#it is way easier to do sock sock shoe shoe
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This is no stress and only when/if you have the time and inspiration.
But talk to me about super hyper little Max please😇
It doesn’t get like this very often, Max quite literally bouncing off the walls. Max gets excited, sure. About race day, about cheat meals, about Daddy time, about flags and animals, but rarely this… active.
It’s usually a sign of overstimulation, they’d been pretty busy these past few weeks, very little time with each other and even littler time for any regressing. Daniel’s glad the coin’s fallen this way though, he loves Max regardless but this is a little easier to deal with than an overly defiant Max who toes the line of boundaries and oversteps until Daniel puts a stop to it.
The pancakes don’t help though.
“Taste?” Max asks, holding out a bite for Daniel to take and Daniel blinks slowly, eyeing Max, then the bite, then GP, who shrugs sheepishly.
“He deserved a treat.”
Max always deserves a treat, Daniel thinks. But he’s also thinking about the added sugars and their 10 hour flight they’re about to get on. Oh well.
Daniel wasn’t wrong about the extra sugar, he tries getting Max to take a nap on the plane but Max is way too busy chatting, coloring, he’s doing puzzle games on his phone and keeps getting up out of his seat to walk around.
There’s a minor tantrum that Daniel has to navigate them through when he denies Max a Red Bull, distracts him with a Trash Truck episode and gives him an apple juice instead.
Max falls asleep on the ride home from Nice to Monaco and Daniel curses silently because this is not a good time to fall asleep and he knows this will bite him in the ass for bedtime but he doesn’t want to risk waking Max up and having to navigate another tantrum while driving.
Max wakes up 2 minutes from home like he senses it and turns on immediately. He’s darted up the stairs to the penthouse, refused the elevator while Daniel struggles with their luggage, and goes straight for the cats.
Daniel’s still navigating their luggage and then goes to take Max’s shoes off when he’s having a moment of being in one spot to cuddle his pets.
As soon as his feet are free he takes off and Daniel has to catch him again to remind him of the “no running inside” rule but takes Max’s sock off anyway, knows his boy well enough to know Max’s listening ears might not be tuned right now and he’s limiting the risk of a slip and fall.
Max tips over the entire bin of legos they have, busies himself with it while Daniel whips up some dinner, comes in to the kitchen every five minutes with a “Daddy, look!” while showing off a new build and explaining what it is.
Daniel realizes quickly Max is not going to stay seated for dinner, and pulls him into his lap instead in hopes to keep him there and get some food into the boy.
Max tries sliding off again after two bites and Daniel wraps an arm around his waist, keeping him in place. “Can you keep your butt still for a minute?” Daniel chuckles lightly and Max whines at him.
“My butt doesn’t want to be still.”
“We’re having dinner, buddy.” Daniel says, squeezing Max’s hip. “I’d appreciate it if you would sit and eat it, you like the lasagna.” He adds, grabbing Max’s fork and pressing it down into the lasagna and then offering Max the piece.
Max nods and opens his mouth for the bite, then speaks with his mouth full. “I like it but my butt doesn’t.”
Daniel rolls his eyes fondly, shifts Max a bit and feeds him another bite. “Too bad for your butt.”
Max finishes most of his plate before Daniel decides he cannot contain him anymore and takes the victory with most of the dish gone.
Max is dashing through the living again when Daniel catches him around the waist, digging his fingers into the soft skin around his fingers. “What did Daddy say?”
Max bursts into a fit of tickles immediately trying to unsuccessfully squirm out of Daniel trying to reply but his voice is cut off by another squeaky giggle when the tickling doesn’t stop.
“I can’t hear you.” Daniel smirks, shifting his grip and moving Max around so he can tickle all the way up under his arm. Pulling a delightful squeal out of the younger and another fit of giggles around a “Please Daddy!”
“Huh?” Daniel asks, pausing his tickles, still holding Max. “What was that?”
Max gasps for breath, cheeks flushed, big smile. “Please don’t, Daddy.” He breathes. “No running.”
“Oh, so you do know?”
The flush on Max’s cheeks deepens then, and he goes to bury himself in Daniel’s chest. “I’m too awake! I need to get the shakes out.”
Daniel sighs gently, wrapping Max up in a quick cuddle, the gears in his brain working as he tries to think of something. He really can’t be arsed to go on a run right now, sticking Max in front of a screen will probably only make it worse but he is suddenly reminded of Max’s pool.
“Wanna go for a swim?”
Max nearly forgets the no running rule again when he’s going to grab his trunks, and again when Daniel opens the sliding doors and Max makes a run for the pool, this time he argues they’re not inside anymore.
They splash until their fingers are wrinkly and Daniel takes his tike shampooing Max’s hair in the outside shower and sneaks in a little massage he hopes will mean Max gets a little sleepier.
He gets his first yawn when he’s helping Max into pajama’s which gives Daniel a tiny bit of hope that bedtime will be alright until they’re laying in bed and Max’s bright blue eyes are staring right at them.
“Maxie,” Daniel whispers, grabs Leo from in between them and uses his paw to gently stroke Max’s nose. “Close your eyes, baby.”
Max whines around his thumb, scooting closer to Daniel, speech a little slurred around the digit. “ ‘m not sleepy.”
Daniel bites back his own whine. “Daddy’s sleepy, and Leo’s sleepy. Can you try, please darling?”
Max nods, such a good boy, and scrunches his eyes shut that brings a smile to Daniel’s face. “Relax, bubba.” He whispers, goes back to using Leo’s soft paw to gently map Max’s face, trace over his brows and the bridge of his nose until the scrunch is gone.
He switches tactics then, maneuvers Max onto his chest and gently scratches his fingers into the shaved up bits of Max’s hair, lips pressed against the top of his head while he murmurs a song Max likes.
He’s worried he’s gonna murmur himself to sleep before Max but right as his own eyes start to feel too heavy he feels Max relax all the way, breathing evening out.
Daniel gives him one more kiss before his own eyes shut.
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So, this week I ordered a new couch pillow because I had a husband pillow full of shredded memory foam, and the thing needs to be opened and shifted around about once a week with the way I use it so it doesn't shape up weird and actually fuck up my back when I bought it to NOT fuck up my back.
I now have a wedge pillow, made of one piece of foam. And I ordered a book cushion from etsy, and I just wanna say to anyone who has thought "that adaptive thing seems like it would be useful, but I'm not disabled, so maybe it's not for me?"
It's for you. Trust me. My back hurt because I was slouching weird on the couch. I got a husband pillow. It helped a lot. But, it turns out, what I need is one giant piece of memory foam, not a bunch of tiny bits.
And the book cushion? Books are heavy sometimes. Being able to rest it higher in my lap so it's easier to read and hold? Better for my body.
Also, do you wake up with pain in the mornings? Try a contour pillow and a knee pillow.
Get those extra-strong treaded soles to wear with your heels because you wobble otherwise.
Wear compression gloves when you type. Get those orthopedic shoes because you can walk longer distances in more comfort. Buy the bra that actually supports the weight of your boobs. Get a lapdesk for your computer. Use a neck pillow even at home to keep your neck straight. Wear socks to bed. Listen to audiobooks. Read large print books.
You see something that you think will work for you and improve how you feel? Use it! Let's fucking normalize adaptative shit for everyone!
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Steve fucks you in his scoops ahoy costume please and thanks <3
heheheh gigi u know me so well... please request a part 2
PART TWO
cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, dry humping
he just looks so good in the uniform. you've been working across from scoops ahoy! for an entire month. you’re not sure how much longer you can handle this. it’s actually annoying. as he sweeps up the lobby, your eyes are drawn to his ass. they look incredible in those dumb little shorts. his knee high socks sinking lower as the day wears on. potentially worse, he matches his shoes to the uniform. same shade of blue adidas and it’s cute. your coworkers all tease you for your crush on Harrington. they even tell you he’s desperate right now; hitting on every girl that walks into the ice cream store. perfect time to shoot your shot.
but you’re shy as can be. there’s no way in hell steve harrington will hit on you if you walk into scoops ahoy!, especially not in your silly pizzeria uniform. so you just keep on watching him from afar.
the worst thing ever happens, though. a night where you have to close alone and apparently, so does steve. as you’re both awkwardly walking to the doors, he talks to you and boy, what a task it is to hold in your excitement.
“this mall is slowly draining me of my will to live,” he comments, grimacing as you make eye contact.
“ha,” it’s a fake laugh, why you’re fake laughing at him you don’t know but it’s what comes out, “yeah, me too.”
“see ya,” he says and it’s even more awkward when you notice his Beamer is parked right next to your car.
“bye,” you lamely reply as you continue walking next to him. steve chuckles as he keeps walking.
—
your coworkers convinced you to walk across the food court to offer robin and steve a trade. a couple of ice creams for a small pizza and some fries. and you’re relieved when robin’s manning the counter. but she purses her lips and calls for steve, he opens the back window and looks at you.
“yeah?” he asks, hair flopping down on his forehead and he’s so fucking adorable, you have to hold back the giggle forming in your throat.
“they wanna trade ice cream for pizza,” robin tells him, looks like she’s not entirely convinced.
steve’s eyes light up and his lips curl into a smile, “oh, i’m starving, yes!”
robin rolls her eyes, “didn’t you just eat like five bananas?”
“six,” he furrows his brows, “and i’m a growing boy, leave me alone.”
steve looks to you then, “yes, deal.”
he closes the window and comes from the back door, “what do you guys want?”
you read off the note your coworkers wrote and wait for the pair of them to fill it.
—
as you’re leaving, you walk over to scoops so you can tell them thank you but steve is alone. he’s counting the drawer but he’s left the gate open. so you walk inside, feeling bold. you stand in front of the counter and smile at him, waiting for him to finish counting pennies. once he is, he looks up at you and smiles.
“hi,” he purrs and the tone of his voice makes you shiver and you have to squeeze your thighs together.
“i just wanted to say thanks for trading, earlier.”
“no problem,” he pushes his hair back, “that pizza was awesome, thank you.”
“of course,” you flush, knowing you made it with love just for steve. “robin leave already?”
“yeah, she bikes home so i usually let her leave early,” he shrugs, “you close alone?”
“no, but we were slow, so it was quick getting out of there,” you reply, feeling bold so you ask, “do you need any help?”
“for free? no, don’t worry about it,” he grins and you love his smile so much. you don’t wanna leave.
“no, really, i don’t mind,” you say, “i can do some grunt work to make your close easier.”
steve chuckles and nods, “if you insist,” he offers you a rag, “you can wipe down tables.”
you take it with a smile and nod, turning on your heels and making quick with wiping down the tables. you’re focused on a stubborn stain on a table when you feel steve behind you. before you can turn he places a hand on your hip and gets his lips close to your ear, “am i outta line or is there something here?”
you melt, gripping the table so you don’t turn into a puddle. a loss for words, you just gasp and tilt your head back.
“am i outta line?” steve repeats, determined on a reply.
“no,” you insist, shaking your head and steve snakes his arm around your waist, pulls your back flush against his front and smiles against your ear.
“oh, thank god,” he purrs, then kisses your neck, “hoped i wasn’t going crazy.”
“how did you know?” you ask, releasing your grip on the table as you turn towards him.
steve’s face is flushed, like he was nervous and it makes you feel special. he looks incredibly handsome and you grip onto his biceps as you gaze into his beautiful brown eyes.
“the way you look at me,” he mumbles back, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes.
“how do i look at you?” you ask in the short distance between your faces.
steve’s lips quirk up as he replies, “like you didn’t want ice cream, like you wanted me.”
you flush all shades of red, embarrassed you couldn’t hide your crush. it seems to be a good thing so you tell him, “i do— want you.”
steve closes the gap between you, pressing your ass against the table as he kisses you heatedly. his hands grip your hips as he sucks your top lip between his. you have to wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t fall down to the floor, feeling wonderfully lightheaded as steve kisses you stupid. he lifts you up and rests you on the table, moving his hand to grope your breast through the dress you have to wear for work. you hook your ankles around the back of his calves as you kiss him back with just as much fervor as he’s giving you.
it’s unbelievable, kissing steve like this in the lobby of scoops ahoy! there’s no way your coworkers are gonna believe you. steve doesn’t kiss with a lot of tongue, just little teases of it dragging against your lower lip before he kisses your top lip bruisingly. he grabs your face while he does it. you whine against him, knotting your fingers in his luscious locks. they’re so soft, you get lost in them. moaning softly into the kiss as you gently tug on the tendrils on the back of his neck and steve groans against you.
“you keep doing that, we’re gonna have to do more than kissing,” he mumbles against your lips.
god… you’d let steve take your virginity right here on this table but something tells you that you have to relay that information, “i-i’m a virgin.” you tell him in a whisper and he groans as he rolls his hips against you.
“i can’t take your virginity here,” he laughs softly, “but we can do something else…”
the promise of him taking your virginity is overwhelming and excited. you’d been fantasizing about it for months. you look at him expectantly as he pulls away, you glance down to see him straining in his scoops ahoy! uniform and you giggle.
“c’mere,” he helps you off the table and onto the booth. “lay down.”
you obey and bite your lip, anticipating Steve’s next move. he situates his body on top of yours in the booth, suddenly you can feel his erection against your thigh and he wiggles until you can feel it against your core. you gasp and he kisses you hard, grabbing the hem of your dress and hiking it up over your waist. steve then licks into your mouth and you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinds down against you. it’s so… wonderful, his clothed hard on rubbing against your core through your underwear. you feel it all over, soaking through your panties and probably his shorts. steve pants through the kissing, rutting his hips against yours in a way that makes your head swim. the drag of his erection against your clit is something fucking special and it makes you jerk up against him, wanting more.
steve keeps kissing you, grinding down against you even faster. tingles run up your thighs straight to your core and you can’t help but release these begging little whines against his lips. steve bites your lip then, tugging it between his teeth as his hands make quick work to pull the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts, his hand grabs hold of your tit and squeezes as he continues winding his crotch down against yours. once his fingertips you with your nipple, you let out a loud, guttural moan and steve is swallowing it down with a sloppy kiss. you find your hands in his hair again, pulling and tugging as he whimpers into the kiss and works his hips even harder.
the pair of you are writhing against each other desperately, panting and moaning against tongues and lips and that coil that’s been winding in your stomach snaps. blissful release soaring through you with a cry of Steve’s name as he pinches your nipple.
