I swear,” Matthew promises, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you still.

You push his arm off of you, “You’ve never done anything funny in your life, and fine.”

Matthew smiles at the insult, “Thank you, c’mon wifey we gotta get you home.”

He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, pulling you out of the house and down the street to where his car was parked. He opens the door of the black Audi, letting you slide in. Hopping into the driver’s seat, he starts the car to head to your apartment.

“You drive a less douchier car than I thought,” You say, taking in the views of Calgary as you drove through the city.

“I think that was almost a compliment,” Matthew says, laughing.

“Your taste in music is terrible though,” You say, pointing to the top 40 story that was playing on the radio.

“There it is,” Matthew says, pulling in front of your building, turning his car off.

“I can get up to my place myself,” You say, opening the door to get out of the car.

Matthew sighs, “Please Y/N.”

“Whatever,” You mutter, not in the mood for an argument. You both ride up the elevator to your floor in silence, walking down the hallway to your apartment.

“Thank you by the way,” You say, opening the door to your apartment.

“Anytime,” Matthew says, heading back down the hallway, “By the way, I meant it, I’m marrying you one day.”

You shake your head and shut the door, heading to get ready for bed.

The next week Matthew and yourself had gone back to your normal bickering. You didn’t think much into the weird conversation you’d had in Sean’s house, unsure of why Matthew was so concerned with getting you home safe. It bothers you for a small amount of time, until you heard him compliment your ass from across Noah’s kitchen and you knew things had gone back to normal. With the All Star break over and Matthew flying back to Calgary you knew your small vacation from his pestering would be over.

But, you were packing to head to Edmonton with Hannah to go see your parents. The two of you were both from Edmonton, moving to Calgary to go to college together. While Hannah's hockey loyalty switched over to the Flames the day Noah asked her to be his girlfriend, you were still a big Oilers fan, only cheering for the Flames because of your friends with Noah and his teammates. But, after the game right before the break, in which Matthew couldn’t stop being a rat and running his mouth in the media, you were almost excited to go to the game. Looking forward to watching him get roughed around a little bit. You pack the Kassian jersey you’d bought recently, knowing you’d be going to the game with Hannah and looking forward to pissing Matthew off beyond belief.

You’d spent the first couple of days in Edmonton, catching up with your family and friends that lived there. You were excited to have had the couple of days home, spending time with your parents and reaping the benefits of having your mom take care of you for a few days.

You were standing in your childhood bedroom, packing up some stuff to bring back with you on your drive back to Calgary the next morning. You finished packing and slipped on your outfit for the game, putting on the Kassian jersey you’d packed. You hear Hannah beep her horn outside of your parents house, and you head out the door to see her.

“You didn’t actually buy that,” Hannah shakes her head in disbelief, thinking you were kidding when you’d told her about the jersey a couple of weeks prior.

“If Matthew gets to spend every waking moment of his life irritating me, I’m going to do the same back,” You shrug, “Plus we’re in Edmonton, it’s fine.”

Hannah sighs, “I wish I understood you guys.”

The rest of the car ride is spent catching up on how you’d both spent the last few days. Arriving at the arena, you both head in, sitting at the seats Noah had gotten for the both of you. You were right against the ice, on the Flames side of course, watching them skate for pregame warm ups. You see Noah spot you, shaking his head at your choice in jersey. You see him skate over to Matthew and point in your direction, the curly haired menace turning his attention over to you. His nostrils flare out, and he skates directly into the boards in front you, knocking your beer on the ledge to the ground.

“I cannot stand you,” You say, annoyed you’d have to go get another drink.

“Look at what you’re fucking wearing,” You hear him say before skating away, spending the rest of warm ups away from you.

“He’s mad Y/N,” You hear Hannah say, pointing to Matthew across the ice.

“Good,” You say, sipping on the beer you had to go get after Matthew knocked the first one over.

The game was off to a hot start, and hits were flying in true Battle of Alberta fashion. The entire crowd was waiting to see if Matthew would finally drop his gloves with Kassian after the media circus that ensued after their last meeting. When he finally does, you feel Hannah grab your arm, taking your attention away from your phone and you look up watching Matthew square up against Kassian. You watch him throw punch after punch, finally knocking him to the ground, Matthew looking over at you as he skates over to the box.

The rest of the game was intense, ending in a 3-4 shootout win for the Flames. You head to the locker rooms, waiting outside for Noah. The team starts to roll out one by one, looking exhausted from the hit heavy game they just played.

“You’re not actually wearing that right now,” You hear Johnny say, laughing as he comes up to you, “You must have put Chucky’s mind in a blender.”

“I’m sure he’ll recover,” You say, spotting Matthew leaving the locker room, making a beeline over to you.

“Sorry I had to give your boy a beating tonight,” He says, still a little mad at you.

“Yeah I just love him, the whole team actually,” You say, trying to rile him up.

He glares at you, before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “Nineteen’s a better number for you don’t you think?”

You ignore the chill that climbs up your spine when he places his hand on the small of your back, “Over my dead body.”

Matthew shakes his head and walks down the hallway to head back to the team’s hotel, not letting you know that seeing you in that Oilers jersey made his skin crawl.

When you arrive back in Calgary, you’d gotten four texts from Matthew, asking you if you’ve gotten back to your apartment yet. When you finally do, there’s a box at the door, a large red bow on top. Your gut says it’s from Matthew, and your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the box and revealed a Flames jersey, the number nineteen glaring at you. You pick up the card and nearly gag at the writing

Looks better than orange and blue babe - Matty

You think about tossing the jersey in the trash like you’d done with every bouquet of flowers he sent you, but you something wouldn’t let you. You leave the box on the island in your kitchen, deciding you’ll do something about it later. You set down the box and look at your phone, checking your texts to see Hannah had texted you to see if you were going to meet her out after Noah’s game tonight. You debate it internally for a moment, but decide to go out.

Later that night, you arrive at the bar and instantly spot the large group of hockey players standing in the corner. You walk over and immediately hear the sound of Matthew’s laugh, giggling at some stupid joke he probably told. You catch up with everyone and head over to the bar to grab a drink. While you’re waiting to get the bartender’s attention, you feel a hand on the small of your back and turn around to see Matthew standing behind you.

“You look incredible tonight,” Matthew whispers in your ear, flagging down the bartender with ease.

“I can’t believe you followed me over here,” You say, turning your back to him.

“I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me,” Matthew says, “We’d make such cute babies.”

Matthew drones on about how if you guys had kids, they’d probably have his hair but he wants them to have your smile. It would be cute if you didn’t know he was doing it to get under your skin. Your eyes scan the bar, seeing a group of girls pointing to Matthew and whispering, probably about the Flames resident pest being out at the bar.

“Don’t you have a fan club to entertain,” You say, nodding your head towards the girls.

“I could talk to you all night and I’d still take one of those girls home,” Matthew smirks back at you and while you’d usually feel your blood boil at the comment, you felt something different. A pang of jealousy washes over you at the thought of Matthew giving his attention to someone who wasn’t you. You’d had it for so long, and something in your gut said you didn’t want anyone else to have his attention the way you did. You look at him for a moment, taking his blue eyes and crooked smile, and relishing in the way his hand on your back feels.

You sigh, “You could just take me home.”

You see Matthew choke on his beer, “I can - I - what?”

You giggle at his reaction, his usually cocky demeanor diminishing as you finally decide he can have what he wants, “You can take me home,” you repeat again, running your fingertips along his arm.

“You’re fucking with me,” Matthew says in disbelief.

“I’m not, but you have to promise me something,” You say and he nods, prompting you to finish your statement, “I can still plan the wedding.”

Matthew laughs at the reminder of what he told you at Sean’s party, “You can have whatever you want babe.”

You grab his hand and lace his fingers with yours, leading him out of the bar and into his car. Matthew knew that once he finally got you, he wasn’t going to let you go.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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That’s Just Tachy

Written by: @everybirdfellsilent

Prompt 153: Best friends!Everlark who have always been in love with one another. Katniss is in a pretty serious accident, of course Peeta visits her every single day. He notices that every time he enters the room her heart monitor beeps due to elevated heart rate. He notices and finally mentions to a mutual friend (Madge? Finnick?) how it’s sweet that she gets excited to see her friends, said friend rolls eyes and is like uh yeah ok “friend”. Peeta’s all what? Cue suspicion so next time he visits her he takes it a step further and gives little touches (brushes her hair back, strokes her cheek, grazes her arm? LET IT BURN) to see what happens. Sure enough her HR skyrockets. Tell us all the sweet and suspenseful details :))) [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone] (@peetamewllark)

I do not own The Hunger Games or it’s characters. All credit where credit is due.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx, @smartalexy, and @papofglencoe for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. (I think?) Mostly just fluff, though. (Rated K-Teen.)

