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jackrrabbit · 3 years

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cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya

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write-like-wright · 3 years

Note

since you did the prosecutors before can we get exes headcanons for them (like what they would be like if they were ur ex LMAO)? if this is too broad u can pick ur favorite aspect of it (u dumping them, them dumping u, seeing them in public one month later 🥰 etc)

skjdksfnfjnf this is so funny yes!

Being their ex: Ace Attorney rival prosecutor edition

Miles Edgeworth

if you thought he was awkward while you were dating, wait until you see him after your breakup

he does NOT know how to behave around you at all anymore

mostly attempts to avoid you

may or may not pull another one of his "prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death" stunts

goes to Europe for a few months to compose himself and figure out how to proceed

he's especially stumped if you are somehow obligated to interact, either through work or maybe if you live nearby

tries his best to be civil and gentlemanly, but it's painfully obvious he'd rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment

I imagine you'd have mutual friends, so before every group outing he asks if you're going to be there

something may suddenly come up if the answer is yes

*cough, cough* "I can't, I'm sick"

"boo you, Edgeworth"

I'm assuming you broke up either because of how much he works or because he fears for your safety because of your relationship

maybe it was just a heated steel samurai discussion taken too far

Franziska von Karma

oh boy, this is not gonna go well

so cold to you in the public

throws around a "foolish fool" or two your way

grips her whip so tight her knuckles turn white

cries when she gets home

absolutely cannot forgive herself for allowing someone to know her so intimately and see her in her vulnerable moments and then they're just... gone

probably puts her off dating for a while

if I had to guess why you broke up, I'd assume it was due to her intensity or competitive nature

Diego Armando/Godot

this man has many, many exes

not much changes in his demeanour towards you

he's as cool and as smooth as ever, but is careful not to cross over into the flirty territory

you're either addicted to caffeine or absolutely repulsed by it at this point

walking by a coffee shop makes you uncomfortable

don't know why you broke up, but you get back together at least twice before separating for good

Klavier Gavin

Klav remains his good old, friendly self

will drop an album about your breakup

expect a lot of hate from his stans

the media hounds you

you get invited to participate in a few reality shows probably

he feels bad and tries to defend you

offers to make it up to you by taking you out for dinner

you hook up

you break up again because you can't stand the constant scrutiny and him being away for long periods of time

rinse and repeat

Simon Blackquill

there are so many potential reasons why you could've broken up

too intense? scary at times?? manipulative without even realizing it??? spends half his life savings on a fancy katana???? who knows with him

goes full emo

do you guys know that canonically those marks on his face are from crying so much in prison? yeah (they're apparently starting to heal too, good for him)

acts all tough at work, goes home and cries to HIM - Gone With The Sin blasting at full volume

flip-flops between being a gentleman and a jerk should you meet in public

makes a few snarky comments about you and your relationship to hurt you, then has a minor freakout when realization.exe kicks in and he notices you actually are hurt

apologises by sending you cute bird pics

"Look at what Taka did today."

"He's wearing the bandana you bought him :)"

"Please respond I'm so sorry don't block me"

You eventually remain friends so you can get bird visitation rights

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi

acts polite and smiles sweetly, but occasionally ends the conversation with "I will pray for you", not unlike a hostile southern lady

you miss him and his expensive haircare and skincare products

you can definitely live without the 8-hour sermons

perhaps the cultural differences were too hard to overcome? or maybe it was the constant travelling? in either case, you mutually decide that ending your relationship would be for the best

I imagine dating literal royalty would be exhausting

Barok van Zieks

make no mistake, this WILL cause a scandal

no matter the reason for your separation, get ready to deal with some serious gossip

everywhere you go, you notice people whispering about you

"I hear they ended their betrothal with Lord van Zieks."

"Well, I say! Can't imagine dealing with the Reaper myself."

everyone wants to hear your side of the story and any potential dirt you may have on him

Barok acts as gentlemanly as ever, as befits a man of his standing

he's a solitary man, but his solitude soon leads to loneliness and resentment

his consumption of fine vintages increases by tenfold

whatever it is that happened between the two of you must have been major

betrothals are not lightly ended, especially with the heir of a powerful noble family

might not even be your doing, perhaps family got involved

perhaps, his family reputation has been besmirched? ahem

Bonus: Kazuma Asogi

poor Kazuma can't catch a break

Ryu gets a tear-stained letter written on 18 sheets of paper, front and back

"Oh, dear," Susato sighs. "I suppose this means the wedding is off."

while he's no lord, he is a prosecutor in the service of Her Majesty and the news of a courtship ending would be scandalous

perhaps, for that reason, and fearing how the public would react to your relationship (it is Victorian England we're talking about after all, Van Zieks' views are far from unique), you chose to keep it a secret

at first exciting, your secret meetings and whispered words soon become tiresome

the fear of being caught is always gnawing at you

he may lash out initially when you leave him

offers to make your relationship public, to hell with the society

you both know it's a bad idea

"This is all your fault." he sighs as he pours himself another chalice of Van Ziek's fine vintage.

"My fault? How is your poor performance today in court my fault, my Nipponese friend?" Barok spits out. "You have been distraught for days now, man! Pull yourself together!"

"Not you specifically," Kazuma brushes off. "Your kind."

"My kind?"

"Stuck up posh twats."

Gina walks in just as they're about to draw their blades

listen babes I'm a Kazuma simp this is the only way i could envision dumping his ass

#miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #godot #diego armando #klavier gavin #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #barok van zieks #kazuma asogi #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #dai gyakuten saiban #aa ramblings #anon #request #ask #this was so much fun to write i hope you enjoy!!!

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tsunderecookies · 3 years

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omg omg omg can u do horny hcs for dabi and shigaraki 😳😳

Horny Hc - 2

Pairing: Dabi x Reader, Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: choking, being railed into the next dimension, spitting

A/N: Awwwww thank you for being my first requester nony <3 Here ya go, I hope you enjoy it bb! i’m so sorry that it took so fucking long but i just started working and it’s very hectic so I’m always either too unmotivated or too tired to write. But ig what matters is that I got it out lol. Dabi’s is a lot shorter than I’d like it to be but ima add on as time passes i think.

Imma be honest here this man has a bomb ass sex playlist fr fr.

Like jesus christ.

And I feel like even arranged the songs in a way so that as sex escalates so do the vibes the music gives off.

I don’t know why but i feel like Dabi has a tell tale sign when he wants to fuck. Like he walks into a room and he gives you that little smirk and kinda rests his head on his hand and lightly touching his thumb over his lower lip while looking you directly in your eyes and you just know.

He has dick piercings. Done. You can’t convince me otherwise.

Can also see him as the type to start kissing your neck randomly as you’re telling him about something and just giving little responses like mhm while you’re talking. He loves doing it because he loves seeing how flustered it makes you and he loves the sound of you struggling to speak even though he’s barely touching you.

With a sigh you close your eyes and lean your head back against the sofa as you tell Dabi about your day, hands tangled in his hair while his lips move against your neck.

“ And work was a fucking drag as always. I just can’t wait for us to get out of here and - “ Within seconds your whole train of thought was lost as you felt dabi kiss against an especially sensitive spot. “ Mhm? “ You can feel the vibration from his chest as he hummed out his response, lips parting before he gently grazed his teeth against it. You let out a shallow breath and desperately try to swallow back the moan threatening to slip out from between your lips. He softly starts sucking while nipping in between as he moves lower towards your chest. His lips part from your skin while his hand slips underneath your shirt inching upwards slowly.

“ And what baby?” The amusement is clear in his voice as he speaks, his eyes slipping down to your lips and back up again as his hand stills right below your chest.

A small groan escapes your throat as your hand slips up his neck to the back of his head and grabbing a fist full of hair.

“Oh fuck you.“ You push his head forward towards yours and your lips smash together, hungry and needy. You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he softly pushes you back so you can lay down before shifting so he was in between your legs, your complaints about work already long forgotten.

Dabi is also very open minded when it comes to sex. Like if you were to ask him if you could do some things to him through the backdoor he’d definitely try it at least once before deciding whether he properly likes it or not. You might have to buy him a few drinks beforehand though lmao.

I also feel like he is quite experienced in bed. I can definitely say with confidence that he most likely has had his fair share of one night stands in the past and he isn’t afraid to putt what he learned to good use.

Definitely both a masochist and a sadist.

Like he loves inflicting pain on you by like biting down on your lip to the point where it starts bleeding or maybe even knifeplay. But he also really loves the feeling of your nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. To him it hurts so fucking good.

“ Oh my god yes Dabi. Fuck. “ You shamelessly moan out, clenched hands fisting the sheets as your boyfriend pounds into you. An especially hard thrust has your hands flying upwards towards his back, fingernails digging into his skin and dragging downwards with no restraint.

A sharp hiss leave his lips only to be followed by a low growl before his hips start pounding into you at an even harder and faster pace.

“ That’s right, you better fucking hold on princess.“

I feel like he’s the teasing type during aftercare. Like he’ll comment on how loud you were being with a giant smirk on his face or he’d imitate your moans now and then.

Omg also I can definitely see Dabi knowing exactly what each type of noise from you means. How your ,moans sound when you’re close or when you want it harder etc.

I mean when he pounds his baby so hard they can’t speak he needs other forms of communication lol.

I'm gonna be honest here, I don't think that he's really experienced in the bedroom department.

Of course he's no stranger to the world of sex but most of the things he knows he definitely picked up either from overheard conversations at the bar or from the internet.

He never really minded not being sexually active, hell he barely even jerked off and probably wouldn't have if it weren't necessary. I feel like he most probably saw it as a chore.

But now that you're around his sex drive has doubled tenfold. Like in the beginning you had to beg to get him to do anything but now barely a day goes by where he doesn't indulge in your body.

That being said, don't underestimate his abilities in bed because this man is a fast learner.

He explores every inch of your body like unknown land, claiming you for himself.

He develops this need to make you cum every single time you're intimate. It's like a mission to him, and we all know how much he hates when things don't work out his way.

Speaking of things going his way, Tomura loves dominating you in bed. He loves being in charge and controlling where the night goes.

This being said, he loves taking you in missionary. He loves the way it gives him full access to your chest and neck and how he gets to stare into your pretty little eyes while he uses you as his cocksleeve.

Now and then when he's too tired he'll switch things up by letting you ride him. He loves gripping onto your hips while he thrusts up into them basically topping from the bottom, your chest on open display for him.

Even though he loves domming you he's too scared to try out any hard kinks in the beginning. The idea of choking you terrified him. What if something went wrong and he accidentally hurts you with his quirk? What if he kills you?

As your relationship progresses though, he becomes more confident with things like this. He finds comfort in the fact that you trust him enough to allow him to touch you like this, even thought you very well know what his quirk could do to your body and this becomes a very intimate thing for you.

Tomura is also possessive as fuck. If he sees a guy staring at you for even a second too long he's ready to throw hands. He will literately not hesitate to murder for you. And he has.

His friends have of course picked up on this and love to annoy him. Especially Dabi. He openly flirts and hits on you in front of Tomura to get a reaction out of him and no does he get one. It's as if he has a death wish.

It always results in him roughly fragile you away from the scarred man straight to your bedroom to remind you and everyone else what you belong to.

A choked cry leaves your throat as your boyfriend roughly bottoms out inside of you. He hardly even gives you time to adjust before starting his back breaking pace.

"A-ahh Tomura. Too much." Your voice comes out as a whine while you claw at your boyfriends back. He lifts his head from where he'd previously been sucking a hickey into your skin to give you a sickly grin.

"Oh yeah? But that scorched son of a bitch flirting with you wasn't?"

Shigaraki is a big fan of quickies. He especially loves them right before he has a big mission or meeting to attend. It gives him the opportunity to fuck out all the nerves and frustration beforehand.

Speaking of frustration. He definitely takes it out on you. When a mission goes wrong or fails? He fucks you. His team doesn't take him seriously? He fucks you.

Captain of head during videogames club.

I'm sorry to say this but I doubt that this man will give you lovey dovey aftercare.

Let's be honest, you take care of him on a daily basis, reminding him to eat and drink water and take a break when needed. And to moisturize. He barely knows how to care for himself, whats to say about you.

After sex you'd have to convince him to take a shower to get cleaned up and even more so to come to bed with you afterwards rather than play videogames or just passing out immediately afterwards.

The most love you can expect from him afterwards is some cuddles if he does agree to come to bed or he'd have you straddling him while gaming so you can still get your sought after attention. He'd press a kiss to your forehead now and then.

It may not be a lot to anyone else but you know that this is his own special way to let you know he cares for you and loves you.

#bnha #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi smut #shigaraki smut #mha #mha headcanons #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha fanfiction #headcanon #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi headcanons #shigaraki headcanons

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

Text

i ♡ u (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader and Spencer are trapped in the office during a storm.

Category: Smut, Fluff Content Warning: cussing, unprotected sex/creampie, thunderstorm Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I don’t really like this imagine tbh so don’t be afraid to share your opinions

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“It was a dark and stormy night just like this one . . .” Reid said with a spooky voice. Thunder clapped in the distance and lightning flashed, adding to the mood of the room. Reid waited for your reaction, but you didn’t have it in you. You pressed your fingers to your temples, hoping that moving them in a circular motion would somehow stimulate your brain and magically generate logical thoughts that weren’t clouded by your weariness.

“Sorry, Reid. I’m listening. Keep going.” You didn’t want to discourage him with your fatigue. You were the only one who would consistently give Reid the time of day, and you never faltered in that. At times, you were the only one who’d let him finish speaking.

“You usually love my campfire scary stories,” You knew without even looking at him that Reid was pouting out of disappointment. “I really think you should go home. I’ll call you if I find something or if I need you.”

“No, no you shouldn’t be working on this alone. I’ll be fine.” You slapped your cheeks gently to wake yourself up and forced yourself to refocus on the case.

Hotch and JJ had to fulfill parenting duties, Prentiss was away doing a custodial interview for a couple days, Rossi and Morgan both went home a few hours ago because they could barely keep their eyes open, and Garcia was most likely knocked out in her bat cave. The team had been working on this case for 24+ hours straight and it was draining, but you weren’t about to leave Reid alone to work on it by himself. It wasn’t a contest or a way to prove that you were somehow a better agent if you stayed up working with him, but you genuinely didn’t feel right delegating all of the responsibility onto him. It happened too often where Reid’s good heart and great work ethic was taken advantage of.

“Have you narrowed down the comfort zone?” You sipped at your lukewarm coffee, wincing at the unpleasant taste but grateful for any burst of energy you could get.

Reid nodded, drawing a large red circle. He was in the middle of explaining when his words started sounding like complete nonsense. “Interstate 55 miles true North latitude triangulate.”

You almost thought you were hallucinating or something to that effect, but Reid saw the genuine fear in your eyes and quit his prank. “No, you’re fine! You’re fine! I was just saying random words to play with you. I thought it’d scare you enough to realize you need to get some sleep.”