“that’s it,” he purrs against your slack jawed mouth, “cum for me, baby. that’s a good girl.”
you cling onto him desperately and steve’s hips stutter before stopping and he makes a pretty whimper and whine against your lips.
once he pulls away, his shorts are very clearly ruined and your embarrassed but also incredibly turned on by the evidence of a good time.
“when can we do more?” you ask, blinking hopefully at him.
steve laughs softly and scratches the back of his neck, “well… my house is empty… if you wanna come over?”
“yes, I would love to,” you giggle as you sit up.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x you#steve harrington
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Let's trade shoes | Matt Sturniolo
Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N feels pain in her feet from wearing high heels for hours, and Matt gives her his sneakers to wear.
Warning: None.
Requested?: Yes, by anon.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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From an outsider's perspective, the dynamics of the relationship between Y/N and Matt were incredible and unique. The two had their hearts overflowing with love, and they were not ashamed to show it.
Nick joked that the five love languages were few compared to all the ways they loved each other.
But it was safe to say that out of the five, the one that was most part of their daily lives was the language of acts of service, precisely because of their busy schedules and daily tasks.
Matt would do absolutely anything to make his girlfriend's day easier, from turning on the coffee maker in the morning while she took her sacred morning shower, to combing and drying her hair after she washed it. He is always watching her from afar, making little mental notes of new things she does, so he learns and fits them into his routine so that he can help her in the future.
And Y/N isn't far behind, knowing how heavy the routine of recording three times a week can be - sometimes more, when the triplets need to catch up on some podcasts or car videos -, she always comes forward to help his day get lighter, from starting the car in the garage on cold days so the engine is ready when Matt gets in it, to helping him shower after a tiring day, washing his hair with his favorite shampoo while watching him nap in the warm water of the bathtub.
It was Thursday, and Matt and Y/N were leaving yet another weekly date night.
Matt and Y/N had created a habit almost a year back that, every Thursday after the triplets recorded the car video that would be posted the next day, they would have a date night, with the aim of always dedicating quality time together and cultivate a healthy relationship.
Y/N mentally cursed herself for her choice of shoes that night, having opted for high heels.
Don't get me wrong, the girl loved wearing heels and always felt prettier in them; Besides Matt, who was completely in love with the way his girlfriend's legs looked in heels, he said that they looked longer and more appealing, leaving him drooling and staring more than usual.
But if there's one thing they both knew, it was that when Y/N wore high heels for long hours, she always ended up with pain in her feet.
And that was exactly what was happening at that moment, the girl had been wearing those heels on her feet for about three hours and her toes were starting to hurt, squeezed by the front strap, while her heel screamed with every step she took.
It didn't take Matt long to notice her face contorted in pain and how she squeezed his hand - which was intertwined with her own - with every step they took.
The two were walking through the streets of the restaurant where they had dinner, observing the various restaurants and bars open, full of people of all types and music of all tastes, while chatting a bit about their day. This meant they were far from the car, and it would be at least a 10-minute walk to get back to it.
Therefore, Matt abruptly stopped in his tracks as they approached a wooden bench, followed by Y/N, who watched him with a confused expression.
"What is it, baby?" She asked worriedly, traveling her eyes down the street briefly, trying to find what could have made her boyfriend stop so suddenly.
Matt knelt on the sidewalk and removed his sneakers from both his feet, keeping his socks on.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?" The girl looked down at him, watching him with a frown.
"Sit here, baby. Please." Matt asked, standing up on his socks and pointing to the bench, taking Y/N's right hand and helping her sit down on the wooden surface. "Give me your foot." He kneeled on the ground, placing his sneakers near her feet and reaching his hands towards his girlfriend's right foot.
"What? Why?" She asked, eyes wide, feeling cimpletely lost, bending her body slightly forward so that she brought her face closer to his, a sound of pain escaping her lips from the movement.
"You're in pain, my love. Come on, give me your foot. I'll give you my sneakers." Matt explains, touching Y/N's right ankle and pulling lightly.
He raised his blue eyes, looking into his girl's eyes, staring at her so that she understood that he wasn't open for arguments.
Y/N sighed before resting her left hand on the cold and hard surface, lifting her right ankle so that her foot was off the ground. Matt unfastened the buckle on her high heel, leaving it on the sidewalk on his side before reaching for his right sneaker, fitting it onto Y/N's foot with ease.
He untied the shoelaces and tied them again so that they were firmer, knowing that they were bigger than Y/N's feet and could escape with her steps.
The girl kept her eyes on Matt the entire time, feeling her heart speed up more and more and her skin heat up, taking on a reddish tone. She didn't deserve him. He was so kind to her.
Matt carefully lowered the foot he was holding, waiting for her to steady it on the ground before taking her left ankle, doing the same process as before.
When Y/N had both feet inside Matt's white sneakers, the boy adjusted his posture, still crouched, so that he could fit his feet one at a time into the high heels, leaving them unbuckled due to the difference in size, knowing that if he closed it, he could ruin them.
Matt slowly stood up, regaining his balance on the pair of heels that he wasn't used to wearing before intertwining his left hand with Y/N's right, helping her stand up. He briefly adjusted the strap of the black sparkly purse on his left shoulder.
"I can't believe you're doing this." The girl commented as the two walked back to the car, a laugh escaping her throat as she shook her head, watching the wobbly steps her boyfriend took.
"I won't let my princess feel pain. And I didn't want to get dirt on my socks from this sidewalk. Our washing machine thanks us for that." Matt responded with a smile on his face, watching his girlfriend's reaction from the corner of his eye, keeping his focus on his steps in order not to fall.
"I love you, Matt." Y/N squeezed his hand lightly, massaging the soft skin with her thumb.
"I love you more, my love." The boy responded quickly, returning the squeeze.
He let go of his girlfriend's hand as they reached his car, opening the purse on his shoulder and looking for the key, before unlocking the doors, opening the passenger seat for his girlfriend.
Y/N smiled in gratitude, approaching Matt and sealing her lips over his cheek chilled by the cold of the night, stroking the soft skin with the tip of her nose before taking a step away, finally getting into the car.
She felt her heart warm with love while observing him walk around the front of the car with slow steps. She knew that there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make her happy and comfortable.
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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋
~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore
(If you want to be added to the taglist, comment here, please)
#x reader#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#love#matt sturniolo x yn#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#matt au#matt fanfic#matt#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#imagine#oneshot#fluff#acts of service#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo x reader
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I want to start running...any tips?
I WAS BORN TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Thank you so much for asking! Unfortunately, I am a nerd about my hobbies so this got quite long.
Keep it simple ✨
Running is easy to get into; our bodies are built for it. Don’t stress over technicalities and just do what feels natural to you. My local races are full of 70-something white-haired pensioners who are kicking ass at it. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is meant to feel like dying, that’ll harm your knees, or that you absolutely need to have that specific smartwatch model to get into it. All you need is a solid pair of shoes, everything else is optional.
Medium effort is the way to go
The ideal aerobic running pace is a speed at which you’re able to hold a conversation, even if a bit winded. NO faster. If you’re able to sing along to your playlist or chat with a friend, that’s your ideal running pace. If you’re gasping or wheezing, slow down! You’ll get a bit faster as your lung capacity gets better, but that shouldn’t be a priority unless you want to train for a race. You get most of the health benefits of running just by keeping up a steady, sustainable, conversational pace.
Walking breaks are fine, actually
That’s the reason why I don’t love C25K as a beginner program — the way it’s structured sort of implies that walking breaks are something you should grow out of to become a more experienced runner. If you need to walk for a bit, go ahead.
If possible, jogging is preferable, just because the mechanics of even a glacial-pace jog are more similar to running than those of a faster power walk, so you might try switching to a jog after a bit of a walking interval. But walking is not a failure; there are serious marathon training plans out there that use walk/run intervals as a viable strategy.
(Related: picking up speed helps you keep going! If you feel like you are completely drained, try speeding up for a very short interval, then slowing back down. It’ll often give you an energy boost to keep going)
Run for time, not distance ⌚
Especially for beginners, I find that getting fixated on numbers can be counter productive, and the most important thing is to listen to your body. If you’re aiming to hit a certain mileage, you might get the urge to speed up at the end to get done faster. Instead, set yourself time-based goals and end every run with a cool down jog or walk.
SHOES!! 👟
Good running shoes are essential, and pretty much the only fitness-related purchase on which I’ll always support dropping money. If you get to the point where you’re consistently running 10 km (6 miles) each week, you’ll want to go to a running store — the kind of place where you’ll get fitted, and they’ll have you try on models and jog on a treadmill to evaluate your gait and let you know which characteristics your ideal shoe needs. I can’t stress enough how useful running store staff can be. They’re all running club nerds who LOVE getting new people into running, and they really want to help you find your ideal fit. Also get good running socks while you’re at it.
Be prepared to drop at least 100€ (or equivalent currency) but they usually have a great return policy if the model isn’t a good fit for you. Take care of your running shoes — maintenance, wearing them only for running, gentle cleansing etc — and the cushioning will last for quite a while (600km / 370miles at least). If you decide that you hate running, they’re still great for walking around. Once you find your ideal shoe model, it gets a lot easier to shop for it during end-of-season sales, or looking for online bargains etc. I love stocking on end-of-series shoes and rotating them so they’ll last even longer, and I buy online quite often! Just make sure your FIRST pair is fitted, for ideal injury prevention and joint health.
Injury prevention 💪
I’d love to still be running 10k races when I’m 70, but it takes some care to get there. When you run, you’re slamming your body weight up and down with every stride, and that might be hard on your joints if you’re not used to it. If you’re completely new to running, cap your runs at 15/20 minutes every other day. Do that even if you feel like you could keep going! If you have a good aerobic base already, you need to give your joints time to catch up with you lung capacity, and give your body time to recover. Do bodyweight exercises like lunges and planks and glute bridges to strengthen your core, legs, and hips. Dynamic stretches are great for warmups, and static stretches are better for cooling down. If you have the option, running on softer surface like grass or dirt is better than asphalt, which is better than concrete and pavements.
(If nothing of what I’ve said here makes sense to you, shoot me another ask, or look at some of the resources I’ve linked down below!)
Don't get bored! 🎶
I love running in groups. Running clubs are great. You can learn so much in a hands-on way from seriously experienced people, you can chat about gossip over a running job, and you can make some interesting friends. If you don’t have access to a running community, then personally I love just chilling on a run by myself listening to an audiobook or podcast or exploring a certain area.
Running form❓
Don’t stress about it. Just go out and move your body. Attempting to modify your ‘running form’ too quickly can do more harm than good. There ARE a few things you could pay attention to — I recommend trying to focus on one of these at a time for a minute or so, and alternate between them. After a while, it’ll start to feel natural to keep track of all of them:
1. Don’t slouch! But a slight lean forward is great.
2. Keep your shoulders pulled down and your upper back tense.
3. Swinging your arms in a way that helps with your stride is good, but I shouldn’t feel forced.
4. Even breaths, inhaling through your mouth and expiring through your nose.
5. Take turns to check with every part of your body, and relax them in turn: are your jaw and neck too tense? Are your fists tight?
6. Don’t overstride! shorter strides with quicker leg turnover are better than huge strides that feel awkward to you.
7. Use your glutes to drive up the motion of your legs, not just your quads. This can take a while to get used to, but it’s a game-changer.
8. ENGAGE YOUR CORE. This is a great skill to develop whether you work out or are just existing in the world — basically, let your inner abdominal muscles help you carry your weight forward. This is VERY intuitive once you know how to do it, but it’s hard to get a grasp of it if you don’t know what it means, so here are some resources about it.
an extremely fucking comprehensive article that improved my life and eased my big-boobs back pain
similar content but in video form
a running-specific form video
Personally, learning to do this made me feel like I unlocked a superpower. Go forth and brace.
Accessories and tips 🤓
Like I said above, the only thing I really suggest spending money on for real is running shoes. Everything else is details! However, I’m nothing if not wordy I have Thoughts about those details, too.
Run tracking: I suggest downloading Runkeeper if you want to keep track of your runs — it’s free, intuitive, and solid! If you decide to get into wearables, a low-level Garmin >>>>> anything else.
Self-care: use sunscreen and/or thick face cream as needed. Stop to sip at a public fountain if needed. Get a small fanny pack to hold your phone, keys, or lip balm if needed. If chafing is an issue, anti-glide gel is relatively affordable.
Outfits etc: I get all my running gear and clothes from Decathlon — they are in most countries and ship worldwide. I especially love this thermal shirt for colder weather
Safety: if you’re running on the road, make sure to run in the opposite direction from traffic and to wear something bright. If you run with headphones near traffic, keep the volume down, or get over-the-ear conductor headsets. I love shokz, they're fantastic.
Post-run snack: eating something small and carb-heavy within 30 mins of a workout is great for kickstarting recovery. I love dried fruit personally.
Various resources 📝
Routine basics: check out the r/running order of operations, which is a great “how to” guide to building a basic running routine. I also recommend that subreddit's wiki! Running programming gets exponentially more involved the more advanced you get, etc — if you ever have any questions, hit me up!
Dynamic stretching warmup: a quick leg swing workout to get your legs ready to go. If you’re feeling overachieving, here’s a lunge warmup routine and a how-to bodyweight squat video.
Cooldown routine! Check out Strength and Mobility, a great post-run quick cooldown routine that includes some bodyweight exercises to strengthen your hips and core. Video included.
that's all, folks! 🏃♀️
Sorry I got carried away! I love running. I love getting people into running. My mental health, cardiovascular system and my popping quads also love running. But FYI, some people hate running and that's also fine! If you decide it’s not for you, find something you like more. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and a lot of guilt-tripping and body shame-y rhetoric around exercising, especially aimed at women, and I want to make clear it’s all bullshit. Just have fun <3
#Anonymous#ask#jockposting#running#fitblr#exercise tips#running basics#exercise#runblr#long post#for reference I mostly run in brooks ghosts but I use the levitate for speedwork and more intense long runs#I stock whenever there's a sale on runnea or runningwarehouse or whatever#pinned
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Yandere x Zombie you
Rated 18 + — mature short content !
