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wordbunch · 11 months

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how you pamper them when they're stressed/overworked

a/n: requested by the sweet @almost-gabrielle, i hope you enjoy it, and everyone else too - it's going to be GIGANTIC! 😍 be nice, cause I included some characters I haven't written much before (exciting!!!) and if you reblog with a comment or a nice tag... i'll love you forever! 💖 that means a lot, and i'm very grateful for all of it 🥰

ARAGORN: he actually feels like that quite often, but he’s incredibly good at hiding it. Luckily, you’re an expert in reading him like an open book, but oftentimes you need to literally physically drag him away from whatever he is doing (and he might complain as you do so). Aragorn just enjoys sometimes being quiet with you, and it’s usually what he needs when his mind is racing, or his body is overexerted. Or both. You can just lie down together and run your fingers slowly through his hair, and that will help him forget his worries at least for a little while. Secretly he is an absolute sucker for sweet, romantic confessions of love and affection, and he will melt if you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

LEGOLAS: something has to be extremely serious for him to feel that way, because his limits are very high; but in those moments he just wants to get away from everything as soon as possible and run to you, because with you the rest of the world just fades away. He enjoys an outing in nature, far away from real life, especially if the two of you find a nice lake or river to go for a swim in, and eventually act like a couple of children splashing and chasing each other. If that doesn’t help, he likes to sit in front of you and let you braid his hair as he talks about whatever is on his mind, and it also helps him physically relax to have you sitting behind and so close to him.

BOROMIR: this man will most likely push himself to his absolute limits, because he shoulders too much responsibility and feels pressured constantly to be on top of things. However, it’s easy to notice when he becomes a bit more irritable at one point, and then you know it’s time to talk him into taking at least a little break. That can be a slippery slope, because once he gets you alone for 5 minutes, it can very easily turn into 15 hours, and he would never finish anything. But on some days it’s just necessary - you sweet talk him into a cuddle session, during which he accidentally falls asleep with his head over your heart, or you make some tea with love as the special ingredient – and tell him that! He’s going to melt and finally, gratefully accept that his partner wants to look after him.

FARAMIR: much like his brother, he will probably suffer in silence, but you can’t miss his tired sighs every now and then, and the way he shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. If you hug him from behind, he will melt into your touch and lean onto you so much that you will almost topple over, but that will also make him admit to himself that he really needs a break. Run him a nice, hot bath complete with fragrant ingredients, and candles lit around it, and he will be forever grateful. If you don’t join immediately, he will very sweetly ask you to come with him because 'oh the bath is so big and so lonely' without one more person in it.

ÉOMER: this hardworking man is actually quite in touch with how he feels, both physically and emotionally, and he knows when things are becoming too much and he needs to step away for his own good. It is not unusual for him to go search for you and suggest that the two of you do something away from everyday life. Many times he doesn’t even suggest anything, he just follows behind you whatever you’re doing - taking a walk and admiring some trees in bloom? He’s right there holding your hand. Sitting on a balcony and reading? He will lay his head on your lap and ask you to read to him. And he is content just being present with you.

SAM: he gets both overworked and stressed quite often, poor thing. Make him something to eat and bring it outside while he’s working in the garden, and just have a spontaneous mini-picnic in the backyard. Although he’s very hardworking and persistent, over time he’s learned to accept your help and pampering, and he really really enjoys it too. If he is under mental stress, maybe you’ll need to push him a little bit to tell you what is on his mind, but once he does, he will gladly listen to your advice or any help you can give him.

FRODO: baby boy is in his head a lot and oftentimes he will accidentally create things to worry about, and he will just zone out. if he has a faraway look in his eyes, while doing nothing in particular, you can accurately guess what is up. He likes to feel useful, and he will gratefully accept if you ask him to help you with whatever you’re doing - it gives him an excuse to be kind and helpful, but also spend time with his favorite person. Especially if you’re organizing/re-organizing something, he will enjoy doing it with you, or cooking - he might not be the best at it, but he delights in giving you a hand, and he likes to learn and improve new skills anyway.

MERRY: he is actually much more of an overthinker than he seems to be on the outside, so stress sometimes just generates outta nowhere! Also he isn’t the biggest fan of physical labor out there, but he is a little bit of a show-off when it comes to you, and he will go above and beyond when helping you with something or doing something for you, until he can barely stand. Afterwards he will take pride in the fact that you had to force him to stop whatever he was doing, but he was simply being so very nice to his favorite person! Something he loves to do to unwind in those moments is just come up with random stories with you, the two of you taking turns making up characters and events. He is a little bit of a baby and he will just take your hand wordlessly and put it in his hair, because it feels nice when you run your fingers through it.

PIPPIN: he will either be stressing over very small, irrelevant things, or something absolutely terrible, no in-between. If it’s something small, he has no problem rambling about it to you, and that usually helps him sort things out; but if it’s something serious, he will grow quiet. The best thing you can do for him in those moments is distract him with a silly idea like “let’s go for a walk and find as many kinds of blue flowers as we can” or just straight up make him laugh - it’s the best medicine. He wouldn’t ask you directly to do it, but he’d love it if you could just hold him or cuddle him for a bit (he’s the little spoon of course).

BILBO: oh he will get worked up over a whole bunch of random things; and when he is working on something, he goes all in (and then has a random episode of doing absolutely nothing), so you need to be the one who grounds him in reality sometimes. Just don’t startle him when approaching him quietly. He is very responsive to your touch and he will just lean into you as soon as you’re near, almost forgetting about everything else. He adores it when you hold his face in your hands and he will look at you as if hypnotized while you comfortingly reassure him that everything will be alright and that he doesn’t have to do anything alone as long as you’re around.

FÍLI: he is very big on “strong protective independent dwarf” and sometimes he doesn’t fully allow himself to rest properly, or to process some things that are bothering him on the inside. However, at one point it will all have to culminate, and then his first instinct is to shut himself off. A guaranteed way to get through to him is to kiss him senselessly wherever you can reach and it makes him subconsciously relax almost immediately. He will kiss you back passionately which helps him eliminate some of the tension he’s feeling. Additionally, he will never ever say no to receiving a nice little massage from you.

KÍLI: oh he is quite proud of himself if he ends up overworking himself for you, as if it gives him bonus partner points. You will gently scold him for pushing himself too far, and then he will pout, but you know he still doesn’t regret it. Then he himself will drag you away for a cuddle session - he chose that as his reward for being the very best partner in all of Middle-earth - but you don’t have to exclusively cuddle. He finds it very relaxing if you sing something quietly to him and he will look up at you with shining eyes.

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toruvi · 5 months

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It's 3:04 in the afternoon when you're buried nose-deep in writing your research paper. And though you've been trying to focus on it for the last half hour, the only thing on your mind is literally all of the other things you need to get done. Clean your room, do the dishes, finish that late assignment (it's been almost a week now!) Shit. Too many things to do, and there's never enough hours in the day to feel like you can finish them.

You may or may not have been tipping over the edge of a breaking point for a while now.

But you've been convinced that it was hidden fairly well, at least from your friends. They don't press more than a simple "good luck with your paper" or "talk to you soon" when you tell them how busy you are.

However, your boyfriend definitely notices.

Levi isn't one to not speak his mind when something bothers him. In fact, he's pointed out several times in the last week that you shouldn't be overworking yourself. Out of anyone you know, Levi knows your limits the most. And he must see it where you don't, considering he's walked into your apartment with his copy of the key and is now standing over you, a paper bag in his hand as he glares down his nose.

"Hey," you mumble, turning back to your laptop screen in front of you. But the laptop is forced shut by a veiny hand, replaced with the plop of that same paper bag Levi was just holding. "Whats that?"

You pout when he slides the laptop down the dining table.

"Lunch. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know you are, don't fight me on this. Please just eat with me. Forget about your work for a minute."

He pulls out the boxes in the bag, revealing a couple of sandwiches. Fine, maybe you're a little hungry.

"You didn't answer my calls so I had to guess what you would've liked," Levi murmurs as he slides the boxes toward you. You mutter an apology, but he's not mad. He waves it off, simply telling you to eat and "stop worrying about shit for one damn second."

With anyone else, it might've pissed you off.

When you're absorbed in your work, it's hard to gather energy to talk to other people, let alone even take care of yourself. And yet, somehow, Levi is the one person who manages to read you like a book. For some reason, he's able to pick up on your bouts of silence and understand what you need. You always wondered how he can do that.

And though he's yet to say "I love you", you wonder if gestures like this are close enough to that.

He doesn't ask about work, merely sits with you and eats in silence. The brief moment of quiet feels good, comforting even. Especially in Levis presence. Despite his coarse language and tendency to maintain a glare most if not all times, you've always found him to be so... Stable. A steady wall to lean on when the world makes your stance tremble.

You really love that about him.

When you two have finished, Levi promptly cleans up the table. You assume it's okay to go back to work, but his hand lands on yours when you try to pull it back.

"You're done for the day," he says with a firm stare. The usual one he gives when he absolutely refuses to listen to any counterargument you might come up with. "We're gonna go for a walk, take you outside. Just get out of this shit and breathe some real fresh air."

"I'm not a dog," you grumble as he holds out his hand to you now to help you stand.

"Mhm," is all he says.

You two walk around the neighborhood, Levi having taken away your phone in an effort to keep you from too much more screen time. He'd return it if you really asked, but you're thankful for the restriction in all honesty.

