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luveline · 3 days

Note

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text.

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me?

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner?

What kind of dinner my love

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable

What’s wrong???

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to rush over.”

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.”

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?”

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.”

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?”

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.”

“You’re always good company, you loon.”

“You what?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.”

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.”

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?”

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Spencer!” you laugh.

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?”

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.”

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.”

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear.

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway.

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.”

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.”

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?”

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?”

“It’s in my back.”

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.”

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.”

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?”

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise.

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?”

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.”

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.”

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.”

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly.

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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cosmos-coma · 16 days

Text

Sleep Deprived

A/N: still alive!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1005

Warnings: Unedited, Toot-Rotting fluff :)

Summary: You are far too nice and cannot seem to say no when the team keeps asking you for favors. Now you're ridiculously sleep-deprived and Bucky is determined for you to finally get some rest. (Grumpy Bucky X Sunshine Reader)

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_____

Kindness had always been something you prided yourself on; your willingness to help and be patient with others had almost always done you well, but sometimes you were just too nice

First, it was helping Nat go through her old paperwork late one night; she had been in an absolute rush trying to find this old file before the deadline and you didn’t even think of refusing. Then it was Tony, who all but forced you to fill in for one of his lab techs in an overnight experiment. Then Steve wanted help with some confounded modern technology that Sam swore he didn’t have the time to teach him.

On top of it all you had hardly been sleeping the last few nights anyway.

Where you once felt vibrant and bright was now filled with far-distant gazes and tired smiles. Not that you really noticed, right now you were only focused on opening your eyes again after each agonizingly heavy blink.

“Y/N are you sure you want to come?” Steve asked, “You look like you could use a 90-year sleep…” he commented with a quiet huff of laughter.

You barely even registered the joke, instead just smiling sleepy on instinct to his small laugh, “I’m sure, I really do want to go. I promise I’ll be okay once we get going” you assured. The team had been planning this outing for weeks now and you swore you wouldn’t miss it. Not only that but you really didn’t want to miss out on a chance to spend a little more time with Bucky outside of work.

He had snared you at the very first moment and he didn’t even know it. His bright blue eyes had turned away from their conversation, a small frown on his lips from whatever had just been said, and turned to you instead- jolting you with a force you couldn’t have foreseen. Ever since then your heart had been hooked, its strings unwillingly tangled by the smallest interactions.

Not you’d ever admit that to anybody.

“Doll, I really think you should consider staying home and getting some rest…” your heart thrummed as Bucky spoke, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you a look.

But you only held up your hands, smiling your assurances as you spoke, “I can last a few more hours..! I’ll take a nap as soon as we get back, but I’m sure I’ll last.”

The other members of the team only looked at each other, sharing doubtful glances but nodding nonetheless- if you really wanted to go they weren’t going to try and stop you.

“Alright then,” Nat said with a shrug and stood up, “let’s all head out then.”

Everyone stood up at once and you followed suit, your vision swimming as you stood up far too fast. “Whoa.. um, I mean… Whoo! Yeah, let’s do this…!” You took a staggering step forward. You refused to look like you couldn’t keep up and so you pushed through, giving yourself no time for recovery.

Thankfully there was still one person watching you. Bucky stood up to follow, lingering by your side as the others moved on ahead. He’d tell himself it was purely to watch over you, but he couldn’t deny the lingering urge to be near you. Ever since your first day at the tower when you flashed your annoyingly bright smile at him… he knew he’d never be able to think of anything else.

You stumbled but quickly caught yourself, your breathing ragged and worn as your body begged for rest. “Doll, please-“ but he didn’t have a chance to finish as you stumbled towards the ground yet again.

Strong hands shot out to catch you, your body almost completely limp in his firm grasp. “Oh I…” you started, struggling to keep your consciousness and your breath, “Sorry… I’m okay….”

But Bucky only frowned and shook his head, his hands scooping you up bridal style and he turned to the rest of the team who had stopped to turn back, “You guys go ahead. We’re gonna stay here and get some rest.” He said as he walked back toward the couch, acting as if holding you against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to do that, Bucky…” you mumbled against his chest, your body more than happy to sink into him.

“Shh, yes I do…” he spoke quietly, the whole room settling into a calm quiet as the rest of the team headed out the door, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Doll… I know you want to be nice, but you’re only gonna wind up hurt.” He chided as he took a seat on the couch and laid back against the armrest.

Thanks to your lack of sleep you had no shame in rolling on top of him, your cheek squishing against his chest as you let out a tired huff. “I’m not.. good at saying no…” you murmured with eyes closed, sleep coming on fast in your comfortable state.

The grumpy ex-soldier grinned despite himself, your sweet smooshed face stirring something in his old heart. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch, draping it over the two of you as you seemed to be in the last thralls of consciousness.

“Bucky…?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Will you be here when I wake up…? Please..?” Your soft voice asked, your fingers curling around his shirt in an effort to make him stay- but he didn’t need any swaying.

A grin, as bright as your own, broke through his expression, and he nodded quietly, “I’ll be right here, Doll. I promise you….”

---

And he kept his promise.

Hours later the rest of the team had finally returned, initially boisterous and full of laughter, they were quickly quieted down by the sight before them.

There on the couch you and Bucky continued to lay, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your frame with his sleeping face tucked into the top of your head.

_____________________________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #James Bucky Barnes imagine #mcu imagine

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piratefishmama · 4 months

Text

I Wish | Part 3

He barely recognised his friends. He was just glad they were themselves though. That somewhere along the way to a stardom he didn’t remember going through, his band hadn’t lost anyone. That someone hadn’t been replaced.

That happened a lot, didn’t it? Bands losing members due to circumstance, arguments over direction, infighting... but they were there. Older, Gareth had a little grey in his hair, Jeff had shaved his down completely, he didn’t have braces anymore, taller too, neither as weathered as Eddie but… definitely older, and Dougie...

Fuck, he'd slimmed down.

Eddie didn’t know if that was an improvement or not, he instantly found himself missing what had once been, he was still big, still broad, but... where disarming chub that Eddie had on more than one occasion fallen asleep on had been, soft muscle resided in its place and Eddie found himself wondering just how the biggest of four of them had done it. Whether it'd been through healthy choices or godawful ones like himself.

It was muscle though, it looked like healthy muscle, so... probably healthier than him. Good for him.

“Oh look who's joined us in the land of the living!” Gareth chirped, his mouth half full of pancake, syrup dripping down his lips.

Jeff, to his left “Saw Louie stormin out kicking up a storm, that shit for good this time?” Asked with a tone laced in caution, as if the subject was touchy. God what had Eddie done in the past that made his friends think they couldn’t rib him about relationships?

That was like... their whole thing back in high school, Eddie, and his disastrous non-existent dating life. He’d trusted them and them alone with who he was, with what he liked, and while there were the obvious ‘do you find me hot?’ questions at first, the playful ribbing, the teasing, the jokes only friends could share… he had them. They weren’t afraid of him. Afraid to hurt him because they knew they never could.

How had he lost that?

Eddie looked to Steve in a bid for help, Steve wasted no time in coming to his aid “One can only hope” with obvious exhaustion in his retort, his hands on his hips, a deadpan expression that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from smiling at.

Gareth snorted a little laugh and followed with “Amen to that, dude.”

“He’ll be back though, he always is.” Dougie piped up around his own bite full of some oat concoction, it looked gross. “Once he sees his job offers dry u—what?” The other two were giving it the kill signal, twin expressions of panic, as if he’d said too much… god who was he? “You fuckers know I’m right, Eddie knows I’m right, he’s a clout chasing pretty boy riding Eddie’s coattails to fame, just cause you’re too chicken shit to say anything to him doesn’t mean I am.”

Eddie looked to Steve again as Dougie spoke, only to receive a silently raised brow in return, he was on his own. “Well—” Eddie began, the other three froze, even Dougie’s attention was on him now, all three clearly expecting something “not anymore! Dunno what I saw in him, but I’m done, Steve, if you would… uhm… make sure he can’t contact me again?”

“Want me to block his number?”

“What?” Eddie whispered behind his hand, brows furrowed in confusion, block? A number? What?

“I’ll sort it.” Steve would sort it, and of that Eddie had zero doubts. He wouldn’t doubt the genie about anything ever again. Louie and his overly manicured entire self would never darken his doorstep again, of that he was certain.

“Holy shit, who are you and where did Eddie go?” The panic gone, Gareth seemed genuinely surprised by his declaration. He'd missed too much, too many things he didn’t know, too many things he’d done that he couldn’t apologise for because he didn’t know what he'd be apologising for. it'd be cheap, it'd be pointless.

Eddie hated everything. He could have probably lived with it, with his lost time, had this not been his first experience of the day with people he recognised. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with his friends looking at him like he were a bomb ready to go off.

He could put on a brave face though, even if the muscles in his face felt foreign, even if he felt tired... he could act the part. “Turnin over a new leaf I guess... self reflection, new path, bachelor life never hurt me too bad, right?” His friends shared looks, a silent communication happening between them that made Eddie feel isolated, othered, outside, and alone.

He wanted out. To run.

And as if he knew, Steve’s hand found his shoulder and squeezed grounding him in place. He was there, the Genie was there, he'd fix it if Eddie wished him to. He wasn’t stuck, Steve just wanted him to live the day. Experience it. Be brave, it wasn’t permanent.

Jeff broke the silence though, he stood up, crossed the distance between them, that gigantic chasm that seemed so impossible to cross seconds before, and clapped his hands to both of Eddie's biceps, his straight toothed smile blinding “nice to have you back then, Eds, now eat your fuckin breakfast an let’s get this stupid talk show shit over with, yeah?” Okay... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Fuck the ‘old' Eddie, the Eddie who Eddie himself had never met and never wanted to meet, he had his friends, he'd be fine. Maybe he could even stay.

“Sounds good, what's for breakfast?”

“For you? Nothin but the good stuff, man, ordered you some wholemeal toast with avocado an egg whites” so many words, so little recognition in his eyes.

What the fuck was an avocado? Was that a real thing?

“...Can I not have pancakes like Gareth?” Gareth with his syrupy monstrosity.

Dougie scoffed around his oatmeal, swallowing before he responded because at some point during the last thirty years he’d developed manners. “With your cholesterol? Fuck off, dude, we don’t want you having a heart attack on stage.” Steve only offered him a sympathetic smile in consolation. The beautiful bastard. “It's avocado toast or oatmeal, your choice old man.”

Strike being able to stay. He wanted to go home.

Eddie didn’t like Avocados.

He decided this the moment a semi-hard glob of green mush touched his tongue, lightly seasoned, mixed with something tangy, he hated it, hated the smell, hated the unexpected texture, hated the taste but he ate it. He pushed through like a little champ when every instinct he had told him to rebel against it, to demand French fries or something stupid that definitely didn’t come as a breakfast food.

Maybe he could swing fast food later, see what the future held for the fast food joints.

Later seemed too busy though, the moment they were done with breakfast, the band were whisked away into some kind of car, something way fancier than Eddie had ever seen, to get to the venue and prepare. Hair, makeup, the usual routine that Eddie wished he had an ounce of experience with because back at the Hideout it was just… them climbing up on the rickety old stage Bev’s late husband put together on the fly and letting loose.

There was no pre-gig warming up, no hoard of professionals tugging them into various chairs and rooms to make sure their hair was the correct brand of artful frizz, or mess of floof, or women with brushes coated in powders to minimize the shine from the studio lights that’d make their skin too shiny for the cameras to work with.

Wardrobe was fool proof as they were presented with options that ranged from smart casual to red carpet. Everything suitable for a talk show and nothing fit for a ‘metal’ band, which was strange considering they were advised to go for something they could move in as they were going to be performing during their run through, maybe more than once to make sure all angles were covered.

It was a lot, it was a hell of a lot, Eddie kept finding Steve in his peripherals though. Always there, silent, and observant off to the side, close enough to step in should anyone cross any boundaries but staying out of the way of the professionals so they could work unhindered.

It was grounding in a way, him there, even if he looked so very human despite what he knew Steve to really look like, having him there, knowing the man could get him out of the chaos at any time was grounding.