“Reid!” You chucked a pen at him that he successfully dodged. This only made him laugh harder. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.” You told him.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked seriously.

It was a huge red flag that it took you somewhere around a minute to come up with the answer since it had been so long that you couldn’t remember. You waved your hand in the air to rid him of his concerned expression. He had no reason to worry. “Really, I’ll be fine. It’s less dangerous to be running on less than 8 hours of sleep than it is to leave one person to solve an entire case by himself. I’m not going home, Reid. I’m here to stay.”

He noticed your stubbornness and thought of a new approach to neutralize the situation. “What if you and I both call it a night right now and then wake up in a few hours?”

Now, this sounded like a plan you could get behind. Without any resistance, you set an alarm for 5 a.m and flopped onto the couch just beside the round table. Reid joined you, slipping into his rightful spot behind you. You’d had plenty of platonic sleepovers that constituted sharing the same couch/bed with him, so this was nothing new. With your back barely touching Reid’s chest, you shut your eyes. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for both of you to drift off.

BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!

A loud blaring noise filled the room. It made you and Spencer wake up at the same time.

“What is that?” His voice was all raspy from where he just woke up.

The sound was weirdly familiar, but you didn’t know where you recognized it from. That’s when you looked out the nearest window and saw that it was still dark outside.

“I don’t know, but it’s not our alarm.” You pointed out. That’s when Reid eyed the clock on the wall.

3 a.m.

You quickly felt around in the dark, reaching inside your purse for your phone. When you pulled it out, the ear-splitting noise got louder, making you realize it was your phone after all, but you were right. It wasn’t your alarm.

“It’s just a flash flood warning.” You relayed to Reid, squinting at the brightness of your phone. No wonder Reid didn’t know what the sound was - his ancient phone didn’t have the feature. You grumbled, falling back onto the couch.

“There’s no way I’m gonna fall back asleep after that.” He groaned.

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I’m wide awake now.” Stupid flash flood warning.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while Reid stretched and got up from the couch. Checking the notifications he’d gotten on his phone, he said, “Garcia left while we were asleep.”

“And then there were two.”

Everyone was probably catching z’s while you two were catching the killer - or trying to at least.

So, if it was just going to be Reid’s brain and your brain functioning to work on the case, you needed some coffee.

“I’ll be back.” You walked down to the kitchen with your mug in hand and just as you were about to grab the coffee pot, a huge flash of lightning struck outside and suddenly the office went dark. The lights went out and the gentle hum of the generator shut off.

“Spencer!” You screamed out of fear. You heard the pitter-patter of his footsteps rushing to you. That’s when you saw Spencer using his archaic phone’s flashlight to find his way to you. He pulled you into a quick hug asking if you were okay, and you answered you were fine, just spooked. When you came down to pour coffee, you didn’t remember seeing anyone else, but now your stomach turned thinking about how someone might be in here with you - listening to you.

“Take out your gun,” He whispered. You did as he ordered you to, pulling your gun out of the holster. “Turn on the flashlight.” You clicked it on and handed it over to him, remembering that he didn’t have a flashlight on his gun because he had a revolver.

“Stay behind me.” He commanded. You moved back, basically hugging him from behind. You thought you were actually going to pass out from fear if you didn’t hold onto him for dear life. He did a quick pass with the flashlight, revealing no one else was in the bullpen unless they were hiding.

BANG! BANG!

You yelped in fear. “It’s just the thunder, Y/N,” He reasoned, reminding you of the ongoing storm. Oh right, there was a thunderstorm happening, too. Great. “Here take this and go back to the conference room.” He gave you his revolver and kept your gun, ushering you to walk back to the round table.

“What? Why? Where are you going?” Your small voice had never sounded so shaky.

“I’m gonna check the power box and see if I can fix it.”

Your first instinct was to shake your head disapprovingly, but then you remembered that he couldn’t see you in the dark. “No way! You’re not leaving me alone in a dark room. I’m coming with you.”

He didn’t argue against it probably because he was just as scared as you were. Reid did another quick survey of the room, using the beam of your flashlight to double check that there was no one else around.

As you clung to Reid, you made yourself sick just by thinking of all the horrifying possibilities that could happen. For all you knew, a whole group of unsubs was waiting for you at the power box, knowing you and Reid would check there as soon as the electricity went out. Would whatever happened to you two tonight become a campfire scary story that other FBI agents would talk about just like how you and Reid talk about them? The odds were not in your favor. No lights. Storm outside. 3 a.m. Just the two of you, and no offense to Reid, but if this were a horror movie, he was probably the last person you wanted to be with. Top of the list was easily Morgan, because at least if Morgan was scared shitless by the predicament, he wouldn’t show it.

While Reid led the two of you through the pitch black darkness, both of your hands were holding onto his upper arm. You’d taken cover behind him, poking your head past his shoulder just far enough to see what he was seeing but only so far that you could duck quickly if you needed to. Frankly, Spencer didn’t even seem to mind that you were clinging onto him for protection. It kind of made him feel good actually.

When you reached the power box, you released your grip on him, only realizing just how tight you’d been clutching him when you saw imprints left on his shirt from where you’d been holding on.

“Take this.” He handed you the flashlight while he used both of his hands to pry open the box.

You watched as his fingers grazed over the wires and fiddled with the buttons. Would it be weird to admit that his hands were kind of attractive? You’d never realized the largeness of them or how veiny they were, but there was something about them that made them so sexy to you.

He made a disapproving sound after further inspection.

“What’s wrong?” You weren’t actually wondering, but if you asked him, it would seem like you were actually paying attention to the situation at hand and not his hands.

“It looks like the power shut off from a larger source, meaning there could be a blackout citywide. That also means I can’t fix it.”

Hearing you’d be in the dark with no heat source was enough to snap you out of your trance.

“I have an idea.” You led Reid to Garcia’s bat cave, after a memory of Garcia showing you her collection of glow in the dark figurines replayed in your mind.

When you opened the cabinet, you smiled instantly at the sight of all the toys brightly lighting up the inside of the drawer. You knew that spending hours with Garcia listening about her toy collection would pay off eventually. Both of you carried all the toys you could and headed right back into the conference room. You placed them sporadically so that the entire room was dimly lit. Had these been candles instead of luminescent toys, it would’ve been ambient and romantic, but again - they weren’t candles.

Unintentionally, you shivered audibly when a loud wind crashed just outside. The generator went out along with the lights, so it was awfully cold in the room.

Reid was about to give you his sweater when you stopped him by walking right up to him and stealing his body heat in a hug. Rather than embracing him around his sweater, you snaked your arms under the cardigan to really feel his warmth. And as if Reid was trying to kill you with kindness, he pulled the sides of his sweater to stretch around your back and swaddled you into his sweater with him. You smiled against his chest. Not much could make this moment sweeter.

“Better now?” He asked, peering down at your face.

You silently nodded, closing your eyes as if removing your sense of sight would heighten your sense of touch. You wanted to feel his affection as deeply as you could.

“Tell me when you want me to let go.”

“Not yet.”

He laughed at your childish desire to be swaddled like this, but he was enjoying the warmth just as much as you were.

“We can’t do much work with the power out so let’s just try to get some more sleep.” He walked with you to the couch, keeping his promise of not letting go until you told him to.

With the storm outside and the flash flood warning, you two would just have to stay in the conference room until you had the all clear. You weren’t opposed to this entirely, though. There were much worse things you could do than listen to the rain in the arms of Spencer Reid.

“Okay, you can let go now but just for a second.” Your baby voice made him chuckle. He loved how you unabashed you were when asking for his attention. Reid laid down just as he did before, with his back on the backrest of the couch, and instead of having your back to him, you cuddled right up to him. While still wearing his sweater, he covered you in it again, drawing you even closer.

For some reason, even though you were beat and you knew you needed the sleep, you couldn’t seem to shut your mind off and rest. You were awake for what felt like hours. You would’ve tossed and turned all night, but instead, you kept very still so Reid wouldn’t wake up.

You’d be so focused on trying to fall asleep yourself that you didn’t even notice when Reid did. When you looked up, you saw his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes were shut and would occasionally flutter, and when you pressed your ear to his chest, he was breathing much slower than he was earlier.

“If you stay still for 15 minutes, you’ll fall asleep. Just lay in the same position and don’t move.” He mumbled. So he wasn’t asleep? And he knew you weren’t either?

“I have been staying still, but it’s not working.” You whined.

“Just try.” Reid murmured again.

You shut up and sighed, closing your eyes. This time, you made a conscious effort not to move a muscle. You even counted to 60 in your head 15 times, but after those 15 minutes, you were still awake. You weren’t even sure what was causing your insomnia. It was really peaceful to have the sound of the rain cascading down the window and the occasional boom of thunder outside. Being in Spencer’s arms was cozy, too, but there was still something keeping you up.

“Spencer? Are you awake?” You scooted up so you could see his face.

The only thing the moon was illuminating clearly was his lips. There was a distinct beam of silver light casting on his mouth, almost like it was lighting them up specifically. Like some sort of sign. A sudden urge possessed you, so without reason, you brought your hand up to his face and grazed your thumb over his bottom lip. Even with the gentle touch you were using, you were still able to feel how soft it was. You slowly dragged your thumb in a downwards motion, watching the elasticity of his lips cause it to bounce back up into its place. You nearly giggled at the sight. You moved your thumb to the corner of his mouth and followed it upwards to the natural curve of his upper lip. If you weren’t so observant before, you wouldn’t have noticed how Spencer very subtly parted his lips wider for you. Curiosity overcame you and you slowly inched closer to his mouth with your own.

“I think I want to kiss you . . . Can I kiss you?” You spoke in a soft voice, with each of your lips ghosting over his.

A moment of stillness. Maybe he was asleep. Then, a small, very small nod of Reid’s head. You smiled as he let you take control. With your hand already along his jaw, you lifted his face slightly so you could feel the full force of your kiss. You pulled him in closer to relish the soft feeling of his puckered lips. He released his grip on the sweater that was still swaddling you so he could press the small of your back, forcing your hips to drive into his. The need to be even closer was translating into the kiss. It grew hungrier - more passionate and needy. Spencer raised up from the couch, propping himself up on his forearm so he could hover over you. You followed his lead and shifted to be underneath him. With his body over you, he was able to push off his forearms and onto his hands. They were on either side of your head, forcing you to sit up with him so your lips wouldn’t leave his.

“Wait, wait,” He muttered, pulling away. You followed him with your mouth is desperation, until you couldn’t anymore, making you sit up entirely while Spencer backed away.

“What’s wrong?”

“If we don’t stop now, I don’t know if I can stop later . . . I won’t be able to control myself.”

It was in this moment you realize why you were often the only member on the team who’d actually listen to Reid. Nothing he could say would ever turn you off. Any word that escaped his lips was something you wanted to hear. His confession of being uncontrollable was no exception.

“Do you know what I want to do?” There was a newfound confidence in your tone that shocked the both of you.

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Apparently, Spencer’s tone was just the opposite. He sounded like he was trembling with fear with anticipation.

“Guess.” You flirted.

Even in the dark, you could see Reid’s gears turning as he tried to find the right answer. He read your expression for a hint and made his guess by planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re cold.”

He quickly caught on. You were making a game out of this.

Hot and cold.

Reid made his next move with uncertainty. He slowly started moving forward to resume the position he had before he pulled away. As he came closer, you followed his lead and leisurely fell back. Every inch he would advance closer to you was an inch that you’d move back further until finally your back was pressed against the couch again and Spencer was hanging over you once more. With each of his hands beside your head, you smirked. “Getting warmer.”

This boosted his confidence. He was heading the right direction, and there was nothing Spencer loved more than to get things right.

The same moonlight that was streaming onto his lips earlier was dancing on his eyes. The hazel color glimmered in the silver light. You could see they were asking, ‘Can I?’ You answered his look with a silent nod.

Spencer reached behind him, following his hand with his eyes as he watched his fingers brush along your thigh. Looking back up at you for permission, which you granted, he peered back down, watching his fingers slip underneath the hem of your skirt. You lifted your hips up so he could raise the skirt all the way up. As if he was uncovering lost treasure, his eyes lit up when you were finally uncovered.

“Fuck me.” He cursed under his breath. This made you ooze with confidence.

You sat up to align your lips right beside his ear. With a breathy voice, you whispered,

“Hot.”

He’d finally figured out what you wanted.

The satisfaction he had in winning your little game gave him the confidence he needed to finally make a move.

Hurriedly, he dragged your panties off, leaving prominent scratches from his nails on your thighs. He threw them somewhere behind him, while you frantically unbuttoned his dress pants. You almost giggled with glee when you saw just how hard he was. You barely did anything to provoke him, but he clearly enjoyed what little you did do.

“I don’t have a -” You cut him off with a hasty kiss.

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You needn’t explain more. He got the message when you reached down and gave his shaft a few shallow strokes.

“Oh-” He was immediately caught off guard by your forwardness. “Wait, wait shouldn’t I . . . um, help you first-”

You smiled at his stutter. “Spencer, please. I need you now.”

There was that unabashed ask for Spencer’s attention that he loved so much. He made small movements until he was properly aligned with your entrance.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” He breathlessly uttered, while gradually pushing in.

You thought you would’ve regretted not letting him finger you before in preparation but the bliss was far greater for some reason.

The sensation was definitely new to Spencer when his eyes widened. “Oh fuck. You’re so tight.”

Meanwhile, your face contorted at the feeling of him stretching you out. It was actually more painful than pleasurable.

“Wait, Spencer - I need to change positions.” You panted.

He instantly retracted, looking incredibly sorry. “Here,” He helped you up to your feet while taking a seat on the couch. You didn’t need an IQ of 187 to figure out how to position yourself, so you straddled Spencer, hovering over his erection. Taking charge now that you knew you’d feel more comfortable like this, you reached below you to align his length. Instantly, euphoria washed over you when you lowered yourself all the way until you were practically sitting on his lap. Spencer let out a heavy exhale now that you were able to take all of him in this new position. You moved your hands out from under you and put them on Spencer’s shoulders as a way to stabilize you each time you’d come up. After a few cursory movements, you found a comfortable pace. Spencer couldn’t contain himself, he had to grab your hips in his hands and buck up before, his pelvis meeting your ass before you could even fully lower yourself again. With the tempo of motion increasing drastically because of Spencer’s participation, you couldn’t even adjust to his length anymore. Every time he’d pull out was temporary relief for the ever-growing knot forming in your stomach. You bit back a moan when Spencer curled his hips to thrust into you at a different angle. This stroke mercilessly hit that knot in your stomach, forcing a strangled noise out.

“Don’t stop, Spencer!” You were surprised at how you were even able to put together a cohesive sentence since your brain felt like it was short circuiting.

With Spencer’s curved thrusts, the knot in your stomach grew bigger and bigger. You even felt yourself clench around Spencer. He felt it, too and his head instantly lolled back in pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head with him. Your skin felt prickly as sweat started dripping from your forehead. If you didn’t know any better, the generator was working again because the heat in the room was thick. Spencer’s strokes were growing slower in anticipation. You picked up the pace for him and made a conscious clench around him to help him reach his peak.