Includes: Body mutilation, gore, stalking, desperate and perverted man, gender neutral reader, begging, dry humping.
*He doesn’t have a name, and is referred to as “your stalker,” He only exists for reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*
Synopsis: It’s the zombie apocalypse, and you’re a zombie who has a little stalker/fan. He tried to offer himself to you, but you want nothing to do with him.
You’re just trying to go on about your day being a zombie, but an annoying and persistent man won’t leave you alone. He thinks he’s slick, but you see him, and best him every time.
Your stalker always hated zombies. They reeked of death, their breath sour, and their jaws claimed thousands of souls. He kept quiet as he tiptoed around, hiding his body behind a trash can as you feasted on your latest victim.
You went for the jugular, your teeth puncturing their skin, and a burst of metallic tasting blood filled your mouth. You were wild. Your whole hands, neck, chest, and face were stained with blood. You had a couple of flies around you, which you ate as a snack too.
However, with you, he was infatuated. He never once thought it was disgusting that your skin stuck to your skull, your arm twisted in an unnatural way, and how your hair was matted. Or how your clothes were torn, and you had holes in your shoes.
He tried to trap you. But unlike the other zombies, you were smart. The bear trap didn’t work, he tried to lasso you and failed, he spent time building you a cage, just for you to trap him in it.
When you went after a group of humans, he panicked. He hated when you went after a crowd, and he watched with his heart hammering. He prayed that you would survive, and rip them to shreds.
Your stalker often made sure you were well fed. He dragged an old body that remained untouched, and he purposely pushed it into your view. He winced as the body rolled down the hill and knocked you down like a bowling pin. Whoops.
After this has gone on for months, he became envious. Your attention was solely focused on the girl you trapped against the wall, he huffed and puffed, crossing his arms as the girl continued to scream. He began to wonder how it would feel to be eaten by you.
He handed himself to you like he was the best thing around. He took a shower by the lake, scrubbing his body clean from the dirt and grime. Your stalker wondered if he should just be nude so you had an easier access to him, or be clothed and make you work for it…
Your stalker whistled as he approached you, but you didn’t look at him. Your body just wandering around the abandoned building, and he waved at you. But you ignore him. He purposely laid down in front of you, but you just step on his stomach, making him groan in pain. He watched as you were on the move again, and he grabbed onto your ankle.
“Wait— please!” He tried to bargain with you, “I swear I taste good!” Your stalker whined as you just drag him around, trying to go on about your day again. He decided to do something drastic.
Your stalker needed your attention. He needed to feel your hands on him. He stuffed his mouth with his sock, and he picked up his blade. He jumped a couple of times and his joggers slipped down a bit, enough for him to pull out his member.
It hurt like a bitch. He bit down hard onto the sock as his tears welled up in his eyes, he cut his member from the base— wanting to give you the whole thing.
He handed you his cock, and you took the phallic looking thing in your hands. With some sick perversion he wanted to see you eat it, to hold it in your hands, and watch it disappear down your throat.
He’s seen you eat raccoons, rats, pigeons, and decomposed maggot filled bodies rotting away in the hot summer sun, their guts spilled open, and there was barely any flesh left to eat. He’s seen you dig through trash and shove it in your face.
He watched you tear into your own arm after not being able to find something to feed on for weeks. He watched you bite into a pee soaked leg after the human pissed itself after seeing your morbid face.
And yet you wouldn’t eat his freshly cut dick?
You looked at him with an unamused expression.
Your stalker frowned, his hands snatching back his body part after you refused to eat it. His hands were shaking, and his legs about to give out— due to his wound he haphazardly wrapped with bandages. His ego was bruised.
You continued to stare at him with disgust, as if you haven’t done something as vile as this. But to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you were eating humans. It was the damn virus.
First, you don’t care to eat him. Second, you barely seem interested in him. And now third, you’re rejecting his offering? This was enough to make a grown man cry.
“Is it too small for you?” He pouted. “I- I happen to be a grower-“
He swore he saw you roll your eyes. For someone who barely had any mobility except for shuffling around, you had the gall to roll your eyes. You just groan. You try to wave your arm at him— to dismiss him, but you just smacked his face.
“Am I not appealing to you?” He glared at you, his face turning pale. His pants are soaked in blood, and he twitched.
The man fell down to his knees, throwing his dismembered cock to the side, and he clasped his hands together. His breath is ragged, and looked at you as if you were an angel who could take him out of his misery.
And so you do.
Most of your victims are scared, clawing at your arms and leaving red harsh marks on your skin, but he holds you closer. He moaned as your body was pressed up against his— chest to chest. You sat right on his hips. His blood tasted like nectar, it was pleasant and sweet. Your tongue swiped at his sweat.
“Oh god yes! Please eat me!” He cried out, and his fingers dig into your rib cage as you start to grind onto him.
He was already on deaths door step, his heart beat slowing down, and his grip slightly loosened. Your stalker’s moans, and the chanting of your name quiets. It wasn’t long before he let out his last breath.
Your stomach is full and you’re satisfied.
#Allurilove yandere writing#tw yandere#tw stalking#cw: gore#yandere x you#yandere x zombie reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere x darling#male yandere#yandere writing#zombie apocolypse au#yandere x gn reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#desperate men#zombie#obsessive love#he wants you so bad#zombie apocalypse
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Scattered Belongings
word count: 769 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: University!AU Oikawa x chubby!Reader
genre: angst, implied pining
warnings: mentions of bullying
synopsis: Oikawa’s fanclub dumped your bag in a brook and he comes to help
____________________________________________
Your feet went numb. The water running around your ankles was freezing cold and you wanted nothing more than to slip back into the dry socks you had stuffed into the boots waiting on the narrow bank next to the few soaked items you already retrieved.
You already couldn’t feel your fingers anymore and switched hands so that the left would hold the phone’s light while the right dug around between the rocks and boulders on the lookout for the rest of your belongings. Your vision blurred and you wiped your tears away on your shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
A rather sweet melodious voice sounded from up the slope but you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Mind your own business.”, you called without getting up.
You didn’t hear steps behind you indicating he had moved on, so you straightened and turned.
Oikawa stood there, hands in his pockets, very obviously not about to leave. The small lamps running along the walkway did little to light up his features.
“What happened?”, he asked calmly, almost disinterested.
You bent down to continue your search.
“My bag fell.”
You knew it was a poor excuse, considering your bag had to have fallen on the ground, rolled down a slope that was very grassy with plenty of shrubbery to catch it and then hopped over the rocky little bank into the water.
“Huh.”, he made as if to say “how positively odd”.
You finally found your pencil case and lopped it over to the rest of the wet, excruciatingly slow growing heap.
A tear dropped from the tip of your nose into the steady little brook and you gave an involuntary sniff.
One moment later you heard him making his way down the slope, placing his bag on a boulder next to your shoes and sitting down to untie his laces.
“What are you doing?”, you asked.
He didn’t give an answer, just rolled up his sleeves and the bottom of his pants and waded into the water, phone flashlight aloft.
You didn’t speak as you scoured between the stones and pebbles, you only muttered a Thank You when he caught you as you slipped on one of the slimier rocks.
You felt unsteady afterwards, not finding any good footing that allowed a safe stance.
Observing your struggle for a couple of moments he waded over to you and offered his arm. Under protest you eventually let him lead you to the boulder next to your bags where you sat down as he went back into the water.
You rifled through your things, wringing out your bag and trying to put what you already found back where it belonged, still not saying anything.
“What is still missing?”, he asked a little while later, “It might make it easier for me to know what I’m looking for.”
You checked your bag.
“I think it’s just … the case for my reading glasses. It’s brown.”
He nodded and continued.
You saw how red his hands and feet were from the cold and felt horrible for letting him go on.
“You know what? It’s not important.”, you lied. You usually put your grandma’s necklace in there before heading to the gym like tonight.
He straightened, looking at you.
“Are you sure?”
You nodded, putting on a smile. Maybe, once he was gone you would just continue your search, you thought.
He tracked back to the bank, using his scarf to rub his feet dry and gave his toes an experimental wiggle.
“You should report them to the dean.”, he said to his socks as he pulled them on.
“Hm?”
“You can’t let them get away with it. I’ll… I’ll come with you, if you want. As a witness. Kind of.”
For the first time that night you actually looked at him, the little light that broke through the shrubs glinting softly in his eyes. To be fair it wasn‘t really his fault. He couldn‘t help that his fan club started leaving threatening notes in your books when you became his project partner. Or that they tried to trip you when walking down the stairs. Or that they whispered very unkind things loud enough for you to overhear about your chubby figure.
You nodded, so did he and continued to put on his shoes.
He helped you up the slope and offered to walk you to the bus stop but you declined - then parted ways with him.
The next day you found the glasses case on your desk with a note saying he would wait for you at the dean’s office.
____________________________________________
a/n: I swear the next Oikawa post will be fluffy 🫠
#oikawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa angst#oikawa x you#hq oikawa#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa tooru#chubby reader#haikyuu x reader
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crying into Remus' arm after a terrible day- he’d be so gentle and understanding :'(
break down at aldi
summary you break down at aldi and have to walk to remus's flat in the rain. remus warms you up after worrying too much. or just the right amount.
content remus lupin x fem!reader, hurt/comfort
Your knock against Remus's door is tiny. You're surprised you hear him shuffling up the hall after a few seconds of moping outside. Though the surprise doesn't last for long when there's another sob wracking its way up your throat.
You stifle it when Remus appears. He looks tired and soft all at once. Though his tiredness quickly warps into something like worry. His eyes widen, "You're all wet."
Right. You'd forgotten it was raining. You feel a little numb. "I'm sorry, were- were you asleep?"
"No." You know he's lying.
"Can I come in?" you hiccup through another dry sob. You don't know why you're asking. You're tired and you need to sleep. He hums a sympathetic noise and moves to the side to let you in when you step forward. You slowly move past him and stop at his shoe rack to toe your joggers off.
"Don't worry about that, just go sit down, sweetheart." He put his hands on your shoulders to guide you out to his dining room.
"I'll get grass on your rug," you mumble wetly, letting him move you around like you've never been to his flat before.
"Did you walk here?" He ignores your qualms about making a mess and sits you in a chair. You slump into it and it scrapes backwards.
"My," You stop to sniffle, pushing your palms into your eyes meanly, "my car broke down."
Remus moves to kneel at your feet, carefully untying your laces, "You couldn't call me?"
You push into your eyelids until you see stars, "I locked my phone in my car," you sigh.
He takes your shoes and wet socks off, and moves up to grab your hands from your face, "Sweetheart," he coos. He squeezes at your fingertips and it feels nice. It's unexpected. The numbness stretches out and all you can feel is the heat from his skin.
When he wipes the moisture from your face you're not sure if it's tears or rain. You’re sure it's both. Remus stands again and moves to your side to wrap his arms around your shoulders.
"You'll get all wet," you mumble.
"Don't care," he says, squeezing you closer.
"You're in your nice pj's." You look up at him with glassy eyes and Remus feels like he could actually cry with you.
"Dove."
Despite yourself, you push your face into his abdomen and let yourself cry some more. If he wasn't so nice it might be easier to not cry. It's strange. He's so lovely that you cry because you feel like you can.
Remus sets to pushing the damp hair away from your wind-whipped face, tucking strands around your ears. Wiping the water that beads at its ends on his shirt. With your face in his torso, he can get away with making a mess.
“Where’s your car?” he asks, using his hand to hold your head close. He wants you to cry now if you’re feeling like it so he can get you out of your wet clothes without you as upset. He’d rather you not cry at all, really.
“The carpark at Aldi,” you sniffle into his shirt. When you talk all you can smell is him. Like his sheets and the rosehip shampoo you bought for him.
“The Aldi near your work?” he asks. You can hear his own upset he’s trying to hold back.
“Yeah.”
“Sweetheart, that’s 20 minutes away,” he tells you like you don’t already know this. Like you didn’t already walk here.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
Remus hugs you closer like it’s possible and worries, even more, when you shiver. “It’s okay. Let’s just get you changed, huh?”
You nod and Remus lets you go when he thinks you want him to.
He helps you into some of his clothes. A pair of old bottoms, and a cable knit sweater over the thickest thermal he can find. He gets you on his sofa under at least three soft blankets, and a cup of tea. He thinks maybe he should get you in his lap to make sure you really are warm. He decides against it.
“Warm enough?” he asks once he settles down. You reach for his hand straight away.
“Perfect,” you murmur, setting your head against his shoulder. His shirt soft under your cheeks, soothing the sting of your skin. You relax.
There’s a beat of silence only filled by the whir of his small fan heater on the rickety stool he’d made sure was pulled as close as he could until the cord pulled taut.
He nudges your head with his shoulder, "I'm sorry you had such a shit day, dove."
You push your nose into his arm and breathe him in. "It's okay," you say a little jumbled up. You'd rather stay here in his arm than talk about it. You'd rather be with Remus than do most things most of the time. "I'm just glad I'm home."
Remus's heart swells, "Home." He could die on the spot, he's sure of it.
You know what he means. Remus's flat has been home for you for longer than both of you can remember. It hadn't felt like home for him until you. "Yeah," you say, eyes fluttering closed.
Remus is sure he'll tease you for how quickly you fall alseep around him. He's sure he'll ask you to move in as well.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fan fic#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin x f!reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#the marauders#the marauders fanfic#the marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauder x reader
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BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au
pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader
genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.
series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.
series masterlist | 06: gapildeu
it was currently 8:40am and anton was sitting on the couch in wonbin’s and seunghan’s dorm, tapping his feet impatiently while waiting for the latter to finish getting ready. seunghan was currently whining to the younger male about how he couldn’t find the other side of his sock and how “everyone would notice that his socks were mismatched”.
“for the last time seunghan, nobody is going to be staring at your feet during your presentation. can you hurry up?”
“but what if they do!”
“they won’t.”
seunghan was just about to start whining again when the door to wonbin’s room opened, revealing a half-asleep wonbin with messy bed hair. with closed eyes, he threw a pair of black socks towards seunghan, hitting him in the head directly. “get out. now.”