All those people touching him, all the noise around him, sounds, smells, lights, the pushing, and pulling, and the tugging on his hair, he wanted to scream, he wanted to get away from it all, he wanted—

“Alright, five minute break.” Steve stepped in, his voice firm, without room for argument. “Rockstar needs a breather.” Eddie could have kissed him, genuinely. The relief as all those professionals took a few steps back was instantaneous, that feeling only growing when Steve managed to corral them out of the room entirely, leaving just them in there.

The other band members were in their own rooms, Eddie clearly some ‘big shot’ that he didn’t quite get. Sure he was the front man but… they always said they’d be equals if they made it big. They’d always scoffed at the idea of multiple green rooms, of putting single members on pedestals, that was how shit went sideways, that was how infighting and breaking apart happened. They’d stay grounded, stay real.

They didn’t want that bullshit and yet there he was. All on his own, his friends elsewhere being prepped without him. He hated it. How had it happened? “I should be used to this, shouldn’t I?”

“What makes you think that?” Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin when Steve was just. Right there. Stood beside him in the reflection of the mirror. No longer looking all that human, he looked like himself, golden and beautiful, wearing the clothes he first saw him in.

When he turned around, the human looked back at him, smiling as if he knew what Eddie was looking for. Reflections showed the truth then. Interesting.

“I’m—fuck that's a cool trick, man... but i'm a fuckin rockstar! I should be, I dunno… used to it.” At the very least his old man brain should have caught up by now, right? He should have gotten used to it all, muscle memory of thirty years having passed should have at least kicked in a little, right?

He still felt like that kid from the trailer park on the inside, still felt completely overwhelmed.

He’d just been dropped into a life with no memory of living it.

“Who said you ever got used to it?” Steve hadn’t said that. In fact Steve had painted a pretty sad story of addiction and self-destruction. “Eddie… some people aren’t meant for this kind of life, yes, you’re very talented, you’re absolutely good enough to get this far, and once you’re on stage you are incredible—” for a moment, just a moment, Eddie felt warmth, a teeny sprinkle of warm pleasure trickle through his weary soul at the easily spoken praise. “The weariness fades away and you’re… yourself, everything that you are shines through and it’s breathtaking.” Eddie really did try not to blush, but he felt the heat in his cheeks anyway, as it turned out, older men could definitely be flustered by a cute guy thoughtlessly praising them “but the rest of it… everything that goes along with it… not that I’m an expert or anything, but I don’t believe it’s who you are.”

“I can’t just adapt?” All Steve offered was that similar look of sympathy he’d had in the bathroom back at the hotel. No… no Eddie knew the answer before he’d even asked it. He’d never been able to adapt. “Why?”

“If it helps at all, there’s millions of people out there who feel seen whenever you talk about your struggles with what happens behind the glamour, so many people who love you and support you for the very things that make you struggle so much, for the fact that you keep going, you made it despite them. I’m not going into the why’s and the how’s, but adapting really isn’t something you’re very good at, Eddie, there’s no changing that. You get overwhelmed, that’s just you.”

“Can I wish to change it?” Did he even want to? Not really, something told him it’d backfire somehow, not by Steve’s design, not on purpose, but… it just would.

“You can… I can work my magic, but you wouldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the person your friends love, the louder than life DnD loving nerd, you wouldn’t be that anymore, and I like that person, he’s very sweet, so I really don’t want to.” There it was. At least Steve wasn’t just letting him make that mistake. “There’s a life out there that is perfect for you, and trust me you will find it, this just isn’t it. Do you want to go home?” Steve wasn’t going to force him to stay, he wanted Eddie to experience it for this very reason, to see the truth behind one of his biggest dreams, see the chaos behind the curtain of a life that maybe he just wasn’t suited to.

He could go home if he wanted to, but… “No. Not yet. I wanna experience it, just once, y’know? Even if it’s gonna suck, I think you were right, I think I need to.” If only to really drive it home that maybe fame and fortune wasn’t everything.

That maybe he didn’t have to be famous, maybe he didn’t have to be some metal legend, he could just… be. And that would be okay.

“Got it.”

“Will I at least know the song we’re meant to be performing here?” Given how little he knew about his present self, the very real possibility of his music having evolved, of new songs being written, it was an issue he really should have thought about by now, but Steve snapped his fingers, an otherwordly light flashing in his hazel eyes for the briefest of moments, and then he smiled.

“You will now.” And that made him feel a little better. Just a little. Until the chaos continued and the professionals filed back in to finish their jobs, the five minutes up.

Part 5

#PirateWrites #IWishFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Genie!Steve

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luvfy0dor · 7 months

Text

"We're gonna be timeless !!" ♡⁠˖ BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; Spoilers for mersault arc/Fyodors means of communication in his part, soft!Fyodor bc I am goin thru it, relationship intolerance, Nikolais bit isn't in exact correlation w/ the song

Description; Drabbles inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift

A/N; Writing this while trying to figure out what to do for another fic help I'm so nervous the person isn't gonna like it but we ball 🫡 in Nikolais part I tried avoiding saying balls like it was the plague but yk

Love Letters w/ Fyodor Dostoevsky

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to God you'd be comin' home alright”

• His love letters are romantic and very detailed, making sure he conveys exactly how much he misses you. He likes to write you short poems, understanding how much your heart swoons at the sweet and romantic words.

• Fyodor writes to you while he's in Yokohama, telling you how his plans are going and his estimated time of arrival at home. He continues this habit, even when in Mersault. He sends letters to you via the manipulated vampire guards, instructing them to take great care of the thin envelopes.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your heart beats quickly as you made your way to your mailbox to check for a letter from your lover; already prepared for the slight sadness you'd experience should the small compartment be void of a note, yet still excited for the possibility of receiving one.

You excitedly open the door to the mailbox, grabbing the numerous envelopes that filled it. Sifting through them, you start to loose hope before your eyes land on the slightly sloppy handwriting of your boyfriend. You drop the various other things on the table, including bills and junk mail in order to pry open the letter excitedly. You make sure to do it carefully though as not to rip anything.

Once you've successfully separated the paper from the envelope, you lay down on the couch on your front while giggling excitedly. You unfold the paper and start to read the comforting and familiar handwriting, feeling as though this letter was a warm and sweet hug from the Russian man.

“My dearest, Y/N,

I know I restate the same thoughts in every letter I send to you, but I truly miss you more than anything in the outside world, including my freedom. I am perfectly fine in captivity, but it truly makes my heart ache to be without my love for so long. I hope you are doing well and holding up without me, not because I doubt your individuality, but I know just how much you miss me. It is the same way for me in this prison. Even with Dazais company, my heart doesn't feel nearly as full as it does when you are around, my dear. However, when our plan succeeds, we will get the happily ever after we deserve. As for our plans, they are going as intended currently.

I cannot wait to embrace you again and to feel the reassuring sensation of your breathing against my skin and feel your arms wrapped around me so tightly and lovingly. Though I would have went about my plans regardless of your support or not, I still appreciate you staying and supporting this, although I can only imagine it has caused you much stress. No worries though, my dear, we will prevail in the end no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from a poem I memorized many years ago, I feel it may catch your interest and reassure you a bit.

Wait for me, and I’ll be back,

Disregard the fate,

In the morning with my bag,

Should you only wait.

They will hardly understand,

How I could survive.

Waiting me from foreign land,

You have saved my life.

Let them say that it’s too late.

What you feeling tells?

I’ll be back, because you wait

Like nobody else.

Again, I miss you dearly. Just in case I needed to rephrase it, my heart will not rest until you are back in my presence, for I feel our souls are intertwined. I cannot wait to reunite with with you, my love. I will see you soon.

Sincerely, Fyodor Dostoevsky”

Your heart couldn't help but flutter as you held the letter to your chest, having rolled over onto your back. Your face is warm with blush as you smile and laugh. It was beyond you how Fyodor could remember all of the information he knew, as well as numerous languages and poetry, but you certainly weren't complaining. After all, your boyfriends sweet sayings made your day every time without fail. With every letter he sent, you only became more impatient for his return.

Eloping w/ Chuuya Nakahara

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “And run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless”

• Eloping with Chuuyas is such a fulfilling act, especially when you don't have people whispering in your ear about how dangerous it could be.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Romantic relationships with port mafia executives as an outsider or regular civilian were frowned upon in the organization, meaning if you and Chuuya were going to be together, you needed to be sneaky about it. The port mafia had connections all over the city, which really limited your options for dates, but you were both content with just lounging in each other's homes.

You loved leaning against his chest on his couch, a movie playing softly in the background as you both cuddled together. You liked cooking with him in your kitchen, making a mess together while giggling and then having to clean it up together. Every time you would just sit in his arms in your back yard, watching the wind blow the flowers and leaves around, was a memory with Chuuya that you were grateful for.

So, when your lover proposed the idea of elopement to you, you were over the moon. You had always wanted to marry him, youve know that he was your soulmate from the get go. Even in a billion lifetimes, you felt as though you would find each other repeatedly. You said yes, ofcourse, and started planning immediately.

It had gone exactly according to plan, too. The both of you wore rather nice clothing for the actual ceremony, exchanging pretty rings and slipping them on to one anothers fingers. The kiss you shared, the first one of your elopement, was like no other. It felt sweeter with emotion and certainly tasted that way, too, because of Chuuyas cherry chapstick. You held each other's hands tightly as you quickly walked out of the courthouse, getting into the car that had been packed with as many necessary belongings as possible, including but not limited to clothing, legal documents, and money.

Sure, the luxury of a port mafia salary was one that would probably be missed by the both of you, allowing a nicer place to stay and finer wines to drink, but you could live with Chuuya in a rundown shack for all he cared. As long as he was with you, he would be perfectly happy. Chuuya is a romantic at heart under his tougher exterior, only letting bits and pieces of that romanticism slip through the cracks.

Chuuya drove with you down long and winding roads, the both of you deciding to end the day by stargazing while sitting on the trunk of the car. You sat on Chuuyas lap, his face pressed against your back. He drew soft shapes on any part of skin within his reach, even tracing out letters and words, spelling terms of endearment such as "my love".

"You know, I don't doubt one bit that mafia affiliates could be lurkin' around here, but it's much less likely. Something like this would be frowned upon real hard back home, which is why I feel I will never regret this decision." He says, speaking straight from his heart, not caring about vulnerability anymore. He had you, and you would be the very last person to take advantage of such a delicate thing.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips with enough force to change your facial expression immediately. You leaned back into his touch, your hand caressing his that sat against your abdomen, hugging you closer to him. "I won't ever regret it either. I'll never regret any decision I make for you, my love." You softly murmur, looking up at the stars in the beautiful, blue night sky. The blue night sky filled with glamorous and shiny stars, yet they could never compare to the shimmery glint in Chuuyas eyes every time he came around you. The blue night sky that provided a calming darkness in the world, allowing you to further relax against your, now husband's, body.

"I'll always love you, darlin', I'm so happy I can openly have you now." He speaks quietly against your shoulder, almost whispering. You reach your hand back to gently touch his hair a bit. "Me too, my love. Me too."

Crowded Streets w/ Nikolai Gogol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we met on a crowded street in 1944”

• Should you meet Nikolai during one of his street performances and accidentally fall victim to his juggling skills (or lack there of) , he would look forward to seeing you around the town and in the streets again to make up for his fumble with an entertaining mini-show.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking through the busy streets, your eyes fell upon a tall man, dressed as a jester while standing on the sidewalk. "A street performer." You simply thought, trying to discreetly glance at him without making eye contact and avoid the make believe obligation to give him money. You noticed that he was juggling, tossing three red balls in the rotational pattern while blabbering on about random things to passersby.

You lowered your head as to not look at him or make eye contact as you started to pass him, before you're head jerks right back up at the loud man's voice saying "watch out!". Right in front of your face was one of the red, foam spheres, kept motionless between two bony, lanky fingers covered in the cloth of the mans red gloves.