“I can’t control myself, Y/N. I need to pull out now.” He sputtered.

You made an indistinct noise that communicated your disapproval. It was the only thing Spencer needed to hear to know that it was okay if he came.

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned, knowing you were going to follow close behind.

He dug his nails into your hips, bringing you back to reality as if it was his way of pinching you to tell you it was real. From the pain of his hands clawing into you, you almost couldn’t feel him coming, until you felt it dribble down your inner thigh. Suddenly, it felt like his warm essence made electricity surge through your body and course through your veins. With a speed faster than light itself, the knot in your stomach released. You cried out as his seed mixed with your own and cascaded down like the relentless rain outside cascaded down the window. The euphoria of your orgasm brought you to a complete stop.

“Holy fuck.” You swallowed hard. The inside of your mouth was dry from where it hung open for so long.

Spencer was at a loss for words. His silence was so unfamiliar you had to giggle.

“You okay?” You lifted yourself off of his lap to gain some clarity. He gulped hard.

“Am I dreaming?” He sounded genuinely dazed and confused, it was adorable.

Garcia’s glow in the dark toys helped you to find a box of tissues. You took one from the box and wiped yourself before pulling your skirt back down. Meanwhile, Spencer zipped up his pants and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Spencer,” You laughed a little. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

He hadn’t changed his spot on the couch so you straddled his lap again, this time with more pure intentions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck, while his hands rested on your hips again and his lips were pressing on your shoulder, leaving quick pecks.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confessed against your skin. You leaned back so you could see his face and kept your hands behind his head to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. Enjoying your soothing touch, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lay against your wrist. He was so precious like this. With Spencer’s head cocked to the side, a distinct beam of light was revealed. This time it was shining onto your face, almost like what it feels like when you accidentally walk past a projector screen and look at the projector light. In this instance though, the light wasn’t nearly as blinding. It was soft and ethereal. It lit up the rain falling on the other side of the window. It even displayed signs of steam coming from the inside. You could see condensation running down the pane. It had gotten so hot in here because of you two that steam was produced. That felt like some sort of accomplishment. You mirthlessly chuckled and leaned forward. With this sudden movement, your chest was pressing against Spencer’s. He was forced to lift his head back up from your wrist when he wanted to examine what you were doing. You leaned past the backrest of the couch and exhaled a hot breath onto the window to make it fog up. Spencer watched you do this over his shoulder, trying to figure out what you were doing. With the glass fogged up, you started drawing a heart with your index finger. You lazily shaded in the heart and looked back at Spencer to show off your creation. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it meant something.

Spencer pulled a hand away from your hip to use his fingers to add to the drawing. To the left of the heart, Spencer drew a vertical line with a dot above it, and then to the right of it he drew a small horseshoe shape. You pouted your lips when you finally got the message.

i ♡ u

You looked at him before blowing another hot breath onto the already existing fog to extend it. You drew a number right beside it.

i ♡ u 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#smut #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut

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bigballofstress · 3 years

Text

Pickpocket Part 3(Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been allowed to stay in the Avengers Tower, but your trials aren’t quite over yet. You still have one major hurdle you’re going to have to get over if you want to make this thing permanent.

To @sweetpeaflower01 and to anyone else who wanted to be tagged in this, I’m sorry I don’t have your usernames! It’s been a while since I’ve been on here!

A few weeks later, I woke up to the sun shining on my face through a nearby window.

“Good morning to you, too, kid.” I turned to see Tony, still lying in the bed beside me with his hand placed gently over mine. He had spent every night since I’d arrived in there with me except for one, which had immediately resulted in a nightmare, with my screams waking up the entire tower. “You think you’re ok to get up? We’ve got someone who wants to meet you.”

Immediately, my entire body tensed, and I could feel myself pale. My vision went blurry, my heart hammering frantically in my chest. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, kid, I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I promise,” Tony spoke gently, his tone even as though he was attempting to sooth a wild animal. I nodded slowly, doing my best to calm my heart. He had promised me. He promised they wouldn’t send me back. I’m not sure why, but I trusted Tony.

Tony helped me to my feet, but my knees were shaking too much. Slowly, he scooped me up into his arms, careful not to move to quickly and frighten me, and wrapped his arms around my back. His arms were still so warm.

“Ah, miss (Y/N), I presume.” I lifted my head from Tony’s shoulder to see the rest of the Avengers surrounding a large African American man in a black trench coat with a patch over his eye that was grinning back at me. My heart almost stopped as I stared back at him, fear clawing mercilessly at my chest. He reminded me of Nat in how he regarded me with nothing more than cold, merciless calculations; except, unlike Nat, he didn’t have that small spark of empathy. Instead, there was excitement -- greed almost. I made my decision then and there. I didn’t like this man.

“I’ve got a question for you, kid. How exactly did someone like you manage to steal from four of Earth’s mightiest heroes?” he asked, glancing me up and down.

I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want anything to do with this man.

“It’s ok, just answer the question,” Tony nodded reassuringly. I could feel his worried eyes on me, trying to grab my attention, but I refused to take my eyes off of the newcomer for a single second. Still, I didn’t want to go against Tony.

“I have small hands,” I said slowly. “And I know how to read people.”

“What do you mean read people?” Steve asked. “What does any of that have to do with stealing a wallet?”

“It has everything to do with stealing a wallet,” I responded monotonously, still stubbornly refusing to drop my gaze from the man. “Reading people helps you pick a mark -- someone with their guard down who isn’t expecting to actually be targeted. More than that, though, reading people is what actually lets me get away. With Steve, I was sweet and innocent, but with Tony, I was sarcastic but pitiable. If I had been the opposite, Steve would have been more annoyed and therefore more aware of what I was doing, and Tony would have been less distracted.”

“You figured all of that out by talking to them for a few seconds?” Nat asked, taking a small step forward as she surveyed my curiously. I nodded silently.

“Show me,” the man said. Finally, I tore my eyes away from him to glance at Tony for confirmation. He nodded back, gently setting me down. I grabbed his hand instead.

“Who do you want me to mark?” I asked softly.

“Try Natasha,” he smirked, crossing his arms. I glanced over at the redheaded woman and frowned. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“I would never mark her,” I responded, glaring up in annoyance at the confidence in his tone. “She is guarded and always in a stance to protect her vital points. Someone like that is too aware of their surroundings not to notice a pickpocket.”

“Do your best anyways,” he smirked.

I grit my teeth in frustration and turned to Nat. As I looked over at her, an idea slowly began to form. I smirked inwardly. It was perfect for dealing with this man. Sunglasses, a phone, a watch, a ring, a swiss army knife, and a custom pen. If I did everything perfectly, not to mention getting a bit lucky, I might be able to grab everything.

I squeezed Tony’s hand to draw his attention to it as I pressed my body into his slightly so that I could grab his sunglasses, which were hooked onto his pocket. “Fine,” I growled. “But don’t blame me when it doesn’t work. Now move out of the way.” I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him backwards, using that split second to simultaneously put Tony’s glasses on my head and slip my hand into the man’s opposite pocket and pull out his phone, flicking it upwards into the overly-large sleeve. I took a deep breath and approached Nat, tucking my hands, and the phone with them, into my pockets. I flicked my eyes carefully over her, looking for any loose item that I could grab. Finally, I noticed that I could just barely see the edge of a few dollar bills in her back pocket. It wouldn’t be easy, and I would have to stay in front of her the entire time to avoid her suspicion, but it wasn’t impossible.

“Excuse me, miss?” I asked softly, glancing up at her with wide eyes.

“Yeah?” She responded, lifting a brow.

“I-I was wondering if you had any food,” I croaked, allowing my body to shrink in on itself so it would look even smaller.

“Sorry, kid, I don’t have any on me,” she shook her head slightly, furrowing her brows.

“Ok, I understand, thank you,” I muttered softly. “I’m sorry to bother you. My mommy says bothering grown-ups is bad. I-I don’t have the belt with me. But I’m sure I can find a stick,” I offered quickly, as if to try and placate her. I stumbled to the side a bit, pretending to look for a stick. I forced my toes to catch on my other shoe, falling right in front of Steve’s feet. “I-I’m so sorry, sir,” I winced, making sure not to meet his eyes. I took his outstretched hand and pulled myself up, wrapping one hand around his wrist, where I slipped off his watch. “T-thank you so m-much,” I gushed, my voice shaking ever so slightly as I brushed the nonexistent dirt from his shirt. Quickly, I put his watch onto my own wrist while his attention was focused on his shirt.

Nat frowned slightly at this. “Your mommy, did she hurt you?” she brought my attention back to her, studying my face carefully.

I glanced back at her, before quickly looking back down to avoid eye contact. I knew what I had to do -- that I had to tell the truth if I had any hope of doing this. So, I forced myself to remember the face of my old caretaker. “O-only if I’ve been really bad,” I shook my head slightly. “A-and only if she’s at home.” My voice had gone hoarse, tears building up in the backs of my eyes. It was easy to cry when I thought about that terrible woman.

“How often is she not at home?” Nat asked.

“N-not that o-often,” I shook my head again. “I-I think she just f-forgets sometimes. She’ll come home soon, though. She’s almost never gone for more than two weeks,” I smiled up at her softly, wrapping my arms around my torso to accentuate how small my waist was as well as provide a sense of insecurity and fear.

Nat frowned slightly, falling silent for a moment. Finally, she looked up at the man and said, “Alright, I believe her. I’d probably go take her to get some food then call the cops. I’d imagine you’d be long gone before they arrive?” She added with a slight chuckle.

“Really?” I asked, my face lighting up in a wide smile. “Thank you!” I gasped, wrapping my arms around her torso. She immediately tensed, and I took the opportunity to grab the few bills, tucking them into my opposite sleeve. “U-um, sorry,” I stuttered and quickly released her, my face growing red. I stumbled backwards and straight into the arms of Thor. I grabbed his hand in my own as though in an effort to keep my balance as he righted me gently. I thanked him softly and slipped my hand out of his grip, taking the beautiful golden ring from his finger in the process.

“How would you escape, though?” Nat asked. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to go to the police.”

“O-oh, well, it’s not too hard,” I smiled slightly. “I just need to lose you in the crowd. I would probably do something like this.” I walked forward, and slipped between Clint and Bruce, using both hands to grab the swiss army knife from Clint’s pocket and a gorgeous custom pen that was clipped to Bruce’s. “Then, once I’m out of your sight, I’d start running-”

“It was a good scam, kid,” the man cut in. “But I thought I asked you to pickpocket her.”

I whipped back around to face him, suddenly feeling vulnerable again with all of the adults surrounding me. “You’re right, I’m sorry; you asked me to pickpocket only her,” I hissed, my teeth grinding together. “But I thought you wanted me to show you what I could do.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“As long as I’m not seen as a threat, I can steal from anyone,” I said, walking up to Tony and handing back his sunglasses. “And I would do anything to keep myself from being seen as a threat.” I took the watch off my wrist and handed it back to Steve. “Everyone has something that brings their guard down.” I pulled the ring from my finger and handed it back to Thor. “And whether they acknowledge it or not, they all want to see the good in people,” I pulled the swiss army knife and custom pen from my pockets, handing them back to Clint and Bruce. “They all want to see me as some innocent little kid,” I returned Nat’s money to her. “Even you,” I held out the man’s phone, staring up at him in defiance.

Every one of them stared at me in pure, unadulterated shock. All of them, that is, except for Tony, who grinned and welcomed me back into his side, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders. Finally, the man chuckled a bit and snatched his phone back from me. “Not bad, miss (Y/N), not bad at all. Natasha, from now on, you’re training her to be a new agent.”

My eyes widened, and I frowned, subconsciously shrinking further into Tony’s side. He squeezed my shoulder gently.

“Hey, Thor, why don’t you take (Y/N) for some poptarts. She hasn’t had breakfast yet,” Tony said with a small smile.

“I’m not hungry,” I frowned.

“Just go with him for now, ok, kid? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.” I blinked up at Tony and frowned before nodding slowly, allowing the large blonde god to take my hand and lead me out of the room, away from the rest of the adults.

As soon as the door closed, I turned to the god with wide, pleading eyes. “Mr. Thor, could you pretty please toast the poptarts for me?” I asked sweetly, gazing up at him.

“Of course, young lady (Y/N),” Thor grinned and ruffled my hair, moving towards the cabinets. As soon as his back was turned, I pressed my ear to the door, concentrating on trying to hear what was going on in there.

“Did you really think I’d let you make her an agent?” I heard Tony snap.

“I didn’t think you had a choice,” the man from earlier responded casually. “The girl’s got a gift, Stark. She could help us.”

“She’s just a kid! I brought you here to give you a heads up that she’d be staying with us, not to give you a potential recruit.”

“Look, it’s very simple, Stark. Either you allow her to start training, or I deem her a threat to the team. I will inform the police of the location of a criminal and unsupervised child.”

“So what?! I’ll just adopt her!”

“Adoption takes a long time, Tony, especially for someone with a criminal record and a history of alcohol abuse. Do you really want to send her back to an orphanage while you go through all of that, if you’re even granted custody at all?”

Oh, god. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be going back. He promised me I wouldn’t go back! I stumbled backwards, barely making it a few steps before my knees gave out and I was sent crashing to the ground.

“Lady (Y/N)!” Thor shouted, rushing over, but I could barely hear him over the deafening sound of my heartbeat and the blood rushing through my ears. I could feel the tears streaming down my face and the burning in my chest from my hyperventilating breaths. I curled up tightly, my muscles shaking from how tense they were. I couldn’t go back there -- I wouldn’t! Tony promised me I would never go back again!

“(Y/N)?” The familiar voice cut through the haze. Immediately, I reached out and clawed at the air, trying to find him, but with blur of tears in my eyes, I couldn’t see him anywhere. Suddenly, my head was resting against a chest, a pair of arms holding me tight and close. “It’s ok, just breath with me. Focus on me, ok? In and out.” I forced myself to breath in with him, struggling to slow it down like he said. Slowly but surely, my breathing evened out, until finally, it had returned to normal.

As the panic slowly faded away, I could feel the energy drain from my body, and I nestled further into Tony’s embrace. He stroked my back gently, murmuring comforting words into my ear.

“Tony?” I didn’t even open my eyes as I whispered softly, my voice still thick and shaking. My hands gripped his shirt tightly, afraid that if I let go for more than a second, he would disappear. “Do I have to go back?”

“Never,” Tony answered immediately, his voice firm. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Ok,” I whispered back, relaxing slightly. Tony pulled me even closer, and I let out a soft sigh, my muscles slowly relaxing. My hands released the shirt’s material, falling numbly into my lap.

Just before my exhausted body quickly slipped back into unconsciousness, I was barely able to make out a few words from Tony. “Fine. You win.”

“She’ll start training tomorrow.”