Usually, Levi isn't the one to initiate an exorbitant amount of physical contact. It's you who tends to absentmindedly cling to his arm while you're talking. And it's generally you who comes up behind him to cover his eyes and make him guess who, despite the fact that he already knew just from the sound of your footsteps.

Most often, Levi does attend to little touches here and there. The back of your neck, the edge of your hip, the top of your thigh, along the line of your jaw. And now in this moment, it's when Levi steps up a little and takes your hand completely in his. It isn't anything new for you to hold hands, but it's rare for him to be initiator.

You appreciate that. Those moments where he's willing to be more brave about touching. It's calming, feeling his fingers between yours as your arms sway with every step.

"I'm sorry for being so short with you lately," you sigh, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk you step on. Levi always seems to make a subconscious effort not to step on them, even now.

"It's nothing. I'm always short with you, anyways..." He trails off quietly.

Your sudden snort startles him, obvious with the incredulous look on his face as you burst into a tiny fit of laughter. His brow raises in confusion.

"That wasn't even close to being a funny joke and you're still laughing?"

"It was funny to me! You're always funny."

"You're the only person in the whole world who thinks that."

"Must be why you're dating me, right?"

His hold tightens around your hand. "I'm dating you because I l-"

Levi cuts himself off and inhales through his nose, pushing his sunglasses up to hide his eyes as he recomposes himself. "I'm dating you for a multitude of reasons."

"You could be more specific."

"If you keep talking I'm gonna have fewer reasons," he clears his throat, hovering his free hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun, leaving remnants of the summer's heat on his skin.

You smile, for the first time in a few days, actually. "I thought you were trying to make me feel better."

"Hmph." Clearly, Levi has nothing else to say.

#i foudn this in my drafts??? wtf #levi ackerman x reader #drabbles #levi x reader #levi x you #tall reader #attack on titan x reader

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thecapricunt1616 · 2 months

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Lily of the Valley - (c.b. oneshot)

O/S INSPO: Lily of the Valley Soothing, calming, draws peace and tranquility, and repels negativity. Assists in empowering happiness and mental powers. Married couples should plant Lily of the Valley in their first garden to promote longevity of the marriage. POSTED DATE:03/30/2024 W/C: 4,114

A/N: FINALLY!!!! I am so sorry this took forever! This O/S is based on this adorable request from the LOML @daysofyellowroses - please check out her blog! I hope this satisfies your Carmy Proposing idea! I'm sorry it took so long i've been sick, but were back baby!!! Requests are opennnn y'all! This is also heavily inspired by my amazing OOMF @gingergofastboatsmojito - In another timeline Carmy still somehow came across Madame Stardusts jewelry (she transcends time and space that woman!) , & Stella exists too! If you want to meet more of that character in the universe Ginger created (I highly recommend you do)you can read that AMAZING FIC HERE ! Please be sure to leave kudos & comments & give Ginger all the flowers she deserves!!!

WARNINGS FOR BTC: Smut, Swearing, NO USE OF Y/N - As little physical description as possible, fluffy Carmen, OC Carmy - (He's more emotionally grown obvi hahah)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

You pushed the heavy, bulging tote bags full of groceries up your arm as you walked back to Your&Carmy’s shared Condo Building. The wildflower seeds you’d thrown on the little patches of grass on your walks to the train, along the sidewalk on your block had finally started to bloom. Adorable tiny little flowers in vibrant shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white peeking out over the sidewalk's edge.

Spring had most definitely sprung in Chicago by this point. Your commute whilst walking to work down Michigan Ave, passing the stunning array of tulips, had told you that fiercely every time you walked to and from the train this week on the way to work. It was finally Friday, and you couldn’t be happier.

Carmen had been so busy this week- busier than normal. You’d usually just hang out with your best friends to fill that pathetic, lonely void while grading papers and doing your own assignments- but they were busy this week too! You were convinced the universe had bound you to loneliness this week, so naturally, all you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed, and sleep- until Carmy came in around 2 to 3 am, and get that savored 15 minutes of cuddles after his shower, before exhaustion came over you again and you fell back asleep.

You used your special key fob to get in the door of your condo’s shared building, which to your standards was very luxurious- it included amenities you’d never even thought of. You and Carmy had moved in together 3 months ago, it took a lot of convincing on your end. You and Carmy had lived on opposite ends of town, so every time you’d see eachother, (which was very often) - it would be an hour's drive that he insisted- or, him losing the battle- and allowing you to take the train back all those stops.

You weren��t particularly religious, it was more just a personal preference - that you would be at least engaged before you were to move in together. Especially before having a mortgage together. You’d told Carmy this, and he’d given you the same answer each time over the last two years he’d been begging - “Baby we know we’re in love, you know we’re eachothers forever person - we tell eachother every day! We’ve been together 3 years, Let me take care of you”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be taken care of- it’s just…you liked working. You loved your job, you’d went to school and earned a masters degree for Christ sake, and were currently working on your PHD. You couldn’t ever see yourself giving that up, and moving in with a boyfriend and him insisting on paying all the bills made you fear you’d fall pregnant, and then your professional life would be over.

But, Carmen had insisted to you he wasn’t interested in children unless you were. You were sure at one point you never wanted them, but you were becoming more afraid, because seeing as amazing an uncle Carmen was, how naturally kind and understanding he was of children- it brought out something in you. It was so sudden that you could imagine turning your shared library / art studio into a nursery during slow time at work.

You walked down the hall, in no rush to be home. The only presence waiting being your cat, Truffle, Carmy had insisted on the name due to his deep black fur.

You approached the door, confused as to why you were hearing…music? From your apartment? You shook the hope of Carmy being home this early away, not wanting to be dissapointed. The neighbors downstairs must be blasting that same kind of jazz instrumental Carmy listens to so loud that you heard it through the floor.

You unlock the door, and sure enough the music playing softly through the condo gets a tad louder but the first thing to catch your eye was the white and pink rose petals making a trail to the kitchen. You heard Carmy humming lightly, the sound of chopping on the cutting board.

“Bear?” You quickly nudge the door shut with your hip, not even bothering to take your shoes off and rushing down the hall into the kitchen. Sitting atop the breakfast bar, was a vase packed with beautiful pink and white roses.

He looks up from the cutting board “My favorite girl” he stops what he was doing immediately coming and taking the bags from your shoulders, setting them down before greeting you with a sweet kiss. He cupped your cheeks gently, pulling you in to him so you were flush together with his other hand.

“You used our card f’that right?” He asked softly when he pulled away. You roll your eyes a bit, he had insisted you get a shared credit card, and that you purchase everything with it- and at the end of the month, he will show you the statement, and only pay a quarter of the total, just another one of the ways he assured every financial burden of yours was eased significantly.

“Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important.

“No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks.

“That’s so sweet Bear. Thank you I love you, this is…no one’s ever done this- oh my god- are those balloons?” You giggled, seeing heart shaped foil balloons tied to your chair at the table and he smiled proudly.

“Mmhmm, the lady at the flower place said that - we can talk about it later. You wanna cook w’me? You can just watch if you want?” He asked, gently brushing his fingers through your hair.

“I never turn down a lesson from the best, let me go get changed real quick” you headed toward the bedroom and he stopped you by your hand pulling you back into his chest, kissing your neck with wet open mouth kisses earning a giggle that you couldn’t contain.

“Mmm- don’t go in there right now, it’s for later. I already got your pajamas right here” he said going over to the couch and grabbing your favorite pair of sweatpants and his old ‘the beef’ tshirt that to you was the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he wore it to bed for a few nights before giving it back.

“For later huh?” You muse, taking off your heeled booties and unbuttoning your slacks before peeling them off and trading them for your soft fuzzy grey sweatpants.

“Mmhmm” he hummed in response and took your pants for you and your blouse and bra as well, bringing them to the laundry room as you put the shirt on and got your hair situated into a bun.

“What are we cooking today, chef?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to see there were little bowls of vegetables that have been precut and you gasp happily. “Stop- are we really?” You giggled.

“I told you that it’s easy baby but you hate eggplant so ratatouille isn’t gonna be something you’re a big fan of” he chuckled. You had watched the movie with him, and told him that the ratatouille dish looked insanely delicious and that you wanted him to make it for you, but he told you your aversion to eggplant would probably turn you off the dish.

“But there isn’t eggplant” you said looking over the dishes filled with various vegetables.

“That’s right, this is princess ratatouille. I’ve been figurin’ out different vegetables w’Syd that would work for it, we finally got it right. We have zucchini and a few different squashes, and we have onion and garlic, tomato, bell pepper, everything you like. I think you’ll love it baby.” He said rubbing your back gently.

“Of course I’m gonna love it bear, I love everything we make together you have the magic touch. So what’s my job?” You asked eagerly.

“You my special sous chef, are gonna help put the veggies in and I’m gonna do the sauce” He kissed your temple gently.

“Ok! Let me get my apron” You said, happily turning to the drawer you kept your aprons in.

“Wait-” he said, holding your arm. You look back at him and he looked…nervous.”Is…something wrong?” You questioned, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“No- no I um….i got you a new one” he said sheepishly, walking over to the island and opening up the cupboard beneath you never used.

“Oh- ok..Leveling up are we?” You joked, happily leaning against the counter.

“Jesus-” he chuckled, “Close y’r fuckin eyes- carnival psychic” he teases and you laughed, obliging and closing your eyes.