"Aw, I'm real sorry, darlin'! That sure was close, wasn't it?" He says, his bright, toothy grin glimmering in the sunlight. You nod, inhaling and steadying your heart rate.

"Yeah, no worries though, it didn't actually hit me." You say, a bit embarrassed by the situation for seemingly no reason. He slinks backwards into a completely upright position. "I wouldn't have let it hit you regardless, sweet cheeks." He says as he creates a portal and tosses his props into the yellow opening. He rests his fingers on his chin while examining you. "You've got quite a lovely complexion! You must be quite popular when it comes to romantic affairs, I'm sure of it." He compliments. The other people bustling by make you topple a bit as their shoulders bump into yours. Nikolai gently grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd into a more spacious area.

"You're quite handsome if I do say so myself. Especially that scar." You say, pointing at the healed wound. He smiles. "Well thank you, how sweet is that." He excitedly beams. He removes his hat from his head and slightly bows towards you. "I have yet to formally introduce myself, I am Nikolai Gogol." He says, adjusting his posture yet again to be standing straight up. You smile. "Hello, Nikolai. My name is Y/n." You smile with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Well then, Y/n, can I ask you if you enjoy quizzes?" He asks, his head tilted, gravity dragging the long braid along with his movements. You furrow your eyebrows a little. "I'm not too fond of the academic ones, if I'm being honest. Silly ones I don't mind." You say with a small shrug of your shoulders. He laughs.

"Perfect! Let me quiz you then, Y/n." He takes your hands in his excitedly. "Are you aware of the difference between a jester and a clown?" He says, his face about the length of a outstretched palms thumb to pinky tip away from yours. You think for a moment before speaking. "Clowns follow a routine, whereas jesters are more spontaneous and satirical, no?" You say, gazing into his eyes, surprising yourself with your eagerness to hear words of confirmation or denial slip from between his crimson painted lips. He pulls back and claps a bit.

"That's right! Marvelous! How smart you are." He says, removing his hat and placing it on top of your head. "Not many people get that right, you know? Many peoples first answer revolves around a jester being a part of a royal court, but that is simply not their differentiating characteristic." He says, patting your shoulder with a grin. You keep eye contact for a couple of seconds before he erupts into a fit of snickers.

"I'm around this area often during the week. You should come see me, I can promise to give you the very best show I can muster." He grins and with that, he is gone through a portal. He has left you there, a bit flustered as you held onto the hat tightly. You suppressed the excitement in your heart before sneaking out into the crowded pathways once again. Maybe you would take him up on that.

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ladykissingfish · 5 months

Text

*Kisame, sitting behind Itachi, attempting to braid his hair*

Kisame: I don’t think I’ll ever get over how soft your hair is. How silky, how smooth. It’s really just —

Itachi: Kisame … do you want to have sex with me?

Kisame, turning red and dropping his hands from Itachi’s hair: W-what — !

Itachi, turning to face him: It’s just, I feel so bad. I almost feel like … like I’m teasing you. We hug and we kiss and we share a bed but we’ve never done that. Sometimes I feel like you really want to, and I feel like I’m depriving you of that.

Kisame: Itachi. Surely you remember that talk we had way back at the beginning, when you told me that you’d tried sex in your anbu days and afterwards felt so bad that you cried for three days?

Itachi: Yes, but, I’m older now. I clearly wasn’t emotionally ready back then, and that experience wasn’t with someone I loved, the way I love you. It’s not fair to you to keep you waiting so long. So I think that —

Kisame: *takes Itachi’s hands and kisses each one gently*

Kisame: It’s truly remarkable that even with that sharingan of yours, you fail to see things clearly. I’m very, very much in love with you. You mean more to me than anything. Sex does not have to be a part of our relationship for it to be any more meaningful than it is right now.

Itachi: But —

Kisame: If you wish to try sex again one day, for your own desires, I will be happy to take that step with you. But this way? Doing it because you think it’s something you owe me? No. That’s wrong. I’ve never been happier than I am than when I’m with you. Nothing will change that. Okay?

Itachi: *puts both arms around Kisame and hugs him tightly* Okay. Thank you, Kisame. And for what it’s worth … *blushes* I’m very much in love with you, too.

Kisame: *smiles and pats Itachi’s back* And that’s the biggest honor of my life. *pulls back and chuckles* Besides, if we were doing that, I doubt we’d get along as well as we do now.

Itachi: What do you —

*from down the hall*

Kakuzu: Get up, idiot. Those sheets need to go in the washer!

Hidan: For fucks sake, relax, old man! Can’t this shit wait until tomorrow?!

Kakuzu: With your sweat and … other fluids, all over them? No! *the sound of Kakuzu pulling the sheets out from under Hidan, and Hidan rolling against the wall* So move!

Hidan: You bastard, whose fault is it that I got your precious sheets dirty?! Did I do this to myself? No! It’s your fault! So shut the fuck up about it!

Kakuzu: You damned brat, you — *they continue to loudly argue as Kakuzu hauls the bedspread to the washing machine*

Itachi, to Kisame: … I see your point.

#kisaita #kisame x itachi #asexuality #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #tw suggestive #kakuhida #kakuzu x hidan #kakuzu #hidan #the akatsuki #🦈🍡#naruto #naruto shippuden

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formulapai · 6 months

Text

IT’S NOT OVER, RIGHT?

a logan sargeant angst to fluff scenario🧡

scenario: this season’s been hard on him, and on your relationship. after a date night gone awfully wrong, one question hangs in the air: is it the end ?

warning: cursing

pai’s words: broke my own heart wtf. I NEED him to stay in formula one, he deserves a second chance, he deserves to show everyone how he can improve. he has potential and we all know it, he deserves tk be able to prove it.

The ride back is eerily quiet, only the rhythmic tapping of the rain echoing in the car. His grip on the steering wheel is strong, leaving his knuckles white, while yours are fidgeting with your pants as you try to occupy your mind. The weather is terrible outside, wind mercilessly hitting the vehicle, cold seeping inside even when the heating is blaring. It’s chilling but not as much as the silence between the two of you, two hearts that used to be one, drifting apart amidst the storm.

The apartment is growing closer now, although you doubt you can call it “home”, not anymore. It’s merely a place you share, a memory, now tainted by his absence and your everlasting hope, starting to fade away like the rain outside. You know that for you two, no rainbow will come. The sound of the engine that was filling the void is now cut, leaving the interior uncomfortably muted, more than it ever was.

You open the door, contrasting how he used to open the door for you at any given occasion, always your prince in shining armor. It’s all rusty now, broken and beaten and not able to protect you, not even able to protect himself. He’s a king and his kingdom is crumbling down, weighing on his shoulders and aching his soul, scarring him down to his very bones. You can only watch him fall under the pressure, knowing full well that words can only do so much, having learned by experience. You’ve tried, again and again, Oscar tried, Liam tried, everyone tried. Everyone except the ones causing his pain, the ones burying him under piles and piles of stress, piles of unrealistic goals and results, piles of offhandedly remarks about his future.

The place is warm, warmer than the car was, warm enough to ease some of your tension and some of his, too. You need to talk, to get to the bottom of this, to fight for this relationship, but you’re so tired of doing all the fighting. He has his own battles of course, but this one is not yours only, and you can’t hold the ship together by yourself, you need him. Of course, you did talk about it, you always do, it always ends up the same way. It’s breaking you two apart, it’s breaking him even more than the rest.

“Logan..”

He freezes, not ready for another fight, another sleepless night alone in the other room, another tear in his heart. He can’t do this anymore, his fight gone with his future in formula one, at least that’s what everyone is thinking, even his team. He still hums, turning to you, because despite it all, you’re his only hope, his only anchor.

“I love you.”

Your voice is soft, timid, scared. He loves you dearly, loves you more than anything he knows and will ever know, you’re well aware of that.

“I love you, too.”

It’s all unspoken words now, eyes speaking because your voice can’t. You need to go through this, you promised each other the highs and the lows, no matter how low. You believe in him, you believe in the two of you and your life together.

“I’ll fight for us, I’ll fight for you, too, Logan. I’ll make it work I promise.”

“It’s not fair on you, it’s a two-people kind of thing.”

You approaches him carefully, your hands reaching out for his. It’s not fair, no, but what’s he’s going though is not fair even, and you can’t do much about it except supporting him in the only ways you know.

“I know, but you have your own battles right now. I’ll fight alone for now, I’ll hold us together until you’re ready to join in. I don’t care how much time it’s going to take, I’m doing this for us.”

He takes your hands in his, no longer white with pressure, now soft and warming. He brings you into him slowly, unsure of the boundaries you haven’t yet fixed.

“I’ll forever be grateful for you, my love. I promise you I’ll do my best to help you, I want this to work. I can’t lose you, too, I’m already losing everything.”

Your head finds its spot on his shoulder, finally at home.

“You’re not losing, not me, not your job, not anything. Fight your battles, I’ll fight ours.”

#logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Piece of Paper (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer and Reader discuss Autism evaluations.

Request: reader tells spencer "i think im autistic" and he’s like "wait you've never been evaluated/diagnosed??" and he helps her advocate for an evaluation or some other kind of support? A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted, Anon, but this is the experience I would like to share as a person who was diagnosed as a toddler 🫶 Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort/Fluff Content Warning: Autism assessment/Anti-Autistic mentions, implied abuse/gaslighting, minor self-hatred, internalized ableism Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

The bullpen was as quiet as it ever was. The bustling crowds had passed through and returned to the comfort of their home. All that remained were those with deadlines, no date life, or neurodivergent tendencies.

You peeked across the desk to notice how Spencer’s hyper-focus had finally faded, leaving him now spinning in his chair while he stared at the ceiling.

“Hey, Spencer?” you called, “Can I ask you a kind of personal question?”

His chair came to a halt.

“Sure, but I’m not sure if I’ll have a satisfying answer,” he chuckled.

You floundered for a moment, struggling to come up with an appropriate way to ask your question. Yet, when you did finally speak, you were anything but eloquent.

“What was it like when you were diagnosed with Autism?”

“Oh!” he said excitedly, “I’ve actually never been assessed.”

Immediately, your face began to burn, and your stomach churned with the realization you’d just made a number of possibly rude assumptions.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry—“

“I’m not offended,” he reassured you with a smile, “I agree with your assessment.”

You smiled at the wordplay, but the intensity of his gaze drove your eyes back to the mess of paperwork on your desk.

“Can I ask why?” you asked.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind at all that you stared at the desk instead of him. He offered his explanation with his normal enthusiasm.

“My mom wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of psychiatrists.”

Understandable. Neither were you.

“Plus,” he trailed off. You turned to find him staring at the ceiling again. He rocked the chair back and forth as he said somewhat solemnly, “the world isn’t particularly fond of Autistic people.”

The words felt like a blow to your chest. Like your heart had turned to stone or something unbearably cold.

“Ah,” you sigh. You brought a hand to your face to try to hide the disappointment.

Spencer, still looking above you both, didn’t even notice the shift in tone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

Even he couldn’t miss the sadness in your voice, though. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, you heard the realization hit him with a gasp.

“Were you planning on scheduling an assessment?”

“I was considering it, but… I don’t know if I should.”

There were a lot of reasons why that was the case — self doubt, fear of the unknown, chronic gaslighting — but you didn’t want to go into all of that. Instead, you chose to sympathize with the plight he’d already shared with you.

“Because you’re right, other people are… not very receptive to the diagnosis.”

Some more than the rest.

Spencer paused for a second, even though you knew he wanted to say something. For a moment, he wrestled with the right words and the right tone to prevent his anger from projecting onto the wrong person.

“Would you be doing it for them?” he asked, “The other people?”

It seemed like a silly question… one you’d never really stopped to ask yourself.

“What do you mean?”

That time, when Spencer started speaking, you couldn’t find it in you to stop him. You stayed silent because you knew he was offering you his unfiltered thoughts on something personal to him.

“I mean… why do you want someone else to tell you? I don’t want to talk you out of something that would bring you peace of mind, but I would encourage you to ask yourself if that’s really the reason you’re doing it, because that piece of paper can make a lot of things much harder for you. Immigration, medical decision making, adoption, child rearing, hell, even your job… that target on your back will impact aspects of your life that you’ve probably never even considered it would.”