- - -

That was about four years ago. Since that day, Natasha had been training me constantly in different fighting techniques, target practice, the works. Of course, the lying and deception I’d already had down pat. Originally the plan was for me to be homeschooled, but Tony had thrown an absolute fit when he’d heard that, and considering I wasn’t exactly lacking in the mental department, we settled on just a bit of extra tutoring from Bruce every day after school.

Fury’s interest in me never went away. Because I had been so malnourished as a kid, I ended up being way too small for my age. To Fury’s absolute delight, this meant that I was more than capable of squeezing through the smallest of spaces. In other words, thanks to my size, training, and natural intelligence I was absolutely perfect for covert missions focusing on gathering information.

Tony had been absolutely furious when I’d been called on for my first mission. He’d screamed at Fury nonstop for three days until, finally, he was assured both that Nat would be with me the entire time and that he would be allowed to have a direct connection to my earpiece. He couldn’t decide whether he was thankful or disappointed that my first mission went perfectly. Of course he was happy I came back completely unharmed, but his fear that I would be forced into more and more missions due to my overwhelming success was only proven right at every turn. Still, he was always in my ear, talking me through the every single mission I ever went on.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wasn’t exactly a normal teenager. Still, that being said, I don’t think I would want it any other way.

Except maybe for the Fury part. Nothing would make me happier than seeing that man get what’s coming to him. But I could worry about that later. For now, I’d just spend my time grateful that I was blessed with the best dad in the world.

#avengers #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x child!reader #child!reader

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lunatens · 3 years

Text

just wanna be with you

requested by anon <3 tysm lovely!! sorry this is suuuuper cheesy lol, i hope u like it!! also sorry if there are mistakes, i didn’t really edit it much >_<

prompt: “out of everyone on earth, why did my soulmate have to be you?”

*part of my 2 years with luna event!

word count: 1.9k

genre: fluff, high school au, soulmate au, maybe a little bit of angst? (mc has some ✨trust issues✨)

pairing: han jisung x gn reader

“y/n!!!!! happy birthday!!” a loud voice resonates through the cafeteria. you groan, wishing you could vanish from the face of the earth as all eyes turn to either you or the source of the yelling--a boy who you would really, really rather not be seeing right now. you tug on your sleeve to make sure your forearm is covered before you feel someone slide into the seat beside you, and you don’t even bother turning your head to see who it is. han jisung, your school’s resident funny popular boy who gets along with any and everyone.

everyone except you, that is. his class clown personality only irritates you; you’re sure it’s all just an act to get people to like him or something. plus, he must be the most annoying person on the entire planet. every time you just want to sit by yourself and read or scroll through social media, there’s jisung to interrupt you. in fact, even when you’re with your friends he finds a reason to approach you and try and draw your attention towards him. your friends say you’re just in denial of your real feelings towards him, and you find yourself mentally puking at the thought. okay, you think he’s maybe kinda cute (not that you’d ever admit that to anyone) but that’s just more of a reason to despise him, right??

it’s no secret to anyone that jisung has a huge crush on you; for over a year now he’s tried everything in the book to get you to go out with him. nevertheless, his advances are always shot down. minho’s tried to get you to at least give him a chance, but he’s long given up his efforts. see, no matter what anyone says, you know deep down inside that jisung’s just trying to embarrass you. the second you agree to a date, he’ll laugh in your face, or even worse--he’ll stand you up and the whole school will laugh at how pathetic you are for thinking someone like him would actually like someone like you.

sure, felix said that’s all crazy, and hyunjin called you delusional and overdramatic for thinking that, but what do they know! they aren’t the ones who have to deal with jisung’s endless pestering and teasing (hyunjin says it’s just flirting, but you aren’t so sure about that).

you just wanted to eat lunch alone in peace tucked away in the corner of the cafeteria, is that too much to ask? most of your friends are away on a class field trip today; normally you eat with jeongin when this happens since neither of you are in the same class as your friends but unfortunately, he’s at home sick today so you’re stuck eating alone. not that you mind all that much; it’s a good opportunity to catch up on schoolwork while you eat, and it can be refreshing to have a small break from the chaos of your friend group.

but today of all days, you really don’t want to see jisung. today’s your seventeenth birthday, which means at midnight last night, you experienced the wonderful and exciting moment when your soulmate’s name appeared inked onto your forearm. needless to say, shocked and disappointed hardly begin to describe how you felt when the name “han jisung” appeared on your skin. you honestly couldn’t believe it at first; maybe felix figured out some elaborate prank, but the more you rubbed at the black letters in an effort to make them disappear the more you realized han jisung really is your soulmate.

hearing jisung’s voice made you feel queasy with...nerves? dread? yeah, let’s go with dread, definitely not any other feelings. your palms feel clammy and heat rises to your cheeks when he slides in beside you, and you do your best to act natural when he comfortably slings an arm around your shoulders.

“so y/n, i know it’s your seventeenth birthday today…” jisung begins, voice oozing with that confidence you’ve come to hate. you finally turn your head to see him grinning at you expectantly, although his smile isn’t quite as wide as you thought it’d be.

“yep, it is indeed. now please go away,” you reply. you’re not going to give him what he’s looking for; for now you’ll just keep stalling until you can think of what to say--you know jisung won’t leave until he has an answer about your soulmate. you don’t want to lie to him, but you don’t think you’re quite ready for him to find out the truth just yet.

“...soooo you’re gonna show me my name on your wrist, right?” he asks, and..are you hearing right? is there a slight waver in his confidence? you try to read his facial expression for any falters in his normally strong front, but now you’re doubting yourself. you’re just hearing things, or maybe he’s just nervous you’ll finally find out he was pranking you all along.

“what makes you so sure it’s your name on my wrist?” you respond, quirking your eyebrows at him.

“just a feeling. i know you and i are meant to be, y/n,” he comments with a wink, and your eyes flick down to his exposed wrist to double-check he doesn’t know anything. you’re pretty sure he hasn’t had his birthday yet, and your thoughts are confirmed when you spy his bare skin, devoid of ink.

“well, maybe you’re wrong,” you mutter, turning back to your schoolwork. you don’t know how long you can keep this up for, especially not when jisung’s so close to you.

“then you gotta show me who it is at least, y/n. i’d rather you break my heart now than make me wait til my birthday,” he jokes, although now you’re sure there’s a more serious undertone to his words.

“no.” you reply. you’re starting to get annoyed with jisung’s persistence, why can’t he just leave you alone and wait for you to tell him when you’re ready?

“awe come on y/n, please?” he begs, leaning his head down onto the table so you can’t avoid his puppy dog stare.

“i said no, jisung, now i’d really appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“i promise i will if you just-” jisung reaches to gently tug at your sleeve, and you snap.

“ugh, out of everyone on earth, why did my soulmate have to be you?” you mumble as you pull your arm away from his grip. you freeze as the realization hits you--you just told jisung the very thing you were trying so hard to keep from him. jisung looks equally as shocked as your eyes dart to his for a split second before you hastily grab your things and walk away from the table, leaving a speechless jisung behind you.

you walk out into the hallway where a few students stand or sit, hanging out comfortably as they wait for class to start again. there’s a spot near the music hall you know you can probably hide from jisung for the rest of lunch, and then you’ll just try your best to avoid him at least for the rest of the day. that might be hard, seeing as he sits right behind you in your english class, but maybe you can just skip-

“y/n!! there you are, wow you walk fast,” jisung says as he catches up to you. there aren’t too many students in this section of the hallway, which you’re grateful for--you can feel your eyes starting to well up with tears as you anticipate the embarrassment you’re about to experience.

“jisung, i’m really not in the mood,” you mutter, your voice cracking a little as you avoid eye contact.

“why’d you run away? hey, are you okay?” he asks. his voice is soft and sincere, which surprises you--you didn’t think he was capable of such emotions.

“no, jisung, i’m not okay. you’re my soulmate which really sucks because i know you don’t even like me like that and you’re just trying to mess with my feelings and-”

“woah woah, i’m sorry, what???? why would you think i don’t like you?” jisung asks. he stops walking, prompting you to stop as well, now a couple of steps in front of him.

“i-i don’t know, you’re just always so goofy and joking around, i just assumed you were playing a prank on me or something,” you explain. you stare at your shoes, too afraid to look at jisung right now. he steps forward, tentatively lifting a hand to your chin and raising your head so you’ll look at him.

“y/n, i’m telling you now, i really, really like you. like, probably too much. why do you think i haven’t dated anyone else this whole time?”

“i-”

“i’m sorry for coming off that way; to be honest, i couldn’t really handle the idea that you didn’t like me back, or that your soulmate might be someone else, so i just tried to play it off. honestly, when i came to talk to you today, i really wasn’t expecting to actually be your soulmate. i thought you’d say some other name, and i’d laugh it off and pretend i wasn’t heartbroken, so when you said i’m your soulmate, i didn’t even know how to react,” jisung explains.

“yeah, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you so quiet,” you joke, a tsunami of relief washing over you. you smile gently, your nerves and embarrassment washed away only to be replaced with a new, unfamiliar emotion. well, you shouldn’t say unfamiliar--you’ve felt twinges of it before, like when jisung lent you a calculator for a test or helped you up when you tripped in the hallway, but you always shoved those feelings down, not wanting them to grow into anything dangerous. but now, you suppose, you can let them flourish as you come to terms with the fact jisung genuinely does have feelings for you. it’s sort of weird seeing him flustered and embarrassed, but you think it’s cute.

the bell rings suddenly, signifying the end of lunch; just minutes before, lunch couldn’t be over soon enough, but now you find yourself wishing it could go on longer so you could talk to jisung more. how are you supposed to focus on class after all of this? your thoughts are interrupted as you feel jisung’s arm slip through yours as he gently guides you to start walking to class.

“so do your friends know yet?” jisung asks as you weave through the sea of students. the two of you get more than a few stares on your way to class; you are linking arms with the han jisung, of course, and you’re not trying to shove him away for once.

“only jeongin, and i made him swear not to tell the others. i didn’t wanna deal with all of them just yet,” you admit. “ugh, they’re never gonna let me live this down,” you groan, leaning your head onto jisung’s shoulder, and he thinks he might explode at how cute you are.

“but it’ll be worth it, because you have me!” jisung says. “we can handle a little teasing, right?”

“yeah...you’re right,” you reply with a soft smile. it’s starting to sink in that wow, you’ve actually found your soulmate, the person you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with, and your stomach bubbles with excitement as you finally feel at peace with jisung by your side.

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byima · 3 years

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Six Weeks at the Blofis’s pt 1

We back baby, read here or on AO3

pt 1: the mortifying incident

"Cheers to making it through the week," Percy says, his second glass of minty cocktail raised in the air for a toast.

The waiter passes Annabeth her refill and she clinks her glass to his. "Cheers to that."

Both of them knock back their drinks, and maybe the liquor will wash away the worst of the past week.

Gods. Only seven days into their temporary stay at the Blofis townhouse and they're already supplementing with alcoholic beverages.

They hadn't planned on 'moving in with the parents,' but after wires got crossed with the people moving into their old place, and because of some unforeseen delays in the remodeling of their new place, they found themselves out of a home for six weeks and scrambling for somewhere to stay. That place ended up being the Blofis brownstone for a lot of really logical reasons.

Nonetheless, the week had been a miniseries in frustrations. Both of them now had longer commutes, Percy was working extra hours to offset additional costs of moving and wedding expenses (the wedding for which they still hadn't sent out thank you cards), Annabeth was on a deadline to turn in a final report for a state grant that would impact her compensation at the end of the fiscal year, and for some strange reason, U-hauls and storage units had been scarce throughout Brooklyn. Percy had spent the last 48 hours at the station, they had fought several times, and Annabeth had cried more than she would like to admit.

So on Friday night, they went on a date. Just the two of them. And they were going to relax, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I found a new bedmate in your absence." Their drinks are empty, plates cleared, and they've just been going back and forth for about an hour, tucked cozily in a corner booth at their favorite sushi spot. She's pressed to his right side and he's got his arm around her shoulders.

"Mmhmm," his left hand finds her leg through the slit of her long dress. It's a pale blue floral number, with capped sleeves and buttons all the way down the front. "Tell me about him. Should I be jealous?"

"Very." She bites her bottom lip when his warm palm settles on her thigh. Her mouth is painted a rich red color and he wants her lips on him. "She doesn't snore."

"Mhmm." He drags his nose along her hairline. "I knew one day you'd toss me over for a girl."

"She pokes me awake, occasionally. Not nearly as often as you do."

"Fair enough." His long fingers are trailing up her thigh, while his other hand, visible to any onlookers, casually toys with her long, loose curls. "What else do I do that your new bedfellow doesn't?"

She doesn't answer, but her red mouth parts and grey eyes lock with sea green when his seeking hand bypasses dinner appropriate territory.

She crosses her legs, effectively trapping his hand. He buries his smile in her hair.

"Come on," he mumbles into the curly, blonde mass. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Her right hand travels from his knee to his lap, and her parted lips stretched into a smile when he clears his throat.

"This is a losing battle, babe, you know that." She tilts her head until he lifts his face from her fragrant curls and their foreheads touch.

He does know that. But sparring with Annabeth is one of his favorite pastimes. And the alcohol in his system is only egging him on for this particular war, impending defeat notwithstanding.

She caresses with increased boldness and he blows out a breath. "Woah."

"I'm gonna call for the check," she whispers. "Sounds good?"

"Yup."

One handsy subway ride later, and they are back at the brownstone, so wrapped up in each other they barely remember to shut the door.

He starts pulling her up the upstairs to where the bedrooms are, but she stops him at the second step, stumbling under the burden of his heavier mass. Her handbag drops to the wooden stairs with a thump.

"We can't." She tries to tugs him down to her, frowning slightly. "Estelle is probably in our bed. Definitely actually." She sways on her feet, kept upright by his hand in hers.

"What?" He sounds distracted. He climbs down, lifting their joint hands, and walks around her, half-twirling her into his arms. He's back in her personal space: hands at the dip of her waist, and mouth seeking the erogenous zone below her ear.

"I told you." She tilts her head with a noise of pleasure. "Estelle's been sleeping with me."

He's walking her backwards, aiming for the couch, and they bump into the coffee table on the way.

"You didn't tell me anything…" he murmurs, trailing off, confused. "Wait, Estelle? You replaced me with Estelle?" His breath, bearing a heady odor of alcohol, fans across her face as he stops walking and drags his face from her neck to study her.

"Uh-huh." Annabeth is unbuttoning his white dress shirt with slightly drunken focus. "You look really good in white."

"No. No no no." He catches her wrists in his hands. "She can't keep doing that. Not when I'm here."

"You're gonna have to tell her that, big brother. Because I can't. I'm her best friend." She frees her hands and is working the last few buttons loose. "I want this, Perce. It's been a week…"

She's cut off as Percy sets into motion once again, dragging her into the kitchen. His open button-up fills like a windward sail as his rapid, long-legged strides take them through the entryway.

"But we can't," she bemoans. "There's no place for us…"

"Yes we can." Percy pulls her to the counter and she draws her hands up his neck; he backs her up and seals his mouth over hers. Her hands skate up and down his bare chest, along his sides, down the warm row of contracting abs. His hands rub over her ass, gripping it through the light blue patterned linen.