“Carnival psychic?” you asked and he came over gently putting bundle of fabric in your awaiting hands.

“I swear t’god- you went snoopin’? Open your eyes” he said. You opened your eyes, looking into your hands and seeing an apron. It was white, just like his, and folded perfectly. In thick black letters, intricately painted, ‘ Will You Marry Me? ‘ Adorned with a little red heart over the center pocket that had a square shaped bump.

You felt all of the blood leave your face, your knees feeling wobbly, your mouth gaping in to an O shape, as you stare down at the apron. “Where did you get this?” you whispered, completely awestruck.

“I-I…um…made it?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I- shit. Fuck- is this not how you pictured it? I’m so fuckin sorry babe- I-I thought…I dunno- like.. You wanted it private? Cause I know you said you’d never-” he’s interrupted by your lips crashing on his in a fervent wanting kiss, a mix of spit and teeth and lips and tongues, he moans softly into your mouth, squeezing your waist.

You were pressed together so firmly that the small box dug into your ribs, eventually pulling away from him with shaking hands and reaching into the pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. You ever so carefully opened it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the absolutely breathtaking ring.

“I-it’s not uh..not a diamond- cause I know you said-” you interrupt him

“Princesses and Queens don’t wear diamonds, they wear crystals” you finished, staring at the beautifully cut opal, at least 8 carats, banded by a intricate edwardian band… nothing short of a ring for a Goddess.

“But..But- this one…it does- it has both…because uh” he swallows thickly. “It…in my mind- when I s-saw it, it represented your soul, and your physical body.. And I liked that. Cause- y’re my diamond, but you’re also my queen, my everything, baby. Like how - how you said that…you wished your aura was opal? It is. It is, angel. And every time you look at that, I want you to remember that you’re beautiful from your diamond exterior, to your opal soul” he brushed his finger over the ring, before meeting your gaze once again.

He gently wiped the tears that were running down your cheeks freely, hot and wet and open. It was rare that Carmy genuinely used his words rather then his actions to express his love for you, so you were nothing short of savoring this. “Holy fucking shit” you laughed, shaking your head and looking down at the ring box. “Put it on my hand” you held your left hand out.

He chuckled a bit, “so… yes? You will?” he asked carefully, pulling the ring out of the box.

“Are you kidding, YES! Put this ring on my finger and fuck me dumb- this is all i’ve ever wanted, Bear, I fucking love you- and youre asking if I want you to be my husband?! I’ve wanted nothing more for two years- at least!” you shake your left hand for emphasis, a wide large grin on your face.

He carefully slid the ring over your manicured finger, and it just made you cry more how it fit perfectly. “How do you know my size?!” you asked, since most of the vintage rings he'd bought you were adjustable so it didn't matter the size of the rings he’d gotten for you before.

He chuckled a bit, “so- y’re ring…y’know the one…y’thought you lost it at Chipotle like…ahhh- 8 months ago now? In the bathroom? Y’took it off at the table, you wore it on your ring finger so I had to take my chance. You kept sayin how it was like- the only ring you’d found that fit without takin’ it to the jewler. So uh” he dug in his jeans pocket, placing your beloved vintage ring with your starsign on it in your palm.

“I got that ring, based on the size. I got it uhhh…sorry dont be offended- it’s not new… I got it at an estate sale of this lady- it was crazy- the way I came across it babe… like fate. It was when Syd and I went to New York for that interview, she literally dragged me to this sale cause she said the lady who died was said to have a bunch of vintage fur and stuff she was looking f’somethin- anyway. We met the lady’s daughter- Stella? I think it was? Doesn’t matter… but she um..said her Ma was some crazy astrology nut, also said she only wore crystals. So I took a look… that was the first box I opened. And y’ring on my pinky, it fit perfect, so I tried it on- it fit like a glove. I’m glad we don't have to size it. Asked her if it was real, she said - her Ma told ‘er some…. Like life coach? Er- astrologer life coach author? Gave it to ‘er on a trip to Jamaica in the 60’s. Told ‘er ‘this ring will someday be worn on a hand proudly as a devotion of true love’- Miss- No! Madame ! Madame Stardust. Nutty name right?” he chuckled a bit.

You smiled proudly at the ring, a devotion of true love indeed. “I think” you turned to the counter, stacking the bowls of vegetables together and putting them in the fridge as you friskily countered “you are not going in to work at all next week- wifes orders” you walked over to him, hips swaying. “And after you fuck me absolutely stupid” you grabbed his collar, pulling him in so your faces were meer inches apart “Oh- and we talk about how this mademe stardust? Confirms that our souls are indeed woven together like a fucking wicker basket” you kiss him roughly, weaving your fingers through his dirty blonde curls and tugging firmly.

He moaned into your mouth, his hands trailing down and squeezing your ass firmly. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning against him and he stumbled back, back, back, pushing the bedroom door open with a squeak. You looked up, Breaking your kiss with wide eyes.

All throughout the bedroom, were printed photos of you and Carmy throughout the years, suspended with clear wire so it was as if the photos were floating midair. You clasp your hands over your mouth, admiring all the hard work and pure thought that had went into the gesture. You looked over all the photos, three years of memories hanging before you like a gallery of love surrounding you, all of your fondest happiest memories at every flicker of your eyes.

“Carmen” you whispered, walking forward and admiring each and every photograph…

He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Y’know how you said no work next week…” he said softly, kissing up your neck with wet, sexy, open mouthed kisses. “We leave Sunday… F’Cyprus” He said hotly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck causing a moan to escape your lips as he gently lifts your shirt, palming your breast gently.

“Is- is that-” you breathe out

“We’re getting a tour of Aphrodites Baths” he said softly, rolling your taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah- y-you remembered?” you gasped, he let out a soft deep chuckle, Kissing the corner of your mouth and gently laying you down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed.

“I’d have proposed over a year ago- when I got the fuckin’ ring if i coulda gotten us the tour sooner” he muttered into your skin, tugging off your- (his) shirt, leaving supple, gentle kisses over your stomach and up your ribs.

“Mm- are we- can we swim?” I asked hopefully.

He gently wipes your tears away, “No” he said a bit sadly, “We can dip our hands… some asshole ruined swimming for people years ago…before we met…but- we were also gonna Parga Greece, baby. We’re spending 2 days in Cyprus, then flying to Parga on a charter- we can swim, fuck, do whatever in those waters baby. Amidst the Goddess of the Underworld f’five whole days” he smirked and you gasped, as if he’d gotten you the moon on a string.

“The Acheron River?” you whisper and he nodded, gently rubbing his thumb over your lips.

“That is the sexiest thing i’ve ever heard in my life- you’re gonna make me cum in the 2nd most famous river of Hell?” you giggled and he snorts a laugh, pushing you on the bed gently.

“Fuck yeah, you little fuckin’ freak” he teased, tugging off your panties and sweatpants in one swift pull, leaving you soaked and bare before him.

You gasped at the rough action, quickly being soothed by soft, sweet kisses over your hipbones.

“I fuckin smell y’kitten fuck” he growled, kissing the inner of your thigh in the way that made you creen.

“Shit- good- right? If y’compared me to a seafood market i’d break your nose” you teased, hooking the crooks of your knees over his shoulders, shivering when he leaned in closer, his hot breath directly over your clit- his lapis blue eyes boring into yours.

“That question doesn’t deserve an answer” he grumbled hotly, spreading your folds with his fingers and admiring the wet, slick, mess in front of him. “S’fuckin pretty princess- fuckin’ prettiest pussy in the world” he nearly moaned, burrying his mouth where you needed him most, eyes fixed on yours.

You couldn’t even make a sound- a hot breathy gasp escaping your slack-jawed stance as your head flopped back on the mattress with a soft bounce. “Mmmmm shit” Carmy hummed, satisfied with your taste as if he was devouring his favorite dessert.

“F-Ffuuuckkk” you whimpered out pathetically, voice cracking and bleeding out between the fracture lines of your hot intense pleasure.

“Mmhmm-mmmhmmm” Carmy mumbled confidently against your now firm clit, tongue flicking over it at a mind-numbing pace, bringing you right to the edge and hanging you there by a single finger.

“Ahhhh-Ahhhh-Fuck!! Carmy! Oh- ohhhh!!!” You whined, spine pointing in an arch off the mattress, your hips and thighs quivering and shaking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you like hot lightning before you could even warn him, or know yourself it was so close.

“Goooood girl, thats it- mm- my good fuckin’ girl- Y’gonna be my fuckin’ wife baby? Mmm? Gonna be mine? F’rever?” He grumbled, placing a gentle kiss to your clit before placing gentle yet firm pressure over it with the pad of his tongue that made your hips buck with a mind of their own.

He chuckled slightly into your heat, the vibration causing you to whine pathetically. “Y-yes-yes-fuck i’mfuckinyoursBear-y’gonnamakemey’wife? Yeah? Gonna make me Mrs. fuckin Carmen Berzatto?” you slurred, pulling him into a messy wanting kiss, soughing at the flavor of your core coating his spit.

“Fuckin- spit in my fucking mouth- claim me” you groaned. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly, a thick hot string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“So fuckin dirty” he grumbled with a smirk “Open that filthy fucking mouth” he ordered, getting quiet for a moment as he gathered saliva in the front of his mouth.