“thanks, wonbin! see you later!” seunghan hurriedly put on his socks and shoes before getting dragged out by anton who was as usual, anxious about being late to class. they would be having their individual presentations for japanese 101 today and anton had finally landed on a topic to present on. he would’ve presented on his musical abilities but he lacked the vocabulary for that so he settled for something easier, like his past in swimming. meanwhile, seunghan had decided to present on crayon shin-chan. anton was sure that someone would end up laughing during his presentation but seunghan couldn’t be talked out of it. “nothing’s funny about how iconic crayon shin-chan is.”
the both of them were on their way to the classroom when they spotted you in front of them. this was an unusual sight as you had always been the last to arrive to class, showing up when lesson had already started most of the time. seunghan excitedly poked anton’s side, giggling as his embarrassed friend tried to get him to shut up. “go talk to her!”
“no? and shut up, she’s gonna hear you.”
“what, are you shy? i’ll help you.”
seunghan opened his mouth and was about to call out to you but was promptly stopped by anton’s hand covering his mouth. whilst the two of them were busy fighting, you had already entered the classroom and was long gone. once the coast was clear, anton removed his hand.
“seriously, it’s been three weeks of eyeing her and you’re still not going to do anything?”
“obviously not. i’ve never even talked to her before. i just think she’s pretty… and maybe, kind of my type.”
anton was a lost cause. he was too shy for his own good and refused any help or advice his friend was offering. seunghan simply sighed and shook his head, taking his seat in the chair next to anton’s, deciding to head back to his original seating since you didn’t have plans of moving from your front row seat. seunghan proceeded to talk anton’s ear off about how the guy he sat with last lesson, chenle or whatever his name was, kept farting. anton just absentmindedly nodded at his friend’s over exaggerated complaints, busy looking in your direction. would it be weird if he approached you? the both of you had nothing in common after all, as you were both from different majors. what if you already had a boyfriend?
twice a week for three weeks, anton had been staring at you for every class and he picked up all your small habits. you preferred to write down your notes traditionally in your pink notebook instead of typing it on your laptop or writing on an ipad like other students. you never raised your hand to answer questions but you would turn around and whisper answers to sim jayoon, who sat behind you, when prof won asked her a question.
anton was quickly brought back to reality when professor won started to pick out students to present. he went in random order and thankfully, yang jungwon was chosen first and his presentation ended up being on his favourite food, curry. anton felt less worried about his topic after seeing how most of his classmates had similar presentations, being on their favourite show or hobbies.
“hm, let’s see… can y/n come up next?”
you lifted your head at the sound of your name, prof won looking at you with expectant eyes. you got up from your seat, moving to connect your laptop to the projector with shaking hands, nervous as you weren’t used to presentations, especially one in a language you barely knew.
anton watched the way you gulped nervously, your eyes darting from your laptop to the projector screen. eventually your laptop connected and displayed your cover slide which was a 0.5x picture of a cat? an orange cat wearing a bunny hat.
“good morning professor won and fellow classmates. i’ll be talking about my cat that lives with me in the dorms, gapil!”
you had racked your brain for ideas on what to present on for days, whining to eunchae and gapil when you got an idea— the greatest idea ever. what would be better to talk about than your dear cat? you didn’t have to think, you could already talk about your darling gapil for hours. your slides had more pictures of the black cat in silly positions than words but nobody seemed to mind, even prof won had a big smile on his face, laughing to himself and pointing to the screen when a picture of gapil dressed as santa popped up on the screen.
“her name is gapil which is short for garfield in korean. doesn’t she look like garfield?” you had a wide grin on your face, excited to be showing off your cat to everyone. this was the first time anyone in the class had ever seen you with an expression that wasn’t boredom and anton couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight. you had already passed your three minute time limit but nobody cared, listening attentively to you talking about how you took in gapil on a particularly rainy night when she seemed frail and weak.
“that’s it for my presentation today, thank you for listening!” you thanked the class and bowed before disconnecting your laptop and heading back to your seat. you seemed to get the most applause out of everyone that presented, even those that were usually asleep during lessons were wide awake for your presentation.
anton might have been infatuated with your looks and your aura but now, he was definitely falling for your caring and gentle personality. he wanted to know you more, wanted to see the side of you that he saw today, warm and bubbly.
“next, let’s have anton lee!”
taglist (closed due to the limit!): @andromedawillburyyou @imsiriuslyreal @beckiiee00 @dreamiestay @babigriin @kyusqult @eumppappaswife @sserafilms @annswwa @lecheugo @llearlert @nyuoqi @thesunoosshining @yangasm @mmsriza @myizhous @miyawakiblossoms @hyucksdelicate @ilovejungwonandhaechan @snowyseungs @soobiary @ilovejaketoomuch @cla1r20 @darlingz99 @chiiyuuvv @lilacarat @ohmykwonsooyoung @sonjuyeonnie @nicholasluvbot @chiiyuuvv @haechology @luvnicho @numberonetaleprince @addores @revehosh @jscvhs @istphanie
if i didn’t tag you, please check your account settings > visibility!
#riize x reader#riize#riize fluff#riize imagines#riize smau#riize anton x reader#riize sungchan#riize shotaro#riize scenarios#riize anton#riize wonbin#riize sohee#riize eunseok#riize seunghan#anton smau#anton fluff#anton imagines#anton#anton lee#anton x reader
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STWG Daily Drabble
Prompts: Give in and chill
“I can’t do it anymore,” Eddie exclaims as he storms through the trailer door, wind blowing in from the Trailer Park behind him. He slams it shut behind him, running a hand through his now bedraggled hair. Rings catching on his curls, he groans in frustration, he rips his hand out of his hair and throws his bag to the floor along with his mechanic jumpsuit. Kicks off his shoes. “I’m done.”
Steve watches as his boyfriend stands there for a second, breathing heavy, looking down at his pile of things on the floor. He takes a deep breath, or he sighs, and Steve hums in affirmation that he’s listening. Tilts his head to see if he can spy the look on Eddie’s face.
Huffing, Eddie turns to Steve’s position on the couch, huffing, muscles tense in a tight line across his shoulders. “Work sucks. I’m quitting. I’m becoming a dealer again, that was easier.”
“No it wasn’t,’ Steve says simply. Feeling his lips curl up into an ever so faint smile.
“Okay, no it wasn’t,” Eddie concedes, before whirling around and throwing is arms up in the air. “But my point still stands! I’ve had enough of old men either telling me I’m a murderer or that they know how to change tyres better than me. Fuck them. I’m giving up. I'm giving in and out and around.”
He lets out another noise, a scream or a yell of frustration, clenching his hands tight. And then he releases. And Steve watches as all the tension leaves his body, melt off his shoulders and drip onto the floor. Looks up at Steve through his large wet eyes, bottom lip protruding just slightly as Eddie pouts.
Steve holds open one arm, making space for Eddie, looking reassuringly at the man. He slumps his way across the trailer, dragging his socked feet, before falling into the couch cushions. Snuggles into Steve’s hold, resting his head on his chest. Feeling the gentle rise and fall of it under his head. It’s soothing, so Steve makes sure to try and keep his breathing slow and steady.
He wraps his arm around his boyfriend, bringing him in close, before gently kissing him on the top of his head. Eddie sighs at that, melting further and wrapping his arms around Steve in return. He smells like engine oil and cheap deodorant. Of cigarette smoke, and of home.
“Fixing cars was more fun when I was doing it with you and Wayne,” Eddie mumbles. Clutches at the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “Doing it for work sucks.”
“Just take a deep breath, Baby,” Steve says, rubbing his hand across Eddie’s shoulder. Slow and soothing, a steady comforting weight. “Chill out with me for a second.”
“I can do that,” Eddie replies, voice mumbled as he presses his face into Steve’s chest. He takes a stuttering breath, and Steve can feel it from where their bodies are pressed together. Takes a deep of his own.
“Just relax, sit with me,” Steve starts, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s head. “And when you feel better I’ll put a movie on while you change into some comfy clothes. We’ll chill, relax, and you can tell me how much work sucked in great detail.”
Eddie snorts a weak laugh.
“That sound okay, Baby?” Steve adds, turning so he can look at Eddie, try and get a glimpse of his face.
Eddie’s smiling, a little weak and watery, but it’s there. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.” Steve says, fondly looking down at his boyfriend. Gently resting his fingers under Eddie’s chin and tilting his head up. Eddie lets himself be moved, eyes wide and shining, eyes flicking down to Steve’s lips and then back up to his eyes again. God, Steve could drown in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie would let him.
Instead he leans into to kiss him, soft and gentle and exactly what Eddie needs.
#Stranger Things#Steve Harrington#Eddie Munson#Steddie#Steddie ficlet#Stranger Things Writers Guild#My Writing
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taking roan to see santa and she is so excited to tell him about her new mommy and the things she wants for christmas and when she gets there she is TERRIFIED of the man 🎅
a family trip to the mall to see santa!! fem!reader 5k words
"I'm gonna tell Santa about my new mom, and my new house, and my new bed, and my new-"
"Babe, you're supposed to ask him for things you want, not tell him about stuff you already have."
Roan reaches out to stroke Eddie's face absent-mindedly. He loves how loving she is, and by extension, loves that he's made her this way.
"But I didn't have a mom or a house or a bed last year."
He snorts, fingers wrapped up in the ribbon laces on her shiny black shoes. "You actually did have a bed, and a house."
"A real house, dad."
"It was a real house," he argues with little heat, straightening up her socks where they've started slipping down, fingertips pressed into her soft skin. "It was a home, anyway. You know, me and Uncle Wayne lived together in his trailer for more than ten years and it was amazing."
It had been cramped, crowded, and it had been a stuffy hell in the summer, but it was just fine. It was more than that.
He leans back and takes in Roan again. He's dressed her in a navy blue dress with the lining of a white skirt peeking out underneath. She has a cardigan over the top to fight the cold, and he'll wrap her up in her big puffy coat for good measure as soon as he's done her hair. She looks adorable, adorable and well-kept
He feels the familiar rush of parent pride. Fuck, I'm a good dad.
"And we had fun, didn't we? In our trailer?" he asks her, chucking under her chin.
She grins at him, a mouthful of tiny white pearls. "Duh, dad. We had the best times ever, with Rufus and Georgia and Steve."
He smiles himself, reminded of the stray cats that had flocked to their home and their names. Steve had been an especially dishevelled calico, and his name had been a great point of contention between the Munson's and human Steve.
"You know, we could always go visit them," he offers, pleased at the twinkle that grows in Roan's eyes.
"We could?" she asks, gasping.
"Sure, babe. I bet they miss us, and it's cold. We'll make them some fried chicken when we have time, yeah? You and me'll be the talk of the cat town."
"And Y/N," Roan says insistently.
He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "And Y/N," he says as he stands up. "Now, little lady. Bunches or braids?"
By the time he's weaved her hair back into one impressive braid you're finally getting home from the doctor. A completely routine check up and still he's terrified for a split second that you're gonna come in and declare a problem. You simply pose in the doorway and smile.
"Nothing wrong with me that wasn't wrong before," you say breezily. "Hello, my loves. Did anything happen while I was gone?"
Roan scrambles to stand on the kitchen chair and pose as you're posing. Your expression drops, as does your jaw, and you take a while to pick it back up.
"Aw, princess, would you look at you? You look beautiful."
She giggles as you swoop in to kiss her. You take her face into two delicate palms and stroke curly baby hairs behind her ears. A year ago, even a couple of months ago, you would've asked before you kissed her. Now, you pucker up wordlessly, and Roan bears her cheek like she can't wait. If her excited shifting from one foot to the other is anything to go by, she can't.
"You look so, so pretty," you praise, pulling away to wipe at the splodge of lip balm you've left shining on her baby cheek.
"You look more pretty," Roan says.
Eddie adores you both in ways he can't articulate.
His unspoken affection summons your attention. You let your hands fall to her shoulders and meet his eyes over her head. For a moment you smile abashedly, the awkward amazing smile you'd been wearing when you first met. It eases into something easier, something Eddie isn't ashamed to admit he loves more. This one practically oozes love.
"Do you want to get changed?" you ask.
He pretends like you've slapped him. "What do you mean? This isn't mall-worthy?"
"Your work overalls and my apron?" you ask wryly. "Sure, wear that."
He tries not to smile but he's practically sticky with it, kissing your cheek and patting Roan's back in tandem before he escapes upstairs to change. He puts on a pair of tight black slacks and a dark navy button down to match Roan, rolling the sleeves up in the way he knows you love.
There's Christmas music and giggling downstairs when he returns. Roan's now standing on the table of all places, her hands in your hands, the two of you dancing quite aggressively considering it's Jingle Bell Rock. You start to swing her around, pulling her into your chest so you can waltz in time with the music.
You swing to face the doorway and cheer when you see him. "Dad!" you direct Roan's attention. "That's your nicest button down. Is that the one you wore when you proposed?"
He smiles at the memory but quickly hides it, peering down at his shirt as if it's the most boring item of clothing Walmart's ever made. "This old thing?" He lets the dramatics fall. "No, not this one. I might be wearing the same socks, though, if you wanna check?"
You dip your face down to Roan's and rub the bridges of your noses together. "No thanks," you say, slipping into some bubbly mom talk. "He thinks I wanna look at his socks, did you hear? What a weirdo."
"Weirdo," she echoes.
"Wretched women," he mumbles, heading for the shoe rack. He shoves on a pair of boots and raises his volume. "Come on, sweet girls, time to go see Santa!"
"Santa!"
Roan squirms out of your arms and onto the floor. She sprints for the front door and grabs clumsily at the handle, slightly too short to reach and pull down with any force. Eddie takes her coat down from the hanger and bunches up the sleeves to get her hands through. One arm then two, she makes it difficult work but it's something he's become an expert in. Wayne once said he reckoned Eddie could get an octopus into a straight jacket.
"Babe, move out the way," he says.
Roan steps back enough for him to crack the door and then bursts into the cold. She seems less enthusiastic when the ice bites at her naked knees, looking to Eddie for reassurance.
He hands you the keys and you take them automatically. "I'm gonna get her into the car before she turns into a popsicle."
Realisation dawns on your face. "I dont have my purse. Be right there," you say, spinning back into the house.
He catches up to Roan where she's waiting by your car. She has a car seat in your car and his, but yours is the one at the front of the driveway. She looks tiny next to it, smaller when she starts shivering. It's a sub level Christmas in Hawkins.