Word count: 6,712

A/N: This didn’t turn out quite how I wanted, but it is what it is. 😆 It was a 2k document I sat down to flush out and suddenly it was over 6k words, so I figured it was time. I like to write where you just jump right in kind of like a TV show, but that didn’t really work for this prompt, and was a sort of learning curve for me. But I still hope you all like it! This was fun to write, and I have loved this prompt from the beginning. (Especially the “LET IT BURN”. Haha! So here are my two lovesick idiots who don’t know it until it’s right in front of their face. I have missed writing for them.)

Xxx

“You guys coming?” Jo called from up at the front of the group as they made their way across the quad.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Johanna stopped, effectively stopping Gale and Finnick as well, and they all stared at the two stragglers of the group who were locked in some kind of glare off.

“I don’t trust him,” Katniss stated, her eyes never wavering from his.

“Me?!” Peeta cried in disbelief. “You’re the one with impeccable aim and on the archery team, why in the world am I the bigger threat here?”

“Because you started it.”

Gale huffed. “Started what?”

“Poking me in the sides at the most inopportune moments all day.”

Gale sighed heavily. “Catnip….”

Her head snapped his way, the glare now on him, she missed the two thumbs up Peeta sent Gale from behind her in thanks. “You know I hate that nickna-”

The rest of her sentence stopped abruptly as she felt two strong and familiar hands start to play her sides like a piano, and it was a wonder she avoided letting out a screech. Batting the hands away with her own, using the thin folder in her hand to swat at them as they tried to come near again, she couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face, muttering nonsense at the lighthearted taunts Peeta sent her way.

Finnick rolled his eyes, smiling almost imperceptibly. “Come on, let the lovebirds be.”

As the three up ahead continued on, Peeta and Katniss called a truce, both breathing heavily, an errant chuckle here and there the only noise as they caught their breath.

“So are you meeting up with Haymitch before work today?” Peeta asked, staring at the ground as they began to follow their friends.

“Yup,” Katniss nodded, looking at the ground herself, but glancing over at Peeta every now and then. Each time made her heart race just a little bit more, and she wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel. “I need to talk to him about enrolling in one more course, or how to get some extra hours somehow.”

“Well, we’ll meet up when you’re off work later, then, and you can tell me how it went.” He looked up and right at her. “And, you know, if Haymitch doesn’t have any ideas, I can always try and talk to our professors and see where that gets us.” His voice was smooth and deep, and he playfully bumped shoulders with her as they continued to walk.

She couldn’t help but blush at the implication, knowing Peeta could sell anything to anyone with the way he spoke. “I’ll think about it,” she managed to get out. “But I have to work late tonight, so I’ll just text you when I get off, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

“Sure,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief knowing he wouldn’t be poking her for the foreseeable future, making him smirk. “How late?”

“I’m not sure exactly. They just said some may need to stay late.” She shrugged, clutching her folder close to her chest. “But not too late, I don’t think. Definitely before midnight.”

“I’ll see you at midnight, then.”

Xxx

She’d been in an accident. An awful, terrible accident.

There were more details, he was sure, but his mind tuned out of any further conversation past that. Images flashed in his mind, everything from horrendous to benign, of the condition she was in, or would be in. Did she need surgery? Did she need a kidney? A really big bandaid?

All he knew was that he’d be there for her. They all would. Because that’s what friends do. They protect each other, it’s just what they do.

Xxx

They went in as a group, right before visiting hours were over that same day.

He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but he still had a breath catch in his chest at the sight of her.

Gale and Johanna were teary eyed as they walked around to the opposite side of the bed, Gale gently taking Katniss’ hand in his where it lay beside her on the bed, and Jo hanging back behind him, almost as if to have a barrier between her and the situation.

Finnick stood beside Peeta on the opposite side, up by her head, and rested his hand beside her head, supporting his weight. Normally one for a playful nudge or flirtatious tuck of hair behind one’s ear, his lack of physical touch and in fact distance between his hand and her spoke volumes. “Hey, Katniss,” he said softly. The hitch in his voice not missed by anyone in the room, or the shuddering breath he took in after.

Her eyes fluttered open, and while still somewhat glassy from the pain medicine pumping through her system, she let out a tentative smile, and gently squeezed Gale’s hand back. “Hey,” voice scratchy from lack of use. “What-” she coughed a rattling cough, making everybody in the room cringe. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” Finnick’s voice came out much stronger than before, relief painting his tone. “No one else was hurt, they think you just fell asleep at the wheel coming home from work.”

Her pulse kicked up just slightly at the info, but her typical poker face was in full swing.

“Don’t worry, your job is giving you paid leave until you are totally recovered. You shouldn’t have been working that late, anyway.”

Her eyes flicked over to Peeta as he spoke, her heart monitor seeming to glitch as it registered a missed beat.

“They just don’t want a lawsuit,” Johanna muttered, causing Katniss to laugh, which turned into a major coughing fit.

A nurse poked her head in, pushing some buttons on machines that started to let off incessant beeping, and letting them know visiting hours were over.

They all filed from the room, including the nurse, but Peeta stayed behind. Reaching out to take her hand in his left, he gave it a squeeze, and smiled. “I’ll be back by tomorrow. We’ll go over the assignments coming up.”

Her heart monitor started an intermittent beeping again, a light flashing at the top. “Shhhhhh, it’s okay.” He reached up to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, and the monitor started going crazy, the nurse coming in, lightly scolding him and ushering him from the room. Turning off all the beeping, the only sound was Katniss’ shallow breathing and rapid heart rate.

One last squeeze to her hand, and he was out the door. He faintly heard the nurse say, “Calm down, honey, your boyfriend can come back by tomorrow.”

Then the monitors started going off again.

Xxx

True to his word, the next day Peeta showed up as soon as his last class was over, giving him just a few hours with her, as opposed to every other day when his schedule allowed most of the afternoon, if she’d let him stay.

He smiled at the thought. She did love her time alone. But however long she’d let him stay, he would.

Rounding the corner into her room, he saw Haymitch on the other side of the bed with his hand on her shoulder, grinning down at her, and Katniss sitting more upright than the night before scowling up at him.

Following Haymitch’s glance up, she met Peeta’s eyes, and almost instantly startled away to look at the floor when her heart monitor started beeping like the night before.

Looking at it with knit eyebrows and a slight smirk, he made his way into the room. “So you got defective machines, huh?”

Pushing a button on the rail of the bed to make the head go up slightly, she sat a little further up, muttering, “Something like that….”

Haymitch snickered, quickly coughing to cover it up, moving to the recliner in the corner of the room, observing them over the top of a magazine he grabbed from atop a nearby table.

At some point during the exchange, a nurse must have come in and turned off the alert, though Peeta still noticed the rapid beeping of her pulse.

Holding up the assignments, giving them a little jiggle and raising an eyebrow in question, Peeta set them down on the little rolling table over her on the bed when she gave him a little nod.

Reaching out to touch a few pages absently, she finally muttered in a scratchy voice, “You came back.”

It took a moment before Peeta realized she was talking to him, but he quickly shook his head and said, “I said I would.”

They stared at each other for a moment before the monitor started beeping again, Katniss sighing and reaching out to push a button and silence it. Looking back to Peeta, she held his gaze before darting it all over the room, looking anywhere but him. “They said I could do that.”

Haymitch snorted from behind the magazine, earning daggers of a glare from her.

“Thanks for coming by, Haymitch. You really didn’t need to.” Her tone was sincere in her thanks, but also very clear in her sarcasm.

“Nonsense, sweetheart!” He lowered the magazine to his lap, which made a slapping sound against his thighs. Feet propped up on the footrest of the recliner, legs crossed at the ankles, he just smiled. “I’m your advisor, and I’m here to advise in any way I can.” He glanced at Peeta. “On whoever I can.”

He snickered, blocking the tissue box she threw at him with his arm, before pulling the magazine back up to read.

Chuckling softly, Peeta pulled up a nearby chair to sit next to Katniss. “Luckily, we have all the same classes, except for one, which Finnick will bring by. He gets off before me, so he said he would swing by on his way home.”

Katniss just nodded, staring at the pile of papers on the little table.

The nurse came in with a little cup of pills. “Time for your medicine!” She glanced at Peeta and smiled. “See? I told you your boyfriend could come back!”

Katniss started choking on the water she had used to take the pills, spluttering as Haymitch guffawed in the corner.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she choked out, taking another quick sip as the nurse pushed the button to silence the alert to her elevated pulse yet again, not even sparing it a glance, taking the empty cup when Katniss was done with a smirk.

The nurse looked at Peeta with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup, just friends,” he clarified, and wasn’t really sure if he liked the way that made him feel.

“She just really loves her friends. Close knit. Tight bond,” Haymitch said emphatically to the nurse.

She smiled at him. “I see.”