You obeyed him immediately - your jaw going slack, tongue stuck out ever so slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Then- you felt it, hot, sweet, salty saliva coating your tongue, you groan at the flavor as it continues pooling over your tastebuds. “Do not fucking swallow yet- greedy girl” he tapped your chin firmly, before pulling your jaw open wider with Tthe pad of his thumb.

“Stick out that pretty little tongue” he grumbled, you obeyed with a smile, opening wide as you could, sticking your tongue out far, showing off the creamy white saliva he’d dressed your tongue in, so much it was seeping down onto your chin, threatening to coat the front and back of your throat.

“Good girl- that's my good little kitten” he purred, “How d’you want me princess?” he gently collected the excess saliva from your chin on his thumb, sucking it off his digit hotly as he awaits your response while you swallow gratefully, the taste setting your soul ablaze.

“I want you to fucking claim me, Carmy, holy fuck- use me, worship me, fuck me like a goddamn animal- whatever you fucking want- please” you begged after you’d savored the taste while you swallowed, his sky blue eyes going dark as navy slacks with lust at the admission.

“Yeah? Why not all three?” he pushed you down to the mattress by your throat, not hard enough to bruise- but hard enough for the breath to leave your lungs and your core to throb so hard you were clenching your thighs, trying to give any solace of pressure to your swollen aching clit.

“P-please” you stuttered, writhing against the mattress and he chuckled darkly.

“Are we a little needy? Mmm princess?” he pushes your knees apart with his thigh, aiding the throbbing pressure with his strong fingers, rubbing firm, slow circles into the twitching bud that made your hips snap into the mattress and head fall back to the bed, eyes rolling back with a sharp gasp of pleasure.

“Pl-please-” you gasp out, spine arching sharply as he replaced his fingers with his mouth on your clit, 2 fingers slipping inside of you with no resistance due to the fact your core was so soaked it was beginning to pool at the dip of your bum and soak the sheets. The squelching as he pumped into your g-spot mixed with your high-pitched moans and frisky growls was absolute sin.

He opens his jaw wider, tonguing your entrance wildly and nuzzling his strong nose against your clit in broad strokes, randomly flicking back and forth quickly making you squeal in pleasure as you grind against his mouth, fully out of control of your movements as if you were a puppet on a string.

“H-Hooooo-i’m cumming- oh- don’t you dare fucking stop Carmen” you growled, grabbing his curls and pullinghim further into your core. “I’m cumming- i’mcumming-holy-holyfuck-imfuuuckiing-AAAH!” your thighs and hips shake and quiver, stars of ethereal white filling your vision.

“Mmhmmm” he grumbled, coming up and sucking your nipple with his slick lips, his chin and nose soaked with your arousal, so much so his chin dripped onto your ribs.

“H-Oh-yes Bear” you whined out, head tilting to meet his gaze. “I need you- I-I need you inside- like- fuck- when you- you have my knees around your hips and y-you fuckin’- just drill me Carmy- I need that- need you deep” You reverberated wantingly, wrapping your thighs around his waist taughtly, making it easier for him to take you exactly how you wanted.

“Jesus Christ- I can’t fuckin’ stand y’baby. Y’re like a fuckin’ drug- it’s like I fuckin’ function unless I’ve had a hit” he nibbed your collarbone, quickly removing his jeans and boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

You gave him a mischievous smile, inching your hips forward. “C’mon- I don’t give a fuck ‘bout cooking right now- fuck me absolutely dumb- then take me to Sam’s f’r chocolate chip pancakes- sure that waitress will be over the moon bout my ring” you mused, capturing our lips together, as he scoops up your shoulders and holds you chest to chest, your third of many orgasms that night building throughout every muscle.

It was going to be a long night….

#carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #the bear fic #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fandom #borders & banners by saradika

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jnginlov · 10 months

Text

i love you, again

your boyfriend has a bit of an endearing habit when he gets drunk and after a stressful day you couldn’t be happier to hear it

⇀ pairing s.coups x reader

⇀ genre fluff, slight hurt/comfort (but just the comfort)

⇀ style one-shot/blurb

⇀ word count 1.6k

⇀ warnings drinking (reader has wine, cheol is drunk), talk of being stressed, food, so sickly sweet

⇀ reactions from the gc “You love me so much🥹this was perfect”

note i wrote this MONTHS ago for syd and i guess myself cause i had the shittiest week known to man (ignore the formatting idk why i was writing with capitalization bleh)

Seungcheol wasn’t known to be a lightweight, especially compared to some of his other band mates, but there were certainly times when he’d gotten past the point of making sense. You predicted that tonight might be one of those when he’d texted you that he and the boys were all going out to celebrate the end of their incredibly successful promotions for their latest comeback. Usually he might invite you to tag along, as many of the members enjoyed bringing their partner along, but he knew you’d had a tough day, the kind only recovered from by alone time, so he had let you know where they were all going and that he’d probably be home a bit late, and you were honestly a bit thankful that you would have the entire apartment to yourself for the next few hours at least. You loved your boyfriend, but honestly if you had to interact with another person face-to-face for very much longer before you had your personal decompression time, you might just break down.

So, when you get home you move as slowly as you feel like, pouring yourself a glass of wine, running a bath with your favorite bubble mix, that you remind yourself to thank your boyfriend for restocking earlier in the week, and ordering your favorite comfort food to be delivered just before your skin would start to wrinkle in the water. Once you’ve settled onto the couch with your food and pulled up your favorite movie you can already feel that most of the day has melted off your shoulders.

As the movie ends you check your phone for the first time since you've gotten home, there are a few notifications from your friends and a couple messages from Jeonghan. You two are certainly friends but he’s not really a casual texter so you’re slightly confused until you notice the images he’d attached.

The first picture is just Seungcheol, a candid of him laughing at something one of the other boys must of done or said. He was always better at taking those aesthetic boyfriend pictures of Cheol than you were, but you like to blame it on the years of practice he had before you even knew either of them. The second picture is obviously from later in the night, and you notice that it was only sent a few minutes ago. There are several empty glasses in front of your boyfriend, and you can spot at least three empty soju bottles, but most notably he is very cutely posing for the camera, a blush dusting his cheeks as he pouts his lips.

You giggle as you reply to Jeonghan with a quick and simple laughing emoji before you place your phone back next to you on the couch and set up for your second movie of the night. You don’t feel a buzz next to you for the entire first act of the film, Jeonghan often not responding unless he has something else to say, but just as the main character is starting to reach the peak of their conflict your phone lights up with a call from your likely very drunk boyfriend.

You answer as soon as the movie is paused, smiling gently as you say, “Hi Cheolie.”

You hear his muffled giggle on the other side of the line before he replies with a drawn out, “Hiiii.”

“What’s up?” you ask, knowing that he must have called you for a reason.

He giggles again, although this time he forgets to cover the microphone and you can hear the tinkle of his laugh as clearly as your phone speaker will allow. His giggles always had the same effect on you, feeling light stream between your ribs as butterflies brush against your stomach. Instantly the rest of the tension you’d been holding in your body seems to melt away, swallowed by the love struck smile your boyfriend has to be wearing on his face based on the way his next few words come out.

“Hmm, I want to tell you something.” He says it lightly and you’re starting to realize how gone he must be. You can faintly hear the muffled sounds of the bar he’d been at for the past several hours but you figure he must have stepped out of the main room, if not all the way outside, because the background sounds don’t cover his words at all. “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” you reply quickly, telling the truth even though you’re familiar with the secret he’s about to spill.

Every few months, once your boyfriend has gotten sufficiently inebriated, his memory will seem to fail him and he will forget how far you’d gotten into your relationship. This means that wherever he is, whatever he is doing he will suddenly have a burst of longing for you and will need to “tell you something”. This something is always along the lines of how much he loves you but he will treat this fact, that you already know and had probably heard him tell you at least five times that day alone, as though it’s a new confession. The other boys think it’s funny but you find it adorable that the man you love returns your feelings so strongly that he basically can’t keep them to himself even if he’s not sure you two are even in a relationship.

You hear Seungcheol take a deep breath through the phone before he says, “Okay but it’s really important.”

You chuckle lightly in admiration and try to control your smile as you reply. “Would you rather do it in person?” you ask, never having this happen with him over the phone. Usually this would happen when you were together drinking, so although you’d had a glass of wine earlier you were certainly more sober than you’d been any other time he’d done this.

“No!” he practically shouts in response. “I’m too nervous,” he responds quietly, although his words are slurring together and so you almost don’t hear him.

“Okay,” you say fondly, your own smile no longer able to be fought off by your self control. “I’m listening,” you reassure him as another chuckle slips past your lips.

He takes a pause and you almost wonder if he’s going to not say it. Maybe you misread the situation and he is actually telling you something that you’d rather hear in person. You feel a bubble of doubt form in the bottom of your stomach, itching with nerves as you wait for your boyfriend to stumble through his next words.

As soon as he’s opened his mouth you feel that bubble pop and the itching is replaced with warmth as he, as clearly as he can with all the alcohol running through his system, says, “I love you.” It’s a firm statement, said with the tone of a fact but the way you can practically feel Seungcheol’s tension radiating through the phone almost makes it feel like a question.

“I love you too,” your reply rolling off your tongue as easy as every time you say it to him but never losing any of the tenderness you hold for your lover.

Seungcheol suddenly releases a breath on the other end of the line and you can almost hear his lips stretch into the loving smile he always gives you after hearing those words.

The next few moments are filled with comfortable silence and you’re almost afraid to break it before you ask, “When are you coming home?”