"Alright, Ro, in you go," he says, opening door. He covers the top of the doorway with his hand so she can't knock herself out and straps her in once she's situated.
"It's cold," she says through chattering teeth.
"I'm sorry, your wool stockings were in the wash, babe." He covers her frost-bitten cheeks, blood pinking her skin. "We might need to get you some pants at the mall, so you don't fr-fr-freeze to death," he says, imitating her shivering.
She giggles infectiously. "You're funny."
He presses a kiss to her head. "All legs in the ride!" he warns.
"Don't cut her legs off," you call from the front door.
"Never. Am I driving?" he asks, closing Roan's door. He succeeds in not mauling her.
"Do you want to?"
"Do you want to?"
"Get in the car."
"Yes, ma'am," he purrs, escaping around to the passenger side and away from your clutches.
The drive consists of Eddie messing with your deteriorating stereo system and Roan's ecstatic babbling. She's back onto what she wants to tell Santa. New mom, new house, new bed, new princess dresses, new kitchen, new pet fish. The list goes on. Though they aren't as new as she thinks; you, Eddie and Roan have been living together now for a couple of months, and you and Eddie have been engaged for almost as long. The novelty has yet to wear off for Roan. Eddie hopes his daughter will be this amazingly happy for the rest of her life.
"You think it's gonna break?" you ask, watching the stereo with all the caution of a lion tamer.
"God, I hope so. I'll know what to get you for Christmas, then."
It's a bluff — Eddie's already got you a bunch of gifts, some of which you're pretending you don't know about, and some he's actually managed to hide well.
"You won't believe what I got for-" You cough. "Uh, Lucky."
He laughs, checking over his shoulder to see if Roan's listening. She absolutely isn't, feet wiggling along to the static riddled kiddie songs and Teddy the one eared bear in her lap. "I'm gonna tell him you need a new ear, Teddy, don't worry," she says, tone conspiring.
He winces like she's listening. "Yeah, what was it? A new plant?"
"Yeah," you mumble. You're a bad liar. "New plant. It's pink and gold and it's made out of velvet silk," — you lower your voice to a whisper — "with handmade skirts and hand sewn sequins."
His eyes go wide. "I thought we said no more presents for Lucky."
"Did we say that?"
"Well, I said that. Starting to think you weren't listening." He pinches your thigh, quick and nipping to get you squealing.
"I listened," you insist through laughter, facing him with a bright, bright smile. You keep your eyes on the road. "I just didn't comply."
"I'm not above force."
You gasp, delighted. "You dog! My little girl's in the car."
"My little girl isn't listening."
"Yes I am."
You snort so loud it probably hurts your throat.
Eddie whips his head to Roan and her cheeky smile. "I know what we should- what we should get Lucky for Christmas," she says knowingly.
"What's that, princess?" you ask, watching her through the rearview. Each word drips with love.
"A girlfriend," she says.
"Yeah? We'd need to get him a bigger tank, too-"
"So that's not happening," Eddie says.
He hates being the voice of reason, on record despises it, but you love Roan so much, you're fucking whipped, you'd pull Mount Fuji from the Earth and put it behind Bradley's if she asked you to, so while he loves nonsense and participating in it, he has to say no. You can't afford a new fish tank now you've paid for the honeymoon vacation and the wedding venue deposit and Christmas.
Or rather, Eddie can't afford it. He works on principle. Your money is your money. His money is your money. You argue that your money is a hundred percent his money too and he fights you on it all the time, even though you're technically the breadwinner. He's not too proud to let you pay more rent, more toward groceries, more everything. Now. It had been a little bit of a sore spot at first.
He'd reasoned that he should be paying more in reality because of Roan and you'd glared at him half-seriously and said, Don't insult me, handsome. You know I love her.
You more than love her, and if you want to spend every last penny of your paycheck on Christmas this month he won't fight you on it.
Besides that, he can't take any extra hours because he has to pick up Roan. You love that argument because it supports your conclusion, among others — Eddie does the majority of the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning. But, those arguments should be moot. You definitely carry your weight, plus, he loves to do stuff for you. Should be, but you do that stupid fucking thing that you do wherein your hands are all over his face and your voice is soft as silk in his ear, and you kiss under his jaw and win any and every argument in a pathetically small amount of time. He'd die for you. You're a cheater.
"Spoilsport," you mumble, pulling into the parking lot outside the mall with a bumpy turn.
"Lucky needs a girlfriend fish, dad, or he'll get so lonely he'll die."
Eddie blows hair out of his face and zips up his jacket, opening your door with a mostly respectful kick. He rushes to get Roan out before you can, knowing you'll carry her all the way inside and give yourself achey shoulders.
"Why do you say that?" Eddie asks as he opens her door. Roan looks up all smiles, Teddy clutched to her neck. "Why do you think he'll die? Lonely people don't die, babe."
"Are you sure?"
He unclips her straps and pulls her out deftly. He'd let her walk herself but the cold is biting and he can carry her much quicker. "I'm positive."
Her face crinkles up. He likely shouldn't have mentioned death, she's too small, but Roan has a strange understanding of all things macabre. Santa's more real to her than death, for sure.
"Maybe I can ast Santa for a big tank for Lucky and then he can have a girlfriend and a baby."
The dropped 'k' on ask makes Eddie stupidly emotional. A habit she's falling out of from when she was younger.
You start pushing him behind the shoulders. "Let's go," you whine, "before we all get hypothermia."
He makes sure there's room in the crook of his arm for your hand while making his way toward the mall sliding doors. You fall into step beside him.
Eddie begins stranger prep.
"You gotta be polite to Santa, remember? Because he sees all these little girls and boys and he's tired from the Christmas rush, and he's taking the time to come see you."
Roan nods seriously. "My pleases and thank you, dad, I always remember," she says.
"Yes, you do," you praise, though she does not.
"Do you think he can get Lucky a girlfriend?" Roan asks you.
More terrible smiles. "Yes, he definitely can. What kind of girlfriend? A goldfish, too? They have black goldfish in the Petsmart with big heads like raspberries- oh, we should go see them after we talk to Santa!"
Roan's nodding grows more and more voracious. "Can we, dad?" she asks.
"Why're you askin' me? Y/N already said you could."
You almost trip over yourself trying to kiss his cheek. He knows you love him. He suspects you love being a parent more. He's rubbed your back through enough 'I'm so lucky' breakdowns to know you're genuinely in love with his little girl.
Inside the warmth of the mall entryway, Eddie sets Roan on her feet. She holds both hands up. He takes one, you take the other, and she rambles about Lucky's potential lover as you both lead her to the entrance of the food court where the mall Santa's grotto has been set up this year.
The walls and railings are decorated in spiraling lights and tinsel, store windows teeming with festive merchandise. Kids are everywhere, none as pretty or well-dressed as Roan (in Eddie's totally unbiased opinion), but all looking startled by the intensity of everything. Roan herself baulks.
"It's bright, huh?" Eddie asks her knowingly.
"All the lights," she says.
"Yeah, babe, a lot of lights. There's a really big Christmas tree further in, too, we came here last year to see it."
She shrugs. Eddie's unsure, but he thinks maybe she's drifted a little closer to his legs.
The grotto comes into view and she perks up. "Oh," she says sweetly, breathless with her eyes wide, dark eyes shining in the fairy lights.
"There he is," Eddie encourages, "and some elves, too. We line up, uh-"
"Over there," you say, tugging him and Roan with you like the three of you are a slinky.
Roan bounces on her tiptoes from the end of the line to the very beginning. You and Eddie can't stop sharing secret smiles. He loves doing this every year, and last year he'd done most of it alone. Wayne hates shopping malls and you hadn't been dating quite long enough for him to feel comfortable asking you to do parent stuff at the time. The difference a year can make — it aches in the best way.
"After Santa and the pet store, what's our plan? D'you wanna get pizza? Or something else, we could go to Enzo's?" he asks.
"Enzo's?"
"I'll pay."
"Last time you had a weird stomach for three whole days after. I thought we'd never see you again."
"You love it, though. I'll buy some tums. Take a cushion into the bathroom."
"Ew, no," you say, sounding less disgusted than you could be.
You're both keeping an eye on the line. There's only one kid in front of you now, and Roan is pulling on your arms ready to pounce.
"Chinese?"
"What does macaroanie want?"
"She gets everything she wants all the time. Would it kill you to choose?"
You think it over. "Definitely. Why don't you choose?"
"'Cause I want you to, that's the whole point. You know, it's okay to do things that you want to do."
"I want to make you pick. You can pay, too, if we're going to the pet store. Santa needs a donation, and I'm gonna be strapped for cash."
He mirrors your sweet smile. "Deal."
"Next, please," says a very average sized elf.
You and Eddie steal another look and you drop Roan's little hand to let Eddie walk her up to Santa. She'd loved him last year, asking for a bunch of things Eddie hadn't been able to deliver on. He'd tried his best, had done a bunch of freelance guitar repairs that he wasn't educated for (but isn't half bad at), had scraped and scrimped, he'd even borrowed money from Wayne that Wayne refused to take back the following February when Eddie finally made it up, and he still hadn't been able to get 'princess sheets' or the new Dotty Dolly.
They approach Santa. Roan takes one step, then the other. Santa says hello.
Roan pauses.
"C'mere, hon," Santa says, an older gentleman with a natural white beard. He's a very convincing Santa, all things considered. "Tell old Chris Kringle what you want for Christmas."
Eddie pushes her forward very gently with his fingertips. "Go on, babe, it's okay. You wanted to tell him about your mom and the house and Lucky the fish, right?"
Roan takes the last step. Then, frozen in the face, she backs up, nearly trips, and bolts down into Eddie's legs. She practically flies down the stairs with a freaked out moan.
His eyes blow. He looks at Roan, looks at Santa. "I'm sorry," Eddie says, smiling at the old man awkwardly.
The elves do not look happy.
Eddie bends down. "Roanie," he says urgently, "what's the matter? You don't wanna talk to Santa?"
She says nothing, only clings. Eddie tries to steer her shoulder back to Santa on his big velvet chair and she's having none of it, whining and shoving her head into his thigh.
"Excuse me-" starts the elf.
"Roan, are you sure you don't wanna talk to him? He's Santa, he wants to hear all about your list this year," Eddie tries.
"No."
He sighs, perturbed but not too worried. They can always try again. He says sorry to the elves and to Santa who waves his hand, as if to say it doesn't matter. He gets his hands under Roan's arms and carries her to where you're standing on the other side. You look heartbroken.
"What happened?" you ask softly, stroking a sweet curl behind her ear.
Eddie has no answers and Roan doesn't want to give them, so you make your way to the food court in a shocked silence. Roan has a tendency to deal with negatives in two ways — tantrums for the superficial, withdrawal for the serious. Eddie still isn't good at dealing with the latter. Together, you can usually save the day.
"Roan, bug," Eddie says, so only she can hear, "tell me what happened. You didn't like Santa, huh?"
"Dad," she says, almost inaudible.
He slides a hand behind her neck and tips her away from his chest. "What?"
"He didn't look how I remembered."
"'Cause you're older," he says.
He's employed his nicest, smoothest dad voice. The gentle one for all her scariest moments, like shots at the doctor's office and the time she wet herself in the playground in front of the other kids. Anything to assuage her embarrassment, a safety blanket.
He slides into a booth and you hover.
"Would something yummy make it feel better?" you ask hopefully.
Roan shakes her head into Eddie's neck.
"I-" You look super crushed. Everything had been going well. He knows how badly you want Christmas to be perfect.
"How about," Eddie cuts you off, not unkindly, "you and me and mom get warm donut holes and ice cream to dip them in? We've never had then with her, have we?"
It's a good Christmas tradition.
Roan can't resist. "Okay," she says.
"I'll get them," you volunteer. "I got it."
Something hooks you as you're trying to leave and you double back to kiss the top of her head and Eddie's temple in quick succession. He smiles at you genuinely, happy when your frown livens up. Roan will be okay in a little while, no doubt. No need for you to tear yourself up over it.
Alone, Eddie eases Roan off of his lap and onto the bench beside him. He takes her little hands into his. She looks nearly angry, dark eyebrows pinched up and her eyes welled with tears.
"It's okay that you didn't like Santa," he murmurs.
"I wanted to tell him about Y/N," she says, lower lip trembling.
"We can always go and see him again."
She stiffens.
"Or we can try a different day, yeah? C'mon, where's my brave girl gone?"
"He smiled funny…" she mumbles.
He feels awful instantly. He doesn't need Roan to be brave if she can't be.
"Well, if you want," he says, inclining his head, "you could tell me what you want for Christmas, I could tell Santa."
She looks up. "You'll tell Santa?"
"Oh, yeah," he says quickly. "I tell Santa all the stuff you forget. How'd you think you got your space hopper last year? And your princess slippers? I tell him all the things you want."
"He still didn't get me Dotty Dolly."
"He's old, babe. He's all senile, like Wayne." Sorry Wayne.
Her face flops into his upper arm, chubby cheek squished to the mild curve of his bicep. She lets out a morose sigh. "Sorry, dad."
He nudges her gently. "For what?"
"Being not brave."
He presses his forehead to her hair. "I didn't mean that. You don't have to be brave meeting new people. It's scary, even if you met them before. Like Y/N," he says, nuzzling Roan's silky hair affectionately, "I don't know if you remember, you were always excited to see her, and I used to think I was excited too. Then we'd get to Morgan's cake shop and I'd make us late because I was hiding in the car. She used to make me nervous, and now she's your mommy."
He wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes we need time to get to know people before we're ready to talk to them. It's okay that you got scared, babybug, promise."
She goes limp. Her cheek slides down the length of his stomach and lands on his thigh. "I really wanted Lucky to have a girlfriend."
He pets her hair, accomplished in his dad duties. (He hopes. Tonight he'll go over this conversation with you and wonder if he should've said something else.)
"Lucky can definitely still have a girlfriend. What did I just say? I'll make sure Santa knows exactly what you want, no sweat."
She huffs another huge sigh that must take up her entire lung capacity. He tickles the back of her neck with the end of her braid slowly, drawing circles around her ear and her earlobe until her shoulders are heaving.
"You're laughing," he accuses.
"No I'm not," she says into his leg.
"No?" He lets her hair go in favour of scratching her neck. "We can change that."