Xxx

The next day Peeta sat next to Finnick in one of their shared classes, in the back row of the stadium like seating. Finnick leaned back in his chair, hands knit behind his head like he was laying out in the sun lounging on a pool float somewhere.

After a few moments Finnick turned his head just slightly toward Peeta on his right, his eyes still on the ceiling. “So what you’re telling me, is her pulse was elevated the whole time you were there?”

“Yeah,” Peeta said, tossing his hands up a little in exasperation and letting them lightly slap back down on to the desktop. “I was concerned at first, but then,” he smiled, looking down to the desktop for a moment, playing with his pencil, then looking forward again. “Then I realized it was whenever we talked, specifically, not Haymitch or the nurse, and I put it together. She’s just really glad to see her friends, I think. I mean, I don’t blame her, that place is all greys and whites and blah.”

When Finnick didn’t respond, Peeta looked to his left to find Finnick still splayed back, but looking right at him. “Just ‘blah’?” He stared blankly at Peeta. “You think she’s happy - so happy it sets off alarms - that her friends are bringing a dash of color into her world?”

“….Yeah?” Peeta was hesitant to answer, shrugging his shoulders as he responded.

Rolling his eyes, Finnick rolled his head back toward the ceiling with the movement, scoffing and letting out a small chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Okay, ‘friend’.”

“What-” Peeta huffed, looking for the right words, “What are you- What do you even mean, Finnick?”

Finnick shrugged with a smirk, everyone quieting down when the teacher walked in. Looking to his friends one more time, Finnick spoke in a hushed tone as the teacher began the lecture. “You’re a great friend, Peeta.”

They both looked forward toward the lecture happening in front of them, but Peeta wasn’t absorbing anything, his mind going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what Finnick meant.

He had his suspicions, but, no…. Surely not. Finnick was crazy.

Xxx

He had waited until the end of the visit to test Finnick’s theory.

As he went over the notes he had taken, reading them aloud to Katniss while she sat with the bed a little straighter up than the day before, her head back and eyes closed while she listened, he kept looking at her. Wondered what was going on in her head. Silently daring her to open her eyes and meet his.

Shaking his head as Finnick’s voice echoed in his head, he went back to staring at the paper as he read, not even looking up.

The medicine she was on for pain made everything blurry, so he had volunteered to read to her. But as he went on, he found himself unconsciously speaking to the rhythm of her heart monitor, her pulse holding steady for the time being. And he couldn’t help the little grin that came across his face.

“And that’s it,” he said, closing his notebook and looking up to see Katniss blinking her eyes open, letting them readjust to the hospital room’s bright lights.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a little stronger than the day before.

Reaching out like the day she came in here, he gently took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. “Don’t mention it.”

He glanced to the monitor that registered what looked to be a missed beat or two, but her pulse stayed fairly even, going slightly higher, but not enough to set off any alarm bells - on the machine or in his head.

The nurse came by and poked her head in the door, announcing that visiting hours were almost over, then came all the way in to the other side of the bed.

Katniss looked at the needle in her hand with disgust. “I hate this medicine,” she said offhandedly. “It is supposed to help me sleep, but it just gives me nightmares.” Looking at Peeta as the nurse injected the medicine into her IV, her pulse started to quicken.

Absentmindedly packing up his stuff, Peeta looked to the monitor when it finally started beeping and flashing. Swinging his backpack onto his shoulder, he noticed a particularly high spike, setting off new alarms he hadn’t heard before, and he looked to Katniss worriedly.

As the nurse came around the foot of the bed to turn off the machines, fiddling with them after the blaring stopped, Katniss spoke quietly, “Peeta. Stay with me?”

It was a question, not a statement or demand, and he so wanted to give in and ease her mind as she fell asleep, but visiting hours were over.

Katniss looked like she was starting to drift off to sleep, reaching for him blindly with the hand he had held moments before.

The nurse looked between them, smiled and winked at Peeta as she made her way out of the room. “I’ll come check on her in a few hours. You know, she is allowed one person to stay with her.”

Setting his backpack on the ground, Peeta went to the hand still outstretched for him, and held it tight.

“Peeta?” Her voice was small and barely awake.

“Yeah. I’m here. Go back to sleep.” He went to go over to the recliner in the corner, but her hand clutched his with a strength he didn’t think had returned to her yet, keeping him beside her.

“Stay with me.”

This time it wasn’t a question but a statement, a demand, and it made him smile. Glancing to the monitor again, he saw her heart rate settle back down as the chair he had moved over earlier scraped against the floor as he pulled it closer to her bedside, still clutching her hand tightly in his own.

“Always,” he said matter of factly, as if any other answer were wrong.

Resting his chin on his hand, giving hers one last squeeze, he stared at her and smiled softly. He found himself yawning and drifting off to sleep soon, preparing for the nightmares, and dreading the moment he would finally have to let go.

Xxx

Peeta woke to sunlight hitting his eyes, blinking them open only to squint and lift up his left arm to block the rays slipping through the blinds. Looking toward Katniss, he saw her staring at him, already wide awake, and she even smiled a little bit.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice leaps and bounds better than previous days.

“Morning,” Peeta mumbled, sitting up from where his head still rested on his hand, groaning at his stiff back stretching for the first time in hours, and swiping at his face, hoping he hadn’t drooled in his sleep. His hand froze over his eye as he blearily gave it a rub when he heard a giggle.

Eyes snapping to Katniss, he saw her smiling broadly and uninhibited. “You really aren’t a morning person, are you?” she asked.

Yawning, Peeta spoke through the stretch. “You’re really a morning person, aren’t you?”

She threw her head back and laughed the first real laugh he had heard in days. Leaving her head back against the bed she sighed. “No,” she said honestly, and they both chuckled. “No, I’m really not, but that was the first night of sleep I have had since being here, and I guess I needed it, so thank you.”

Reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Peeta let his hand linger, and heard the monitor spike, making him smile. “I can tell. Your hair is crazy.”

She scowled at him but it melted into a chuckle and pink cheeks.

Letting his hand fall slightly, down to her cheeks, he traced the back of his finger over her blush. “You’re getting your color back. That’s good.”

She reached up to grab his wrist gently, groaning what sounded an embarrassed reply.

“Hang on,” he mumbled, and she lightly held on to his wrist as he moved down to trace her lips with his thumb.

Her breath hitched and the monitor beeped faster again.

Grinning impishly, he swiped his thumb on the side of her mouth as if wiping something off, and said softly, “You drool.”

She shoved his hand away, once again trying to scowl but ended up snickering along with him as he jokingly wiped his hand on his jeans, making a ridiculous face before chuckling himself.

Xxx

Since it was a Saturday, Peeta took his time, lingering at her bedside, and lounging in the chair he had slept in, despite Katniss telling him repeatedly to go sit in the recliner in the corner, so he would be more comfortable.

Instead of comfort, he took the chance to sit by her and steal a glance every now and then, since he no longer got to do it in class. He always felt a sense of calm when looking at her, much like last night, when Katniss’ heart rate had calmed down when he agreed to stay. Something just felt right.

They brought her a breakfast tray, if it could even be called that. Peeta stared at the tray just like it that sat in his lap, thanking the nurse who had given it to him with a wink and a smirk, and trying to decide what exactly was on the tray that they were trying to pass off as “food”.

Standing up after the nurse left, he walked his tray over to the nearby counter, turning to see Katniss glaring at him.

“If I have to eat this, you have to eat this,” she hissed, gesturing to the food then him with her fork.

Peeta gulped. “How about we share?”

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him briefly, before mumbling a “fine”, looking back to the food and picking at the imposter waffles.

The TV was playing softly in the background, the only other noise aside from Katniss’ incessant fidgeting.

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked after what felt like the millionth time, and tried to swallow the “waffles” that didn’t seem to want to be eaten as much as he didn’t want to eat them.

Katniss grimaced. “Yeah, it’s just,” she fidgeted again. “This is the most uncomfortable bed, and I can’t find a way to help it anymore. They changed my medication to something a little less potent, so now I’m feeling all the aches and pains and itches and everything glorious.”

Peeta chuckled. “Well, how about we get up and walk around the hallways a little bit, and after that I can give you a little massage?” He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at her wide eyes. He didn’t need a machine to know her pulse was elevated, her cheeks gave that away as they tinged pink. Ever since Finnick had made his “observation” the day before, he’d found himself being much bolder than he had ever been before. “I mean, it can’t be too much different than kneading bread….”

Katniss simultaneously choked and chuckled at the same time. “The medicine I’m due for in a few minutes makes me really dizzy, and I’d have to use the walker, and-”

“And I’ll help you,” Peeta interrupted, earning him a scowl. “I’ll walk right beside you in case you need help, and catch you if you start to fall.”

“And if I can’t walk the whole time you’ll go find me a wheelchair at the nurses station, right?” Katniss rolled her eyes with a little scoff, but her cheeks still bloomed in a bright blush.