This seems to almost bring him back for a moment as he must be remembering that, not only is this not the first time he’s told you he loves you but, he shares an apartment with you, where he gets to go to bed with you every night and wake up to you every morning. You’re patient as you wait for him to catch up and you almost feel bad for ruining his romantic alcohol related fantasy until he has suddenly come back to reality.

“Right now,” he says with an urgency, and you can hear him open the door that had separated him from the commotion of the main room. “I want to hold you,” he adds as a sort of explanation and you faintly hear the sounds of Jeonghan calling your boyfriend’s name.

“I’m all yours,” you reply with a light giggle, shaking your head as you get up to move to the bed, turning off your forgotten movie and packing your leftovers for the fridge.

“Wow,” he breaths out faintly in disbelief causing you to let out another giggle.

“I love you,” you remind him, partly just to hear him sigh in that lovestruck way he does when he’s in this mood. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” you add and you can hear him drop something or bump into something as all the other boys groan at him and you laugh.

“I love you too, bye,” he says quickly as you can hear the boys starting to hound him about what he’s doing before he hangs up.

As you bring the phone away from your ear you notice how different you feel from when you first got home and even from just before your boyfriend called you. The stress from your day had dissipated almost completely and you almost forgot that you’d originally wanted to spend your night alone. So as you get comfortable in bed, and wait for your sweet Cheol to join you, you make a mental note to allow yourself to enjoy your boyfriend’s healing energy when you might feel like isolating again.

↼ misc masterlist

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koishiro · 8 months

Note

bakugo headcannons with a shy s/o? Just cute lil moments in their relationship. Completely fine if you don't want to write it! Have a good day/night! ❤️

# - 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐒/𝐎

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒍 : this was so much fun to write!! Thank you so much for the request nonnie! ♡

masterlist | bnha masterlist

Everyone always wonders how you both got together

Loud and (usually) angry Bakugo with a shy and quiet s/o? How’d that happen?

It was simply really,

You would’ve caught his attention by simply sitting in the corner of the classroom minding your own business

Everyone else in the classroom is loud and annoying while you’re just trying to get through the day unnoticed

He would start lightly picking on you like throwing paper airplanes at your head, poke your side or hold your books above your head so he can watch you struggle to reach them with a small grin on his face

He wouldn’t really understand that he’s developed a crush on you for a good while though…

At first you thought he was (kinda) bullying you but you’d notice the difference between him ‘picking’ on you over the others

He’d literally scream and threaten to blow them up if they don’t shut up but when it came to you he’d lower his voice and do simple things to grab your attention

He’d eventually calm down on the ‘picking’ and would actually start socialising with you

It would take Bakugo a few months to realise his feelings but when he does he’d be unusually nervous around you

You wrap your arms around him? He’s blushing. You ruffle his hair? He’s mixing up his words. You so much as brush an eyelash off his cheek and he’s having an internal melt down

It would get to the point of someone (more than likely Kirishima) who jokes that you two act like a couple when Bakugo’s answer would be, “might as well be”

But his official way of asking you out would be in the middle of a conversation:

Sitting in the far booth of the diner, you and Bakugo had spent hours talking as he picked at your fries when he leans across the table to wipe something from the corner of your lips. "Kats," you say in a small voice, "you cant do that, only couples do that!" He stares at you blankly before asking “do you want to?”. Your eyebrows knit together as you reply with confusion "want to what?". His response is simple yet nonetheless shocking as he leans back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest; “Date” you nearly spat your drink out at this, spluttering for a reply, “what? Well-uhm, I mean-us? I suppose so-” “then it’s sorted. We’re a couple”

Expect Kirishima’s response being “finally, ‘bout time you asked them out”

Bakugo was 👌 close to blowing him up

Everyone would be surprised at how quiet and calm he is when you’re around

He could be throwing a complete fit at any time, anywhere but when you walk in? He’d zip his mouth real fast

Mina once walked into class early only to find you both cuddled up in the back with your legs on his lap, while you both watched something on your phone

She took a sneaky photo and sent it to you. You didn’t even need to look back at Bakugo to know he was red in the face.

He’s also very protective of you

A lot of people presume you’re weak since you’re so quiet which results in you getting picked on quite often;

Name calling you in the halls, pencil’s thrown at you in class or just simply spreading rumours and/or gossip around school

But when your boyfriend finds out?

It’s safe to say they won’t be bothering you anymore, not while they sport a fresh cast at least.

Expect to be paired with Bakuko for practice every single time so he can specifically watch over you and make sure no one will injure you too badly.

If you don’t have class with Bakugo expect to find him waiting for you outside your classroom so he can walk you to your next class 😌

And you best know that he’s saving you a seat if you get to class late and will practically growl at anyone who comes close.

He’ll always deny that he likes the affection you show him but will (not so) discreetly give you things that remind him of you or will get that thing you wanted just so you can pepper his face in kisses.

And don’t bring up the fact that he keeps your hair ties and the lipgloss you forgot in his bag because he’ll deny that too <3

I can imagine you just minding your own business at your locker when he drags himself towards you and leans his head on top of yours just cause 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bakugo would just be an all-round perfect bf 😩

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

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romanticintheory · 1 month

Note

Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x you #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish imagine #soap imagine #cod mw x reader #soap x y/n #johnny mactavish x y/n #rarawrites

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multifandomwhore-003 · 8 months

Text

Random Hazel Callahan headcanons that have been rotting my brain for the past couple of days:

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x female! reader

Summary: Not needed

Genre(s): a little angsty at first, after that's it's just pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of trauma and maladaptive daydreaming

A/N: I'M GONNA WRITE MORE FOR HER BECAUSE I NEED IT SO STAY TUNED, also I listened to False God by Taylor Swift the entire time I wrote this.

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk , join tag list here

• She has horrible listening skills, usually her house has been a pretty noisy and chaotic place, even before her parents divorced, so she's learned to mute the outside world.

• It tends to annoy pretty much everyone else outside the fight club, the only exception being PJ, she perhaps got annoyed more than anyone.

• When you first noticed you had to repeat yourself at least five times whenever she was around, you tried to come up with different ways for her to keep up, like texting her as you spoke so she could read it as much as she needed to.

• Later on you found out it wasn't just about losing track of a conversation, as you asked to borrow one of her headphones one time, you were shocked her ears weren't bleeding right then and there.

"Fucking hell, Hazel! Are you trying to break your ears or something?" your ears hurt for a second.

"It's not loud at all" She placed them on her neck.

"Baby, I can hear the music coming out of those things like a concert speaker,"

• You decided to invite her over to your house as often as possible, demanding a no-headphones rule.

"Why not?!" she complained.

"Because you're gonna be completely deaf at the age of 40!"

"And you'll be there to teach me sign language, right?" she hugged your waist.

"You're saying you prefer not hearing my voice for the rest of our lives?" you lifted a brow.

• The realazation dawned on her.

• To this day she hasn't worn headphones a single day in her life.

• Maladaptive daydreaming is also something she struggles with, not as much now as she used to in middle school and the first two years of high school, but it still happens sometimes.

• You found out when you decided to surprise her by coming to her house one day

• Mrs. Callahan said she couldn't get in contact with Hazel, for whatever reason.

• Most likely her phone turned off since it was out of battery.

• So she texted you she was gonna be missing all night, permitted you to stay the night, and told you to take care of Hazel.

• You found her in the kitchen yelling, it sounded as if she was yelling at someone.

"Are you ever gonna choose me over a booty call?! How is it that Jeff's dick is more important than me?! Your daughter! You fucking pushed me out and you still can't even ask me how my grades are doing and shit!"

• Your first thought was —Her mom's plans must've been canceled—

• As you approached the room as quietly as possible, you looked through the rim of the entrance, there was no one.

"Hazel," you spoke quietly through her screams.

A shiver went down her spine, he face turned white, she blinked a couple of times before turnind her head, "How much of that did you hear?" she avoided your eyes.

"I've never heard you like that," was all you could mutter as you approached her slowly and then embraced her in a hug, "I know you're not insane by the way," you whispered in her hair.

She began to cry.

• She didn't want to talk about it for the next few days

• When she did, she stumbled upon her words, talked too fast, and teared up every once in a sentence.

"Call me first," you cupped her face, "I'll never judge you for whatever you have to say,"

• She wanted to kiss you right then and there, but just rested her forehead on yours, an act of ultimate intimacy.