You sat there, soaking in the hopelessness of the moment. You begged your heart to slow down, but it continued racing along with your thoughts.

Ultimately, there was nothing left to be said but, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Did I upset you?”

There was a subtle regret in his voice, but you knew it had needed to be said. That bluntness, that unfiltered honesty had been exactly why you’d asked him.

So, you managed a smile as you thanked him the best way you knew how; by telling him the truth.

“No, I appreciate your honesty.”

He responded with his own.

“Okay. I’m still sorry, though.”

“Thanks,” you said, although you’d meant ‘Me too.’

Spencer didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and scrambled to find a blank sheet among his notebooks. At first, you thought nothing of it. But once you heard him scribble something onto a piece of paper that was immediately ripped from its place, you turned to him.

His eyes remained fixed on the note he’d just written while he spoke.

“At the end of the day, no matter how badly we want to believe things will change… the people who don’t believe you now… they won’t believe a piece of paper, either,” he said.

Then, standing from his chair, Spencer closed the space between you, note in hand. He clutched it tightly between his fingers that were held against his chest.

“But if it helps, I believe you.”

Tears sprung from your eyes so quickly that you weren’t sure what to do with them. You decided to let them sit there, to soak in the saltwater reminder that you were not nearly as inhuman as the others made you seem. And when Spencer held out his hand to offer you the lifeline on lined paper, you took it.

He smiled.

“A doctor’s note, in case you ever need it.”

Spencer returned to his desk without another word. You set the piece of paper down and decided that, when you were ready, you would see what he’d had to say.

Then, when you were ready, you would find the handwritten message:

“You are the only expert of your life. You already know the answer.”

(Tell me what you thought about this piece here!)

Please also consider reblogging and/or commenting on fics you enjoy to help keep the fandom alive!

Looking for more fics with an Autistic!Reader? Check out my Rec List here!

P.S. Did you know Tumblr might be hiding some of my posts from you? Learn how to change this setting here so you can enjoy my more scandalous works (if you want), including my most recent one, which can be found here.

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claiestve · 2 months

Text

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙚'𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙛𝙪𝙡?❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴡᴏ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

“Hey, did you get my text?” Isaac caught you from across the room. Honestly, you hadn’t picked up your phone at all. You heard it ding a few times, yes. But you didn’t bother looking at it. You were in a weird state of just thinking and nothing else. No distractions, no conversations, no anything.

“Pickle?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t see it.” You responded. It was hard to truly focus on what he was saying and why. You were just so in your head. It wasn’t anything crazy though, you were just thinking.

Isaac tilts his head, “Are you okay? You seem off.” He always makes it a point that you can come to him if you need him but sometimes you just don’t feel like bothering him. You know he hates that, you think you’re bothering him. If anything, he’d be the happiest knowing that you’d go to him for anything.

“Yeah, sorry.”

He turned on the light in the then-dark room and sat down. Isaac gestured for you to join him which you did. You knew he caught on and you knew he’d probably think there’s something wrong. There wasn’t, again, you were just thinking. What’s so wrong with that?

He looks you in the eyes and sighs. Normally, you were the one to pull him out of the bubble but it was difficult for him to do the same. Not that he couldn’t or anything, it was just difficult. Plus, you never really let him either.

“Pickle, don’t do this. Let me help you for once.” He looked at you with pleading eyes. You almost felt sorry for him with the look he gave you.

“Isaac, it’s okay, I’m okay.” You say trying to get up.

Isaac perked up a bit and dragged you back down. He put his arm over you, locking you into place. If he wasn’t getting answers before, he’s getting them now.

“Here’s the deal, you can either tell me what’s wrong and we can talk it out orrr,” He leans his head on you, “We just sit here in silence. Either way, neither of us are leaving.”

Well, now what? Isaac got you trapped in his arms and you knew damn well he wouldn’t let go. He’s done this before. That’s how he did it, the comforting. He’d make you tell him unless he truly felt it wasn’t his place to know. For some reason, he has this odd sense of knowing. Knowing about a quarter of what’s going on in your head. Maybe it’s all those years of experience, being a PI and all.

“Fine, fine! I’ll tell you, okay?” You finally gave in. His arm loosened but it stayed around you. Isaac was now looking at you expectantly. Shit. See, the problem was you never address what you’re thinking about when you’re like this. It stays in your head and doesn’t go anywhere else. You don’t say anything, you don’t put it on paper, it just stays in your mind. Now he was raising a brow, waiting for an answer. “I’m just in my head, that’s all.”

“About what?”

Damn.

“It’s really nothing, don’t worr–”

“Tell me.”

Damn.

“You know, I just think about us and all that.” You tried to summarize. You should’ve known he wouldn’t take that as an answer because he knew there was more to it. He knew a lot when it came to you.

He shook his head, “What about us? And what’s ‘all that’?”

Damn.

“Fine. Look, I was just thinking about how couples are normally really fit for each other. Like, you can see two people together and it makes sense that they’re a couple. Especially if you know them because they tend to compliment each other a lot.”

“Uh-huh…”

“But with us… I mean. I feel like it’s weird or unfitting. Like, I feel like im holding you back somehow and I can’t help but think it’s about all of my imperfections that you say you love, and I don’t doubt that but, I don’t know.”

“I think we’re fitting. I think we look good together. I could ask other people if they do too. Pickle, your imperfections complement mine, your weaknesses complement mine, your strengths, your likes, your dislikes, everything. If anything, I feel like we’re a perfect match. I was alone for years after losing everyone. You were alone and in need of help. I had enough to help you, you had enough to keep me company, and now we have enough to love each other.”

Your eyes lifted from the ground and into his where you see the corner of his eyes slightly wrinkled. He would typically look at you with that when he’s the most sincere. It was like he was smiling with his eyes, like a Duchenne smile.

“But, I understand. Our mind does this to us, we start overthinking about something we thought we knew,” He continued, “Here’s something you can trust, though. I love you, okay? Nothing will change that, ever.” He pressed his grinning lips onto your forehead and then to your lips.

“Thank you, Isaac.”

“Anything for you, Pickle.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

this album has multiple covers so yall know what that means .

okay i feel like this whole thing was just straight yapping but you know, isaac's my bae so best believe i WILL be yapping. thank you.

#zsakuva #asmr #sakuverse #zsakuvaxreader #isaac #isaacrhoades #im still mad about his last name #UGH OKAY #anyway #did i eat #hehe :3

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skaldish · 5 months

Note

Helloooo,

I’m not sure if this would be an odd question or not so I’ll give a bit of context for it before I ask: basically I’ve wanted to try and worship/work with Loki and become Lokean for a few years, I’ve always been extremely drawn to Him and He’s the first deity I felt like I loved—I’ve been fixated on him since I was around 8 years old and it was around about then that I wanted to become a heathen, and that’s stuck with me for all these years.

The only problem is that I’ve always been a huge skeptic and I’ve been an atheist or atheist-leaning agnostic (depending on the day) for my entire life, I’ve tried several religions and having faith in multiple deities (Loki included) but every time I try I feel like I just can’t connect with any faith, I can’t believe no matter how much I want to and try to, and I just start getting anxiety around it.

Again this might sound a bit odd but I see the sorts of connections other people have with their deities and how close or happy they are and I’d really like that sort of connection as well. I know religion and faith and a connection with a deity can’t be forced but do you know if there’s any way that I can help myself find faith, and more specifically faith in Loki?

The concept of “having faith”—or unquestioningly believing in a higher power exists without any evidence to support its existence—is a Christian thing. As in, this is a feature unique to the religion of Christianity, especially the Protestant branches.

The state of “having faith” in this manner is actually a state of cognitive compromise. Protestants learn to react to feeling doubt by initiating a certain script of affirmations, which produces feelings of euphoria and drowns out the sensation.

This doesn’t actually make the doubt go away, though. All it does is block the sensation from their conscious awareness.

Doubt is an essential part of our reasoning, and it goes away with verification, not with belief. If I doubt that a wild berry is edible, no amount of “having faith” is going to verify whether it’s edible or isn’t. It’s only by gaining clarity about the nature of the berry do I satisfy my doubt, and this will happen regardless of what the nature of the berry ends of being (edible or not).

At no point should we believe in anything without a satisfactory reason.

I acknowledge Loki as a phenomenon not because I have faith in him, but because I experience him, the same way I experience the sky being blue or the phenomenon of “Autumn”. All it takes to get this experience is to ask the gods to verify themselves for you. (Granted, you’ll want to make sure they’re around to hear you first. Leaving them offerings in a companionable manner is a good way to go about this.)

This is also how I started things off for my own practice. I asked Loki for evidence, and he gave me it through a magnitude of different channels; dreams, synchronosities, physical portents, nonphysical portents, and whatever else was in his capacity to orchestrate as a non-corporeal being. It was a non-insignificant pattern of data. It made me extremely curious and I’ve been playing in this space ever since.

(My doubts still rear up, of course, but that’s because I’m anxious and get stuck doubting my own judgement.)

I would recommend taking this approach for yourself.

#answered #lokean #norse paganism #heathenry #sky treader

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ihearthes · 6 months

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Christmas Thyme Part 2

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3060

READ Part 1 HERE

Leaving the bank where I’ve deposited the day’s earnings, I notice Harry has his hands stuffed in his pockets as he jauntily walks beside me. “Not a fan of the cold?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“I’ve gotten better at it.” He huddles in his coat. “There was a time when being cold was the worst thing in the world. I would shiver no matter how many layers I had on.”

“That’s me to my core. I can be cold anytime, anywhere. But you chose to live in London instead of Los Angeles. Why?” Genuinely curious, I watch his face as we walk towards the closest chippy. I said I’d buy him dinner for his help, but I’m still trying to save every penny I can and sink it back into the business. So his usual elegant fare is not on the menu tonight, and he’ll just have to deal with that. Not that he seems the least bit upset or offended by the idea of fish and chips.

He glances at me.

“Oh,” I reply to his glance. “I get it. Off limits. Private. Personal.” Waving my hand, I seek to soothe him. “Don’t even worry, Harry. You don’t owe me answers to my inane questions.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s not really a big secret or anything –”

“Doesn’t matter. You have the right to choose what you share with strangers.”

“True.” Hunching his shoulders, he looks away from me. “It was definitely warmer in LA which I enjoyed. And I know a lot of people there – many who are friends – close friends even. But…it just never felt like home, you know? During the pandemic, I was there at first, and it just all felt so…off. Not me, you know?”

I nod. “Same experience when I moved away from London for work. It just didn’t feel like it fit. Coming home to take care of my dad was a blessing in more ways than one.” Arriving at the chippy, I glance at my watch. “Shit. They close soon.”

“Guess we’ll have to order takeaway.”

I don’t ask where we’ll eat it. The possibilities make my stomach flip upside down. Yanking on the handle, he holds the door for me as we walk into the blast of heat. The sultry tones of “The Christmas Song” by Greg Spero, and it makes my heart happy. Grinning, my smile widens when Harry takes my hand and twirls me around as though we had been dancing the entire way here. He waltzes me to the counter where the guy looks at us wearily.

“We’re closing soon.” The attitude borders on surly but doesn’t quite make it.

“No problem,” Harry replies. “We’ll have two suppers for takeaway. Mushy peas?” He asks me, and I nod eagerly.

“We’re out of peas.” The sentence is short, and the young man who delivers it sounds bored.

“Then just the fish and chips, my good man!” Harry’s energy is the exact opposite of our order taker who simply sighs, punches some buttons on the register, and lazily shouts, “Two suppers! Takeaway!”

As Harry begins to remove his wallet, I playfully nudge him aside, withdrawing money from my back pocket and placing it on the counter. “My treat, remember?”

“I would never forget that.” His response is lighthearted and jolly. “After all, I slaved all day for my pay.”

“All day?” I scoff. “Try two hours.”

“Still…”

“Mhm.” I follow my doubtful tone with a grin, and he grins back. I swear we stand there beaming at each other until the order is ready. It’s both dorky and endearing. Which is about what I imagined meeting this man would include – if, I mean, I’d ever thought about meeting him.