“No, I’ll just carry you if it comes to that.”

“Oh.” Was all Katniss could muster, a short decisive nod in confirmation as she sat the bed up all the way, lowering her propped up feet and pushing away the tray of “food”. “Could I- I mean, Can you-” she stuttered out, timidly reaching her hand out in a request for help up.

Peeta scrambled to his feet, immediately offering his hand to help her sit totally upright, easing her legs over the side of the bed and lowered the rail on the side to help her even more.

She turned toward the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the edge in the yellow socks with grippy bottoms they kept replacing every day, and flitted her eyes over to the walker in the corner, Peeta following her gaze and immediately reaching over with his long reach to grab it, placing it in front of her.

“Can I have my robe, please?” she asked in a small voice, pointing to where it hung on the bathroom door. “These hospital gowns are drafty in all the wrong places.” She pulled a hand down her face, sighing at the words that kept coming out of her mouth. “Sorry, too much information.”

Peeta smiled as he handed her the robe. “No, I get it. I’ve been in here once or twice, remember?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, I remember.”

As Peeta helped her into the robe, he also smiled sadly. Staring at the floor, memories he’d rather forget started flashing through his mind. He must have spaced out, or maybe he clutched her shoulders just a little too tightly, but the next thing he really registered was Katniss holding his face in her hands, searching his face frantically.

“Stay with me,” she echoed her words from last night, once again not a question, but a matter of fact.

Locking his eyes on hers, he found the fog clearing. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, letting his gaze dart around the room. “Thanks,” he finally muttered, smiling sadly one last time before he cleared his throat and smiled a bit more genuinely. “Now quit procrastinating.”

Xxx

They made it a few laps around the floor before Katniss was too tired to make one more round. When they passed back by her room, they went in and saw that the food trays had been removed, thankfully, and the bed linens changed. At the foot of the bed sat a new hospital gown, bright yellow and folded neatly, on top of it a matching set of those same yellow socks.

“Feel up to changing?” Peeta asked her as he helped slip off her robe, carrying it back to the hook on the bathroom door.

“I guess,” Katniss sighed, her breathing labored. “Makes the most sense to do it before getting back in bed.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” he said, holding the bathroom door open as she shuffled by, the gown and socks clutched tightly to her chest with one hand, the other holding the back of the hospital gown together as best she could.

Closing the door all but a sliver, Peeta stood right outside in case she needed help, absently staring at the TV. His mind was far away, though, thinking about all the times he had been the one in here, and she had visited and helped him. He didn’t dwell on the reason he was there, but the fact she had come to help.

“Peeta?” Her small voice echoing around the small bathroom caught his attention.

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat.

“I need some help tying this gown.”

Now it was his turn to have his cheeks go pink. Nothing is more awkward than a hospital gown. The door slowly swung open, and her back was revealed to him, her hands clutching the back tightly around her hips, but her back was on full display, making him swallow thickly.

It was moments like these that he found himself getting lost in an emotion he only ever felt around her, but he never fully understood. If he had to describe it, it was how he pictured love feeling.

Slowly walking into the little room, he stepped up behind her, closer than needed, and noticed she was shaking as he reached for the little ties.

“Are you cold?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered out, looking at the floor.

Slowly tying a double knotted bow so it wouldn’t slip open on accident, Peeta accidentally brushed his fingertips on the soft exposed skin of her back, and she instantly stilled. “Is that too tight?” he asked softly.

“N-no. But can you tie the top one a little looser? I think when I sit down it might be just a little too tight.”

He nodded, reaching up to tie the top strings in just one bow in case she wanted to adjust it, and his skin brushed her clavicle, making her shiver once again.

Leaning in toward her ear, he spoke in a low voice, “Can you please hold your hair up? I don’t want to get it caught in the strings.”

The shivering turned into a violent shudder before she nodded, lifting her hair up with her free hand not clutching the lower part of the gown closed, and took deep, steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” she breathed, letting go of her hair as he set his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back flush with his front gently, and placing his chin gently on one shoulder, his cheek right by her ear.

“Don’t mention it,” he said in a quiet tone much like her own. With their bodies so close, he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his own, and they both were above average.

“I’ll let you take care of the lower ties.” He took a few steps back before turning to go back to the room. Her voice so close behind him startled him.

“I think I will leave those open. I’ll be under the covers anyway, and it makes it a little easier to move and sit in that bed. But I could use your help switching out these socks…. If you don’t mind.” She smiled timidly. “Bending over is still really hard.”

Nodding, he gestured her to the bed and helped her sit on the edge. Pulling off the old pair and putting on the new, he heard her hooking the various little monitors back up as she settled back in. Looking up he saw her plug the pulse monitor back in and immediately the machine started blaring like it had before. Looking up at her with wide eyes, they both glanced at the monitor as the nurse came in and turned it off.

“Why does that keep happening?” Peeta questioned her. “Isn’t that something bad?”

The nurse smiled kindly at him. “That? Oh, that’s just tachycardia. Elevated heart rate. The machine has certain parameters set for ‘normal’ and sometimes exertion or excitement can make your pulse shoot up to what the parameters deem ‘too high’. It’s completely safe.”

She leaned into Peeta. “But between you and me, I think it’s just you in general that keeps making hers go off. You have some effect on her, no one else who visits has it going off this much. Someone named Finnick had it going, but she was laughing really hard. Haymitch seems to put her in a bad mood - or annoyed - and that sets it off sometimes. But you, you make it go off the most. I’d be very unhappy about that if she wasn’t looking so much better having you here.” The machine went off again, and the nurse glanced at a mortified looking Katniss before smiling knowingly at Peeta. “Just push this button if it happens again.” Reaching out she silenced the machine once again, winking at Katniss, before promptly leaving the room.

Katniss and Peeta just stared at one another for a long moment before he clapped his hands together and said, “Now how about that massage?”

He reached out and shut off the machine before it let out too many alerts.

Xxx

If he had thought it through, tying the gown before the massage wasn’t the brightest idea, but he was so glad he had because it was one more excuse to be so close to her. He was surprised she wasn’t swatting him away with how ticklish she tended to be.

The head of the bed was lowered enough for him to squeeze in behind her, and they finally settled on her sitting between his legs as she hugged a pillow to her front as she slightly bent forward, and laid her head on a pillow on the little rolling table they had locked to sit in front of her. Her head was turned to her right so he could see her profile, and her typical braid going over her shoulder had been done so he could have easier access to her shoulders and neck.

He wanted to take a moment to just admire her, but he understood the horribleness of a hospital bed, and went to working on her shoulders immediately. Working from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the top of her neck, he tried to be gentle not entirely sure what might still hurt from the accident, but dug in to the knots he found, earning appreciative groans from her.

He worked down to her lower back, right above her hips was as much as he could get to, and he made a mental note to ask the nurse for a heating pad next time she came in. Even his baker trained hands couldn’t work that tension out without some help.

“Is the pressure okay?” He kept asking, to which she answered a groggy sounding yes every time. Finally instead of an answer he got a snore in response. Glancing to her face he saw her peacefully asleep, not even a flinch as he found yet another knot near her shoulder blade. He worked on it gently for a few minutes, not seeing her flinch once, but finally decided that was enough for now.

Someone cleared their throat to his left, and he snapped his head to see Finnick leaning in the doorway, ankles crossed, arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk across his face that was absolutely beaming.

“Friends,” he said quietly, but with emphasis, snickering, before hanging his head and gently shaking it.

Double knotting the one tie and loosely tying the top one again, Peeta slowly eased out of the bed, taking the pillow Katniss was hugging and adding it to the one that had been behind his back, slowly lowering her back until she was laying on the slight incline of the bed, her snoring not wavering once. He took the pillow her head had been on on the tray and gave it to her to hug like the other one, and she clutched it tight, snuggling into the blankets he pulled back up over her.

Walking past Finnick, Peeta gave him a dirty look before continuing out into the hall, pulling him along by the elbow when Finnick didn’t follow, closing the door all but a crack so he would hear if she woke up or the machines went off.

Finnick was just smirking.

“Why did you have to say anything the other day?” Peeta hissed. “Everything was fine until then, and now I can’t think about anything else.”

“Could you before? Really?” Finnick prodded. “I mean, sure, you didn’t sit an analyze her heart rate, but can you honestly tell me you didn’t think about her, look at her and get that feeling you can’t really describe but understand, and just know this person is supposed to be in your life?” It was quiet for a minute before Finnick spoke in a softer voice. “I get it, man.” He put a hand on Peeta’s shoulder, despite Peeta’s arms still being firmly crossed. “It’s the same feeling I get-”

“Let me guess, it’s the same feeling you get when you see me?” Peeta’s sarcasm was off the charts.