You return with way too much ice cream and twice as many donuts to find her squealing and cornered in the booth, curled up into a ball like a pill bug to evade Eddie's cruel hands.
"What are you doing to her?" you demand.
"I'm cuddling her. What's it look like to you, mister?"
"Mister? You sick freak."
"You're the sick freak, freak. Sit down and give my girl one of those donut holes before she keels over."
"She's already keeled! Get offa her, the ice cream's melting on my hands."
He stops tickling Roan and she finds the strength to sit. You're ecstatic to see her happy again and you show it with a grand proferring of sweet treats and three plastic spoons. You've bought a whole lotta donuts and an ice cream boat with chocolate fudge and cherries, and you let her maul it without complaint. It's a good time, a great one, to watch Roan teach you how to dip the still-warm donuts in your ice cream, and to watch the two of you try to eat them without getting powdered sugar and chocolate all over your fancy clothes.
He ties the cherry stem with his tongue and mystifies Roan, who spends the next ten minutes trying to do the same. He feels so sorry for her that when she sticks her little tongue out with an untied stem for the tenth time, he meets your eyes and nods and the two of you cheer like crazy.
He hadn't brought his bag, a rookie mistake, so he nabs some napkins from the condiments table and gives Roan the good old spit and polish.
Clean-ish, he takes her hand and she stands on the bench, hopping off and landing with Munson grace (her knees give out). You take the long way around the grotto so she won't have to see Santa again and come across the mall's huge Christmas tree.
"Woah," she gasps, enthralled.
Eddie really should've brought the camera, even if he only has two pieces of film left. He wants to remember this forever, her face still soft with baby fat reflected back from a giant golden bauble, tinsel bouncing light all over her skin like a mirrorball. You bend down beside her and grin.
"Eddie, look at it from down here."
He suspends his disbelief and kneels down.
From the floor, the tree looks bigger than any skyscraper, and it shines like a star. If you follow the tree all the way to its angel at the top, you can look past it into the skylight, where the dark night shines with pinprick stars.
"Our Christmas tree doesn't look this good," you say.
"Yes it does!" Roan says, turning to you with a stern scowl. "Our Christmas tree is the best one they ever made."
"Yeah?"
"Mm. And I got to put the star on."
"Yeah, you did." You rest your hands on her shoulders and the two of you look up together.
I need a fucking camera, Eddie thinks hotly.
—
Petsmart is like an aquarium at 6PM. The lights have been lowered, the fish tanks glowing bright blue and bubbling in the dim light. A hundred white and red babies swim erratically, their fins a blur in the top tank. Underneath, there are tanks filled with algae-eating snails that move surprisingly quickly. To the left, the big black goldfish with puffy cheeks lavish in their more spacious tank.
"Where's the ones with the raspberry head?" Roan whispers.
Your eyes follow a beautiful red goldfish the size of three fingers. "I don't know, little lady," you mumble, entranced by the goldfish's graceful arc.
"Do you think Lucky would have a crush on him?"
You look to where she's pointing at, little finger chasing a telescope fish.
"I think he'd love him. He's a big one."
"I thought Lucky wanted a girlfriend?" Eddie asks.
"But all these ones are boys, dad."
He frowns, endearingly confused. "How can you tell?"
"I just know."
You love the way she says it, love every little word she says. She sounds confident in her declaration but the way she pronounces her words harbours the clumsiness that comes with being a young kid, 'know' carrying a lot of weight, of humour, like she can't believe Eddie would say something that silly.
"What about that one? She looks kinda girly, no?"
The three of you watch the fish in question complete a small loopty-loop.
"Nah," you say, "that's definitely a boy. He has abs."
"They're called gills."
"Do they have any pink fish?" Roan asks.
"Maybe not. They have pink plants. Hey, I saw the ornaments on the way in, they have a castle. Think Lucky would like that?"
If Petsmart didn't close at 6.30 you could stay and watch the fish tanks with them forever. You hop along to the ornaments and try to catalogue all the ones Roan expresses an interest in. Buying them won't count as spoiling her, it'll be spoiling Lucky. Eddie can't possibly be irked over that.
"Don't even think about it," he mouths.
You remember Roan's unhappy face when she was confronted with the horror of the mall Santa up close and decide she can't leave empty handed.
"Why don't we get him something now? You can put it in his tank tonight before bed."
"Really?" Roan asks.
"Go crazy."
Roan hesitates, spoiled for choice, hands feeling over the ornaments one at a time. Eddie tells her she can't pick anything from the tip shelf and you're glad for it, because it is Christmas coming and they're extortionate hand crafted things you cannot afford.
"This one," she says.
She picks up a heavy looking Christmas tree glued to a white plate, multi-coloured presents nestled at the trunk. It's a glorious twelve dollars.
You let Roan carry the bag out of the Petsmart. She turns to Eddie and says, "Please make sure Santa gets Lucky a girlfriend like the one with the big eyes. And please tell him that I have the best new mommy and the bed and the new house, please."
He beams at her. "We can strike those off the list, for sure. What do you want now you got all the stuff you asked for last year?"
"Pink hair."
Eddie whistles through his teeth appreciatively. "Gnarly."
"And a bounce house," she adds.
He shakes his head at you before you can ask.
#eddie and roan#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader blurb#eddie munson x fem!reader#dad!eddie munson x reader#dad!eddie munson#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#christmas centric
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JJK boys with a sleepy s/o!!
A little smutty but fluffy !!
Nanami
You stayed for overtime to finish an important presentation due for the company board of directors, there were some unprecedented changes in management so you have had to take more responsibility than you have ever taken in your career. Nanami knows that this has put on pressure for you but he doesn't like you coming home so tired.
He would notice you’re feeling sleepy after coming home from work, your eyes fluttering open and shut whilst you yawn- hiding behind your hand. Immediately, he takes your shoes off for you and presses a kiss on your cheek. He picks you up, swaying from left to right to be playful whilst giving you pecks all over your face.
He starts to take your clothes off to have a quick shower before you go to sleep. averting his eyes, because lord knows the hard-on he would have if he saw. Nanami ensures that the water temperature is perfect for you and lathers you with soap. after washing you up he puts you in a towel, warmed by the heater he placed it on.
He decides to get you ready to sleep after the shower, picking out fleece pj’s and fluffy socks to make you comfortable before bed. He would guide you to the bedroom and tuck you in right after he gets in himself. Nanami would nuzzle his nose into the crook of your neck, smelling your signature scent of lilies and cotton. Nanami would fall right asleep next to you whilst mumbling incoherent praises of you and love confessions.
Gojo
You stayed up late to work on a uni deadline, far too late in Gojo's opinion as you've worked yourself into a zombie all night and now the sun has risen and you want to go to work. He hates you putting all that extra stress on yourself even though he is more than happy to pay for your necessities including your bills. But you have explained to him on many occasions (and sometimes in arguments) that you don't like the feeling of being too dependent on someone other than yourself.
He promptly notices that you haven't slept a wink since the last time he saw you and animatedly gasps, picking you up in a bridal fashion and laying you down to rest on your bed. You are still dressed as you thought you were going to be able to avoid Gojo before you left home, "Sweetheart, I'm disappointed, you are far too tired to go to work. I'll call them up and tell them you're taking a sick day." He won't take no for an answer and will not relent.
He brings you to the bathroom after switching your blouse to a comfortable top of his and taking your skirt off, folding the items and putting them away in your drawer. He tugs you to the bathroom where he proceeds to do your skincare routine, from cleanser to toner to moisturiser. He doesn't even forget to use serums in the right order. Gojo grins after applying Vaseline to your lips exclaiming his brilliance at being a skincare guru. You ask him where he got all those products, suspiciously exactly the same as your own, and he tells you that he got them for you so you can stay over easier. Your heart swelled at the thought of him running up and down the skin care aisle looking for products he's seen you use before.
Gojo holds both of your hands, walking backwards with a wonderful grin and pulls you to the bedroom. He lies you down, stomach to the bed, to give you a massage, "Just close your eyes and relax babe."
Toji
He's been feeling a little neglected as you both work hard to support yourselves. So when you both get an off day due to a bank holiday, it's safe to say that he enjoyed your presence. Fucking you on every counter, bed, sofa and floor he was able to. His thumb slides over your jawline, past your earlobe, until he’s taken some of your hair and tugged it back making you gasp. "You filthy whore," he spits, enjoying the way you lower your gaze and blush, "you're so fucking wet for me, aren't you? who got you so messy?"
After you both finally get tired, he carried you bridal style into the bedroom from the living room. Toji grins at how tired you are from him fucking you braindead. You twist and turn in your sleep as he uses a warm and wet washcloth to get you clean. Toji leaves a glass of water on your bedside table and presses a kiss on your forehead.
He feels a sick kind of pleasure from seeing you so overstimulated and blissed out. Toji watches you sleep watching your chest rise and fall, he starts to feel tired as well but all in all pleased with you and your relationship.
#toji fic#kentosbabes#jjk headcanons#toji imagine#nanami x reader#nanami headcanons#toji headcanons#jujutsu nanami#nanami kento headcanons#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo saturo#i love him. so much
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toot.
Summary: your three=year-old joins Chris in his workout
Warnings: none!
Pairings: husband/dad!chris evans x reader
-
The pitter-patter of tiny feet against the extortionate floor hits your ears before the sound of a soft, cherub voice.
“Mommy?” Evelyn calls out.
“I’m in here, honey.” You answer from the living-room, placing your book on your lap.
She walks through, clad in a boxy patriot baby tee, her pampers, and pink socks. Evidently, it’s a very chill day in the Evans household. Beside her, her Mickey Mouse stuffie drags along the floor.
“Hi mommy,” she waves her little hand as she comes closer.
“Hi sweet pea. Is your cartoon all finished?”
She nods a yes.
You go to respond, but she speaks first. You can tell a thought has popped into her mind with the way her eyes widen.
“Where daddy?” She looks around the room as she asks. His snuggly, strong figure is nowhere in sight, only his mug from earlier.
“He’s working out in the gym downstairs.”
“Okay!” She turns swiftly, making her way to the basement.
Evelyn makes her way to the basement, down the steps carefully, with one hand clasped around the railing at all times. She walks into the expansive room filled with everything you need to exercise. It always makes it easier for days like this, where you or Chris can workout at home. Or have his personal trainer meet him there.
“Daddy?” Evelyn calls out.
Chris is in a prone position, his body supported on his palms and toes of his shoes. His chain clinks against the mat. With his biceps bulging and face glossed with sweat; Chris doesn’t hear the sound of his name until two pink socks stand in his view.
Chris sits up and pulls his earbuds out.
“You alright, honey?”
“Hi daddy,” she waves.
“Hi honey” he smiles and chuckles.
“What are you doing?” She asks and slightly tilts her head to the side.
Chris tilts his head too, as a quip. “Working out, so I'm all healthy, and can fight all the bad guys.”
“Me too!”
“You want to be healthy too?”
“No, fight bad guys.”
Of course, Chris thinks to himself.
“C’mere my brave girl.” Chris grasps her by her sides, tickling her protruding tummy as she squirms in his hold. “We’re gonna start with pushups. So you gotta get on the floor like this..”
She listens intently, but struggles, of course. But that was what her father’s support was for. In the end, she ends up with her butt in the air, unable to get her body flat like her father. But she pushes up and down on her arm, smiling up at Chris.
“I do it!” She laughs.
“Look at you, you’re gonna beat all the bad guys’ butts.”
He pats her diaper bottom before getting into position so he can continue. They workout side-by-side. A toddler and her father, the imagery almost ridiculous in the juxtaposition between the two.
It only takes one set of ten push-ups, before he feels small hands on his back and a little grunt of her trying to lift her body onto him. So he drops his body into a plank, on his knuckles. And she plops herself on her father’s back, gleefully and giggly.
“Ready?”
“Ready!” But it’s all muddled since her filled cheek is flat against his back. Her arms hanging against the side of his body, feet laid out straight, and her Mickey Mouse stuffy is left behind on the floor.
He pushes up and down, slowly, cautious as not to disrupt her too much. But she could care less as she laughs, at some point wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Daddy strong!”
“He has to be,” he answers with a laugh. “How else am I gonna protect you and mom, hm?”
“Dodger.” She answers seriously.
“That’s true,” he rasps, his breath picking up as he continues to chat and workout.
Some time passes before he gets close to the ground again. “Ride over.” He jokes.
His toddler slides off his back to stand next to him
“Are you ready for the next part?” He asks.
“Yeah!” She claps her hands together and jumps in excitement.
Chris walks over to the rack of dumbbells. He picks up the set of fifty and one five pound dumbbells. He sets the smallest in front of her and holds his in each hand.
“We’re just gonna lift some weights.”
Chris knows there’s no way his three-year-old would be able to lift the dumbbell, but she’s as stubborn as a mule and wants to be involved in every shape and form of her parents’ lives. While Chris does his bicep curls, he cherishes the way his little one stares at the dumbbell for a little too long, then peeks up at him in question.
“You got it,” he encourages, a lopsided smile on his lips.
So she goes for it.
She uses both her small hands to grasp the handle. She tries with all her little might, a small squeak past her lips represents her efforts…
Toot.
“Oops.” She stands to her full height, an innocent look masking her face accompanied by an embarrassed grin.
“You toot?” Chris asks in hysterics.
“Wasn’t me,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “Dodger!”
Chris can’t help but lean back as laughter takes over his body. She’s precious, he thinks to himself. Taking in her distraught face, puffed out cheeks, and furrowed eyebrows.
“Not me, daddy!”
“Okay, okay,” he drops the dumbbells to pick up her upset figure. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed,” he dotes and kisses her cheek.
-
It’s three in the afternoon before you know it. Chris always finishes his workout by three, so by this time you go to the gym with a strawberry coconut protein milkshake— and a strawberry shake in your other hand, since presumably Eve had joined her father.
You walk into the sound of a familiar, deep laugh which brings an immediate smile to your face. And heat on your cheeks at the sight of a post-workout Chris.
“Hi,” You greet the two as you walk in.
“Look who’s here,” Chris turns towards you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi,” his eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pulls you in for a chaste kiss.
“Hi, mommy,” Evelyn recovers quickly, a bright smile on her face as she waves.
“Hi, honey.” You kiss her cheek. “Did you have fun working out with dad?”