She brushes him below the belt, and he groans and lifts one hand to angle her head for a greedier, wetter kiss: suckling her lips and tongue and licking into her mouth.

The kiss ends with a damp noise. "This is a bad idea," Annabeth moans against his beard bristled cheek, drawing in labored breaths. Her fingers twist in the hair at his nape. She has widened her stance so he can stand between her legs and push her into the counter, his hips molded to hers. He's dragging his hands along her body, pausing to palm and massage what he can and she pulls his mouth back down to meet hers. A bad idea that feels so good, she thinks, as she pulls his lower lip into her mouth.

"This is a phenomenal idea, I think." Percy breathes this into her mouth before he grips the back of her thighs and hoists her up. He drops her on the counter, finding her leg through the slit once again to hold it to his hip.

"What are you up to Perseus Jackson?" She winds her arms around his neck and wraps her leg around his, anchoring him to her.

"What do you think I'm up to, Annabeth? Don't call me that." His hands have left her legs and have started working the long line of buttons on her dress free.

He looks edible: prickly jaw, rumpled hair, shirt open to display his tan, broad torso. Her personal Adonis. She massages her hands into the soft hair covering his chest. And he's trying to focus on unbuttoning her dress but he gets distracted too easily; pushing up her skirt to reveal more of her toned legs, meeting her mouth for heated kisses, and dragging his teeth against her chest.

It's dark in the kitchen and it feels so private and removed, because it's just them and their warm, heavy breathing and the rocking and gripping and rubbing and a mutual promise that's felt more than spoken and that promise is passed from mouth to mouth, from skin to skin and it iterates 'I won't take my hands off of you as long as you don't take yours off of me.'

Percy finally gets her dress fully unbuttoned. It's fire that follows, and though for a living he puts out flames, he'll stoke this heat until it consumes her. With my body I thee worship, that's another promise, a vow they made not even two months ago, and Percy covers a trembling Annabeth's cries with his mouth and makes good on that promise, putting an end to the week from hell with the tried and true rhythm of their moving bodies. With my body I thee worship; this is reconnection, and Percy holds her head in his hands as they seal this covenant.

They startle when the lights flicker on and off in rapid beats. Annabeth breaks their kiss in confusion.

"You guys are in my kitchen, and you guys are loud."

It's Sally. In the kitchen entryway. She's in a large gray bathrobe and the expression on her face is a little embarrassed, mostly fatigued, and very annoyed.

Annabeth makes a noise as they separate, and then she's flushing beet red and thinking about vomiting from embarrassment as she frantically pulls the halves of her dress together while Percy fumbles to pull his pants up from around his knees.

"Shit. Mom-"

"Oh my gods. Sally-"

In their uncoordinated movements, they accidentally knock over a vase of roses, which had, up until that moment, narrowly missed out on the action.

Sally reaches reflexively, stumbling forward from the entryway, but it's too late. It hits the tile with a way-too-loud crash.

That, of course, draws a worried Paul down the stairs, thump thump thump, and into the kitchen. Paul takes one look at the scene and leaves, mumbling something about a towel.

Sally is whispering furiously, "You better pray Estelle doesn't wake up, because this is a lot to explain." She's moving to the side of the counter opposite them to bend over and retrieve the roses from the wet, glassy mess and place them on the counter.

Percy has got his zip up and is rebuttoning Annabeth's dress, jaw clenched in discomfort, while she refastens her bra. He's disoriented, still a little drunk and trying to shake the feeling. Annabeth can't stop babbling in apology.

"I can't believe- Sally I'm so so sorry, we got carried away, totally carried away. And we had been drinking and- and, everyone was asleep upstairs-"

Percy pleads, "Annabeth," desperate for her to stop talking. They finish her buttons and he steps back to help her slide down from the countertop so she can turn and face Sally.

Light footsteps pat into the kitchen and Percy's still pounding heart drops to his spleen. Oh gods, he can't catch a break.

"Annabeth. You're back," Estelle says in a sweet, sleepy voice. She's awake. And she's shuffling to the counter to give her a hug, but all three of them yell.

"Stop!"

"Wait-"

"Estelle there's glass!"

She startles at their raised voices and steps back. Annabeth feels a fresh burn of tears and, frustrated, she pushes her palm against her forehead. Estelle is tired and confused and wipes wispy black hair out of her face. "Are you gonna come to bed Annabeth?"

Annabeth looks at Sally, who gestures and says, "Go, she needs to go back to sleep. Stelle-belle, Annabeth is gonna go up with you so you can go right back to sleep, alright?"

Estelle nods, and reaches her hand towards her.

Annabeth hurries to her, realizes she's only got one sandal on, scans the floor and locates her wayward shoe, then jams her foot in quickly and takes Estelle's hand, shocked at Sally trusting her young daughter with the woman she found nailing her son on her kitchen counter.

Sally's eyes follow the two of them out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she rounds on Percy, who's been leaning against the sink, buttoning his shirt.

"I don't have anything to say," she starts. Paul is back with a towel and he underhand tosses it to Percy. One awkward "alrighty then" later and he's out of the kitchen as Sally's rant continues. "You two are married at this point and even if you weren't, I wouldn't care." She bends down to pick up the larger chunks of glass. "But to come back here so late? Drunk?"

She tosses the broken glass into the trash can Percy has grabbed and is holding towards her. "And you're loud enough to wake up the entire house? This isn't some frat house, baby. Did you consider Paul, or Estelle?"

Percy drags his hand over his mouth, speechless. His eyes are drawn to the messy smear of red lipstick on his hand. The same red that had been applied oh-so-enticingly to Annabeth's mouth is now a smudge on his palm, and the full mortification of the moment settles on him so sharply he almost feels angry.

"Hey. Mom. I'm sorry. Look, I've got it. I'm sorry." Sally stands slowly and watches Percy impatiently pick up the remaining shards before he drops the towel over the main splash. The towel unnaturally absorbs the wetness, and it takes her tired mind a couple seconds to realize Percy is causing the fabric to draw in droplets that have spread further along the kitchen floor. Sally blinks when Percy snatches it up and drops the sodden thing into the sink.

He doesn't look at her when he grabs the broom from where it's tucked next to the refrigerator and starts sweeping up the remaining evidence of the mishap.

"Well," she begins. Percy still won't look at her.

"Percy." He looks up from what he's doing, detecting a hint of merriment in her voice.

"Mom-"

It's too late. She's laughing, it's a mix of disbelief and exhaustion and vindication, then she's turning away to walk out of the kitchen.

"In the damn kitchen."

Percy fully stops sweeping and looks down at the broom handle in his hands. "Fuck." He says it so matter-of-factly that Sally starts laughing even harder, and his shoulders shake as even he begins to chuckle.

"My girlfriends will be hearing about this."

"Oh please, Mom, don't..." Percy begs, ears going red as he resumes his task.

"Nope, it's my right as mother and witness." She turns at the entryway to face him, brows raised and with a smile that dares him to argue. "And you seem to have this," she gestures to the remaining mess, "handled, so I'm going back to bed."

She's out of the kitchen, waving her hand dismissively.

He still hears her say, "I mean, you know these things, but lord help me, you never want to see them."

---

Percy walks into their temporary bedroom and finds Annabeth, makeup-less and in his t-shirt and a pair of his sweats, laying with a sleeping Estelle, brushing her hair away from her face. She glances at him when he enters, then her eyes are back on the seven year old.

He starts undressing for bed. "You were really serious about her sleeping with you."

Annabeth nods.

He pulls off his briefs and tugs on a pair of pajama bottoms, only grabbing a t-shirt when she gives him a pointed look.

"So how are we ever gonna finish what we started in the kitchen?"

"We aren't." She stares him down as he joins them in bed. "Not in this house."

His eyes widen. "You can't be serious?"

She purses her lips and her eyebrows draw together. She is serious. "Percy. That was mortifying. In a horrible, sobering way."

He gets under the covers. "Yeah. It was. I get that. But in the end Mom was laughing. She's not exactly a nun." He turns on his side. "Otherwise I wouldn't exist."

"It's one thing to be a happy duo of not-nuns. It's another thing to walk into your son and your daughter-in-law having sex on your kitchen counter." Her hand slowly rubs Estelle's back. "I can't even think about sex with you without recalling her expression."

Percy rolls his eyes. He watches her soothe his sleeping sister.

"This is cute," he comments after a moment. She smiles slightly in answer, eyes still on Estelle. "But, I'm not gonna lie, it sort of turns me on in a thinking-about-making-babies-with-you kind of way."

She looks at him with a frown. "You are horrible."

"Remember who had an orgasm back there? Remember who didn't?"

Her face relaxes out of the frown and she's remorseful enough to blush before her attention goes back to Estelle.

"Come on." He reaches over Estelle to briefly shake Annabeth's thigh. "Where's my best friend, my wife, Annabeth Chase? Daring. Demanding. A sexual deviant."

"She had a too-close encounter with your mom, and will not be available for the next five weeks."

He props his head up with his elbow.

"So you're gonna use my sister as a cock block?"

She doesn't reply, but he sees a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

He shakes his head, "You are unbelievable."

He balances over Estelle, kisses her forehead, then leans further to kiss Annabeth's mouth. "But I'm irresistible. So you're not gonna last."

"You're very cocky."

"You love me like that. You fake prude."

#six weeks at the blofis's #mypjofic #percy jackon and the olympians #percabeth #percy and annabeth

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wonder-womans-ex · 3 years

Text

When We Lied To Ourselves

Character credits to the one and only @lumosinlove

No one really knew him. That was all Finn could think as he watched Leo practice. Swing after swing of his arm, flick after flick of his wrist. His spellwork was perfect, but they didn’t know him.

Finn wanted to.

He knew he shouldn’t. He had Logan, after all. But something about Leo Knut made him wonder if maybe, just maybe…

Well.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a stag patronus prancing across the room, effectively drawing everyone’s attention to the front. Harry was standing next to the dummy death eater, looking very short for someone who had vanquished a dark wizard four times—and was supposed to be teaching them to do the same.

“Right, everyone,” Harry called. “If you’d all partner up, and practice disarming, that would be great. Yeah.”

Logan immediately caught his eye, and Finn nodded. No matter what he thought about Leo, Logan always had and always would come first.

“That boy still talks like he’s asking someone on a date,” said Logan, gesturing with his head. Finn laughed.

He stopped laughing when Logan stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Speaking of asking someone on a date… care to join me in Hogsmede tomorrow?”

“You know it, baby.”

Someone cleared their throat. Finn turned to see Harry, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs and glancing to where Leo stood slightly behind him. “Look, I hate to break this up, but might there be room in your group for a third? I would ask someone else, but you two are the best at defence spells and I think he needs the challenge.”

The other reason went unspoken, but everyone knew that he didn’t completely trust Logan. Between the fact that he’d shown up at the Hog’s Head even though no one had told him to be there, and his being the only Slytherin in the DA, Harry always felt the need to have someone powerful keep an eye on him. It was messed up, but Logan didn’t seem to mind.

At least, until now.

Finn watched as Logan gulped—showy, like they did in the films. “Sure. I mean, that’s great, yeah.”

At least Lo was as nervous as he was.

Leo seemed scared, too, but it was almost entirely hidden by his smile. “Hey. Sorry about this.”

“No worries.”

“Well, at least it can’t be as bad as last time.”

“No, it can’t.” Finn and Leo laughed.

Logan looked at Finn in confusion. “What happened last time?”

“He was partnered with Seamus. Got set on fire. For once, it wasn’t an accident.”

“Seamus Finnigan set him on fire on purpose. Why?”

“Because I dated Dean Thomas for two weeks.”

Blinking twice at Leo’s answer, Logan turned back to Finn. “And Seamus is…?”

“In love with Dean.”

“Fucking Gryffindors,” Logan muttered under his breath. “Can’t handle emotion like the rest of us.”

Finn elbowed him. “Slytherins are no better!”

“Yes we are!”

“You called me ‘ginger earwig’ for four years! To my face!”

“Lovingly!”

“The point stands!”

“Look, everyone only thinks Slytherins are shit at feelings because of Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy is shit at feelings. The rest of us aren’t.”

They were both surprised when Leo broke in. “Draco Malfoy is very shit at feelings.”

“And you know this how?”

“I dated him.”

“You dated Malfoy?” Finn wasn’t entirely sure he had heard correctly. “Good grief, is there anyone in this school you haven’t gone out with?”

He wished he could take the words back as soon as he said them. That had come out wrong—really wrong. Oh, god, it probably sounded like he thought Leo was a player or something, which was totally not true. Finn knew that better than anyone—sometimes you have to date around until you find the right person.

And are you sure that Logan is that right person, asked the little voice in his mind that Finn wished he could step on. Yes. Shut up, he told it.

But Leo just smiled. “McGonagall keeps saying no, unfortunately.”

Finn’s heart clenched in his chest when Logan laughed, which was hypocritical of him, all things considering.

Two years later

“What will you do if you survive tonight?”

They were fighting back to back, he and Logan, and he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that his boyfriend had decided to make small talk in the middle of a war.

“If we survive—yes, we, there’s no one of us without the other and you know it—I’ll tell you everything. All of it. And you can decide what to do with that information. I… I promise, Lo. No holding back this time.”

“You haven’t been having an affair behind my back, have you?”

Finn loved that they trusted each other so much they could joke about that. He had a feeling that would change once he had said his piece.

“Of course not, baby. You’re the only one for me.”

Lies, lies, lies.

When Harry’s body—Harry, whose shirts Finn had found on his side of the room for six years; who had won them every quidditch game; who had led the fight against Umbridge when no one else would; who had watched so many people suffer—was carried into the courtyard, Finn broke. The war was over.

And they had lost.

Well, said the voice. At least Logan will die thinking you love him.

He didn’t have time to think about that, though, because Harry was standing up again and he and Voldemort were battling and Harry was winning and the Death Eaters were retreating and the next thing he knew he was sitting against a dilapidated stone wall as Logan held his hand in a death grip.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. When the silence was finally broken, Finn had a feeling that other things had been broken then, too.

“What was it you wanted to tell me? Remember? When we were fighting.”

As if he could forget.

“I’m so sorry.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Lo. I love you. I love you so fucking much and I will love you forever and nothing, nothing, will ever make me stop loving you. But…

“But there’s him, too.

“And I don’t even know him and I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel like that. But my heart skips a beat when I look at him and he makes me blush and everything else that I thought only you could do to me. And I don’t know what to do.

“I promise I’ve never done anything. I would never cheat on you. I love you too much to ever do that, I promise. I’ve never told him how I feel—I’ve never told anyone how I feel—and I’ve sure as hell never acted on it. But he means something to me. Something he shouldn’t.

“If you want to break up with me, do it. I’ll deserve it. But don’t do it for some bullshit reason like I’ll be happier with him, because I’ll never be happy in a relationship without you in it.”