Finnick threw his head back and laughed. “Well, yeah, but in a different way. No, man, it’s how I feel when I see Annie.” Peeta’s face softened at the mention of Finnick’s fiancé. “And no matter how long we have been together, that feeling doesn’t change. It gets more comfortable, yeah, but it’s the same feeling, same emotion.” He smiled a goofy smile and looked off in the distance over Peeta’s shoulder. “It’s like…. You look at them and….” He met Peeta’s gaze again, “you know you’re home.”

Peeta had to glance over his shoulder to see if Annie was actually there, because the way Finnick had stared down that hallway, Peeta was almost certain she had to be there.

Letting his arms drop as he sighed, his shoulders hunching, Peeta rested his forehead on Finnick’s chest and groaned softly.

Snickering, Finnick pushed him to arms length, hands on his shoulders, and gently shook him until he met his eyes again. “You’re here. You’re safe. This is real.” He sighed. “It’s a really messed up situation, but it’s where you are.” He grinned impishly. “Now go get her and tell her you love her, you idiot, before I do.”

Gently shoving Peeta back toward the room, all thought of flipping Finnick the bird faded from his mind when he heard Katniss sleeping fitfully, moaning softly in what sounded like pain or distress, and her monitor registering a higher and higher pulse rate.

The nurses words about what causes the elevation came back to him, and Peeta was in the room and beside her faster than Finnick could say “go”.

The door shut softly behind him, but it was enough to make Katniss sit upright in bed, wide eyed, immediately grimacing and groaning as she grabbed her midsection.

Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately flinched, but looking up and seeing his face, relief washed over her features, and her pulse began to calm down. “You’re okay,” he reassured softly.

“Thank you,” she all but whispered. “I am now that you’re here.”

They looked at one another and shared a soft smile, their eye contact never wavering.

“Scoot over,” Peeta said simply, jutting his chin forward as if to motion to her which way to go.

“What? Why?” Katniss asked, but did as he asked.

Slipping his shoes off, Peeta took the pillow she had been hugging away form her, ignoring her lighthearted protests, and stuck it a bit further up than her pillows, and climbed in the bed in the spot she had made for him. Pulling the sheets up over them, he laid his head on the pillow slightly further up, and gently pulled her so that she was resting on his chest, hugging him like she had clutched the pillow.

“You slept better leaning forward when I was giving you the massage, I figured this might help-”

They heard a snort from the doorway and both looked to see Finnick in the exact position he had been in only minutes earlier. “You two idiots are going to be the death of me,” he muttered softly with a smirk, hanging his head once again with a gentle shake.

Looking back to one another, Peeta began again after a moment of silence, “Really, it was just an instinct, I’m sorry if I- I can get out of you want-”

He was cut off by Katniss firmly planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away just enough to speak, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always,” Peeta responded without even thinking.

They both smiled when they heard Finnick whoop and say something about “finally” from down the hall before the door clicked shut.

Searching each other’s face, eyes flitting this way and that, from lips to eyes to nose to lashes, the space between them slowly began to close again, until it finally disappeared and was lost in a kiss, then another, and some more.

In longing touches, laughter, and whispered discussions.

Stolen glances and hidden smiles.

The distance between them stayed small, much like the distance between each heart beat, until finally the nurses cleared her to no longer need the monitor. Probably more for their own sanity than anything else.

When she finally got dressed in normal clothes and was discharged, she came out of the bathroom after braiding her hair, and smiled as Peeta waited for her by the door, his own broad smile across his face, one hand outstretched for her. When they were within touching distance, he firmly gripped her hand with his, reaching out to touch the tip of her braid with the other, fiddling with it absentmindedly, a goofy grin on his face.

Walking the few feet to the waiting wheelchair the hospital insisted she leave in, Peeta let go of her hand, but stayed as close as he could. After she finally was in the passenger seat of his car, he once again took her hand across the console, threaded their fingers together, and they both smiled.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Looking at him now, she understood her feelings of only a few days ago, walking through the quad with stolen glances.

“Ready,” she said.

Shifting the car into gear, Peeta gave her one more dazzling grin, and one last squeeze of her hand, before he turned to look at the road, and they rode in comfortable silence, and that wonderful feeling, of knowing that that special someone loves you back.

After a few minutes, Peeta finally piped up, “Just so you know, that truce I called in the quad the other day? That only extends a few more days.”

Katniss turned a glare on him and he snickered.

#everybirdfellsilent #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 153 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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toms-littlegirl · 4 years

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hey! can i get an angsty tom holland one? where they are both famous actors and they got in a fight before a red carpet event and they have to act like they are fine until one can't stand it anymore and decides to leave? ends with a fluff 😊 thank you! ❤️

A/n: I wrote this whole thing in one go, didn't proofread it and it turned out pretty long. I hope you enjoy it, and my heart actually ached while writing it

Warning: Angst, anxiety and panic attacks, angry Harrison and Harry, fluff

Requests are still open

Red carpet

[[ MORE ]]

"I can't believe you! As if I would cheat on you", you yell as you and you boyfriend, of three years, left his hotel room. The argument has started really small, but carried on for about a week and now, on the day of the Far From Home premiere, it reached it's boiling point.

You met Tom through Harrison, because you have been Harrisons neighbour since you could think, causing you two to be best friends. Eventually you both got into Brit School, were you met Tom and Tuwaine and formed a friendship.

And for the longest of time, Tom hadn't had a problem with jealousy or anything, why should he, his best friend and girlfriend were best friends. There's nothing better than that.

But over the course of the last weeks, Tom grew jealous of your and Harrison.

It started with the fact, that Tom had to do more reshoots than you, leaving him at set for the most days. Now you and Harrison on the other side had plenty of spare time to fill, because you couldn't leave the city or go home, in case you were needed on set. But you guys didn't really plan on leaving anyway, you had missed spending time together, sure you lived together and Harrison was Tom's assistant, but he was also very busy besides that. Harrison worked for Tom, meaning he was always near him. You played the part of Tony Starks daughter and therefore didn't have as much screen time or shared scenes with Tom, as you had in the other MCU movies, leaving you mostly alone on set, friendwise.

So when you saw the opportunity to spend time with your childhood best friend, you took it, and so did Harrison. You guys went out for lunch together, went on walks with Tessa and started watching that new Netflix series. "Soon we're gonna watch you on Netflix", you teased and nudged him. His ears turned a bit red and he waved it of, but you knew he felt proud of himself, as did you and Tom. Harrison was the last to finally get his deserved role on screen and you were more than happy to celebrate.

While you and Harrison enjoyed your time catching up, Tom grew frustrated. He would come home late and find you and Harrison on the couch, looking a movie or playing some board game, you would always call him to join you, but he never wanted, he felt like he intruded. Then, on some days he would finish reshooting way earlier than expected, he would call one of you and ask if you wanted to go out for dinner, but almost every time he got shot down. "I'm sorry, Tommy. If we had known you would finish earlier. we would have waited for you, but we just got home from eating out", you apologised and promised to prepare something for him to eat when he got home. Other times he would call Harrison and ask if he wanted to hang out on set, because he had a break, before staring to shoot again. "Sorry mate, I'm on the other side of town with y/n. We're at this vintage flea market and would probably need an hour to get to you, especially because I keep losing her in the crowd", Harrison explained and Tom waved it off. But internally he was starting to doubt himself, what if you liked Harrison more than him and always dumped him on purpose? He chided himself, no he could hear the background noises in Harrisons call, you guys were really somewhere busy, but a part of him always nagged at his thoughts, 'maybe they both are gonna leave you'. His tired and overworked brain, made him come to assumptions he would usually never come to.

So when the day of the premiere rolled around, he was already on edge, tired and secretly insecure. You on the other hand were excited, Tom spent a lot of time working on this film and was usually so tired he would fall straight into bed, as soon as he got home. But now, that everything was wrapped up, he could maybe have a little more time for himself and relax.

"Zip me up please, Love?" you ask Tom and turn, slowly Tom walked up to you, he muttered something under his breath that you didn't catch. When he was done, you turned around and smoothed his suit over. "What did you say? I didn't catch it."

You could see Tom fighting with himself, thinking over what he should say, "Are you alright, Tom?", you asked, as he didn't answer. He breathed out, "I asked, if I really should be the person doing that." You laughed a bit confused, "Doing what? Zipping me up? Who should do if not you? Harrison?", you laughed, not being serious, why would Tom even question that. But when Tom didn't laugh with you, you stopped and furrowed your brows.

"Maybe he should! Spent all your time with him anyways", he spat and turned around. Where did that come from? You walked up to him, still a bit amused, that Tom is actually jealous of his best friend, but you didn't show it. "Are you jealous Tom? Why would you be jealous, Harrison's my best friend", you said calmly, but he spun around, anger clear in his eyes, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be jealous, if my girlfriend would actually spent her time with me! If you wanted to date him, you shouldn't even have started dating me!", he seethed and opened the door for you, you guys were always late, for everything and your argument didn't help this time.