“Yes.”
You hold up both cups (one smaller and decorated with Bluey). Chris grabs Eve’s cup and hands it to her before grabbing his. He takes a sip, always looking forward to his wife’s smoothies. They’re always the perfect consistency and garnished with whatever fruit she has used.
With your hand free, it naturally falls to the nape of Chris’ neck. Your fingers running through his soft locks.
Eve is quick to take a sip, a milk mustache left behind her in haste.
“What do we say?” Chris reminds her.
“Thanks, mommy!”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Of course. Anything for my babies,” you squish their cheeks in jest.
-
if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3
#chris evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans fluff#chris evans imagine#chris evans one shot#chris evans reader insert#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans blurb#chris evans drabble#dad chris evans#chris evans x you#chris evans fic
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first time harry sees prof all dolled up maybe for a fancy date or something and is just lost for words. and then maybe prof gets a little hurt that he doesn't find her natural self that attractive but he explains that he was shocked?
First Date Jitters
The Professor Series
this takes place right after the series ends (after part V)!
*.*
Standing in front of the mirror of your Manhattan apartment, you weren't quite sure if you were satisfied with the reflection staring back at you.
"What do you think, Trajan?" you asked, looking over at your cat, who just stared back with a bored expression. Narrowing your eyes at the Emperor, you said, "I'll remember your lack of support in this moment, you know."
The cat just continued with his cool indifference, clearly not worried about your potential grudge. When you determined that your conversation with your cat was just toeing the line of insanity, you turned back to the mirror and sighed.
Objectively, you would say you looked fine. Your dress nipped your waist just so, and you liked the way the red string tieing the bodice contrasted the sweetness of the garment's pattern. It was sweet and romantic, but there was something mature about it too that couldn't be ignored.
The dress was fine, and the socks with the ruffled ankles matched perfectly, so that was a plus, but as you looked yourself over for the twenty-seventh time, you couldn't help but feel like your reflection was an imposter.
You'd had the dress for a few months now. It had called out to you on a rare shopping trip in SoHo, and you bought it on impulse. It hadn't left your closet since, but when Harry left your apartment the morning after you reconnected and said he wanted to take you on a proper date, you knew it was the perfect dress.
You watched mirror-you's frown deepen as you remained flummoxed by the situation at hand. You didn't think you looked bad, but something was just...
"Missing. It's missing something."
Style and fashion weren't things you didn't pay much attention to. You had a particular style that made you comfortable, a small circle of interesting but not out-there that you thought matched your personality quite nicely. You had your comfy sweaters with cute patterns, your corduroy pants and mismatched socks and the clips and headbands and colorful scrunchies you used to keep your hair out of your face so you weren't constantly annoyed by it.
But the dress just seemed out of place in all of that. You liked it enough not to take it off, but you needed something else to make it feel like it was actually you wearing the dress, not the other way around.
Not enough color, you soon realized. There was a pop of red from the laces, but other than that, you were just wearing white, something you rarely ever wore. You liked color, and decided that if you were going to confidently wear this dress, it needed a little more whimsy.
You rummaged through your things—shoes, shoelaces, earrings, colorful eyeshadow shades—searching for just the right element. It took about three minutes, but when you found a forgotten jewelry box stashed under some old files, you remembered what lay within.
In seconds, you were fastening the necklaces around your neck, knowing that Harry would arrive at your apartment any minute. As you struggled with the clasp, your mind flashed to all the times Harry had shown up on your doorstep in Cambridge, ready to talk about just about anything with you.
Things were so much easier then, you recalled. You never second-guessed your attire, never once wondered if Harry would notice that your shoelaces didn't match, or find your sweater with dancing mushrooms on it bizarre, or question the strand of beads that held your glasses like a necklace. Even now, you knew Harry wouldn't mind if you were dressed up or down, and yet you found yourself fretting over your appearance tonight anyway.
As you layered the last of your necklaces, a mix of colorful beads and stones with a gold heart-shaped locket at its center, you heard a knock on your door. "Shoot," you muttered, fingers slipping now that your nerves were kicking into full gear. Pausing your battle against the tiny brass clasp, you left your room to get the door, words tumbling out of your mouth before Harry could even make a sound.
"I'm not ready yet, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in going over the conversation topics I picked out that I forgot I actually had to physically get ready for tonight, which took much longer than it should have, and now I can't get this infernal necklace to clasp because my hands won't stop sweating, and every time I think about you or tonight my mind quite literally stops working for a minute and I forget what I'm doing. And all of that is to say that I'm not ready. Yet. I'm not ready yet."
Harry blinked as he processed everything you'd just said, and your face flushed because, really, did you have to reveal how nervous you were the nanosecond you opened the door?
"That...was all in one breath," he finally said. "I'm impressed."
Your whole face felt like it was on fire, but even though it had been a year since you'd spoken, you could tell that Harry wasn't teasing. He really was impressed.
"Do you mind helping me? With—With the necklace? I don't think I'll be able to get it, and it'll probably be easier if you just—Edward?"
Shoot, you thought. You hadn't meant to call him that. "Harry, I mean. Sorry. I don't know why I said that."
Even after messing up and correcting yourself, you still hadn't managed to garner his attention. Well, you had, he just wasn't looking at your face.
Harry's gaze was thorough as he took you in, his eyes lingering on your hips, then your chest, which was tastefully on display due to the cut of your dress. You felt his stare, almost as intensely as if he was actually touching you, though you knew that was quite literally impossible. But you still felt it, your stomach flipping around giddily as his gaze became heavy-lidded.
"Am I...dressed appropriately?" you couldn't help but ask, which seemed to get Harry's attention.
"Huh?"
"You never actually said what we'd be doing, and I read this article about the top nine date activities, and going to a restaurant was number one. Nine and ten were bike rides and amusement parks, but I took my chances. Hedged my bets, if you will."
God, did you sound like this all the time? You told yourself that you were rambling more than usual because of the added stress of going on your first-ever date with Harry and told yourself you would stop once you crossed the threshold of your door and officially started your date. But one quick look at Harry's tousled curls pushed to one side and the cozy sweater that made him look adorable and sexy—a winning combination if there ever was one—you knew you'd be tongue-tied for a while.
"You're perfect."
Your eyes widened, surprise and delight taking over your entire body. Smiling, you offered him a quiet thank you before asking him to clasp your necklace again, turning around before he could see the blush on your cheeks.
Harry's fingers were delicate as he draped the necklace over your collarbones and fastened the clasp into place. You could feel his shallow breaths on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps on your skin and making your toes curl. You know you and Harry agreed on a proper date, which meant, you actually had to go on said date and not just skip to the end. But as the pads of his fingers began to glide across the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your arm, his lips puckering against the rapid beating of your pulse point, you wondered if you could just skip all that.
His hands came around your waist and felt along the front of your dress and squeezing appreciatively where he pleased. It made you feel molten inside, like clay that could only be shaped by his hands. You sagged against him a little, taking pleasure in his admiration of your body.
A breathy sigh escaped your lips as Harry continued to knead and squeeze and pinch, cold air biting at your neck as he dragged his lips across your skin.
Every thought, every topic of conversation you'd prepared, every worry you had, evaporated into thin air, like it never existed in the first place. You couldn't feel anything but serendipitous pleasure as you both indulged yourselves on feelings that had been locked deep in your hearts for perhaps far too long. There was logic that needed to be considered—your tornado-stricken room, the cats, the actual date itself—but logic and reason seemed to have retreated too far into your mind to grasp.
"The—The date," you managed to say, though Harry practically swallowed the words with a kiss, his nose nudging yours playfully before capturing your bottom lip with his teeth. You hissed, but leaned in closer so he could do it again.
Harry didn't answer for a moment, two moments, three, not in any rush to go anywhere but further into your apartment, do anything but suck your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered, struggling to hold it together both physically and mentally.
"You're exquisite," he murmured, like he hadn't even heard your measly attempt at bringing up the date you were supposed to be on.
Your heart raced at the compliment, but a seed of doubt flickered irritatingly in your mind. You willed it away, but it was as stubborn as a splinter in your hand or a piece of fuzz in your eye. You wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until it was gone.
"I—"
"Don't think for one second it's just the dress," Harr said calmly but firmly. You had no idea, but he could feel you tense at his compliment and knew exactly where your mind drifted. He knew you. "You came up with things to talk about on our date? Research before our date? Fucking hot, Professor."
You couldn't help but giggle, especially when the nips to your skin became more playful. "Don't tease."
"I'm not," Harry insisted. For the first time since this impromptu kissing-and-feeling took place in the middle of your apartment, Harry tipped your chin up so he could look you in the eye. You saw nothing but sincerity there, his lips swollen and a deeper shade of pink than usual as he grinned. "I told you before, Y/n. I find every little thing about you mesmerizing."
You knew it wasn't physically possible, but you felt like your heart swelled in your chest from just those words alone. Any minute doubts in your mind turned to dust right then. Harry knew you, knew all of your quirks and odd habits and tendencies and behaviors, but he never once faulted you for it or tried to change you.
Kissing him once on the cheek, you said, "I know the last four and a half minutes might have proven otherwise, but I really would like to go on our date."
Not a single flicker of disappointment crossed Harry's face at that. His eyes just crinkled as he released you from the circle of his arms, but not before kissing you one last time. "Me too. I have something pretty interesting planned and I would hate to let it go to waste."
"What did you have in mind?"
"A place called the Russian Tea Room," Harry said, offering you his arm once you'd straightened out your dress and fixed your hair, both of which had been thoroughly rucked up by him. "I figured a little Eastern European history with our date couldn't hurt."
You resisted the urge to jump on him right then and there.
For a whole year, you'd gone without talking to Harry. That came with its own slew of pain and regret and resentment, but above all of that, you really just missed his companionship. It wasn't that you just missed talking to someone in general about history and novels and astronomy, but you missed talking to him about all those things. And to think that he picked out a date that would capture the essence of your old "book club" sessions, it made you love him all the more.
Harry was just so...Harry. Because of course he would pick out something that would have educational value. You loved to learn and share knowledge, loved discussing history, and he loved to listen and engage with you like no one else ever bothered to before.
"We should probably call and tell them we might be late to our reservation," you said as you walked down the streets of New York toward the subway. You figured with all the time you spent fooling around in your apartment, you'd definitely be late for any reservations Harry made in advance.
"You might have to call," he said, sounding the slightest bit sheepish.
"Why?"
Harry grinned and patted his pockets. "I was so nervous about tonight that I left my phone at the hotel."
Unable to stop yourself, you snickered, leaning against Harry's arm to try and muffle the sound. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."
"I'm serious!" he insisted. "I kept changing my clothes and my shoes, not realizing that I was running late to pick you up, and I just left. Without it."
You laughed, and Harry did too. It was comforting to know that Harry had been just as anxious about tonight as you'd been, to know that you scrambled his brain as much as he scrambled yours.
You kissed his arm, running your thumb up and down the thick knit of his cardigan. He felt so cozy, looked so handsome. It made you want to kiss his cheek until a dimple appeared and run your hands beneath his shirt at the same time.
But even so, the idea of a Russian-themed tea room was too intriguing to not talk about. There was too much to talk about, in fact. It would probably be for the best if you started on politics now so you could talk about the fun stuff like architecture and art styles when you got there.
When you asked Harry how much he knew about the Tsars and Tsarinas of Russia, he shrugged and said, "As much as the next person, I suppose. I did a little research beforehand so I could at least try to impress you, but go ahead. Tell me about it."
You squeezed his arm excitedly began, trying to decide on the best course of action. "Well, you see..."
#harry styles#harry styles x professor y/n#harry styles x professor yn#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot
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An Ocean Between Me and You
Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x You (gender neutral reader)
You love him. You love him dearly. You just never thought he'd love you too, not the way you wanted. Scared to mess it up, you confess one night when you think he's asleep.
He isn't.
warnings: slight Yandere!Yuta at the end. But can be read otherwise.
🦇🩸First fic on here! People seemed interested in my napping with Yuta post so I decided to take a crack at it. Lowkey self-ship coded.🩸🦇
Life with your best friend is easy most days.
Yuta has an energy to him that calms your racing thoughts, his presence pulling you back down to earth and grounding you when all you want to do is fly high. He's a steadying hand in a life of uncertainty, always there, always ready for whatever comes at you next.
"We'll take it on together," Yuta would say, his smile tired but sincere. "Me and you."
It was no wonder you fell in love with him. It was all too easy, honestly. He's an easy person to love. Sometimes it was even easier than breathing.
The rain outside carries on, a storm brewing on the horizon and crawling across the earth in a slow drag. You've been restless all day, the gloom a nice break from the searing sun of Japan, but you want to do something other than watch a movie. So when it's finally bearing down on your apartment, you give your roommate an impish grin.
"Yuta."
"Hmm?" He asks from the other side of the couch, his hand resting on your ankle. His thumb brushes the delicate bone there through your obnoxiously colored socks.
You roll off the couch with a grunt and spring to your feet, ignoring the rushing of blood that makes you momentarily dizzy, too busy grinning and running to the door like a child. You forgo your shoes and a jacket, ripping open the front door and running through it with a cackle. It's imperative to get to your destination before he catches you. His mother-hen tendencies will ruin your fun if he does.
"Hey! What are you doing, you're going to get sick!"
You don't answer, running down the apartment stairs. The rain has made the steps slick and you nearly slip and brain yourself against the rails. It only spurns you on, your giggles wild. A glance behind you shows Yuta on your heels, his shoes only half on.
"Come on! Let's play in the rain!"
"It's too cold, let's go back inside!"
"If you really didn't want to, you would have caught me already." You take the stairs two at a time now, delighting in the exasperated huff you feel across the back of your neck.
He's so close. Damn him and his stamina. But you are flooded with the sudden need to be in the rain. If it's to wash away your restlessness or if it's an excuse to regain his attention, you don't think you want to know. Not now, when he's so close behind you. You reach the bottom of the stairs and spin out in the middle of the grass.
You're both growing up so fast. Already adults and forced to make your way out in the big wide world, beaten down daily by its trials and tribulations. Truly, what is the harm in indulging in childish happiness when you can?