• I could get into the divorced parents' trauma for hours because same

• But for now I'll move on to the happy part

• Physical touch is the absolute most pure form of love she can give

• If she's not hugging your waist at all times, she's holding your hand, resting her head on your chest, shoulders, legs, etc. pretty much everywhere she can

• If you have long or medium hair she'll attempt to braid your hair, keyword attempt

• If you have short hair she'll buy little elastic ponytails to tie them around your head everywhere she can

• Her reasoning behind this is that her favorite plants are cactuses

• That's it, that's all the reasons she needs

• If you happen to be bald she'll rub your head while singing the chorus to Diamonds by Rihanna

• She plays ukelele

• She knows how to make a few origami figures and if she tries a new one, as crumbled and sweaty as it is she gives it to you

• You have a whole shelf in your room dedicated to every piece of folded paper she's ever done for you

• If you're more of a fem! girl, she'll try something of yours whenever she comes over and stare at her reflection for hours

"Good thing, god didn't make me straight, she knew I would be a menace,"

• You can only roll your eyes and laugh at her twirling and pretending to dance ballet in your dresses and skirts

• If she happens to go shopping without you, she'll try something you'll like and send you the photo after

"If it looks this good on me, imagine how AMAZING it'll look on you,"

• She once asked you to put makeup on her, she'll say she was just curious how she'd look

• She wasn't lying, but she also didn't mention she just wanted to recreate this picture:

• If you happen to be more of a masc! girl, you'll trade clothes as often as you can think

• More than once you have arrived at school with something she likes and just drags you to the bathroom to for you to make the exchange

• It's not her clothes and your clothes anymore, everything you own is hers and vice versa

• More often than not you're no longer sure what used to be only yours

• This goes for accessories and shoes as well, even if they don't fit her, she'll fill them up with toilet paper until they fit just fine

• You'll match AT LEAST once a week, as per her request of course

• She tries all kinds of chips (or crisps for my British luvs) she has tried every flavor and seasoning, but her favorites and the flaming hot ones, even if she ends up chugging your waterbottle after finishing the bag

• Although her parents are rich and taught her from a young age to be a precise wine taster, she's a tequila and vodka girl

• She hates gloomy and rainy days because they bring down her mood, but spending the day binge-watching cheesy movies and stuffing her stomach with all the snacks o her house makes it up

• She's ABSOLUTE SHIT at Karaoke, but my god does she have the spirit

• Her go-to song is Lies by Fleetwood Mac, but if she's drunk enough to gain confidence she'll request Easy On Me by Adele

• If she insists for long enough and you decide to sing with her, she 100% will try to recreate the following musical numbers:

• Lay all you love on me -Mamma Mia

• Every duet there is in Teen Beach Movie, her favorite childhood movie

• The cellblock tango -Chicago and Ex-Wives -from Six, if the rest of the fight club joins as well

• Popular from Wicked, strangely enough, she's Glinda

• Seventeen -Heathers

• Candy Store -Heathers featuring Isabel as Heather Mc Namara, Josie as Martha Dunnstock, and PJ as Veronica (She was heavily forced to after Brittany suggested it)

• Smooth Criminal -The Glee cast cover

• If you're a good singer, or at least a decent one, at the end of the song she'll hype you up more than anyone in the crowd, even carry you (this also applies to my plus size! lovelies, DON'T YOU WORRY, she has muscles)

• If you're a bad singer, then you'll be shit together, the worse your voices sound, the better you'll enjoy it

• Onto the kissing and overall more stereotypical relationship stuff, aka the not-so-comfortable part of my asexual-spectrum girlies.

• As previously shown in the original material

• Kissing is slow and passionate, she likes to enjoy your lips as much as possible, taking in every movement, taste, and breath

• Hands on your jaw and neck EVERY FUCKING TIME

• The first few times you offered her some chapstick or lipstick, or lipgloss, or lip oil, or anything, she would kiss you making you chuckle in surprise

• Now you don't even need to ask, she'll just be like

"Hey, your lips look beautiful," and peck you on the lips

• If you're alone it definitely turns into a whole makeout session

• She just claims it tastes too good not to do it

• Every once in a while she'll hug you from behind and aggressively kiss your cheek

• Good luck kisses before every test

• Her favorite kind of dates are picnic dates

• She takes pictures of the sky whenever she feels it matches your vibe

• She takes A LOT of pictures of you ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, she even went as far as to buy a film camera because they make everything more magical

• She reads A LOT

• She obviously knows too much about social injustices and everything regarding that realm, but she likes other things as well

• Avid fantasy reader, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES,

• Going back to this need for escapism, she was heavily raised by George R.R. Martin and Leigh Bardugo

• Definitely screamed, jumped, and overall looked like she was in a sugar rush when both Game of Thrones and Shadow and Bone came out

• She wasn't exactly allowed to watch Game of Thrones at the time it came out, so she watched when she was 16 instead

• Shadow and Bone, however, oh boy, it was whole event

• She cosplayed Sturmhond and made you cosplay as Zoya

That's it for now children, if I come up with anything else I'll do a part two or even better write something more complete

#hazel callahan bottoms movie #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan angst

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scorpioriesling · 2 months

Text

Casual (pt. 1)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Azriel x reader, light Cassian x reader

Warnings: drinking, smut allusions, light foul language

Summary: Usually not one to go out, you decide to try it out one night, knowing the Inner Circle comes to the bar you work at. You’re hoping to maybe see them during the hours you work… what happens if you see them when you’re off the clock?

SR’s Note: This one will most certainly have multiple parts as I tend to get carried away I’m SORRY <3 Heavily inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan… I listened while thinking this one up and writing it, if you wanted to listen while reading along!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your weekly routine was generally the same; you worked behind the bar at Rita’s full-time, and spent most of your afternoons in the library— preferably, the wing that held the maps. Over the last few years, you’d taken an interest in Prythian’s history, and chose to spend extra time studying the geographical documents that had you’d become to intrigued by. Maybe, if you’d be able to learn enough and teach yourself sufficiently, you could get yourself a better job than mixing drinks from 9-5 each day at Rita’s.

It wasn’t all bad; for one, you really liked your coworkers. Your manager was cool, and the security of the bar left you feeling safe, even on the bad nights and weekends when you were asked to work a double or come in for extra hours. It wasn’t necessarily in the “bad part” of Velaris, if you could consider the lovely hidden city to have any “bad parts”— it was just an area that potbelly’s and drunkards liked to hang out until the wee hours of the morning.

Aside from the people you worked with, the customers were generally a good group too. A mixture of all kinds from the Night Court would come in, but what was most exciting was when the Inner Circle would visit — which happened more often than not, you had noticed. They started coming around more on Thursdays and Fridays, so you would casually hang around and chat with coworkers in hopes of possibly seeing the rulers of the court you called home a time or two.

Well, at least it started with that.

Then, you started picking up a couple extra hours on Thursdays. Maybe one or two, here and there. Just to cover rent and have extra spending money.

“How else am I paying for rounds later?” You teased, your closest coworker, Clayre, noticing the uptake in hours you’d started working. She’d only shrugged and shook her head at you.

“Just wondering. It’s unlike you; I figured you’d rather spend your weekends poring over those dusty pages in the library.”

A few extra hours wouldn’t matter, you still had the whole weekend off to yourself to spend studying those maps and working on bettering your knowledge. What would matter was when you changed not only the extra hours, but the lifestyle; not a party girl at heart, you finally started taking your coworkers up on their offers to hang out after hours, thus spending more time at your job and less in the library. This was a surprise to the people you shared eight hours of your every day with, but they were excited to finally get to hang out with you. Clayre seemed to think maybe something else was at play though.

“I’m just surprised you’re sacrificing any time you could have to be looking at those same old maps is all I’m saying,” she says, wiping down the bar one afternoon during a shift she shared with you. It was around 4:30 pm on a Friday, and you had plans to meet up with everyone here later tonight. She wasn’t wrong, by now she knew you well enough and knew you wanted a better life for yourself in your career; but she what she hadn’t caught onto yet was the master plan at play in other aspects of your life, which would involve getting out there more and meeting people. Rita’s was the place to be, the place to meet anyone and everyone, and seeing as it was a summer Friday night, it was a perfect opportunity.

“You’ve only got 30 minutes left; do you want to head out early and start getting ready?” She asks you kindly. Your eyes dart to the ticking clock hanging above the front door, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. She tosses the rag she’d been using into the sink behind the counter, and you glance behind her and see a few mixers that are looking a little low. The evening shift will have your asses if they aren’t full when they get there.

You smile at her. “Nah, I’m okay. It’s only 30 minutes. I’ve got a few things to finish up anyways. Do you want to go early today? Maybe pick up some food and meet over at my place?” You ask. She beams, happy that the kind gesture to leave early was returned to her.

“Absolutely!” She pulled the quill from the ink pot behind the bar, noting the time on the timesheet next to her name for the day. “Would you like anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.”

✧･ﾟ: *

“Y/N… that one is the one and you know it!” Clayre squeals and kicks her feet like a schoolgirl on your bed, staring at you from across your room. You stand in front of your closet, a short beige and brown dress hugging your curvy figure in all the places you’d liked. You’ll admit it; you bought this one on purpose, and dipped into your savings a little bit knowing this was the style of clothing that went along with the ambience that Rita’s offered during the summer months. Not quite a sundress, but not a gown either; not leather, but not too tight fitting that you couldn’t move. It was just… perfect. The colors looked gorgeous on you too and it didn’t scream for attention; and you had seen some questionable fashion choices in the past as a bartender. You’d taken a mental note to stay away from those.

“Well… I think you’re right.” You say, turning from side to side in front of your floor length mirror, admiring how the dress clings to the curve of your ass and shows off the body you’re blessed with. Clayre hops off the bed, skipping over to you and fluffing out your hair with her fingers. She drapes a few of your loose curls in front of your shoulders, the tendrils reaching just past the curve of your breast and framing the curve of your face the way you like. She grins.

“You’re getting laid tonight, that’s for sure,” she winks at you through the mirror. You laugh, your shoulders knocking against her as she begins giggling along with you. She steps over to your vanity and pops another sugared strawberry in her mouth, and then tosses the container in the trash.

“I wouldn’t look like this if it wasn’t for your help,” you start, glancing once more in the mirror. You usually opt for light makeup, but Clayre is so good at the dramatic stuff and she really helped you transform tonight. She swatted a hand in your direction, beginning to pick up loose clothing and makeup items from the floor.