That's where you were now, on your way to the car waiting for you.

"I can't believe you! As if I would cheat on you", you tell, but as soon as the elevator door opened and the paparazzi waited for you, every evidence of an argument was gone. Tom held your waist and shielded you from the masses of paparazzi swarming you. You both smiled politely, laughed and paused quickly for pictures, before getting in the car. But as soon as the car door closed, the mood shifted so much, that the driver rolled up the window between you guys and him and that was all Tom needed to continue the argument.

"Well it's not as if you haven't given me a reason to think otherwise! What were you only with me to get your big break or something?" You were speechless and deeply hurt. You truly didn't know where he was coming from, from your point of view, Tom was just unlucky with his timing.

You and Harrison had called him every other day, asking if he wanted to go grab lunch with you, but he was busy, which you understood, it was his movie. So the one day you didn't call, was when he was done earlier, but you and Harrison had already been out eating lunch. And when you guys were at the flea market it was just bad luck, you had been begging Harrison for ages to go there with you, you both loved fashion, and you used to go to flea markets with Harrison when you were younger, so it was some sort of tradition you guys had, and it was easier to go out with Haz in such a crowded place than with Tom, but when Tom called, you both felt pretty guilty. He now had to spent his break alone, but there wasn't really anything you could do. When he got home this evening, you wanted to show Tom what you bought, you even managed to pick some pretty cool things for Tom as well. Like some vintage Spiderman shirt or a new leather jacket, but he just told you he was to tired to look at it, promising to do so in the morning. But when you woke up the next morning, he already left, claiming he needed to be on set earlier.

"Excuse me!?", you cried out, even though you tried to avoid it, tears started to form in your eyes but you couldn't let them fall or the whole world would see you were crying and you didn't need this sort of rumours, when you didn't even know what was happening. "I would never cheat on you! Especially not with Harrison, he's like my brother.", you argued, blinking rapidly, Tom only scoffed, "You're not even defending that you only use me for fame!"

"I'm not using you for fame. I'm with you, because I love you, you twat. And just so you know, I was casted as Tony Starks daughter, when Spiderman wasn't even in the picture yet."

The car stopped and just before the door opened Tom said, voices laced with venom, "Go cry to your new boyfriend about it."

Your breathed hitched and you felt a lump forming in your throat, but you couldn't answer, because the door was opened for you and you were greeted with flash lights and shouts of your name.

You quickly put on the best smile you could muster and waved to the fans and the press. Toms arm wrapped around your waist felt wrong and you wanted to recoil from the touch.

You didn't hear anything, but your own blood rushing through your ears, and your breath got erratic. You didn't wanna be here, you wanted to leave and hide under your blanket. You wanted Tom to hold you, but at the same time you didn't, his touch right now didn't feel comforting like it usually did on a red carpet, to help you ease your anxiety. You felt his touch like an ice cold burn and your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so bright. Every time you laughed for the camera, you made sure to squeeze your eyes a bit, to make it look more genuine, but doing so only caused the risk to let a tear fall to go higher.

You finally reached the part of the carpet, where Harrison and Tom's family stood, your own family couldn't make it. As soon as Tom saw his parents he let go of you and walked over to them, but your sight just got worse, tears clouding your vision. Harry looked to you a frowned, he could probably see that something was wrong, because the two of you spent a lot of time together, when both Harrison and Tom were busy, he often took you out for shooting sessions and your Instagram feed has been blessed due to his pictures, but he had also witnessed one of your anxiety attacks first hand, when the two of you were out once. He nudged Harrison, who immediately saw that something was wrong, he rushed over. The smile on your face was slowly crumbling, but you couldn't break down crying here, for the whole world to see. You only saw Harrison when he was close enough to you. You wanted nothing more but to hug him, but that wasn't something you could do, the press would love it and that would make Tom even madder and as soon as he would touch you, all your walls would come falling down. Harrison reached out to you but you shook your head, you couldn't speak, as soon as you would open your mouth a sob would leave it.

It was getting harder to breath in your dress, it was dark red to match Tom's suit and now it felt like it was suffocating you. Harrison saw that you were having a panic attack, "should I go get Tom?", he asked, but stopped in his tracks as you shook your head and looked everywhere but to him. Harrison understood, that something must have happened between you and that you couldn't hold your mask for that long. He nodded to Harry and Tuwaine, and they both moved, so they would shield you from the press, but made it look like they stood there by accident.

Harrison looked at you worriedly, you still felt like you couldn't breathe. "Listen y/n/n. I know you wanna leave, but you can't just yet. I don't know what happend, but you can't show it right now. But breathe with me okay, then we see how we continue", Harrison said softly. You knew he spoke the truth, you couldn't leave. He helped you calm your breathing till it was easier to breath, still everything in felt wrong and you could feel Tom's glare on you, and that was almost enough for you to break down. "Listen, Tuwaine and Harry are gonna move now, smile and then you can walk down the carpent alone, down to the building. Yeah?", Harrison asked and you breathed in a deep breath, "you gonna walk with me?", you asked, your throat dry. Assistants or manager could walk behind an actor, with some space between them for the pictures and guide them down the red carpet.

Harrison shook his head, "Sorry, gonna have to walk with Tom." You nodded, it made sense, Harrison was Tom's assistant.

"I'll go with you", piped Harry up and you smiled thankfully. "Gonna glare at all those reporters, so no ones gonna want to talk to you", he joked and a giggle slipped past your lips. You didn't catch the thankful nod Harrison gave Harry. He nodded and started to guide you down the carpet. And he actually spoke the truth, you had to speak to only a handful of reporters and that not for too long.

You soon reached the cinema, where you all would watch the premiere and you dreaded thinking about sitting the whole movie next to Tom. Your breathing started to quicken up again, you now thought about what he said to you in the car. 'Go cry to your new boyfriend about it.' Does that mean you guys just broke up? Did he throw three years of loving you away, because he was jealous. Your vision blurred again and you had trouble catching your breath, "Harry", you whimpered out. He understood immediately, looking out to the carpet, Harrison and Tom just started walking down the second part, you were one of the first inside. Harry pulled you around a corner where no one would walk past. You had no a full blown panic attack, trying to breath, but not catching your breath. "I'm gonna open your dress a bit, okay, so you can breath easier.", Harry asked and you nodded. Harry threw his jacket over your shoulders, still standing in front of you and opened your dress. The jacket helping to prevent someone seeing you with your dress open. As soon as the dress was open you could breath better, but tears were now running down your face.

Harry wanted to start calming you, just like you explained him to do, he asked you about it after witnessing your panic attack and didn't know what to do. But you cut him off before he could even start.

"I think he broke up with me", saying it only made it worse and more real, but you repeated it again, more for yourself, but Harry still heard you. Seeing someone he looked at like a big sister cry made Harry's chest ache.

"No, I'm sure it's something you can talk about again.", Harry tried to assure you, but he wasn't sure himself, he didn't even know what happened.

"Do you want me, to drive you home, after the movie?", he asked softly and you nodded, knowing Harrison probably couldn't leave Tom's side for the day.

Soon the first persons started to enter the cinema and Harry zipped up your dress again, "Oh no, I probably look like mess", you said, you didn't want the press or Tom see you like that. Harry looked around and saw the person he was looking for.

"Hey Vanessa, come over", he said once said girl was in hearing distance. She was your make up artist for red carpets and would usually only powder your nose, so you wouldn't shine on the pictures, but as soon as she was you, she knew you needed a bit more. But with no questions asked she began to save your make up.

She was done at the same time Tom and Harrison and the rest of the family entered. You thanked her and she smiled, before walking away. Harry had already taken his jacket and before you started to walk towards the rest, you pulled on Harry's sleeve, "Do Harrison and I act like a couple?", you asked quietly, afraid he would confirm Tom's thoughts. But Harry just frowned confused. "No? You act like me and Sam do. I can't even imagine you two as a couple. Why would you- oh." He understood why you were asking, he understood where all this trouble came from. "He's wrong, you know. And he knows it too."

You couldn't concentrate on the movie, only on the boy next to. Tom didn't speak to you while you waited in the cinema and he didn't spoke as soon as you sat down next to each other. He didn't touch you either and you didn't know if you were glad or hurt.

Tom could see Harrison and Harry talking before the movie started, but he didn't hear them. He saw that you were hurting, most likely had a panic attack the whole carpet, but he didn't find it in him, to help you. In his mind he was the one who deserved to hurt. But he felt guilty, knowing public events weren't your strong suit, he had noticed, that Harry and you disappeared on the carpet.