He catches you around your middle mid-spin. You squeal before leaning back into his chest, the noise tapering off to delighted laughter. You always get him to play your games in some way. Moments like this, where he turns you around in his grip, his smile heartbreakingly soft and so, so fond...you think he could love you too.
Yuta looks at you like you're the center of his world. It's a heady feeling, tangible like an embrace. You start to hum a long-forgotten melody, swinging the both of you back and forth in a mockery of a dance. Yuta laughs gently, giving in.
"Okay, okay. Not for too long or you really will get sick."
"What, don't want to take care of me?" You bat your lashes and feel rewarded when he smiles.
"I already do that, don't I?"
"Oh, whatever." You twirl him and watch as his hair plasters across his rain-slicked skin. Your fingers twitch with the need to push it out of his face but you hold steady, focusing on a song only you can hear.
It's too easy to love him, you think, especially when he's like this. He's beautiful.
Your chest aches.
Eventually, you have to go back inside. The rain has soaked you both down to the bone and shivers begin to wrack your body. Yuta takes note of your sheepish smile and lets out an amused huff of air before gesturing for you to get on his back.
He's warm through the wet fabric of your clothes, goosebumps erupting across your skin. You sink into the warmth, pressing your nose into his hair, an animal seeking heat. The ride back up to your apartment is slower than his usual pace, his hands firm on your thighs as he carries you up.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"And yet you're stuck with me."
"And you're stuck with me." You both laugh.
Despite how much you wish the ride up could last, nothing good ever does for long. You both reach your door all too soon and you slide off his back, your body still pressed against his for the briefest of moments in a moment of weakness. Yuta shudders and you pull away with a flush.
"Thanks," You mumble, patting his shoulder as you walk past him into your home.
Yuta kicks his shoes off and disappears for a moment, returning with two towels. "Let's get you dried off."
Your breathing and the sound of water dripping onto the floor are the only noises in the quiet home. It makes sense for you both to have moved in together. You did almost everything together, so why not just live with your best friend while you're at it? It'd save you both the trip. Plus, it allows you quiet moments like this, the both of you damp from rain but content all the same.
It's so easy to pretend in these little snippets of time that he's all yours. That the room you'll shuffle back to is one you share and that you won't have to crawl out of in the morning before he wakes up. A lump forms in your throat as you break away from each other to head to separate rooms to change.
The best you can do is take what he gives you. Sometimes you get to flop into his bed for a nap- if he takes pity on you that is. He's always been cagey about sharing his bed in a way you don't quite understand. On the couch, he's never far from you. But maybe the bed is too much, too far past the boundary of friendship for him to be comfortable with. Though there are rare exceptions where he drops the invisible line and lets you snuggle into his sheets that smell so strongly of him.
Like today. You bite back a smile as you poke your head into his room, now in dry clothes. Yuta sits on the edge of his bed, looking at his hands with an unreadable expression. It's enough to pull the smile off your face.
"You alright?"
Yuta jerks up and gives you a shaky smile. "Yeah. Just tired. Want a nap?"
"I was hoping you'd ask. I think I might fall asleep standing if I don't lay down soon."
"Can't have that, can we?" He asks softly, laying out on his bed and patting the space next to him. It's the same place you lay each time, to the right of him next to the wall.
You slip into the room and crawl across the bed, grinning at him. Heavy-lidded eyes track your movements, the whisper of his clothing rustling against the blankets beckoning you closer as he makes room. Your heart is hungry and you take the invitation readily, pulling the blankets over your body the second you lay down. The gap between you both is humbling. It's ocean-wide despite how he's not even an arm's length away.
It's still too far and yet all too close. This close-up, you wonder if he could read you. Can see your feelings for him and how strongly even something as lying next to him affects you. You grip the sheets tighter to keep from gripping him. Yuta flicks the lamp off and rolls onto his side, his back facing you.
For the next twenty minutes, you're convinced this is agony. So close and yet so far- the irony is not lost on you. He's the refreshing drink just out of reach in the middle of the desert. When you think the coast is clear, you inch your way forward with closed eyes to press your forehead between his shoulder blades. You rest it there, muscles uncoiling as you breathe him in.
"You know, I wish you loved me like I love you. I'm sorry for it.' You whisper, burrowing further into the line of his spine. "I really am."
It's not quite a kiss you press to his back but more of a touching of lips. It's brief. It's chaster than the searing hunger in your chest desires. But you eventually force yourself to roll onto your other side and succumb to sleep, broadening the gap between you both once more.
You wished he loved you. That he saw you the way you see him. He's the light on the porch when you're coming home, the hand at your back when you ride the train together, steady and comforting and safe. He's the rush in your veins and the craving that makes your teeth ache for a bite of him.
Yuta is everything to you and loving him hurts in the most beautiful way. But at least you have this.
It is enough.
No it's not, your heart weeps. It'll never be enough.
You're fast asleep and you don't notice the way the bed dips beneath your still body. Yuta's stare is heavy on the wall before he cranes his head down to look at your sleeping form, his denim-blue eyes wide.
You love him?
Him?
His hand shakes as it rests on the back of your head, his fingers trembling. Your hair is still damp from the rain but he doesn't care, he runs his hand over it all the same with a reverence that would shake your bones. Warmth blooms in his chest and Yuta smiles.
"You love me," Yuta breathes. "You love me."
His grip tightens on your head. The corners of his smile twist a touch too wide. Your words echo in his head over and over again, a song that will play on repeat for the rest of your lives. You love him, and he loves you. It's all he could have dreamed of. It's all he's ever wanted.
Yuta knows then that he could never possibly let you go. The hunger in his heart outmatches yours easily, a hurricane to your summer storm. Even now, with his hand on your head, it howls for more.
"Sweetheart," He whispers back, his hand trailing from your head down your side. "I'm going to make you the happiest person alive. You can count on that."
#red writes#yuta x reader#okkotsu yuta#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuta x you#yuta okkotsu x you#jjk imagines#jjk x reader
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Can you do Shigaraki and Fem reader playing a fighting game and everytime one loses, they have to strip?
Smut. 18+. Handjobs.
You try to dodge Shigaraki’s blows, but they come too fast, knocking you several feet away. “Hey,” you shout, “can’t you go a little easier on me?”
“No,” he says flatly, blocking the hits you throw at him.
“Oh come on! I thought you were gonna be nice to me today!”
Shigaraki frowns. “So you want me to just stand here and let you punch me in the face?”
“Uh, yeah? That would be nice,” you say, still trying to get a hit in.
“Not happening,” he replies, finally countering your punches with an uppercut that knocks you out.
The words “Player 1 Wins!” flash across the screen in front of you and Shigaraki. Your avatar, a scantily clad ninja girl, is lying at his character’s feet. You cross your arms over your chest and give your boyfriend a dirty look. “This is why I don’t like playing fighting games with you.”
He glances over at you. “Because I always win?”
“Because it’s no fun,” you answer.
He stares at you for a moment, then says, “Wanna make it fun?”
“How?”
“Every time one of us loses, we have to take something off,” he says.
“Like a strip game? But you always win. How is that fun for me?”
Shigaraki seems to think for a few seconds before saying, “I’ll play with a handicap. You can pick my character.”
That does make the idea more tempting, There are a couple of characters he’s not so great with. You’ve beaten him a few times that way. But that’s not enough. You look at him and grin. “You can’t use counters.”
Shigaraki is clearly caught off guard by that. His playstyle heavily leans on counters. But in the end he shrugs and says, “Sure.”
“You’re on then!” You pick up your controller and get ready to select your character, but Shigaraki is just looking at you.
“You already lost a round. Take something off.”
“That was before we even agreed to the terms,” you say.
“I’ve giving you such a huge advantage. You can do this for me, right?” he asks, his face softening in that way that makes you melt.
You sigh dramatically and reach down to tug your fuzzy socks off. “There, happy?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “I guess.”
Obviously he was hoping to see something a little more exciting than bare feet, but he picks up his controller and selects the character you choose for him. The next round goes much better for you. Without using counters, Shigaraki’s best moves are sealed, and you win the fight almost too easily. You sit the controller down beside you and look at him expectantly. “Your turn."
You assumed he would kick off his shoes but instead he pulls his long sleeve tshirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. You find yourself staring at his chest, which is much more toned than you imagined. The two of you haven’t been dating long, and the one time you were intimate, the lights were off and both of you kept some of your clothes on. So this is your first time seeing his bare torso up close, in the light.
He notices your eyes roaming over him and grins. “Don’t get distracted,” he says.
“Yeah right,” you say, tearing your eyes away to look at the screen as the next match starts. This fight isn’t quite as easy as the last one, but you still beat him without too much trouble. This time he does kick off the shoes, and the next round begins. This fight is actually a challenge. You each won one round and it had to go to round three for you to emerge the victor. It dawns on you then that Shigaraki is getting progressively better with each match. Is he actually adapting to this new playstyle of not using counters?
You watch him unbuckle his belt and toss it to the floor. He doesn’t even look at you as he starts the next match. There’s a fierce determination in his eyes that makes you nervous about this fight. You grip the controller tightly in your hands, mashing the buttons to do every combo you can think of, but Shigaraki is blocking or avoiding almost all of them. When the match ends in your defeat, you realize your hands are sweaty and you sit the controller down to wipe your palms on your jeans.
Shigaraki turns to look at you, a smug look on his face. You weigh your options. You don’t have a belt. Just two pieces of underwear, your jeans, and a pullover sweater. So will it be the jeans or the sweater? Is the sweater long enough to cover much if you took off the jeans? You decide to take that chance, and you stand up from the couch. Shigaraki watches you silently as you unbutton your pants and slide them down your hips, pulling the sweater down at the same time to cover your panties. You kick the jeans off and sit back down on the couch.
You look over and notice Shigaraki’s eyes are glued to your bare thighs. “Now who’s distracted?” you ask, and he quickly looks away.
The next match goes exactly like the last one, with you being utterly destroyed. He really did adapt! You feel a mixture of awe at his gaming skills and unease at the fact that you have to shed that sweater. You stand up and pull the sweater over your head as Shigaraki watches intently. You can feel yourself getting hot in the face. Why did you agree to this? Because you wanted to see him naked in a way that wouldn’t be awkward, or so you thought. But now you’re sitting beside him on the couch in just your bra and panties, and he keeps stealing glances at you until the next match starts.
You fight desperately this time, despite the growing gap in skill, and manage to take him to the third round before he beats you. He immediately turns and stares at you, unable to conceal the excitement in his eyes. You sit up straight, pulling your back away from the couch, and reach behind you to unhook your bra. You let it fall into your lap and then drop it on the floor at your feet. You hesitate for a moment before meeting Shigaraki’s eyes. This is much more embarrassing than you expected it to be. You’re not even sure why you’re embarrassed. He’s literally groped your bare breasts under your shirt before. But something about the way he’s looking at you, as if he’s never seen you before, makes heat spread through your body.
You want to win the next match, badly. You want his pants off. The problem is that he’s so focused on winning. Well, maybe there’s something you can do about that. Near the end of the third round, he’s almost beaten you, but you suddenly hold down the block button, turn toward him on the couch, and press your breasts against his bare shoulder. He jolts from the sudden contact and the controller slips from his hand. You turn back quickly and go for the kill, defeating him easily.
He looks at you in shock. “Hey, that’s not fair,” he says. “You distracted me.”
“You didn’t say anything about not distracting each other,” you say with a smile.
He gives you an almost pouty look. Clearly he was planning on getting your panties off. He sighs and stands up, then drops his pants and steps out of them, leaving him only in black boxers. They sit somewhat low on his hips, and the skin they show below his navel is drawing your eyes.
The next match begins, and just as you’re about to unleash a killer combo on Shigaraki’s character, he blocks, and you suddenly feel a warm finger and thumb pinch one of your nipples. You squeal and jerk away, trying to regain control of the fight as you fumble the combo badly and retreat to the other side of the screen.
Within seconds, Shigaraki wins the first round. When round two begins, you feel desperate. You have to win this one to force the match to three rounds. You fight as hard as you can, using every combo and special move you can think of. Right when you have him cornered, you feel three fingers slide into your panties, one of them slipping into your sticky folds to stroke your clit.
“Ahhh~” You can’t suppress a cry of surprise and pleasure as you drop the controller. The fingers quickly pull away, and you watch in horror as your character is defeated.
Shigaraki drops his own controller and turns to face you, lifting one hand to lick his middle finger. You stand up and tuck your thumbs into the waist band of your panties. You take a deep breath, and then pull them down and step out of them. Shigaraki looks at you for a moment before taking hold of your wrist and pulling you to the couch. Once you’re sitting, he gently pulls your legs apart. You blush, but you allow him to do it.
He looks you over for a few seconds before his hand is on you, using three fingers to stroke your most sensitive spots. You moan and lean back, closing your eyes, just feeling the pleasure ripple through you. Then you turn your head to look at him. “Don’t I get a consolation prize?” you ask, looking pointedly at his boxers.
Shigaraki laughs. “I thought I was already giving you a consolation prize,” he says, then stands up. “But if you want to see my dick that much, here you go.” He jerks the boxers down, revealing a full erection. You stare at it, surprised by its size. It’s been inside you before, but you never got a good look at it before now. The night the two of you made love, it was such a spontaneous, passionate moment. Your bedroom was pitch dark. Shigaraki had opened his pants and reached under your skirt to shove your panties aside, moving by feel rather than sight. Still, you had enjoyed it. Now though, just looking at him was turning you on.
He sat beside you on the couch, his own legs spread apart, one of his hands working between your thighs, making you feel delirious. You reach over with one of your own hands and begin stroking his cock, making him hiss in pleasure.
You’re the first to cum, shaking and panting and making little stilted cries as his fingers massage your clit, and keep massaging it even after your orgasm passes. Then Shigaraki cums, the sticky fluid shooting out in front of him, making a mess on the floor where most of his clothes are sprawled. He breathes hard as you stop stroking him and lean over to clean him up with your mouth, licking the remaining cum off the tip and swallowing it.
Later, after you’ve both dressed (with Shigaraki having to get a clean shirt because cum got all over the one on the floor), you both sit on the couch again. He picks up his controller and says, “Wanna go again?”
You laugh. “Are you serious?”
He gives you a surprisingly warm smile. “Or we could just play a co-op game.”
“That sounds nice,” you say, picking your controller up again.
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