Logan licked his lips. “Leo Knut.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Finn whispered, barely able to hear himself. “How’d you know?”

“Because you look at him like I look at him.”

Neither could be sure, but it seemed like the whole world went quiet just then.

“What?”

“You look at him like I look at him. Like he looks at both of us.”

“You mean…?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think… us three…”

Maybe that was a step too far, Finn thought, as Logan stood up. But then Logan turned back to him and held out a hand.

“Why don’t we go find out?”

***

We’ll leave them there, hopeful and excited and in love. Because for now, they don’t know they’ll never press gentle kisses to blond curls, never wake up to dimples and gorgeous grins. They don’t know that Leo’s body will be cold long before they find it.

But we do.

@hpbrokenhearts

(Leave a ‘broken heart’ in the comments if I made u sad 😊)

#o'knutzy #leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #angst #hpbrokenhearts #brokenheartsfest2020

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kaekiro · 3 years

Text

The Taste of Rainwater

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 2654 II [AO3] Warnings: none A/N: Because ngl I was disappointed with the short story about EM taking shelter from the rain and also because I like writing first kisses/eren looking out for mikasa 😊

At first, she mistook the droplet that slid from her bangs to her cheek as her own sweat. She felt it run down to her jawline and watched it seep into the clearing of dirt at her boots, thinking nothing of it as she adjusted her grip on the wooden ax and swung it with precision. A slight sting at her palm made her pause to look at it, and she sighed, the red and irritated skin of her upper palm tender as she flexed her hand. Blisters would form if she didn’t stop soon. After setting the newly split logs onto the sizable pile she had going, she lifted a forearm and wiped away remnants of the droplet. As she stood to her full height to relax her arms and back, the pent up tension released and dissipated like steam, leaving behind the beginnings of sore muscles. It was relieving to feel the breeze in her hair, how it rustled the looser parts of her clothing and cooled her skin. But it suddenly got colder, stronger, carrying thicker droplets that splashed directly on the tip of her nose and exposed forearms. The tree branches swayed sporadically, warning her of the kind of storm that was coming but the distinct scent and sounds of thunder rumbling in the air were confirmation enough. She tried to move fast to gather a good amount of logs to keep dry for later, yet it was of little avail. Before she knew it, she was running through the rain with the ax in one hand and a pitiful number of logs clutched at her side. Though it would’ve been ideal to go inside the cabin where the wood was needed, the icy water that was beginning to soak her hair and seep through her clothes forced her to temporarily shelter in the stables housing the few horses they had.

She had huffed out an irritable breath the moment she stepped beneath the old roof of the stables, both at her small dilemma and at the mix of dirt and rain that left a burning sensation in her eye. She promptly dropped the wood on the ground, trying to blink away the feeling when his voice nearly made her jump.

She looked over her shoulder, relaxing as she recognized him and said his name in greeting. He stepped forward and pulled down the cloth covering the bottom half of his face, abandoning his broom alongside the pitchfork leaning against a splintered stud. Eren eyed the ax in her hand, then the logs at her feet as he removed his gloves and haphazardly pocketed them, meeting her gaze again when he was an arm’s length away and she turned to face him properly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… got caught in the heavy rain. I meant to go inside but…”

She falters as the burning sensation at her eye persists, making her close it tight in a feeble attempt to get rid of it. She raises a hand, intending on using the back of her bandaged wrist to rub at it but he stops her before she can, using his grip to lower her wrist back at her side.

“Your bandages and hands have dirt, don’t rub at your eye.”

“But—”

“Here, I’ll help you.” His clothes rustle, and he produces what looks like a handkerchief.

“Try to keep still,” he quietly instructs, and though his voice is low, would have otherwise been inaudible beneath the sound of the pouring rain, she seizes up in a way that makes it hard to focus on anything else. He curls his fingers over her shoulder as a way to keep her steady, and through the thin cloth pressing against her face, she feels the paralyzing heat of his hand. Reflexively, she tenses as the cotton carefully swipes over the inner corner and just beneath her lash line, drying her watering eye as gently as possible until it finally soothed. She blinks a few times, relieved until she realizes how close he has leaned in, his bright eyes focused on hers. Involuntarily, her gaze flickers between his eyes and mouth.

“Better?”

She swallows around the dryness in her throat, opting to stare down at the laces of his shirt and simply nod against the hand at her face, murmuring her thanks. Seemingly unaware of the effect his proximity has on her, she feels him give a nod of his own. As Eren takes a step back, the bit of warmth she felt moves away with him and leaves her unable to help the slight shiver that goes through her body.

“Are you also working alone today?” she asks as casually as she can manage, walking towards a stream of rainwater leaking through the roof to clean some of the dirt from her hands. The cold temperature of it hurts, but she bears with it, eventually moving back to her original spot near Eren when she’s done. Her arms cross and she loosely grips her biceps, rubbing them to try and keep warm. Both of them watch the rain come down.

“I had Connie here with me. But he left a little while ago to grab other tools we needed to take care of the horses… he’s probably waiting out this downpour somewhere nearby.”

“Oh,” is all she says, half distracted by the messy pile of logs. A lone log sits at her side and she nudges it back towards the rest with the tip of her boot. His snort startles her a bit, and he nods towards the wood when she gives him a questioning look.

“I’m surprised. Is that all you were able to chop today?”

She sighs. “No, I had more. But I couldn’t grab enough of them before it started pouring.”

He does it again, breathing out a small laugh that she hasn’t heard in some time. He seems to be in a better mood for some reason, and she nearly points it out but quickly decides not to. She didn’t want to make it seem like it was a strange thing to smile and laugh, or make him self-conscious about it. It felt better to just simply witness him act a bit more like he used to.

“I’m not trying to make fun of you, I just can’t believe that Mikasa Ackerman, one of humanity's strongest soldiers, lost a battle to some rain and logs.”

She hums, amused. “Yeah… I barely made it out alive.” There’s a sense of accomplishment as her remark makes his grin broaden, but it falters completely when a flash of lightning draws their attention back to the storm outside. A gust of wind blows through the stables, causing the old structure to creak at its weakest points. Her eyes screw shut and she hugs herself tighter, fighting off the chill that worsens with her wet clothes. She breathes out shakily once it passes, focusing so much of her attention on trying to still her shivering hands that she doesn’t notice him taking off his hooded sweater. The long black material is wrapped securely around her shoulders and she touches it, looking up at him curiously. He scratches the back of his head.

“I didn’t realize that you were cold until just now, sorry.”

She smiles softly, choosing not to pose a question at the kind gesture. Instead, she shakes her head, pushing her arms through the sleeves and tugging the ends of his sweater tighter around her. “Thank you.”

They lean on opposite sides of a post supporting the aged structure, one that stands just before the opening of the stables, and they talk. They share a few stories of things that happened while the other wasn’t present, talk of upcoming plans for the scouts, stuff they and Armin should do on their days off, make mentions of little unimportant things in between, and to her pleasant surprise, Eren cracks another small joke. They chuckle, and she decides that the sudden storm wasn’t a misfortune after all. She steps over to his side to respond once they quiet down, yet the sight of him struck something within her. This time, there’s nothing to keep him from smiling, and she knows it's completely genuine in the way it softens and lifts his features. The mere fact of it has her own smile widening. She stares at his smile adoringly, stares and wishes she could see it more often until she closes her eyes and notes how sweet it feels against her own lips. The sensation lasts for half a second though, because his initial reaction quickly alerts her of her mistake. His breath stutters and his body goes stiff at her sudden romantic gesture, causing her to drop the hand gripping the front of his shirt. She doesn’t even remember reaching for it. Their lips part and she blushes intensely at the sound.

They look at one another with wide eyes, her fingers partially covering her mouth in shock.

“U-um,” she begins clumsily, unsure of what exactly she intends to say or how to explain herself. Should she apologize? Why did she even do that? While she did feel more at ease and comfortable with him at that moment… that’s how she usually was when they spent time together. What was different this time that made it feel so natural to kiss him the way she did? And what was he thinking? Could it be that he was upset at her?

“I don’t…” she says slowly, shrinking under his gaze. “I don’t know why I did that…”

His lack of response is anything but reassuring, gives her all the more reason to leave with her pitiful pile of logs. Ashamed, she averts her eyes and takes a step backward, thinking it best to give him space and talk about it later, if he even wanted to see her later after what she just did. But he is quick to stop her by hooking his fingers into the hood just before she moves out of his reach, coaxing her to look at him by tugging on the crook of her elbow when she keeps her back to him. Hyper aware of the single touch between them, the firmness of his grip, she lifts her eyes from the ground and looks over her shoulder.

“Did you mean it?”

They do not react to the clap of thunder that begins to agitate the horses, or to the chilled gust of wind that threatens the old structure of the stables once more. She is uncomfortably warm as they simply stare at one another, and her heart beats louder in her ears when she finds that she cannot decipher his expression. He begins to pull, guiding her closer and, being as flighty as she is, she resists. He recoils slightly, hurt glinting in his eyes as he releases her arm. Through her addled thoughts, she realizes that she accidentally conveyed the wrong message. She mentally curses, feeling guiltier and looking even more helpless. His question echoes in her ears again. Yes, she thinks, yes I did mean it. But there is a disconnect between what she wants to say and what she actually does, which has her panicking a bit because she senses that something is beginning to slip away the longer she stays quiet. It’s enough to make her momentarily cast aside any reservations and the need for words, to boldly step out of her comfort zone and back into his personal space. Balancing on her toes, she pushes her lips against his, unmindful of her fierceness in her state of desperation and panic. She gives him a hard and rather quick kiss, immediately pulling back to gauge his reaction and perhaps apologize, but she doesn’t get the chance because his hands are suddenly hot on her face and bringing her back to back to him.

Bit by bit, the tension within her unravels and she starts to relax, consciously leaning more into his touch and body. Eren thumbs away the trail of rainwater that dripped from her bangs to her face, pausing to comment how cold her nose and hands are before muffling her apology with his lips. He holds each kiss for a long second like he’s savoring them, eventually moving to trail his hands down the column of her neck and across her back. He clutches the dark material of his sweater and breathes shakily against her mouth when she fills the last bit of space between them. As they strike a rhythm, the intensity of their kiss increases as does her sensitivity to his touch, an airy sigh of his name escaping from her mindlessly. He grips her harder at the sound and she’s gasping, both in surprise and for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet she can’t help but reciprocate by slipping her fingers beneath the neckline of his shirt and wrapping an arm tight around his shoulders—

A loud curse cuts through the air, followed by the noise of items falling into one another in equal volume. She and Eren jump apart, breathing heavily as a lone metal bucket that has fallen on its side rolls into the stables, coming to a stop between the two of them. An irritated Connie trudges in soon after with his arms full of miscellaneous tools and one side of his body completely coated in mud, the other drenched with rainwater.

“Sorry I took so long, Eren, I was going to wait out the worst of the storm but the Captain noticed and —” he yelps and wobbles, nearly tripping over the logs she abandoned on the ground. He wonders aloud where they came from, kicking them in further agitation until his eyes land on her. All three of them freeze.

“Mikasa?”

She jolts slightly when he calls her name, mentally scrambling to find something to do or say to take his attention off of her.

“Connie…” she starts, looking pointedly at his clothes and evening out her breath as subtly as she can. “What happened to you?”

To her temporary relief, Connie remembers why he was upset and bitterly explains that he was running through the rain trying to come back, but slipped and fell into the puddle of mud just a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” she responds, briefly wondering why Eren hasn’t spoken up yet.

“Yeah, I’ll live. I just don’t know why the Captain is in such...” Connie’s grimace from pulling at his own clothes fades as he looks at her, finishing his sentence a bit absently, “a rush...”

She remembers that she’s wearing Eren’s sweater as Connie stares at it directly, and it takes everything to keep her expression neutral as she awkwardly slips it off her shoulders. She holds it out for Eren to take, and her composure nearly breaks at the sight of him. The tips of his ears are burning red, his mind clearly somewhere other than in the present and she has to push the sweater into his chest for him to finally snap out of it.

“It’s uh, it’s probably because it’s getting late in the afternoon, Connie,” Eren manages after clearing his throat. “He… probably has other plans for us tomorrow, or something.”

Her heart races as their friend doesn’t reply and instead looks between the two of them with a weird expression.

“I should probably get those logs inside,” she says aloud, more to herself and as an excuse to escape. It’s so uncomfortably silent between the three of them as she prepares to leave, and she struggles to ignore the weight of Eren’s and Connie’s eyes on her when she uncharacteristically fumbles with the logs and ax. Careful to avoid the puddle Connie slipped in, she eventually makes it back to the cabin, well aware that the speed of her breath and pulse has nothing to do with her running through the rain.

#eremika #writing #snk #text #hope you all had a nice christmas and have a happy new year!!!#kaleidoscopes

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taizi · 3 years

Note

I am reading some of your older Natsume Yuujinchou fan fics and I absolutely LOVE them! Can u please write some more about him idk what topic I'm sorry T.T but any good ones u can think of ?

well i was in the MIDST of answering a nishinatsu prompt but my drafts seems to have consumed that ask entirely, so i guess i’ll just write that prompt here instead !

“I mean,” Nishimura blurts, “just look at him!”

He gestures with both hands, as if words are failing him. Across the room, Natsume is laughing, shaking off snow and unwinding a borrowed scarf. Tanuma is thanking him profusely for the hot tea he ran to the vending machine outside for; given that Tanuma just returned to school after being out sick for a few days, it makes sense that Natsume and mother-hen Tsuji wanted him to stay put. The whole thing is very mundane and in no way out of the ordinary and Nishimura, for whatever reason, is pissed about it.

Bemused, Kitamoto settles into what has been his default state since he was three years old and humors his best friend.

“I’m looking,” he says gamely. “It’s Natsume. He’s wearing a hat.”

“Do not over-simplify this,” Nishimura warns with utmost severity.

His tone causes Suzuki to glance over from her desk in alarm, but Kitamoto makes Meaningful Eye Contact with her and she glances from him, to Nishimura, and then across the room at Natsume, and out loud says “oh.” Then she gives Kitamoto a pitying expression and returns to her book. Kitamoto wishes it were that easy for him to escape.

“Okay, sorry,” Kitamoto concedes. “Is there something special about the hat that I’m missing?”

“It’s adorable,” Nishimura hisses with real, actual venom. “It has a pom-pom on the end. What the hell? Who gave him the right?”

It is pretty cute, Kitamoto has to admit. He thinks Taki is the one who got it for him, but he can’t remember, and now he’s certainly not going to mention it. He wouldn’t throw his friend under this bus, not even to spare himself.

“Right,” he says. He flips a page in his magazine. “Some nerve.”

“I mean it’s bad enough that he’s the most handsome guy in our grade,” his best friend goes on, outwardly seething, “no, scratch that, our school! I mean, already way, way out of my league, and then he has to go and--”

Kitamoto looks up. The conversation has taken a new, unlikely turn, and with Nishimura, you have to catch these things quick, or he’ll get the idea that he’s allowed to think them.