"He took her inside", Harrison remarked as he saw Tom looking through the crowd. Tom didn't answer, "Are you going to tell me what all that is about? Why you left her alone on the carpet?" Tom rolled his eyes and smiled for the camera. "Shouldn't be my concern. She's your girlfriend." Harrison would have laughed, if he didn't know that Tom was being serious. They started to walk down the carpet. "Are you fucking kidding me? Don't tell me you're being serious. She's my little sister."

Tom just internally rolled his eyes, as he couldn't do it for real, while all the cameras followed him.

In the cinema he didn't even look at you. Deep down he knew, as soon as he would, he would cave and he couldn't have that. The further along the movie went, the more Tom realized, that maybe, he could be wrong. He spared one glance at you and saw how furrowed your brows were, as if you were forcing yourself to look at the movie. As he looked down to your hands, he saw they were curled into fists so hard, that they turned white. He knew this was something you did to force yourself into calmness. He also knew, that would leave marks on your palm, which why he normally would take your hands and kiss them if he saw you doing that. But not now, he willed himself to stay angry, though his reasoning for that became less and less serious. He thought, that he could talk to her at the after show party and he also knew he had to apologise to Harrison.

After the movie there was a lot of chaos, people came and left. A lot of people wanted to talk to Tom, his cast mates came up to him and he lost sight of who he was looking for. He thought he would see you in the car, since you arrived together, you should leave together to get to the after show party. But Tom drove alone, he thought you would probably go and drive with Harrison and his mood soured, of course you would.

He arrived at the party and saw Harrison talk to Sam and he went over to them. The mood shifted and everyone in their circle noticed. "Where's y/n?", Tom asked as calmly as he could, but his jealousy seeped through. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brothers voice, "What? You didn't know?"

"Know what?", Tom snapped, "About her and Harrison? Yeah I know!" Sam rolled his eyes and Harrison clenched his jaw before speaking, "You're such a dick sometimes, you know that?" Tom raised his hands in mock surrender, "Oh I'm sorry, was that supposed to stay a secret? What you wanna tell me she's not here, getting you a drink?", Tom asked.

"She's not here you twat", said a voice behind him, Harry came, still adjusting his bracelet he got at the front door, "She's in your hotel room, crying her eyes out, because she thinks you hate her and broke up with her." Harry spoke calmly, though it was clear that he was both angry and worried. The other boys also looked worried as Harry spoke.

Tom looked like he wanted to wanted to go, comfort you, but he swallowed it down and looked to Harrison, "What? You don't wanna go comfort her? You spent all your time together anyways." "Yeah! Because you were working and I missed my childhood best friend and it's not like we didn't want you. Every time we asked you waved us off. Y/n got so worried about you over working yourself, that she booked a vacation for you two in a few weeks. Are you even listening to yourself, she's your girlfriend, she loves you."

Tom shook his head, not wanting it to be true, because of it was true, he would have fucked up big time.

"She fucking broke down crying in the cinema, because she thinks you broke up with her, and then she asks me, if her and Harrison look like a couple.", Harry raged, "They look like best friends since kindergarden if you ask me", Sam and Harrison nodded, "Tom, you want to marry that girl and now you get so worked up over something stupid you made up in your mind." "Do you really think, I would steel your girl. Low Tom, really fucking low.", Harrison said and the hurt in his voice was clear. If Harrison already felt like this, how were you feeling? Tom's mind started to swirl, he crouched down, head in his hands.

"Oh, I fucked up, I fucked up" the boys looked at him, "Tom, get up." But Tom didn't move, he repeated the same words over, till Harrison pulled him up by the shoulders, "people are looking, get a grip. Yeah you fucked up, ho make it right.", snapped Harrison. Tom looked at his best friend, "Haz, fuck I'm so sorry. I don't, I..I don't know what I was thinking. Fuck I'm sorry. I'm so stupid", Tom cried out, desperate to get his friends forgiveness. But Harrison just looked at Tom, "Yeah welcome back to the land of the thinking, you were missing for the last few days. Apologise to y/n and then we see where we stand."

When you arrived at your and Tom's shared room you broke down crying

Forgetting Harry was still with you, you immediately unzipped your dress and let it fall to your feet, before walking over to your bedside. Harry looked away respectfully, the art on the wall suddenly very interesting. You pulled on the shirt you always slept with and sunk to the floor, hyperventilating. You had realised that you were wearing Tom's shirt and that made your heart ache, thinking to yourself that maybe that's the closest you will ever get to him again.

Harry rushed to your side and held your face between his hands. "He hates me", you choked out, feeling like there was a hand squeezing your heart. You wanted to scream, but couldn't even get a good breath. Your fingers wrapped around Harry's wrists. Needing the feeling of someone holding you.

"No, darling. He loves you, he's being stupid. Harry held you for a good fifteen minutes, always calming you down again, "He said he wanted to marry me. Now he wants nothing to do with me", you said with a broken voice as another sob left your lips. Harry comforted you, his frustration for his brother grew stronger. "You guys will get married, don't worry. He's just an idiot", Harry promised you, and made it his inner mission to help Tom see his mistake. "You should go to the party", you mumbled after some time. Harry was reluctant to leave you, but eventually caved.

Leaving you alone, you managed to get on the bed, but crawled over to Tom side. The pillow smelled like him as did the blanket, so it felt like a warm hug. You sobbed again, you wanted Tom, not just his pillow.

You fell asleep eventually, you don't know how long you slept, but you woke up with a hand slowly combing through your hair. It was still styled for the carpet and you still had your make up on. When you opened your eyes you saw Tom kneeling beside you. You quickly sat up, trying to move back to your side, trying to mumble a quick apology, never meeting his eyes. His hands gripped your forearm.

"No you don't have to move. Just listen", he pleaded. You saw the hurt in his eyes and you wanted to console him. You didn't say anything and Tom took that as a sign to continue.

"I'm such a dick, y/n. I never meant any of those things I said. I was stressed and grew insecure and stupid. I was so jealous, because I didn't get to spent time with you that I thought you didn't want to spent time with me. And then I thought, you and Harrison could be together, because at least he has time for you. I'm so so sorry. y/n. Darling please look at me", he begged for his forgiveness, tears stung in his eyes, and your cheeks were already wet from crying so much.

"Tom, you hurt me", you whimpered and Tom's head snapped to look at you, "I thought you hate me and want nothing to do with me. I love, I never, never would cheat on you", you sobbed and wrapped you in a hug, causing you to sob harder.

"I'll never hurt you like that again. I know I hurt you and I fucking hate myself for it", Tom's voice cracked and tears poured down his cheeks. "I love you so much. I'll never let you go never. I promise."

You nodded and finally felt his lips against yours again.

That night you slept clinging to each other, Tom still in his suit, only took off his shoes and you still with your make up and hair done. But at least you were together again.

And Tom vowed himself, when he woke up the next morning and softly started to remove the make up from your sleeping form, that he would never ever hurt you like that again.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland angst #bestfriend!harrison #Harrison osterfield #harry Holland #angst #fluff #x reader #requested #lu answers questions

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thesweetestkimberry · 3 years

Text

it’s you

pairings: hanta sero x reader

summary: a panic attack is never a fun thing, but luckily, you have your boyfriend to help you through it.

warnings: READER HAVING A PANIC ATTACK, cursing, OOC characters, also contains a dash of latin sero

notes: this was inspired after i had a panic attack of my own, unfortunately i did not have a sero to pull me out of it, so here’s this piece to hopefully help those of you who need someone, even if they are fictional. also in some places i wrote it a bit more personal than most, i hope you all don’t mind

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

numb

that’s all you felt

body no longer felt like your own and your breathing uneven

you cried

we’re you crying? you couldn’t feel the tears running down your cheeks. you tried to move but you felt as though you were trapped inside your own head, the attempt to claw your way out seeming impossible.

you didn’t notice your phone constantly lighting up with notifications and missed calls, your chest tightening, further disrupting your ability to breathe properly.

you wanted to scream, but no sound came out, you wanted to cry out and call for help, but the voice in your head told you no.

you felt like you were suffocating.

then you heard heavy footsteps, shouting, rapid knocking, and eventually the muffled sounds of someone approaching you could be heard.

“(y/n)?...”

sero was in the common room with some other classmates, some hanging out, other eating or studying. he and kaminari were playing a game on their phones when momo and iida shared the idea of ordering pizza.

“aw yeah, pizza!” his friend cheered, bakugou threatening him to keep the voice down. sero looked up when iida walked up to him, hand chopping the air as usual,

“sero! please inform (y/n) that we’ll be ordering pizza, you should ask her what kind she’d prefer as well.” the red eyed boy said, brows furrowed behind his lenses as your boyfriend shot him some thumbs up, “you got it boss.”