Swinging the bag with our supper inside, Harry steps onto the pavement outside. “Where to?”

I bite my lip. “Well, we could go trace our steps back to the shop or…” Hesitating, I finally reveal the second choice. “...my dad’s flat is just around the corner here.” I gesture with my hand, and Harry’s eyes widen before they narrow.

“If you’re planning to kidnap me, I’ll have you know I’ve left a trail for the police to locate me.”

“Dammit,” I smile. “Foiled again.” His teasing has put me at ease, and I start leading him to my home. “Usually I would never invite a man home when we’ve just met…”

“Yeah? What’s different about me?”

“I think I would have heard if there were a trail of bodies in every town you’ve visited. Not the kind of secret you could keep for long.”

Chuckling heartily, Harry shifts to the opposite side of the sidewalk when we cross the street. It’s a gentlemanly move, and it’s one I’ve not often had the pleasure of experiencing with the men I’ve dated. Not that they’ve been oafs or criminals or horrible humans. But they haven’t been chivalrous for sure.

When we arrive, I push open the gate and lead Harry to my garden flat. The front door leads us directly into the reception room.

“I thought you’d lived here for a couple of years?” Harry asks, surveying the boxes on the floor.

“Christmas decorations,” I laugh. “I’ve not had a chance to put anything up yet since I’ve been so busy with the store.” Removing the takeaway bag from his hand, I move towards the kitchen. “Let me put this on real plates.”

“Don’t do that,” Harry interjects. “No need for you to have to tidy up dishes.”

“Special occasion! I’ve got company.” From the cupboard, I withdraw plates for us. Opening the containers, I snag a chip and take a bite quickly. “Oh wow. They didn’t have mushy peas, but they certainly have mushy chips.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’s fine. Give me a minute to heat up the air fryer. I’ll crisp them up in no time.” Opening the fridge, I remove a bottle of white wine. “Perhaps you could open this for us?” Holding out the wine and the corkscrew, I’m relieved when he takes both while I locate wine glasses. Now that he’s here in my space, I feel anxious. While liquid courage might have the side effect of blurring some memories later, it will also assist me in the midst of this bizarre Hallmark Christmas movie I’ve walked into. Or rather that Harry walked into when he entered my store.

Connecting my phone to the bluetooth speaker, I start a jazz Christmas station playing as the air fryer beeps. Adding the chips to the container, I start it for three minutes. From behind me, I hear the glug of wine being poured from the bottle.

“My lady.” His voice is husky, and I turn at his words to find Harry holding out a glass of wine to me, filled nearly to the brim. “I think there’s something wrong with your bottle.” Holding up his glass, also completely full, he shows me the empty wine bottle. “It only holds two glasses of wine.”

I can’t help it. My laughter escapes, and the glass in my hand jiggles with my giggles until I have to take a sip to keep the wine from overflowing onto my hand. My face softening when I look at him, I hold up my glass in his general direction.

“Thank you for this tonight, Harry. You’ve made me laugh, and that’s not something I’ve done often enough lately.”

“I think you should laugh every day,” he grins, moving closer to me and clinking his glass with mine. “Thank you for keeping me entertained after my sister ditched me.”

Warren Wolf’s version of “Oh Christmas Tree” starts, and Harry takes my glass and sets both on the counter before he grasps my hand and puts his other hand on my waist as he twirls me around on the kitchen floor. Throwing my head back, I laugh out loud at the continuous twirling he leads me to do until I’m out of breath and somehow against the counter with Harry plastered close to me.

We’re both giggling and breathing heavily from the dancing until I look up and catch his eyes on mine. Holy shit. He’s so fucking hot. Those eyes alone make my knickers wet, but when his tongue darts out and his eyes focus on my mouth, I’m lost. This is how it happens in movies, right? And I’m currently sleepwalking through a Hallmark Christmas movie. So when he leans forward and touches our lips together, I go with it.

The melding of our mouths leads to his hands landing on my waist as he slides up the bottom of my jumper just enough to rub his thumbs on my bare skin. A moan leaves my mouth which also has the advantage of providing access for Harry’s tongue to enter, and I cannot get enough of his flavour. He tastes like candy canes and snowflakes. When he steps closer and slides his leg between my jean-clad thighs, I whimper. There’s no other word for the sound that rips itself from my throat.

Which is when the timer on the air fryer goes off.

I see. I’m not in a Hallmark Christmas movie. I’m in a television Christmas comedy. Figures.

Feeling Harry’s smile against my lips, I am grateful when he doesn’t abruptly separate from me but rather maintains his nearness while gazing into my eyes. A sheepishness comes over him then, and I blink to bring myself back to reality. “I am so sorry. I should have asked for consent. That was…rude.”

“Really? I was thinking how incredibly pleasant it was.”

The smirk makes an appearance, and he surveys me, removing his hands from my waist and stepping back so that his leg is no longer propping me up from being a giant pool of jelly on the floor. So I’m surprised when I remain standing, although I’m not surprised that my head follows his for a brief moment before I snap to attention.

Trying to get us back on track with supper, I politely say, “I think the chips are no longer wilted.”

“They’re not the only thing no longer wilted,” Harry says, and I glance at him sharply.

“We could –”

“Skip supper?” The enthusiasm in his voice dampens my panties further, and although that hadn’t been what I was going to say at all, I simply nod and go along with the suggestion.

Food? What’s food? I’ve eaten before. I’ll eat again. But right now I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something insane that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

With my head’s singular bob, Harry steps forward again, burying his hands in my hair as he tilts my head back to delve back into the practice we’d been doing previously. Knowing where we’re headed this time, I have no qualms about sliding my hands under his crewneck and towards the waistband of his joggers.

He removes his mouth from mine long enough to blather on, “Are you – do you have – should we –”

“I’ve not had sex with another human in months. Definitely clean of STDs, and I have condoms. Somewhere.” Shit. Where were those?

“Per-” Instead of finishing the word, he plants his lips back on my mouth, his tongue mimicking the dance we’ll soon be doing if either of us has any say. And we do.

“Bedroom!” I exclaim as I break the seal between us, having just remembered that the condoms are in my bedside table drawer. Taking control (and his hand), I guide him towards my bedroom – the one my father had insisted I take over when I moved in, relegating the older man to the former guest room. “Pretty sure they’re in –” Without finishing my sentence, I’m sorting through the items in my drawer as I feel Harry behind me, his hands sneaking around my waist to my button and zipper. With no qualms, he undoes both, sliding my jeans down my legs until I can step out of them.

“Shoes!” I squeak, and Harry chuckles before untying my shoes and gently removing them from my feet.

“Since I’m already here,” the devil grins, as he makes short work of my knickers too, removing all of my bottom half clothing so that I feel a breeze on my private parts. I have a moment of freakout when I can’t recall the last time I’d done any…um…landscaping there, but the thought disappears when I feel his breath on my thighs. “Mmmmm…I think I’ll start my meal here.” He raises my left leg and places it on the bed, exposing my entirety to his gaze. I grasp the bedside table to maintain my balance.

Good thing I’m holding onto something solid because the second his tongue touches my labia, my knees weaken. Having no idea how I’ve lost control of the situation, I have no choice but to pant wildly while he makes short work of my clit, my juices already inflamed and flowing.

“OH MY GOD!” I scream, and I can feel his stupid dimple on my skin as he smiles. How can someone feel the absence of space? No clue, but I swear that’s what I feel. My orgasm starts to build, and I grip the table more tightly as I tumble into the chasm of the mouth that belongs to one popstar named Harry Styles. Nearly collapsing, I am grateful when Harry adjusts my leg so that both are solidly on the ground to hold me up.

But then he reaches around me, snagging a condom I’d unknowingly managed to unearth in my frantic movements. Behind me, I hear the wrapper being torn, and when I move to stand, Harry places a hand on my back. “Stay there.”

There’s no sound of a zipper since he’s not wearing trousers, but I hear the latex snap just before I feel the head of his cock at my entrance. Once again, he places his hand on my back.

“Let me know if it’s too much.”

Most men who say this must be joking because I’ve often had to wonder if their member was even inside me. But not Harry. Holy fuck. His cock stretches my walls, and I have to tap his thigh once and call for a pause.

“Too much?”

“No. Just…let me adjust…” Bending forward some by crossing my arms on the night table and resting my head on my folded arms allows him to slip inside a bit further, and I can feel him all the way deep inside me.

“Woah,” he breathes, and I agree. “Can I move now?”

“Slowly at first please. I’m wet, but we might need more lubrication.” From the night table, I withdraw a bottle of lube and hand it around to him.

“Oh, good plan,” he says, and I hear the bottle opening and the squish of liquid being extracted before he withdraws slightly. This time when he plunges inside me, I gasp at the feel. “Still need me to go slow?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn.

The man sets a pace that would go well with Kiwi or Only Angel. Steady. Fast. Reaching around, he teases my clit, and I groan in pleasure. After a few minutes at this pace in this position, my body starts to respond, and I feel my second orgasm building.

Which is when Harry pulls completely out. Surprised, I twist to look at him. And laugh. He raises an eyebrow, and I clarify. “We must look a sight with both of us bottomless and our tops still on.”

He grins, his cock standing up tall with the condom straining against its length and girth. “Strip show?”

“Shortest strip show in the history of the planet,” I grin as I pull my Christmas jumper with its tree and presents over my head. “Forgot I had this on.” Reaching up, I start to remove the necklace I’m wearing.

“Leave it,” Harry growls.

My mouth dry, I give in, removing only my bra. “Your turn,” and when he pulls off the crewneck, I wheeze at the sight of the butterfly and the laurels and the sparrow, never having expected to view them this close.

“How do you turn these on?” He demands, reaching for the strand of novelty Christmas lights surrounding my neck.

“Same way you turn me on,” I tease, reaching both hands behind my neck, knowing exactly how the pose pushes my breasts forward. As the lights start blinking, Harry’s eyes light up and he captures my nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling in ways I’ve never felt before as he tweaks my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I think I’m going to pass out.

Just when I get used to the feeling, he swaps breasts, humming in between. “The lights make it even more fun,” he devilishly snarls before latching onto my other breast.

When I’m close to losing my mind, I drop to my knees, planting my lips around the condom and applying suction.

“HOLY –” Harry shrieks. He’s too big for me to deep throat completely, so I add a hand to his length, using circular motions with both my tongue and my fingertips, but in opposite directions. I’m quite pleased with myself until he taps me on the head.

“I really would prefer to be inside you” is his polite comment, and who am I to deny this famous celebrity whatever he wants?

The bed covers get firmly wrinkled as we squirm together on the bed, his cock plunging into me from as many angles as we can think of, and the edging is starting to wear on me.

“I can’t…Harry…I need…”

“I got you.” And he does. With my legs in the air on his shoulders, his large gorgeous hands on my breasts, and his cock deeply embedded in me, he drives me to orgasm, and I cry out his name over and over again, forgetting everything but this moment.

And then I get the pleasure of watching as his eyes roll back in his head, his chin turns towards the ceiling, and his entire body spasms as he spills into the condom.

Merry Christmas to me!

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a one shot, but I think there’s one more part of the story to tell if you’re interested. Let me know if you’ll read it, and I’ll write part 3.

#harry styles #my writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing

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hxyleswritesthings · 1 year

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Dynamight's Omega (Part 2 ish)

Author's note: This is just a fluffy piece about the first time BB nests at Bakugou's apartment. It's a very emotional time for the both of them, and I am just obsessed with him being so sweet for her :')

The first time that BB nests at Bakugou’s apartment is a big deal for the both of them. They’ve reached a point in their relationship where they’re starting to spend a few nights a week together. The relationship is getting much more intimate between them as they learn more about each other and explore a more domestic side to their dynamic.

BB shows up to Bakugou’s apartment with her things, and he can’t help but notice she’s carrying an extra bag as he lets her in. She toes off her shoes before pulling him in for a kiss, his hands landing on her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck. The kiss is unhurried, the two of them happy to be in each other’s presence again. He tugs on her bottom lip playfully, canines poking her before he’s pulling back and she’s resting her head on his chest as they hold each other close. They pull away after a few minutes, only after he steals a few more kisses from her.