“Hey, hold on a second. What’s this about ‘out of your league’?”

“Sorry, I thought you said you were looking,” Nishimura says with enough bitterness to make Kitamoto frown. “It’s Natsume. I don’t have a chance in hell.”

This crush has been a thing for going on a year and a half now. It’s the most open secret in school, because Nishimura is about as subtle as a bullet train and wears his heart on his sleeve-- he always has. But up until this point, Kitamoto had thought all the dithering and nerves was a little bit just because it was kind of fun to like somebody, and nerve-wracking to confess. It’s not as though any of them are gonna vanish any time soon, not with another year until they graduate, and plans to go to university together after that.

Kitamoto figured that when Nishimura got tired of drawing hearts in his notebook and then screeching when someone asked to borrow his notes, he’d tell Natsume that he’s been in puppy-love with him since about two days after Natsume moved to Hitoyoshi in the first place, and they’d all have a good laugh about how long it took them to get their shit together, and that would be that.

He never expected to hear something like this out of Nishimura’s mouth.

It’s the worst thing he’s ever heard out of Nishimura’s mouth.

Kitamoto gets up, so abruptly that his chair screeches back across the linoleum. Nishimura’s head snaps around and he reflexively grabs Kitamoto’s arm. They’ve been inseparable since before they could walk and that means that, generally, they can sort of read each other’s minds.

Kitamoto wonders if he’ll ever stop being furious with himself that he missed something as big as this.

“Hey, woah, what are you doing?” Nishimura says. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m mad because my best friend is an actual, honest-to-god idiot,” Kitamoto snaps. “And I’m going to prove you wrong.”

He manages one step in Natsume’s direction, and Nishimura yanks him back into his chair with a super-strength born of absolute terror.

“Don’t you dare! If you love me you’ll stay right here!”

“Of course I love you,” Kitamoto says, whirling on him. “You know I love you.”

For a brief second, he finds himself terrified: what if this is something else he’s missed? What if--

But Nishimura rolls his eyes, and his grip on Kitamoto’s arm slides down to his hand, and he tangles their fingers together as easily as if they’re in kindergarten again. This is one thing, it seems, neither of them have ever had to doubt.

“I know, Acchan. I’m just having a bad day.” Nishimura bites his lip. He looks down, and away. “But... you know what I mean, right? You know that Natsume is-- he’s on another level. You get that, right?”

“He is not better than you,” Kitamoto says, perhaps too loudly. A few classmates glance in their direction. From Nishimura’s nervous twitch, one of them is probably Natusme, but he’s all the way across the room. There’s no way he could have overheard. “He thinks the world of you. You spend every waking minute together. This is the first time I’ve managed to steal you away in like two weeks.”

Nishimura slants a bit of a smile at him. It’s nothing like the megawatt grins he’s usually throwing around, but it’s something. Kitamoto squeezes his hand, refusing to back down.

“Even if he doesn’t like you back,” Kitamoto says, “he already loves you. And I love you, and so does Taki and Tanuma and Tsuji and Ogata and even Shibata, even though he’d never admit it. I’ll make him if it would make you feel better, though. I still have blackmail.”

And there it is-- a laugh. Nishimura leans back in his chair with it, a loud ha-HA that he muffles in his sleeve, and Kitamoto grins at him.

“For now, let’s go find Taki,” he says, standing up again. He draws Nishimura up with him by their joined hands. “There’s still a few minutes left before the bell.”

“Sure,” Nishimura says, following along agreeably. “Why do we need Taki?”

“You’ll feel better after you can gossip with her about your hopeless crush,” Kitamoto tells him dryly. “And I’m gonna tell her all that nonsense you said about not being good enough, and she’ll yell at you about how much we love you till you cry, probably.”

Nishimura gasps, the perfect picture of betrayal. He’s back to his overly-animated self and the whole room feels lighter for it. Kitamoto tugs him along, smiling, and waves at their friends as they pass by.

“I told you that in confidence!” Nishimura shouts.

“Next time get it in writing.”

He’s prepared for it when Nishimura throws his full weight against his back in revenge, and manages to haul him up piggy-back style with enough grace that they don’t immediately fall over.

Nishimura wraps one arm around his neck, squeezing too tight for comfort, just to be a brat, but at that point they’re both having fun as they make their ungainly way toward the door. Whatever hurt Nishimura has been holding onto has been left behind for now, and if Kitamoto has his way, it won’t be coming back.

And behind them, Natsume buries his face in his hands. Tsuji and Tanuma trade a swift, knowing glance over his head, and then reach over to pat him on the shoulder and the arm respectively.

“I mean,” Natsume mutters, eyes drawn to where Nishimura is crowing with laughter, noisy and charming and the brightest thing in the room, “just look at him.”

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #nishinatsu #kitamoto atsushi #nishimura satoru #natsume takashi #my writing #prompt #anonymous #natsuyuu fic #ah nishinatsu....my one true weakness...

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morimallow · 3 years

Note

Hi hiiii. This is my first time requesting but... would you mind writing Kita's NSFW Alphabet? MY MAN DESERVES THE HYPE ;) Thank youuuu <3

I didn't proof read this so feel free to correct any of my mistakes.

I'm so sorry I didn't make this GN, it's so hard to go into detail. 😥

NSFW Alphabet (Kita Shinsuke)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. This guy won't leave you unattended. He'll draw a nice warm bath for you. If he's feeling it, he'd take a bath with you. Gives you a body massage, which usually leads to another set of rounds, when he was extra rough that day. Will whisper that you did good taking him in, you won't even know if he's praising you or teasing you. Every thing he does for aftercare just makes you wanna have sex with him all over again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and back because that's where you usually hook on for support which also means he likes you marking him. He wouldn't even care if someone saw your scratch marks, he's low-key showing you off. He likes the way you grip on him like he's your only source of strength. He doesn't have a favorite part of your body though because that's all you. It's all his, you're all his. Why would he want a favorite? He loves every inch of your body and makes sure they receive equal attention.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy wears condoms. Cleanliness. To avoid unwanted pregnancy. Cum? Straight to the condom. Sometimes when he's close, he'd pull out his dick, remove the condom and cum on you while his fingers do wonders to your hole. He does it raw with you sometimes ─ either you insisted on doing it and after asking if you’re sure many times, he’d comply or if he’s extra horny and he’s sure you’re on a safe day and on your pills.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His left ear is extra sensitive and he likes it when you nibble on it and suck on the area behind it. He doesn't know you've figured it out, he just thinks it's your favorite spot to suck on.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

At first, since he solely relied on knowledge on paper and sites, he tested those out and it came out bad. He used to read sex articles and stuff found on the internet. He’s intelligent enough to know vaginas don’t smell like roses and taste like sweet candy as they described them to be. He then started to listen to the twins’ conversations and eventually got caught up in those said conversations. You won’t change my mind that they exchange sex tips and tricks. Kita came to be their master or something. His dick kind of makes up for his lack of techniques and such during sex but still! He pleasures you. He does his absolute best to make you feel good. He asks you if you want him to go deeper, if you want him to thrust harder. He'd probably do anything and everything you want him to do as long as you're pleased.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fuck because he doesn't skip leg day. /j

Yes, side fuck — second to missionary. The side fuck but not really…? God, I hate this, I don’t know what it’s called. Basically, he’s on his side and you’re lying on your back. The first time he did you in this position, he had leg cramps and it was extremely painful but he enjoys this position nevertheless. He likes that you’re so close to his body, that he can see how your hole devours his cock, and of course, your lips are so close to him he can just turn your moans into heavy breaths in his mouth.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes everything seriously and, of course, this isn’t an exception. Okay, so, his grannyma tells him someone's always watching but he stopped caring. He doesn't get nervous about things he does regularly, on a daily basis. But y'all don't have sex daily (who does tho?), so he's kinda nervous and giddy (he doesn’t show it). His top priority is to make you feel good always. He’d usually whisper to your ear some lines that go like, ��you’re squeezing me so tight, I won’t go anywhere, I’m all yours, baby” without knowing this turns you on so fucking much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Having black and white pubes would be weird so I'm saying it's black.. and thick. The aesthetic kind of thick (LOL, WHAT?). Okay, he's clean. He doesn't shave it fully but trims it every month because he knows the benefits of keeping your pubes. Neat guy, neat privates.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kita showers you with compliments and words of assurance but it always comes out as dirty talk? He’d say you’re so good ─ that he wants to come inside you so bad because you’re just begging for him to do so with how you squeeze him so tight. But then again, the way he whispers those three words turns you on more than any other thing he had said. His hands never leave your body. He doesn't seem like the possessive type but he want you to remember his touches.. and only his. He won't grip the sheets or the headboard whenever he pounds into you. He places his hands on your cheeks, neck, your waist. He pulls you close and moans in your mouth as he comes. Always.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Believe me, he doesn’t jack off that often. It’s not because of what his granny says that someone’s always watching him but because he knows you’d come to him and you’d come for him. When you’re far away from each other, he can’t help but miss you and your touch and that’s where his trusty right hand comes into play. He always calls you when he jacks off. If you’re not available, he’d leave a voicemail so just be careful not listening to it in public.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink but reverse? LMAO, is this a thing? He likes it when he praises someone during sex, he likes the mewls coming out of your mouth whenever he calls you a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on the bed because a.) you’re both comfortable and b.) unlimited sex positions. He likes the way you grip on the bedsheets, the way your heels dig onto the mattress, how he can feel your warmth everywhere. The bathroom is another thing. He likes the coldness of it and the only source of heat is each other’s body, he likes the way you make lewd faces when he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror, when he eats you out while sitting on the toilet and how intimate you get under the running water.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets harder even more that it hurts not to come inside your cunt when you try your best to not let out moans because his granny might hear you next door so he asks you if you if he can and you’d nod your head frantically because the way his cock throbs inside you as he comes makes you think that your hole was made for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He kind of likes spanking you but caning is just a no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Did you expect this? He prefers giving. I mean, come on, he solely relied on porn clips which are far from real sex and his performance was just a little below average before so he likes to think that giving the best oral to his current partner is an apology to what his previous partner/s had/have suffered but this doesn’t mean he thinks of someone else during sex. It’s just that… Fuck it, that’s it. He prefers giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This depends on the mood and occasion. I mean, I personally think people have the other side hidden in their deepest desires, they just didn’t find the person to be with yet but in you and Kita’s case, you communicate very well. You want him to go hard and fast? He’d say okay. You want to be slow and sensual? He’d start off with a sweet and passionate kiss.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He thinks it’s convenient and risky but hot. You guys don’t do this often though because what’s worse than getting horny in public and Kita locking you in a cubicle to calm yourself down because he suspected this would just be a wholesome date? But you have sex every once in a while, in their backyard garden and that was wonderful.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t usually ride with you whenever you suggest something in the sexual aspect because he sticks to what he knows and he only believes that certain things are possible when a witness or trusted articles support the claims. You’d think he just doesn’t want to do things with you but he’s actually considering your likes and dislikes. He, for sure, knows what you’d like and dislike because he closely keeps an eye on you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for two to four rounds in average. How long it lasts usually depends on you because he knows he can handle himself well, thrusting into you nonstop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like toys and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t make him feel things like how they described it to be in the articles he had read before when you guys tried toys but you insisted in giving him a cock ring just in case he wants to wait for you to call back when he masturbates.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita usually doesn’t tease you although he’s already kind of teasing you when he compliments you during sex but he does once in a while. He’d delay your orgasm as much as he can control himself not to ram into you faster and harder when he knows your horniness is out of the meter and whenever he senses you want some kind of teasing. How he knows when you’re like that? He says that’s his sixth sense.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kita Shinsuke never fails to let out a loud moan when he comes, it’s literally the best thing you heard from him. It’s hot and deep just like how his dick is inside you. If he was going rough, you’d probably hear more of those moans, every spurt of cum from his dick makes him emit more of his beautiful sound.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sleeps naked. Send tweet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is so pink and pretty ─ the best shades of nude and rose, I’m not even kidding. He takes care of his body so much and you both take care of his dick. A six-inch dick is good enough, no? his biceps are everything, arms so strong he can fuck you standing for a long time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is on the average level. He’d have sex with you if you want to, you’d have sex with him if he wants to because somehow, your desires always match so it’s like your minds are saying you want to have sex… at the same time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As the king of aftercare, he only sleeps when you're taken care of already, when you're neatly tucked against him. Letting his lips curve into a smile, he can only then go to sleep.

M. List

#kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita x y/n #character alphabet #kita headcanons #hq kita #hq headcanons #inarizaki

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skullrock · 3 years

Text

the (secret) santa - Jonathan x Steve

12 days of fics day 2 - the (secret) santa

pairing: stonathan

summary: Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: simply none

a/n: Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3 also I literally cannot find a good video to make a stonathan gif w sorry

30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t know Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least.

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars did not seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved.

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it.

===

28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah

“Jonathan!”

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh.

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. Oh. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that.

===

25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights.

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.”

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is firm against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” And you, he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat.

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart.

===

23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea.

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles for the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… impress him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I know I’m really, really good at it.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame.

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door.

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - Labyrinth.

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks.

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith finally ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a tape for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost certainly not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends.

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, yeah, of course he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and yeah, Bowie did look hot in that outfit, and yeah, they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages.

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

Later, 9 pm

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself.

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange.

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too.

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s.

They both smile the rest of the movie.

===

16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, sad.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just good.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “What?!”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I do listen to it.”

“More. Often,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how much he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how bullshitthat is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it.

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to Heroes until it fades out.

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“Sense,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said.

“Another?” Steve asks.

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says.

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching.

===

10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins.

“It’s not good enough!”

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite understand Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly.

“Jesus, o-kay,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out.

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t care that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not lazy.”

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood.

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, yeah, because I need help!”

“And I am helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head.

“Perfect!” he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate.

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it.

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about.

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing.

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

There’s always next year, he thinks as he’s wrapping it. Or his birthday. Or….

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan.

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that kind of like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers so bad. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift.

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way.

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints Jonathan on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics.

===

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was intrinsically Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve.

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand.

What? He mouths.

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. Him?

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside.

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He likes you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t need to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?”

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all planned this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time.

Shitheads, Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first.

Later, 9 pm

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get.

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch.

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry.

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he really kisses him. Jonathan finally lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. Weird.

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them.

“Impossible to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free and personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”

===

tags: @pterawaters @mpmarypoppins

#steve harrington #jonathan byers #stonathan #steve x jonathan #my fics

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nameless-shrimp · 3 years

Note

heyo shrimpy!! sorry for the late response,, i got busy with exams lolol first, how are you today? :D Is anything good happening to you? enjoy your vacation btw, i hope you have a lot of fun! ^^ second, hmm finding your artstyle? that sounds even more challenging than improving for me, ngl hh- I don't know why but reading your answer made me think of a chibi dazai eating a nice burger... sounds cute,, I'm sure your drawing turned out amazing :D it's always a bliss noticing your art getting better, makes me want to draw more ^^ somehow, you drawing in a cuter art style makes you more adorable,, lovely doodles filling the empty pages,,,,

imagine dazai catching you doodling him with cute little hearts around the page,, and as his lips curved upwards a mild shade of pink dusts his cheeks, admiring you a little bit more before walking towards you quietly, wrapping his arms around your neck from behind. your frame stilled against his loving embrace, the pencil in your hand dropping on the concrete desk, your lover's lips close to your ears... his warm breath hit the back of your ear, kissing it in the process.