“No, seriously. It takes me forever to curl my hair and I can’t do my makeup like this; you’re so good at it.” She smiles to herself and shoves her work uniform in her satchel, and you begin reorganizing your vanity. Peeking outside, you notice the sun setting.

“Hey, I can clean all this up later — we don’t have to do it now,” you say. Clayre props herself on the edge of your bed, pulling on a pair of pointed black heels. She narrows her brows at you.

“Y/N… you don’t want to bring a male back here later and the first thing he sees is your dirty clothes all over the floor, do you?”

✧･ﾟ: *

Rita’s was packed.

Like, line out the door, wrapped around the building, packed.

“Cauldron sacrifice me,” Clayre mutters as you approach the bar. You can hear the music coming from inside, neon lights flashing beyond the glass front door and illuminating the street in front of the entrance. Fae of all kind were in line ahead of you; from what you could see, some bore iridescent skin, some had wings, some with more elegant wear and some wearing plainclothes. That was the beauty of Rita’s; anyone was welcome.

Clayre stood on her tippy toes and peered around the line, trying to see around heads and bodies. You cast her a questioning look.

“I’m trying to see who’s on duty tonight for the front entrance,” she explained. “Maybe we can just walk to the front and walk in, you know, since we’re employees?” she says. You contemplate her words for a moment, and the line moves up by a few feet.

“I mean… ugh I don’t know. People will be mad if we cut right?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m already hot and there’s like, 50 people ahead of us.” A group gets in line behind you, and you are unsure what to do. You don’t really get time to decide because Clayre is grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of line. You gasp at her.

“Clayre! We’re going to lose our spot-“ You say. As you pass person by person, you’re met with stares and given quizzical looks all the same. Clayre keeps marching ahead, drawing nearer to the entrance.

“Lionel!” She beams when we’re close enough to the security guard for him to register us butting in line instead of not actually being in it. He’s pulled from his 1000 yard stare at the sound of Clayre’s voice and he smiles bright when he sees her, a dramatic gasp coming out when he sees you. You roll your eyes at him and laugh.

“Y/N? Do my eyes beseech me?!” He raises the back of his hand to his head and pretends to faint, causing you and Clayre to chuckle. The group of fae females at the front of the line are staring burning holes into you, and you glance at one in particular, earning a scowl from her. Your cheeks heat a little bit, but you turn your attention back to your coworkers.

“I’ve finally pulled the moth from the depths of the dark library; she’s seen the LIGHT!” Clayre booms dramatically, and you swat her arm. It’s Lionel’s turn to let out a hearty laugh, and you can’t help but giggle. Once he’s taking big dramatic breaths, and calming down, you glance beyond the glass and notice your manager making his way toward the door. Hopefully he will allow someone in soon; you want the eyes still glaring at you to find different prey.

“Well, either way I’m glad you guys came out tonight. You ladies look great!” He says kindly. Clayre curtsys, and he shakes his head at her. Just then, the door swings open and your favorite manager Jeremiah opens the door. He had a clipboard and paper in one hand, not so much as looking up at Lionel as he holds up two fingers. Lionel stares at the two of you.

“I swear on the Cauldron, if you two get me fired-“

Clayre squeals and gives Lionel a quick side hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She says before rushing inside. You stand on the balls of your feet and press a kiss to his cheek before rushing in after her, throwing him one last tiny wave and disappearing inside.

If Clayre thought it was hot outside, the air inside is sweltering. It’s warm and humid, feeling like the air in the jungle after a tropical storm.

That is, if the air also had laser beams shining through it and tendrils of smoke giving it a less than pleasant scent.

Clayre has clearly come here after hours before, as she’s bee-lining for the bar like she’s on a mission. You pass table after table, ones you’re accustomed to wiping down and serving day after day. The dance floor was already growing with bodies, jiving and thrumming with the bass-boosted music blaring from the speakers. One of the booths you pass has a “reserved” sign; which stinks. That one is your favorite, it’s the largest and in the corner, providing a little bit of quiet from the rest of the room. You thought you might snag it, if it was open.

Approaching the bar, you lean over to ask Clayre what she wants when the bartender Aleks saunters over to you both. The sleeves of his button down are rolled up, and you had to admit he was one of the more attractive males you worked with. He offered you a broad smile.

“Y/N! Wow, you look great — hey Clayre, a pleasure as always,” she smiles back at him, and it feels a bit awkward because usually she has some quip and you’re the one not speaking first. You take this time as your opportunity to start the conversation.

“Thank you Aleks,” you begin. He pours the green margarita mix into a glass with a perfectly sugary rum, and Clayre just stares at him while he does it. He takes note of it and smirks, glancing to you. “Be right back.” He says, walking to the other end of the bar to hand the drink to female in waiting. He makes his way back to you, and you look to Clayre. She swallows hard.

“Sorry I can’t chat with you ladies much tonight,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m the only one on the schedule anddddd…” he gestures to the crowded room behind you. Your eyes widen.

“Damn,” you say. “I didn’t realize. Night are a lot different than days…” He shrugs.

“I mean, once they let everyone in for the night, Jeremiah said he’d be over here to help, but I mean, it’s whatever.” Clayre chews on her lip.

“Can I get a Blueberry Buzz?” she says. Aleks flicks his gaze to her and chuckles. Her cheeks redden, and I honestly don’t know what to think, I’ve never seen her like this.

“Make that two! I’ll have one too.” I say. He smiles and shrugs, the crowd around the bar only growing by the minute.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes,” he says, adding ice to two glasses he holds in one hand. “Do you want anything else while you’re up here? It might be a minute before I can talk to you ladies again.” He’s lightly shouting now, the chatter around us growing louder. Clayre shakes her head, but I decide not to agree with her on this one. I don’t need a slow burn tonight. I need to get fucked up.

“Can we also get two Lemon Wave shots and two shots of Whiskey Tango?” I ask. Clayre side eyes me, and I shrug at her. Alex sets down the glasses filled with the purple drinks, sprinkling edible glitter on top. I watch it swirl into the cocktail, and he slides the glasses across the bar to us.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes — had to make them pretty, for the prettiest girls in here, of course.” Your hand flies to your heart in fake admiration, though you do find the gesture sweet.

“Awwww!” You croon, earning a laugh from Aleks. “You shouldn’t have!” He grabs four shot glasses, working quickly with the two alcohols youd requested.

“And here…” he finishes the shots. “Are two Lemon Wave shots and two Whiskey Tangos.” He carefully hands two to you and two to Clayre, and she smiles shyly at him. He winks at her, and looks at you one final time.

“I can start a tab for you guys?” You nod, and take your beverages from the bar. You’d definitely be back later for more, but for now you needed to find a table.

✧･ﾟ: *

“All I’m saying is that if you just sit your lil butt on top of the bar and,” you can’t help but giggle. “…and tell him to pour it straight into your mouth, he might just bend you over right there, okay! I mean that’s all I’m saying!” You laugh, sending Clayre into a fit of laughter. She covers her mouth with her hands in embarrassment.

“He would literally never do that.” She finishes with a laugh. You’d been hanging out for thirty or forty five minutes, but the effects of the alcohol were already beginning to pulse through your veins. The warm feeling it was giving you was nice; you wondered why you didn’t come do this more often with your friends. This was quite fun; you can see why Clayre liked it so much.

Unfortunately, all the tables had been taken by the time you’d left the bar, so you opted to take the shots first and leave the glasses by the bar, now nursing the last remnants of your cocktail near the outskirts of the dance floor. Clayre tips her head back, draining hers entirely and wiggles the glass in front of you, rattling the ice.

“Catch up, sweets.” You roll your eyes, having mostly glitter water left in your glass. You finish it in one swallow, and you hold out your hand for Clayre to take your glass. She scoffs.

“Why me?” She asks. You grin.

“Because.” You give her a knowing look. You don’t even need to explain before she groans and takes it from you, trudging over to the bar and elbowing her way through people to get to the front. You see her small green dress disappear for only a moment before she’s back, and you’re shaking your head with crossed arms as she approaches. She throws her arms up in the air as she walks towards you.

“Whaaat!” She drawls. “I can’t talk to him now anyways, he’s busy.” She excuses.

“Tsk tsk.” You say, grabbing her hand. You look toward the dance floor, a small patch of flooring clear in your line of sight. “Come on — I wanna go dance.”

It’s not long before you’re back at the bar. And again. And again. To be fair, one of those times, you made Clayre go, but it “didn’t count” because Jeremiah was over there and took her order instead.

The effects of all the drinks you’ve had are in full swing as you’re thriving on the dance floor, arms in the air and swinging your hips. You’ve never felt so confident, never done anything so fun. Your bones feel like they’re made of air, and you’re on cloud nine. You feel light, airy, sexy, and just… good.

You’re feel so good, and so smart for coming up with a brilliant idea when the song you and Clayre are dancing to ends and you shout to her over the people around you. “My mouth is real dry Clayre!” She nods and sticks her tongue out. You laugh at her.

“Nooo Clayre — my mouth.” She’s giggling too, and pulls you close by the wrist.

“IM GONNA NEED MAYBE A DRINK.” She shouts. You smile.

“I need water!” You say back. She nods, then frowns. Then she shakes her head.