Red dusts her cheeks as her eyes take in the bags still on the floor, noting that Katsuki was staring at them as well. “I, um, brought a little extra with me so that I could..uh…” Her voice is tiny as she looks up at the blonde alpha in front of her. He’s watching her intently, hands rubbing up and down her sides to encourage her to speak. “I mean-is it okay if I nest in your room?” The words are quiet, and Bakugou finds his brain shutting down at the question.

Never in his 20-something years had he imagined an omega would feel comfortable enough, safe enough, to nest in his home. His personality has always been a bit on the harsher side, and although he does soften up for omegas, he’s always found that his general demeanor scares them off. He’s had a few flings in the past, but none of those ever turned into anything serious. Of course, he dreamed of courting and mating an omega, but he never believed it would actually come true for him. He always figured he would remain too intimidating for a proper omega, and the thought hurt him. As an alpha, he’s always had the strong urge to protect and care for a mate and to sire pups one day. No one had made him feel quite like the girl in front of him, and he highly doubted no other omega had ever looked at him with so much love in their eyes. He knew she had a rough past, yet she looked at every part of him and never showed an ounce of fear.

“Katsuki?” Her voice draws him out of his head and it’s only now that he realizes her small hands on his arms, “Where’d you go?”

He finally snaps out of it, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I-um-..you know, I-” He takes a few breaths to steady himself and calm his racing heart before he’s speaking again. “Of course you can, take whatever you need, okay?”

His omega grins, standing up on her toes to plant an excited kiss to his lips before she’s pulling away and grabbing her bags. “I’ll be gone for a while, please knock if you need anything.” She’s gone within seconds, shooting the words over her shoulder as she hurries to the bedroom.

Bakugou watches her leave, telling her to take all the time she needs before he’s all but running to grab a beer in an attempt to calm his nerves. He’s overrun with so many emotions he goes as far as to text Kirishima just to get it out of his system. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. His girl is nesting. In his apartment. In his bed. His alpha is so proud that his girl wants to share this experience with him, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t freaking out just a little bit.

Meanwhile BB shuts the bedroom door behind her, setting out the stuff she had packed from her apartment as well as rummaging through Bakugou’s bedroom. She pulls some of his clothes out from their storage, as well as a spare blanket that held his scent. She lays everything out in front of her and fully loses herself to her omega as she gets to work.

She comes out after a good hour and a half of work, making sure everything was to her liking one last time before deciding it was final. She pads out to the living room, finding Bakugou out on the balcony, phone to his ear and his second beer in his opposite hand. He hangs up without warning the second he hears the sliding door, setting the bottle down and turning towards his girl. “Find everything you need?”

She nods, grinning up at him. “More than enough. Thank you, Kats.”

“Course, you let me know if you ever need anything else, alright? I’ll get you whatever you need.”

She’s quiet for a beat, reaching for his hand and stepping closer. “Would you like to come see my nest, alpha?”

It’s Bakugou’s turn to nod before he’s following her into his bedroom, her small hand never leaving his. He finds himself nearly choking up as he stands at the foot of the bed, taking in the sight of her nest. His chest feels tight as he inhales the perfect combination of their scents and he notices that she made it big enough to accommodate his larger frame. She drops his hand and kisses his cheek briefly before climbing up on the bed and gesturing for him to join her.

He clears his throat, “Omega, may I enter your nest?” Even if her intentions in wanting him there were perfectly fucking clear, he still wanted to use his manners. He’s been in her nest at her apartment plenty of times, but this was new territory for the both of them. This was the first time she had made a nest that was meant to be for the both of them.

BB is grinning like a fool as she sits in his bed. “Yes, Alpha.” The second the words leave her mouth, Bakugou’s stripping down to his boxers, knowing she prefers skin to skin contact with him, before he’s climbing in and pulling her against him.

She chirps happily as he kisses up her neck before his lips are on hers and she’s sighing into his mouth. To her, Katsuki is passionate and loving and everything she could ever want in an alpha. He makes her feel protected while also trusting her to take care of herself. She’s soon pulling back from him, giggling at the growl he emits from the loss of contact.

“Do you approve of my nest, alpha?” She speaks it gently, albeit a little nervous still.

“It’s perfect, you did perfect.” His voice is raspy with emotion, praises for his girl tumbling past his lips as he tugs her to lay on top of him. “Such a good omega, making such a pretty nest for her alpha. Keeping her alpha comfortable.” He rubs her back as they lay, nosing at her scent glands, his second gender taking over the forefront of his mind. “Take such good care of alpha, make him happy. Perfect omega.” His canines ache to be sinking into her neck, wanting to keep this girl all for himself. He indulges himself just a bit as he grazes them against her neck and BB is an absolute mess at the praise, her omega making her bare her neck to him in submission. It was a big deal for her to submit to an alpha so willingly. This is the first time she’s ever allowed herself to get this close to one. Growing up, she didn’t have the most stable home life, and she witnessed her own dam get put into too many dangerous situations. As an adult, BB wasn’t quite as scared, but she remained very cautious. Although her omega always begged to be mated, she was in no rush to commit herself to someone and run the risk of being controlled.

With Katsuki, things were different. She found herself shy around him at times, unsure of how he’ll respond to certain things. However, the man has never made her feel anything but safe and supported. He was always reminding her that she had a choice in how things progressed between the two of them, and that should she need anything, to give him a call. She didn’t take him up on that until one late night she had gotten off work and noticed some men that had been outside the shop for a while. She had been keeping an eye on them, and for some reason, it set alarm bells off in her head. She decided to listen to her instincts and dialed his number. Katsuki had just gotten back from a quick mission, and he didn’t even bother to shower before heading straight to her, telling her to keep him on the phone if she was uncomfortable. He showed up in record time, palms smoking from flying over and his hero suit still covered in grime from the day. He waved at her through the glass door and stood guard as she came out, locking everything up before he walked her home. He took her up to her apartment and left her with a quick forehead kiss and a promise to be safe on his way home.

There was one particular thing about Katsuki that she loved. It was that he never expected anything of her. He was only willing to take what she was willing to give and he never once put pressure on her to be a certain way or give anything up for him.

Bakugou groans at the sight of his girl submitting to him, teasing her a bit as he allows the sharp points to drag up her neck, a shiver running down her spine. He pulls away quickly before his alpha brain gets carried away and he ends up prematurely marking her. His girl just whines a bit when he pulls back, moving to tuck her head at the point between his neck and shoulder.

“Careful, Omega. As pretty of a sight you are like this, my alpha is screaming at me to bite you.” He’s growling halfheartedly through the words. The girl giggles, ignoring the heat that suddenly pricks at her skin from the thought. The two of them were fully content on taking their relationship slow, no rush to mark each other. She’s been having to remind herself of that fact a lot more lately. Katsuki was always so strong and confident in himself, and he was confident in her and their relationship. Unlike other alphas she had been around, he never made her question whether he cared for her or not. Throughout her relationship he had showered her in so much love, and made her a priority. Better yet, he was always telling her that he didn’t want an omega that was going to see her alpha as the end all be all. He’s there to support his mate in their goals and self-growth just as much as they are to support his. He doesn’t expect his omega to give up anything to be with him. He had also expressed to her (during their first argument) that he wants an omega that isn’t afraid to bite back at him. If he’s stepping out of line, he needs his omega to feel comfortable expressing that, to tell him to his face when he needs to tone it down or do something differently. She can’t believe how lucky she is to have this wonderful bond with such a great person. In this cruel world, there are far too many alphas that feel they hold some sort of power over omegas, and they happily abuse it. There was something about Katsuki wanting her to be strong on her own that had her absolutely weak at the knees. If he were to ask her to fully submit to him, she’d do it without a second thought.

The pair are quiet for a few minutes, listening to each other’s steady breathing before she’s pressing kisses to his skin wherever she can reach and nuzzling further into him. “Kay, alpha. Let’s nap now, making our nest was hard work and I’m pooped.”

Bakugou is grinning like an idiot at his girl, shifting to pull the blanket over the bother of them and making sure to hold her close as they doze off together.

#bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #mha fluff #alpha bakugo katsuki #alpha bakugou #alpha bakugou katsuki #alpha katsuki #dynamight #kacchan #omegaversa #a/b/o #mha fanfiction #mhafanfic #bakugou x oc

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thislovintime · 5 months

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1968.

“‘Actually, I wanted to leave the group over two years ago when the first season ended, but the guys convinced me not to. I didn’t care about all the things that were happening, all the acclaim. I hated the work! It was tough, and I didn’t like it. I just wanted to record for all my life. Also, the pressure was awful. We were working in an incredibly new environment. Half of the crew on the show was young and had very little experience at that level of work. Many of them were getting their first big break. Actually, after the TV show was canceled it was easier for me to leave. Doing the TV show was the worst. Then came the movie, and I couldn’t forego the movie, so I did it. You know, there were moments here and there — lots of good, funny stuff happening throughout — but the only time that I was really happy was when we were recording the ‘Headquarters’ album. The concerts were fun, but during the concert tours you are removed from your friends except for the guys. And even when we did take a few friends along it was only a mild relief. This last tour of Australia and Japan wasn’t fun because I felt hideously under-rehearsed. I was constantly pushing for rehearsals, and they were constantly saying well, like later. We couldn’t get together. Also, we didn’t play any new music this last concert tour. It was all old tunes, nothing from our newer albums, and it was a bore. But I think they suspected I was leaving anyway. For me, a lot of the pressure was off. When I felt a part of the group every time someone said something that jarred my sensibilities, I’d raise a huge ruckus and everybody thought I was out of my mind. While we were making the TV Special, knowing I was not going to be there any longer, I just thought to myself — I don’t have to worry about this thing — and I just let everything slide off my back. They must have though something was screwy. Then I finally told them, ‘Gentlemen I’m in negotiations to resign from the group.’ And they said, ‘Okay, well, there’s not much time, we’d better get to work on this Special.’ So we taped the thing and that’s the last I saw of them. The last day of the taping they gave me this little testimonial memorial watch.’ From his pocket Peter drew out a silver, antique-looking timepiece with the back side engraved, ‘To Peter Tork, from the guys down at work.’ ‘I’m free, I don’t know what I’ll be doing. I’m actually a little apprehensive, because there’s no doubt that there are three other incredibly talented fellows out there. They’re very talented guys. Mike is one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. Micky is even funnier and Davy is just cute as a button. Who could ask for anything more? Davy dances so great, did you see him dance in the film? I’ve not seen dancing like that on the screen except from Fred Astaire. The only other thing is that I’m both really relieved and really, really apprehensive. I’m terribly glad and also terribly sad.’” - NME, January 25, 1969

“Peter and I were the bulk of the playing ability because we were musicians. But when Peter left it rather unnerved Davy and Micky — and I changed my mind [about leaving]. After all, the personal appearances were pretty well satisfying, the music was fun, and the whole thing was fairly lucrative. And Davy and Micky left alone would have been in real trouble.” - Michael Nesmith, Disc and Music Echo, September 19, 1970

"In a telephone interview this week, Tork explained why he left the group in 1968, three years after it was formed. ‘Musicians were being auditioned in an effort to create the Monkees, and the purpose was to reap money,’ he said. ‘But for our first two albums, studio musicians were hired to do the instrumentals and we just did the lead singing. I didn’t want that.’ Tork convinced the other three members, Davy Jones, [Micky] Dolenz and Mike Nesmith, to do the third album themselves. ‘But I couldn’t get the guys to go for that again, so the fourth album was half and half,’ he said. Critics had frowned on the Monkees for this. ‘Every single malcontent felt he had the right to tell me what was wrong with the situation. I took the critics to heart,’ Tork said. ‘When I talked to the guys about it, they told me if I want more I should get my own act.’ Tork describes his current relationship with Jones, Dolenz and Nesmith as ‘cordial.’ ‘I learned to put all my bitterness behind me,’ he said. ‘I hear about them through the grapevine, but we have no real call to talk to each other, although, I had a brief lunch with Davy Jones in Japan recently.’ When Tork joined the Monkees in October 1965, he was 23 years old and inexperienced in handling fame and fortune. ‘There’s a lot of things involved with money and recognition, and the price was much higher than I expected,’ he said. ‘There’s an isolating pressure that goes along with success. I couldn’t handle it.’" - article by Lisa Stenza, Connecticut Daily Campus, February 26, 1982 (read more in an older post)

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #Davy Jones #Micky Dolenz #Michael Nesmith #The Monkees #Monkees #long read #Peter and Davy #Peter and Micky #Peter and Michael #can you queue it

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yuurei20 · 1 year

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Riddle Info Compilation part 1: Upbringing

Riddle has a voice line of, “I read that the Queen of Hearts had a very amicable marriage. If there’s a secret to that, I wish I could share it with my parents.”