"I didn't know you drew me so much, gioia mia~¹" his sweet, teasing voice gently made its way into your eardrum, with you shivering afterward. his soft, umber locks brushed against your tender skin, the warm temperature his body radiated comforting you. your cheeks were probably red by now, and you were certain he already noticed. after all, when does he not?

clearing your throat, you comfortably positioned yourself, closing your eyelids slowly before speaking.

"u-uh, yeah. I, uhm-"

"and they're so well done, my darling! I assumed you were an artist since you always brought a notebook and pencil with you, even in our workplace, but I didn't expect you to draw me... I am flattered, my belladonna~ your artstyle mirrors the way you are... cute!~" your brain couldn't take in his words, and yours were stuck in your throat. all that was left was a stuttering mess whilst you shakingly turned around, with your lover chuckling at your adorable reaction.

dazai could now definitely see how your cheeks gained color, the redness painting them well. noticing your alerted gaze and trembling, he raised his hand to hold your warm cheek, caressing it with his thumb. although your quivering didn't cease, he took a note of how your eyes widened for a second before calming again. his smile broadened as you leaned into his touch, your timid orbs avoiding his loving ones. unfortunately for you, he had other ideas in mind.

and so, he leaned closer.

your eyes snapped back at him, his nose almost touching yours. a small gasp escaped you as you attempted to form a sentence, but failed to do so. the man in front of you only beamed at your reaction, his heart melting at how adorable and lovely you were. he was truly fortunate to have a loving, caring, understanding partner such as you.

he really loved you and cherished you with all of his soul.

"osamu! y-you're-" and before you could say anything else, the brunette gave you one last loving look before closing his eyes...

and placed his lips against yours.

your eyes bulged out from your sockets as a small shriek left your throat, but was immediately muted by your beloved's kiss. your flustered state couldn't comprehend what was happening, but the warmth of your chest was so overwhelming, you couldn't help but hastily press your lips back against his, tightly closing your eyelids to enjoy the moment more...

smirking, dazai stopped for a brief moment while you whined in protest, but he quickly soothed you while shifting his hands to grip your chair, gently twisting it around. you opened your eyes again to understand what he was doing... and regretted it as soon as you saw his smug look, while he caged you between him and your chair. you glanced around stunned, the dulcet shade of rosé overlapping your already flustered profile. shakingly, you looked up and met his calmer and haughty orbs again, making you gulp as your heart rammed in your chest.

his smooth, defined face was all you could see, and if it wasn't for your panicking mind, you were sure you could observe him for hours. you felt so open under his narrow, shadowy, russet orbs as if you were an interesting book he was very invested in. that fierce, intense way he observed you with, only made you shyer, and you shrank on your chair... which wasn't the best move, you thought, since he cornered you more than before, and all you could do was watch him from below, too red to do or say anything.

his low chuckle reverberated through the room, and a small drop of sweat rushed down your embarrassed face as he towered over you, devouring all of your sweet, lovable expressions. his smirk widened as your pupils shrank, bending down to your level once more. he tremendously wanted to pick you up and place you on the king-sized bed, while you desperately clung onto him and whispered his name, trying to evade his all-seeing gaze... but held himself back to tease you more.

after all, you looked so delicious right now...

"o-osamu..." your needy, wobbly voice brought him back from his little daydream, shaking off any other thoughts he had in mind... all that mattered now was you. humming, he got closer to you, both of your faces millimeters away. if he was trying to kill you, he was doing a great job at it. the smile never left his mouth, and you could feel the confidence seeping through him... his breath hit your lips as he exhaled making you freeze on the spot.

"hmmm? what is it, my dear? do you perhaps need something?" he asked, already knowing what you wanted and needed. but hearing you spell it out for him... it was a bliss.

you nervously exhaled, feeling the warmth in your cheeks rise as if you weren't blushing enough. not brave at all to face him head-on, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, looking down as you did so. dazai screamed internally at the cuteness with all the courage you had, you shyly told him...

"p-please osamu, i-i need you..." and that was all he needed. chuckling, he stared at you with a wolfish grin, pleased to hear those words coming out of your lips.

"then... let me take care of you, amore mio~²"

your sketchbook was long forgotten that night, but dazai did make you "sing" some sweet songs for him...

¹ = means my joy in Italian, the ask from Sofi sparked something within me 😶 dazai giving you Italian pet names sounds perfect-

² = my love, once again, in Italian- hh

okay i got too carried away 💀 ANYWAY THANKS FOR NOT READING THE ONE I SENT BEFORE HH SORRY AGAIN, PLEASE ENJOY YOUR DAY AND KEEP ON DRAWING UR ART CUTE AF

first of all, my vacation is going well! i enjoyed going out and riding some rides, plus took a nice shower and now i am relaxing in my bed, hehe.

second, it's truly a bliss to see my own artwork improve over time! it makes me extremely happy. also, i love the idea of dazai eating a burger, that's adorable. i have been wanting to doodle dazai a lot lately; probably cause he's just so adorable to me and he's absolutely breathtaking, hehe. it's nice to fill up the empty pages and just letting your mind flow as you draw.

third... OH MY GOD. READING ALL THAT WHEN I WAS IN LINE FOR MY RIDE MADE ME SO FLUSTERED UNDERNEATH MY MASK. AND REREADING IT ALL OVER AGAIN MAKES ME SO ASFJFSOXMSK 😳🥺💘 it was so, so sweet of you to write all that! please, dazai speaking pet names in another language truly sounds like him. not to mention, the fact that he was so flirty and he's such a tease from how you portrayed him, my heart is fluttering. and the very end though. oh my. 🥰🙈 goodness that really made me so blushy, hahaha.

thank you for taking your time to write that. it always warms my heart to read these and wow, omg, you just really wanted to fluster me today, did you? ASHFIAOZNA thank you so much for this. my heart... i have no words. it just made my day so much better too, haha. bless your kind soul, i loved reading it all 😭🤍

#my heart is melting #omg #i can't rn #asks: sweetlebub #dazai fics: sweetlebub

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Note

can I request a hc with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for akaashi? I enjoyed the sleepover writing so much!!! also,, can you turn it into an angst to fluff bc,,I cry easily and maybe a timeskip with the relationship? thank u 👁👅👁

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

a/n: i legit retyped this whole thing 3 times with different story lines each time lmao. no idea why i couldn’t decide on something ahh. i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you were anticipating (couldn’t turn it into a hc, had to do a scenario,) but this is how i interpreted it! thank you so much for reading and requesting!! <3333 kind of an angst to fluff situation

warnings: suggests nsfw in the beginning

wc: 1710

---

A mistake.

It was a huge, thoughtless mistake.

I mean, what did you think would happen?

That one night with Akaashi would be easy to forget? That, after liking him for months, you would just stop caring? That your touch starved body would immediately go back to normal after having his hands all over you?

You still feel the ghost of his fingertips trailing over your skin… and you shiver.

“Don’t go falling in love with me.” He’d murmured, jokingly, his words followed by a light chuckle.

You just joined him with a short, breathy laugh in response, splayed out on his bed, exhausted.

Oh, the irony.

---

It’s morning after, and a golden glow stirs you out of your sleep. The soreness in your legs and the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s home overwhelms your senses. You’re still in his bed, your body still intertwined with Akaashi’s. His eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing is steady. He’s still in a deep sleep.

So pretty… you think as you study his features.

It’s what you’ve wanted… just not under the right circumstance. Even though you know it’s probably a bad idea, you decide to not leave right away.

Instead, you resolve to fix breakfast for the two of you. Under the best of circumstances, you’ll chat. Maybe laugh a little?

Slipping out of his sheets, you carefully pull on a white tee shirt and shorts, making your way out of the room, try not to knock into anything.

The kitchen, now visible in the early morning daylight, is neat and tidy, nothing out of place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and it’s just so… him.

As you’re making pancakes and bacon (you found ingredients in the pantry and bacon in the fridge,) you hear soft footsteps.

“What... are you doing here?” He questions sleepily. The confusion is apparent on his face… he’d clearly expected you to run off right when you woke up.

“Oh, sorry… I just thought I’d make you breakfast. There’s coffee brewing right now.” You speak quietly, not wanting to reveal your embarrassment.

Ah, that’s right… you weren’t supposed to be here. You overstepped an unspoken boundary.

He just hums, taking a seat at his kitchen table right across from where you’re cooking. He’d had his assumptions about you… he knew you had liked him in the past, but he hadn’t predicted the possibility of you staying throughout the morning. His foresight ended when last night began.

A mistake, now, on his part.

And he grew steadily more uncomfortable.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you around… but he hadn’t planned on you knowing him. He had boundaries for a reason. Standards and space to keep people away from him.

A habit he’d developed subconsciously throughout the years to protect himself.

Yet, you were still here. In his kitchen, at his house, with his number… making breakfast for him.

All this after a long night of exploration. Body-to-body contact. Physical interaction with someone, admittedly very beautiful, that he hasn’t had in a long time.

It’s too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we’re on the same page right now…” He starts.

You turn around, realizing the conversation you’re about to have… isn’t going to be very fun.

“Y/n, I told you I’m not used to these things. Don’t get me wrong… you’re kind for making me breakfast and I genuinely enjoyed last night… but I didn’t sign up for a relationship.” He states bluntly, trying to combat the creeping feeling of guilt in his stomach.

There’s something else there too, but he can’t quite figure out what the emotion is.

Your eyes are getting a little teary, but you manage to hold back any tears of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would see me differently? I, uhm… I really like you. A lot.” You try to compose yourself, but your hands become shaky so you grab onto the countertop.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He reminds you of his playful words from last night, but it sounds far more serious this time. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me, but I’m not interested in this continuing.” He tries to reason, noticing the redness appearing slowly on your face.

“I hate to break it to you, Akaashi, but that’s not exactly how emotions work. For most people at least.” You crack a small smile, but it won’t fool Akaashi… and it’s definitely not fooling you.

And a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek to the tip of your chin, onto the floor below.

Once one leaves your eye, the others decide to follow. Your dove-white shirt now wet and covered in tear stains.

How humiliating. Thinking that something as stupid as sleeping with Akaashi would produce some semblance of feelings in him. That somehow you would be adequate enough for him in one night that he could see some relationship with you in the future.

Yes, it was a huge mistake.

On both sides.

So you head home, leaving him in the wake of your emotions and him stuck in his thoughts, processing why he’d allowed this to happen.

The room feels empty without you in it.

Why is that? And why does he feel so bad about it? He didn’t do anything wrong. Or did he?

Why does he want to call you right now? Why does he suddenly need to explain himself? He has no reason to. You never asked him to…

He buries his head in his hands for a few minutes then decides on a shower. That should wash away whatever pit he’s feeling in his stomach right now.

But the feeling lingers.

And it chooses to nag at him for months, with no end in sight.

---

Time passed and college is more or less overtaking your life. The end of the semester leaves you overwhelmed and burnt out. So yeah, you’re contemplating, once again, why you went to college in the first place.

However, without the distraction of school, you probably would still be ruminating on last semester’s heartbreaker of an issue.

The workload allowed you to let go of any hope for Akaashi returning feeling or reaching out.

Numbing something isn’t always the best way to get rid of your feelings, but you can’t help but think they wouldn’t have gone away without some mental diversion.

Your expectations were too high and it was best for you to burn that bridge. Or whatever was left to burn anyway.

But fate likes to play cruel tricks and you seem to be its target for the day.

As you leave your dorm, a wave of familiarity washes over you.

That smell… that cologne. It’s a sharp slap to the face.

You finally make it out of the thick, painful realization that Akaashi isn’t going to be a part of your life anymore… and your mind draws you right back in.

But it isn’t just the cologne. No.

The familiar features, physical and vocal, decided to rejoin you as well.

The universe had the audacity to place him on the walkway up to your dorm room.

You attempt to slink past him, turning your face hoping that he hadn’t already seen you, but you simply aren’t fast enough.

“It’s been a while, y/n.” He states.

Your heart drops and you slowly turn around, body stiff.

“Why are you here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Oops.

“Well, maybe it’s because we go to the same school?” He chuckles, but straightens himself up.

“Yeah… well I’ve gotta run. I’m late for, um, things.” You reply, trying to get yourself out of an increasingly awkward situation.

Akaashi takes a step forward and gently, but firmly, grasps your jacket’s sleeve.

“Hold on.” He orders, then softens the command with a, “Please.”

“I actually came here to- ehem, apologize.” He looks you straight in the eye.

He seems genuine, his hurt translating through his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” He admits, “I knew you’d liked me… and I- I was selfish.”

He reads your face, noting the look of exhausted grief in your expression.

In a way, he had used you. He knew you felt something for him… and inadvertently took advantage of it. Not wanting strings attached, not caring (in the moment) that it might hurt you, and not communicating his intentions.

“A friend of yours finally told me where you lived, so I ran over here to let you know that I am, truly, so sorry.”

Your eyes are misty again… why am I like this.

You give a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“Akaashi, it’s okay. It was a mistake. Things like this happen all the time.” You do your best to console the boy, the one who’s still gripping your jacket. Even though it’s really you who needs a hug right now.

“I’m gonna head-on, but I hope you feel better, okay? Don’t go overthinking things.” You tease, gently. It’s the best you can do.

But he doesn’t let go.

“I want to talk with you.” He states, this time with a tone of interest, not pleading. Asking.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely confused. You feel yourself getting warm and it’s not the layers you’re wearing.

His unoccupied hand makes its way to the back of his head. “Like… on a date. Or just out somewhere.”

The directness shocks you. Why now? Why not then? Should you even trus-

“I understand if you don’t trust me. You’re right… that night was a mistake. But you aren’t.”

He’s flushed, but it’s crystal clear that he’s being honest. He let’s go of your jacket.

“I think I can trust you, y/n. I want to make it up to you… get to know you better. For the right reasons.”

You contemplate it, making him wait for a moment, allowing several, long seconds to pass.

Yes, he caused pain.

But there are two pieces to any problem. Person A and person B.

You’ve been given second chances all your life… from jobs, to relational mistakes, to breakups. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces.

And you figure person B could use a second chance.

“Then let’s start slow.” You decide and reach out a hand with a mischievous glint in your eyes, letting your humor shine through for a moment.

“Hi, I’m y/n.”

He reaches his own hand out to yours, but instead of shaking it, intertwines his fingers with yours, in a sense, sealing the deal.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Akaashi.” He reintroduces himself with a small, but glowing smile.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi oneshot #akaashi x reader #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi angst #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #hq #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sneezefiction

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