“speaking of (y/n), where is she?” mina asked from her spot in the couch, upside down as she scrolled through her phone,

“she’s in her room, said she had some work to do.” he says looking down at his phone, hitting your contact and smiling at the name,

[✨ Mi Amor ✨]

he quickly shot you a text asking you what you’d like on your pizza, setting it down for a moment and looking back at your friend who’s brows were furrowed, “(y/n) never does work.” she says as bakugou arches a brow, “you could stand to be a little nicer.” he says as she chuckles, “shut up you know it’s true.” she finished with a sigh.

“if she says she’s doing work, that usually means she doesn’t want to be disturbed because she’s feeling out of it.” mina explains, sero looking up at her in question, “she doesn’t do it often, but lately she’s been pretty down.”

kaminari also looks at your friend, “how come just yesterday she was looking like she was having the time of her life?” he asks genuinely confused, “you dumbass spark plug, just because someone looks happy doesn’t mean they are.” bakugou shouts at him, remembering all you’d vented to him.

“she always says she feels like a bother, although she never is. she doesn’t want anyone to “waste their time on her”.” she says, accentuating your words with air quotations.

while they discussed you, sero continued to message and calls, noticing that you still hadn’t responded. he had zoned out of the conversation, so focused on you, until what mina said next made him shoot up and dart to the elevator up to your room.

“it’s times like those when she gets these really bad panic attacks-“

he couldn’t hear his own pounding footsteps as he exited the elevator and made a mad dash to your room.

finally getting to your door, he rapidly knocked, his concern only growing more when you didn’t answer, “i’m coming in!” he warned, turning the knob and entering your room.

“babe?” he called out, however getting no response. it wasn’t until he saw something by the bed, seemingly balled up under a sheet.

“(y/n)?...” he said gently, crouching down on his knees to uncover you, only for his breath to hitch when he took a look at the state you were in.

having familiarized himself with the symptoms, he knew you were having a panic attack. he pulls your hands away from where they were digging into your arms, creating deep crescent shapes, one or two of them beginning to bleed.

he thought about ways to ground you, coming to a conclusion that he had to go with a method aizawa had actually taught him.

“hey, baby, i’m here. all you need to do is listen to my voice and try to answer okay?” he tried gently, lowering his head to try and get a better look at your face, only for his heart to clench at your disassociated eyes, a sense of brokenness and anguish hidden behind your eyes. the ones that looked so bright on a good day, the ones that sero fell in love with.

after getting no response, he still decided to begin the grounding anyway, “babe, give me five things you can see.”

at first you gave no reaction, worrying him a bit. he stared at you as he bit the inside of his cheek, nerves getting to him however there was no helping you unless he could keep his own fears and anxieties at bay.

he repeated his instructions and let go of one of your hands to pet your head, gently running his hand over it in a comforting way. as he did this, he took notice of the knotted, oily feeling of your hair. he felt saddened by this, knowing right away that you’ve been suffering in silence and not taking care of yourself.

he was about to repeat his instructions for the third time until he felt your hand lightly squeeze his,

“y-you...” was her first answer, sero immediately letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “good job baby, four more.” he encouraged, sitting in front of her and running his thumbs over her hands, the feeling becoming apparent for you as you slowly regained control over your body.

“..the lights..” the fairy lights he’d bought you when you mentioned how you missed the ones back home.

“the pictures.” the photos on your wall, a collection of both from home and from UA.

“a book.” coincidently, the book had been one that sero had bought you for your birthday one year.

“my hands.” were the last thing you said, the hands that sero held so gently in his, almost as if you were made out of the finest china and he was worried he’d break you.

even though you’d succeeded in completing the first part, you still felt trapped. sero noticed this as well and continued, this time, more determined to help you.

“great job baby, now give me four things you can feel.” he said scooting closer, trying to hear if your breathing had returned to normal, however hearing it continue to be uneven and jagged.

“yo-you...” your voice caught, sero still getting your answer loud and clear. the fact that you had the same answer didn’t go unnoticed by him, but as long as you were responding, that was enough.

“the carpet..” he noticed you wiggling your toes, socks still on, and rubbing against the fluffy carpet beneath you, lightly stained with various foods and other substances, each however a memory.

“my hair..” you said, head dropping slightly as your curls brushed against your face, ticking your skin.

“warmth.” you finished, body twitching slightly and feeling the warm interior of the hoodie you were wearing, sero taking notice that it was his.

“you’re going an amazing job (y/n), now give me three things you can hear.” he encouraged again, gently lifting your chin and resting his forehead against yours. your breathing had returned to normal but you still sat rigid and tense.

“you.” you whispered making sero arch a brow but continued to stay silent. you’d also fallen silent, and if he could imagine little ears atop of your head, he’d imagine that they were twitching in search of sound.

“my-my music.” the fact that you’d given him your second answer almost immediately after the first made him grin. you were right, your music played softly in your room, the feeling of the melody encasing you both, bringing you out little by little.

“our friends..” you said with a shaky voice, noticing your eyes welled up with tears again. sero smiled sadly at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, “we’re almost done, you can do this, i’m so proud of you.”

“two things you can smell.” he instructed, chuckling a bit at how you sniffed the air, even if snot was running out. not seeing a towel or napkin around, he pulled his sleeve over his hand and cleaned you up a bit, smiling once he heard you sniff again and your nose was clear.

“you.”

“do i smell bad?” he joked, knowing you were slowly coming back out, figuring if he made a joke it would help pull you out. you exhaled from your nose and shook your head slightly.

“well that’s good. what’s next cariño?” he urged, tucking a strand of hair out of your face and behind your head, revealing more of your face to him.

“..pizza?...” he sat back slightly and sniffed the air as well, lightly laughing at the fact that the air actually did smell like pizza,

“one more, give me one more baby.” he said cupping your face and lifting it up to meet his eyes. “one thing you can taste.”

your knees finally relaxed and stretched out, arms no longer tense as they ran up his neck to his face. you didn’t answer immediately, only pulling him in to meet your lips, his hands flying to your neck where his thumbs ran over your cheeks,

“you.” your voice was now more certain, even if there was a shaky exhale after it. you pulled away and looked into his eyes, his clean sleeve coming up to wipe your tears away while you both let out light laughter.

“thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me, love.”

“i love you.” “i love you too”

he stood up and offered you his hand, letting you take it and pulling you up off of the ground. with a groan at how sore your muscles were, he chuckled and kissed your cheek,

“how about you go take a shower and i’ll be back with some pizza?” he asks unsure if you were okay to be left alone just yet, however his nerves were put to rest as you offered a small smile and a nod, “sounds great babe.”

sero watched you make your way into the bathroom, not leaving until he heard the water to the shower start.

turning and making his way out of your room and back to the common room, he let out a heavy sigh when he entered the elevator, hand running over his face as he groaned.

he was so scared for you.

the look in your eyes, the way your body trembled, your choked sobs and broke look left a sour taste in his mouth. once the door dinged and opened, the scent of pizza wafted into the compartment he was in, walking into the living room with eyes falling on him.

“is she okay?” momo asked him as he nodded with a soft smile, “yeah she’s good now. just came down to get some pizza for us.” he explains gesturing to the mountains of pizza boxes.

“we got you and (y/n) a half and half! half with your toppings and half for her.” she said opening a box and revealing both of your favorite pizza toppings. “wow! this is great, thank you!” he says appreciatively while kaminari slides up next to him.

“you were gone for a while, you get some lovin’?” he teases his friend, elbowing his side, only to get gently shoved away with a chuckle, “it’s not like that man, we’re just gonna hang out in her room, watch movies, kick it,” sero explained as kaminari laughed and patted his shoulder, “go for it dude.”

entering your room again, sero saw you sitting on your bed, criss cross applesauce while you dried your hair. sero laughed at your childish position and set the pizza down.

noticing something, he was about to ask, only for you to beat him to it, “would it be alright if i borrowed your sweater? it smells like you.” you ask as you last the towel down, finally standing and walking over to him. “of course babe.” he says placing his hands on your shoulders, then moving to fluff your hair, the slightly damp strands sticking to your face,

“your hair is really soft after you wash it.” he says ruffling your hair making you giggle at the attention, his hand went back to their spot on your neck, holding you in his hands as if you were everything, his everything, and that was exactly what you were.

he let you go and went over to your bed, pulling the blanket you usually kept on top aside and sitting down, reaching over to grab the pizza. he set it down beside him and opened the blanket, patting the empty space next to him for you to hop in.

you curled into his side and let out a laugh at the sudden burst of happiness you received, “if you steal the blankets i’m going to put my cold feet on you.” he says making you squeal at the feeling of his cold feet against your leg.

he pulled your laptop into the space between you two and handed you a slice of your pizza, quickly finding a movie to watch and pulling you into his side with an arm around you.

with a sigh of content and a small smile gracing your lips, you leaned your head on sero’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

his free hand found yours and interlaced his fingers with yours,

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

#sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #sero hanta #mha hanta sero #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hanta sero imagine #seroxreader

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