We do not hear much about his father, though he do know that both of his parents were (past tense?) famous magical healers.

Trey says that “Everyone where we’re from knew their names. His mom was especially talented, and she really wanted Riddle to live up to her legacy.”

We learn from Trey that every aspect of Riddle’s life growing up was planned down to the minute, including what he ate, wore, what soap he used and who his friends were.

Trey says that Riddle obediently completed every task he was assigned in order to please his parents, mastering his unique magic by the age of 10, and turning the enforcement of strict rules into a major part of his own personality.

When asked what job he would like to have in the future Riddle responds, “A…medical mage, I suppose”, saying that he was raised to take up the same mantle as his parents, but after serving as Heartslabyul’s housewarden he has taken an interest in the legal profession.

Riddle has a similar conversation with Azul, saying that becoming a medical mage was his original plan but he has developed an interest in the law. Azul recommends that he gets licensed in every field that interests him, saying, “Wth your talent, you could excel in any field you wanted. It would be a waste to settle for just one!”

Azul says, “It’s frustrating to see so clearly the difference between me and someone who’s worked hard their whole life,” and Riddle responds that he doubt that Azul would have the same ambition and drive that he does to day if he had focused solely on his studies that way that Riddle himself did as a child.

Azul warns, “One moment of inattention and you might find me giving the valedictorian speech at graduation,” but Riddle responds, I’ll continue to stand at the fore as long as I’m in school—and after it as well. I won’t lose to anyone, ever. Not even you.”

Azul makes a comment on how “one has to make sacrifices to make their dreams a reality” which seems to resonate with Riddle.

Riddle is good at crossword puzzles because they were the only form of entertainment that he was allowed growing up. Riddle says that, as a child, he started creating his own crossword puzzles so that he could give them to Trey and Chenya one day. (He was never allowed to see Trey and Chenya again, however, prior to NRC, which would explain why he now has a collection of over 3,000 handmade crosswords.)

There are occasional references to how Riddle is still learning things about normal, everyday life for a student his age due to his harsh upbringing: he apologizes to Deuce for failing to “learn the appropriate customer etiquette” while purchasing mystery bags during News Year’s, which he heard from Cater is “a popular youth activity.”

Riddle says that he never participated in the Halloween events for children in his hometown so he is not well-informed on what goes on, but he does say that he only ends up drenched when bobbing for apples, so he may have some experience from somewhere.

Riddle says his household “wasn’t overly concerned with holidays” so they didn’t do anything in particular for Halloween.

“In fact, I wasn’t even allowed to walk around outside on days like this. I was a little jealous of kids who could dress up and go trick-or-treating.”

Epel responds, “Your parents sound really strict. But you don’t have to follow their rules now that you’re here at school, right? This is your chance to let loose and have fun!”

Riddle says he will consider it, and Epel invites him to celebrate in his hometown.

#twstriddle #riddlefacts #twstfacts #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts

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crazychaoticizzy · 1 year

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Pretty Portraits

What happens when you, Kugisaki and Itadori find that Fushiguro left his journal behind?

WARNINGS: none. just pure fluff. maybe a tiny bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

You were just about to leave the booth, only to pause at the sight of a black notebook waiting on the seat. You recognized it at Fushiguro's journal, and when you flipped the cover to see the name written on the inside your suspicions were proved to be correct.

"Hey, Fushiguro forgot his notebook," you said to Itadori and Kugisaki. They both looked away from whatever they were doing, eyeing the notebook in your hands. "Do you guys remember where he said he was going?"

"Uhh, I don't think he actually said where he was going," Itadori said. "If we don't run into him in the school hallways, then we can just leave it in his room."

"Or." Kugisaki drew out the word, sidling up next to you. "We could take a little look inside. See what kind of a person Fushiguro really is."

"Isn't that an invasion of privacy?" Itadori asked.

"Not if he doesn't know."

"I don't think that's how that works," you pointed out.

"Come on, it'd just be a little peek. Besides, he's most likely a really boring person. He probably takes notes on techniques and how he can improve himself. If anything, this will be a learning experience for us if we decide to look through it.”

Kugisaki was right, there was nothing embarrassing in there. You know because you asked one day when he seemed especially invested in his journal. He showed you pages full of notes for different classes and a couple small doodles in the corner. Despite knowing this, you still didn’t want to look through it because you didn’t want to invade his personal belongings.

You shook your head, holding it out to Itadori. “No, I still don’t want to look through it.”

Kugisaki shrugged, taking it from Itadori’s hand and sitting back down in the booth the three of you had just left. She opened it, flipping past the first page, the one with Fushiguro’s name on it. “Okay. Then I’ll look through it and you two can just so happen to look through my shoulder.”

Damn loopholes, you thought. In all honesty, you were curious about what Fushiguro had added since you last saw the contents of the journal.

Despite your better judgement, you sat down beside Kugisaki.

It was just as you had expected, notes about Fushiguro’s classes for a good chunk of the journal. When Kugisaki got tired of staring at Fushiguro’s neat handwriting, she let out a breath and closed it, opening it again to a random page.

More writing, but this page was accompanied by a portrait that looked eerily familiar. The name of the person drawn was on the top of your tongue when Itadori suddenly said something.

”Hey, that kinda looks like Y/n, don’t you think?”

You were way off. You were going to say it looked like a fictional character you had told Fushiguro about a while ago.

”Oh my gosh, this is a letter!” Kugisaki exclaimed. “Hold on it starts in the middle of it on this page.”

Kugisaki flipped back a couple pages, finding that the letter was longer than anticipated. She found the beginning, a grand three pages front and back away from the drawing, and started quietly reading.

”’Y/n, I doubt I’ll ever give this to you or say anything about this, but just know that this is for you.’ Holy shit is this a love letter?”

”Wow.” Itadori stared at the page in awe. “I didn’t think he’d actually write it.” He took the book from Kugisaki’s grasp, flipping through a couple pages.

”You knew about this and didn’t think to tell me?” Kugisaki yelled. She was shushed by a nearby waiter, and she quieted down.

”Fushiguro asked me not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.” Itadori shrugged. “He told me forever ago about this, said he wanted to give it to you when he finished it, but I guess he never did because look at the date.”

He pointed to the corner of the page, where the written date was almost exactly four months ago.

”Damn,” Kugisaki said. “He must have been super inspired about something to write this. Listen, he quoted a couple books. ‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.’ God damn, he really used that Pride and Prejudice quote.”

Itadori continued flipping through the pages, now laying the notebook flat on the table for the three of them to see it.

there were multiple pages filled with drawings of you. The pages filled with notes from class were almost completely gone, being replaced by your portraits and short writings accompanied by this reminded me of them to the side.

You stared as they continued flipping through the pages, watching as the drawings improved. The last one was of your side profile, laughing as you held a straw to your lips, about to drink from it. You realized it was from today, and softly ran your fingers over the drawing.

So that’s what he was doing this whole time.

Since that was the last page with anything on it, Itadori closed it and slid it across the table back to you. You didn’t move to touch it, only continued to stare at it.

”Y/n? You okay there?”

You nodded in the general direction of Itadori, moving your hand to grab the black journal. “Yeah. Uh, I’ll take this back to Fushiguro, if you don’t mind. I know you two are busy later anyways.”

Neither of them objected. You assumed this was a situation where they both knew something you didn’t and were most likely over the moon that Fushiguro was finally going somewhere.

You may not be the smartest, but you could definitely piece things together when you’re given enough. You were still unsure, though, so you didn’t want to confront him about it right away.

—

Your knuckles rapped against the wood of Fushiguro’s door, and you gently tapped your fingers against the surface of the black notebook in your hands as you waited for him to answer.

The noise of the door unlocking and opening threw you off guard. It was such a stark contrast to the quiet hallway, and your thoughts had drifted elsewhere completely.

You noticed that Fushiguro stood a little bit straighter when he saw it was you. You briefly wondered if he always did that, or if he only did it for you.

You pushed the thought from your mind not wanting to think about it now.

You took in what he was wearing—gray sweatpants and a black sweater. He looked like he was about to go to bed. It was still early, but you couldn’t blame him. Despite them being your best friends, hanging out with Kugisaki and Itadori could get tiring.

”Uhm, you left this at the booth earlier,” you awkwardly said, holding out the journal to him. “I wanted to bring it back.”

He gently took it from your grasp. “Thanks.”

He didn’t close the door. Instead, he tossed the book to his bed and stepped further outside his room, leaning against the doorframe.

”Where else did you guys go? After I left, I mean,” he said.

”Oh, we just kind of walked around Tokyo for a bit,” you replied. You hid your hands behind your back, playing with your fingers. “We went into a bookstore but didn’t buy anything. We kind of lost Kugisaki and Itadori was summoned by Gojo.”

Fushiguro nodded thoughtfully, putting his hands in his pockets.

You wanted to ask about the drawings in the journal before he continued talking, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up without making it blatantly obvious that you had gone through it. You decided to take a shot, letting your inner self decide what you said.

”Uhm, it fell and I saw some of your drawings,” you said. “Your notebook, I mean. They were really good. I didn’t know you liked doing that.”

Fushiguro’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he returned to his usual stoic expression. His face changed so fast you almost didn’t notice it, but the way he brought his hand up to scratch the side of his neck—one of his nervous ticks you had noticed—told you everything.

”Yeah, I picked it up a few months ago,” he replied. “I do it sometimes at the end of the day to wind down. It helps me relax.”

You nodded. You weren’t sure how to continue the conversation, but you still wanted to know if your suspicion about why he drew you so much was correct.

”Oh, that’s cool. Itadori saw the drawing and said it looked like me,” you decided to say.

”Did he now?” You had caught him with his pants down. He reached up to gently scratch his neck again. “Well, it might have been you. I draw you sometimes for practice. You have a pretty face for that.”

He paused at his own words, crossing his legs at the ankles. He hoped you didn’t notice his wording.

You did. And this time you were the one caught off guard.

”Thank you,” you said. “If that was a compliment. Thanks for saying I have a pretty face.”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

Awkward silence ensued again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could beat around the bush for. This same routine had randomly started one day and continued almost daily for months. It was annoying, and you wanted it to end.

So you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Uhm, I actually brought that up because I think I know something, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

An indirect leap of faith, but a leap of faith nonetheless.

Fushiguro was listening to you, you could tell because he was looking directly at you, into your eyes. It made you nervous, and you almost brushed off what you were about to say and walked away.

“So, I wanted to tell you my feelings first. And then you could decide how you feel about them. If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you wanna come inside?” He motioned towards his room. “To get more comfortable, if you want.”

You nodded, following him in. “Sure.”

He gently closed the door behind you, leaving it open a crack before sitting on the bed with you. It was silent for a few moments before he motioned for you to speak.

You took a breath. “So, I’ve been debating telling you this for a while, I just haven’t. But with Kugisaki and Itadori earlier I decided that I should.” You paused for a moment, putting together the next sentence in your head before you said it. “I kind of like you. Like a lot.” You paused again, deciding that was all you needed to say and shrugging with your hands.

You seemed a lot cooler with this confession that you though you would be. You thought you would be a stuttering mess, trying to beat around the bush so much you wouldn’t even know what you were saying. But you didn’t, instead you feigned outward calmness, but you could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

Fushiguro’s eyebrows raised as he took in the information.

The action worried you, because he didn’t move for a few moments after that. You sat, waiting for his response. You almost apologized and excused yourself from his room, meaning to hide in your dorm for a couple days until you would be able to face him again, before he gave you a small smile. He stood up, sauntering over to his dresser and opening the top drawer.

When he closed it and turned around, he revealed a square of white paper and held it out to you. You took it, realizing it was an envelope.

“Open it.”

You did as Fushiguro said while he moved across the room, this time opening the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a stack of papers along with a small notebook.

You took the paper out of the envelope as he continued what he was doing, opening the folded sheet.

It was a letter. Addressed to you.

You started reading. It had a similar structure as the one you read from his journal earlier, using some of the same wordings and comparisons.

Fushiguro assumed his previous spot on the bed next to you, setting the papers and notebook down beside him. He watched intently as you read the letter, not saying a word as he took in your reaction to his written words.

You were speechless reading it. You didn’t know he could be so wordy and poetic. He never said much. You assumed that he was just a quiet person that didn’t have much to say. Someone that liked observing more than contributing to conversations.

Your assumptions were mostly correct. Except you didn’t realize he noticed or had this much to say. It shocked you, and you weren’t sure what kind of response would match his words.

You were genuinely shocked that he shared the same feelings. You assumed that the dry conversations between the two of you had started because he found out about you liking him. You thought he found that awkward.

But this letter, an explanation for all those awkward moments between the two of you.

Apparently he thought the same thing you did.

Your eyes quickly drifted over the words when you finished. You truly didn’t know what to say, and figured at least trying to form a response in your head would be best.

Your mind drew a blank on what to say. But you had to say something. You would see Fushiguro getting anxious for your response.

When you looked up to meet Fushiguro’s gaze, he was staring at you. You smiled at him, deciding to speak truthfully about what was going through your head.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered. “This is the most beautiful writing I’ve ever read. Do you really mean everything?”

“Every single word,” he responded. He handed you a piece of notebook paper from the top of the pile he had brought over. “This was my first drawing of you. I just did it without thought one day and continued. You’re really the only thing I draw.”

You gently took the paper from his grasp, looking it over, admiring the graphite lines, imagining the way his eyes might have followed his pencil, focused.

“Are all of these . . .” You motioned towards the stack of papers beside you, and Fushiguro nodded before you finished your question. “Wow . . .”

You were in awe, returning your gaze to the piece of notebook paper before looking at a couple more.

Fushiguro gently took the paper you held from your hand, putting it aside and taking both of your hands in his. He reached for your jaw, softly redirecting the way your head was turned so you looked directly into his eyes.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n. I want to be more than friends.” There was a small amount of fear in his eyes. He was terrified you would reject him, despite already knowing how you felt.

Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly agape. He hadn’t even said anything monumentally heart-wrenching, but just the sound of his voice could leave you speechless.

“Do you really want that?” You quietly asked.

He nodded with complete confidence in his answer. “I do.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overcame your features as you gently squeezed his hand. “Okay. I want that too.”

He didn’t kiss you, and you didn’t kiss him. Not yet. It wasn’t the right moment, and he wanted it to be perfect. So he didn’t kiss you, even though he desperately wanted to. Wanted nothing more than to feel your lips against his, to run his hands through your hair.

Not yet, he told himself. He could wait just a little bit longer.

—

You and Fushiguro (you’re proud to call him Megumi now, even though you still get flustered when you say his name) had been dating for weeks. By now, the news of your relationship had spread to the other first years, who spent a short amount of time exchanging money before congratulating and bombarding the two of you with questions.

Tonight was the first night the two of you had alone since you had gotten together. Itadori and Kugisaki were out, and Gojo was currently over seas for a mission. You and your boyfriend spent the night in the middle of the training field on a couple blankets, snuggling as you stargazed. Though, you weren’t doing much stargazing, instead talking while he showed you his most recent portrait of you.

You were asleep in the drawing, your arm resting under your head as you gripped the blanket in your hands. You were embarrassed he had caught such a moment. He interlocked his pinky with yours, moving your hands from your face as he told you it was cute.

He left a soft kiss on your knuckle, pulling you to sit up with him as he grabbed his journal.

“Can you look at the sky for me?” he asked.

You obliged with a smile on your face, looking at the sky as you began counting stars.

Fushiguro had recently become more open when drawing you. He had asked you to pose for him more, occasionally gently nudging you into the exact position he wanted. He even sometimes did so in front of Itadori and Kugisaki without shame.

You listened as his pencil rubbed against the paper, enjoying the sound. You snuck a glance at him, turning your head to watch as his eyes followed his pencil along the page. Eventually he looked up at you, smiling before he put his hand under your chin, redirecting your gaze.

You apologized with a light chuckle. He continued his drawing, the sounds of his pencil returning. “You’re just so pretty when you draw,” you said.

You heard his pencil suddenly stop. You turned to look at him to find that he was already staring intently at you.

You peeked at the drawing in his notebook, noticing the vague background. “Oh, are you adding a background to this one?”

He moved his gaze to his lap. “Yeah, I like drawing you at night. The sky reminds me of you.”

“How so?”

He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. “Well, I realized that you weren’t the sun in my sky.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “I say that because I’ve only ever squinted angrily at the sun. I don’t do that with you. No, I stare at you in wonder and look away when you meet my eyes. I smile when I see you and watch your every action in awe of what you do. I want you to always be present. To be there to help me calm down because just seeing you lifts weight off my shoulders when I’m stressed. Before I met you it was the night sky that did that. It was the night sky that I wished would stay, that I wanted to see to help calm me down.”

Megumi Fushiguro was the only person in the world that could make you speechless, not knowing how to react. And he didn’t even know he was the only person that held this power.

You could feel your eyes burning with tears. He’s constantly moving the bar higher, constantly speaking his mind around you in the most beautiful, poetic way imaginable, constantly taking you by surprise with his words.

You feel bad for never having anything to say in response to him, but he understands how you feel. You usually find yourself replying to him with a tight hug, squeezing him as though if you let go he would disappear.

But tonight, you truly didn’t know what to do.

Watching as your hand moves to cover your mouth, your hand lightly squeezing his own, something in his brain decides that now is the right time. Now is the best time.

He takes a leap, moving his hand to cup your jaw as he gazes into your eyes. His eyes briefly flicker to your lips before he’s slowly leaning in, giving you a chance to reject him if you want.

You don’t reject him. You let him kiss you, freezing as his soft lips met yours. Your eyes were closed, but you didn’t know what to do.

He pulled away, a faint smile painting his lips. “You have to kiss me back, dummy.”

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

He hummed, leaning forward ever so slightly, his lips ghosting yours. “It’s okay.” He kisses you again. This time you kiss back, moving your hand to grip his bicep as if to pull him closer to you.

When you momentarily break the kiss he chases your lips, making you chuckle into the kiss.

“Megumi,” you whispered. He hummed, trying to reach your lips again, making you smile brightly. “Gumi, give me a second.”

He stopped, still holding your hand. “What happened?” Worry was laced in his voice, scared he had done something wrong.

“Nothing, just give me a second.”

You grabbed the notebook from his lap, moving the ribbon to mark the page he was drawing on, closing it and moving it to the side as you shifted closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. He tentatively placed his hands on your waist as you kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to try and bring him even closer.

When the kiss broke, this time neither of you moving to kiss the other again, your foreheads rested together as you simply basked in each other’s presence.

He felt the overwhelming urge to say it, something he had been thinking about for a long time. He’s not sure what took possession of him, but the words, “I love you,” were slipping out of his mouth before he could even process it.

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled away from him just a little bit. He did as well, bringing a hand to cover his face as he began apologizing profusely, saying that he didn’t mean to say that.

The smile that was slowly growing on your face fell. You knew that sometimes his thoughts got jumbled together, making it somewhat difficult to voice them. This had to be one of those situations, but hearing him say he didn’t mean it made your heart crack.

He seemed to realize his words, because he cut himself off, going into another tangent.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I do mean that, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he admitted. “I don’t want to force you to jump into things too early. If you don’t feel the same way then don’t say it back. Tell me and I won’t say it again until you want me to, I promise.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings. All he wanted was to make sure you were comfortable with the relationship, but in the process he disregards his own feelings. It hurt you. You wanted him to be open, to allow himself to be vulnerable around you, even if it was just for a few minutes.

“Megumi, I want you to share your thoughts with me. It doesn’t matter what it is, if you want to tell me something then tell me. You won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.” You leaned forward again, capturing him between your arms and squeezing him. “Because I love you, too. I have for a while. I want you to be comfortable with me. I want to be someone you can talk to, your rock. Please share things with me.”

You felt him wrap his arms around you, squeezing you with just as much force as you were. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath. He loved the way you smelled—lavender, curtesy of the products Kugisaki had bought you for your birthday.

“I know your trying,” you said into his shoulder, “and I love that you’re letting your walls down for me. I’ll wait for you to open up for me, I don’t care how long it takes. I want to know everything about you, I want to love everything about you. Take as long as you need, I’ll still be here. I promise.”

The two of you stayed in your embrace. You felt your heart pounding in your ears as you awaited his reply, hoping you didn’t take it too far.

He gently kissed your collarbone, knocking both of you over so you laid on the blanket. You quietly yelped upon impact, not expecting the action.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You smiled, readjusting your position so you faced him. You wrapped your arms around him, running your hands through his black hair.

“You smell so good,” he said suddenly, making you laugh. “I love the way you smell.”

You thanked him, feeling your eyes droop. You snapped them open, hoping to stay awake just a little longer, hoping you would be able to spend just a few more seconds with Fushiguro in this moment.

Alas, you fell asleep, but not before you quietly said, “I love you, Megumi,” into his hair.

He smiled at your words, repeating them before he realized you were already fast asleep. He grabbed a blanket from nearby, throwing it over the two of you as he admired your sleeping face before he dozed off as well.

—

You awoke the next morning to a blinding light being shone in your face, followed by the shutter of a camera. You groaned, opening your eyes and yawning before seeing what was happening.

It was no surprise when you saw Gojo, accompanied by Kugisaki and Itadori, standing above you and your still sleeping boyfriend.

“Oops, I forgot to turn off flash,” Gojo said.

You rolled your eyes before closing them again, resuming your previous sleeping position and closing your eyes. “Leave us alone,” you muttered.

You felt Fushiguro stir next to you, assuming he was awake when he let out an exasperated breath.

“See, we would leave you alone. However the second years need to train and you two love bugs are lying in the middle of the field.”

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up along with Fushiguro. You shooed the other three away as you started picking up your things with your boyfriend, stacking the blankets and taking them from Fushiguro’s grasp as you stood. He followed suit, and the two of you ignored your classmates and teacher as you walked towards the dorms.

“We don’t have anything to do today, right?” you asked.

Fushiguro nodded. “It’s just a day off.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep, then.”

Fushiguro took hold of one of your hands, the one that wasn’t carrying the blankets. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You let out a fake, exaggerated gasp. “A boy in my dorm? How scandalous, don’t you think?” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Of course you can. I’d love it if you did.”

He smiled at you, continuing the walk to your dorm. Upon entering, you plopped the blankets down in a random area o the floor, continuing to drag Fushiguro onto the bed and under your covers.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” you said as the two of you readjusted yourselves. “I’m normally the only one that comes in here.”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. “Just go to sleep.”

You nodded against his shoulder. “I love you.”

He smiled into your hair. “I love you, too.”

And the two of you would continue saying that. At every chance you got. You would never allow the other to forget that fact for as long as you lived.

This was a late birthday present for one of my friends. Anyways as i was writing I was seriously debating turning the fic in a different direction and going down an angst route. I don’t know I might add a part two to this or something because I do have ideas.

Idk what do y’all think?

Also this was copy and pasted from my notes app so I apologize if it doesn’t look right 💀

#fanfic #writing #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk megumi #jjk x y/n #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #izzy’s imagines ❀

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