“Yeah I want some water but maybe another drink too. I don’t know. Let’s just go together.” She grabs onto your wrist and pulls you toward the bar. You thank the mother that it’s a little less busy now, and notice the clock on the wall reads 11:48. Aleks notices you, and Clayre drops your arm.

“Actually I’m gonna go pee real quick…” she says. You roll your eyes at her, just as Aleks appears in front of you.

“Hey stranger! How’s it going?” He asks. You lean on the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. He grabs a glass, filling it with ice and dispensing clear water into it. You sigh as he slides it to you.

“Cauldron…” you practically moan and bring it to your lips, chugging half of it and setting it down. He’s chuckling at you, arms crossed over his torso. “Thank you.” He grins.

“You looked like maybe you needed it.” He rests his hands on the lip of the bar, staring at you as his smile grows. You can’t help but smile back and huff a laugh.

“What!” You say. He chuckles again.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N,” he says, still grinning at you. You’re trying really, really hard to remember what he asked.

“Aleks… I’m going to be so honest with you right now, I do not even remember what you asked me.” He shakes his head, smiling at the ground. You catch sight of Clayre rounding the opposite corner of the bar from the bathroom, and you get yet another brilliant idea.

“Hey um you have to go over there to Clayre because she wanted to get a drink,” you say quickly. Aleks looks at you confused.

“Okay… isn’t she coming over here?”

Yes, Aleks. But if she’s over here with me, I’ll have to do all the talking and she won’t be forced to do any of it.

“No uhhhh….” You’re struggling to come up with an excuse. “She said she wants one at that end of the bar… like all the way down there so you gotta go over there.” You shoo him away, before Clayre draws any closer. Thank the Mother he actually catches her before she gets more than a few inches down the length of the bar, and he begins talking to her. You decide you’re not going to look — she can thank you later.

You’re sipping your water, the effect of all those drinks not lessening with the effort when a large, tan male takes a seat beside you. You’re quick to take him in; well, first of all, he’s huge. Even sitting, he towers over the bar. His shoulder length brown hair is halfway tied back, and he has a light brown stubble on the lower half of his face. His tight black pants are lined with a multitude of emptied bands pockets, for weapons that he must have unsheathed for his night out. He must be Illyrian.

Finally he clears his throat and turns to you, sparing you the action of speaking first. Although it is itching you why he’s sitting so close to you, considering all the other empty barstools up here.

“I don’t really know how to start these kind of things…” his voice comes out rough and gravelly. He keeps looking at the brick wall behind the bar, a hand scratching at his chin. You continue to give him a once over.

“Well. Uh, I guess I should probably introduce myself first, right? I’m Cassian.” He says, finally turning to face you. His soft brown eyes meet yours, and he truly is handsome. You give him a small smile, shifting on the stool so you’re knee-to-knee with the stranger.

“Y/N.” You say. He smiles back.

“Y/N. Alrighty… uh.” He clasps his hands together and you glance behind him. Clayre is finally talking with Aleks. Thank the Cauldron.

Your newfound handsome man seems to be stumbling with his words, so you decide to play it up a little bit. You lean over, bending at the waist and place both of your hands on his knees. In doing this, your elbows push together, exposing yourself in your already semi-revealing dress. Is it a little much? Yes. Is it something you’d ever normally do? No. Are we throwing morals out the window tonight? Absolutely.

You stare up at him innocently as his eyes widen, and you see him fighting to look anywhere but your face. He doesn’t have to; his pants are constricting enough that the bulge under his zipper is already beginning to grow. He swallows thickly, clearing his throat. He almost looks like he’s sweating a little.

“Ohh um… so I’m actually not over here for um. Myself, uh…” he chuckles, and you notice he sneaks a glance. Poor guy. His eyes wander right down the valley you’ve created, which doesn’t help his situation. Both pairs of eyes drift there next, and then you make eye contact again. You smirk.

“Hmm… are you… sure? About that? Because it seems like-“ You begin to draw circles with your pointer finger on his knee, and he’s near panting as he grabs both of your hands in his, cutting you off.

“No. I’m…” He takes a breath. “Really. I came over here just to ask if you have a mate or anything.” You smirk.

“Or… anything.” You drawl. He closes his eyes, almost willing his erection to go away. Touching you was a bad idea, even if it was in an attempt to make his situation better. He sets your hands gently back in your lap, and you continue to stare at him innocently. You lift yourself off the barstool, the back of your thighs starting to stick to the leather. Once you’ve peeled them off, you set yourself back down with a slight bounce, allowing Cassian to notice. You swear you can hear a tiny groan come from him at the sight.

“I will take that as a no.” He runs a hand down his face. “Listen Y/N, really, I started this whole thing off so wrong, okay,” he fumbles. You nod, smirking at him.

“It’s my friend that I’m asking for. He’s been kind of, well… he’s been attracted to you all night,” he finishes with a little laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him.

“Mhm, and this, friend,” you say. “Why hasn’t he just come talk to me himself?” Cassian shrugs, looking out at the dance floor, then back to you.

“Honestly, I don’t know why Azriel does half the things he does. But, what I do know is, he’s probably watching us right now and he’s going to kill me when I walk away from you.” He lets out an exasperated groan, and you raise an eyebrow.

Azriel.

Hmm.

“Sounds… charming.” You taunt. Cassian chuckles, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the action. He shakes his head and moves to stand readjusting slightly as he does.

“Just take my word for it, I suppose.” He says, looking down at you one last time with a grin. “I think you two will get along juuuust fine.” You roll your eyes and he stalks off. Whatever that means. You would’ve been fine going home with Cassian.

Clayre meets your eyes, hers filled with so many expressions. Aleks is nowhere to be found, and she mouths from one end of the bar from another.

“IM GOING HOME WITH ALEKS” she points to herself and the swinging door connecting the bar to the kitchen, presumably where Alex’s disappeared to. You give her a thumbs up and smile, silent clapping.

She makes a motion, outlining a huge mass with her hands and then shrugging and pointing to the barstool next to me.

“HE WAS CUTE” She nods her head slowly, eyes wide. I shake my head no.

“WHY?” She mouths back, just as the door swings open, Aleks walking through with his keys in his hand. The clock above the bar now reads 12:35, and Jeremiah follows him out, speaking happily to him and waving him off. He rounds the bar and offers an arm to Clayre, and she looks at you one last time over her shoulder excitedly before exciting out the back door with him. You look toward the dance floor, hoping to spot Cassian but unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found. There’s no real point in waiting around without a friend, and you’d be damned waiting for a guy who hadn’t talked to you all night to come talk to you now.

You drain the last few sips of water you had left from the slowly melting ice, making to stand and head out when two large hands appear on either side of you, arms boxing you in. Your eyes widen, a cool presence behind you; shadows tickling your jaw and trailing over your collarbone. The scents of cool mint, sage, and sea salt invade your senses; clean, but dangerous. Soft strands of hair brush against the top of your ear as a low, seductive voice, cool as the ice left in your glass rasps:

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met.”

✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2

#azriel smut #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acofas #acotar smut #acotar #acotar fandom #acomaf #rhys acotar #lucien acotar #acowar #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #cassian #azriel #azriel fanfic #Spotify

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mizading · 8 months

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JJK Men When You're on Your Period

Synopsis: How these JJK men take care of you when you get your period.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami.

Warnings: None.

Gojo Satoru:

Immediately runs to the store for drinks, snacks, pads, etc. Gojo may get the wrong pads, but he tries for you.

Insists that you spend the entire day lying down or resting your precious body, allowing him to take care of everything. Gojo believes that you shouldn’t lift a finger during your period.

Gojo gives you his full attention the entire day. From snuggles on the couch to feeding you sweets, Gojo does it all.

Believes that you need enough food to feed three when you’re on your period. On top of snacks from the store, Gojo will spend hours in the kitchen making you everything under the sun. Although you never finish everything that he makes, he’ll cook just as much every time, just in case.

Uses your period as an excuse to treat you like his little baby. Gojo adores carrying you around the house, feeding you, cuddling your body into his large frame, and so much more.

Always gives you massages. Gojo completely understands how bad cramps get; he’s here to help. Tell him where you’re hurting, and he'll immediately massage the area with his gentle fingers.

If you end up bleeding onto your pants, Gojo will be the one to get you a new set of pajamas. Gojo always insists on changing you; he finds the act loving and intimate.

Organizes a time during the day dedicated to napping. He’ll randomly pick you up and drag you to the bedroom so you two can sleep for a couple of hours. Gojo won't sleep until you fall asleep.

Before you wake up, Gojo already has a meal prepared for you. As soon as you open your eyes, he’s carrying you to the kitchen so he can feed you.

Right before bed, Gojo suffocates you with affection. More kisses than you can count are exchanged, along with a couple more massages to help with the pain and excessive snuggles.

Gojo loves you so much that it hurts; there's nothing that he won’t do for you.

Geto Suguru:

Geto already takes care of two girls; you’re in perfect hands.

Makes a trip to the store without you asking. Geto gets the correct brand and sizing of pads for you with no help. He’ll quietly place the pads in the bathroom for you as you sleep.

You wake up to Geto stroking your hair, admiring how beautiful you looked while peacefully sleeping. He whispers soft praises in your ear before getting up to bring you breakfast in bed.

Geto's food is always amazing. Oddly enough, he’s great at cooking. He puts so much love and care into everything that he makes for you.

Will take you out on walks for fresh air. Geto believes that you need to step outside at least once during the day. He’ll interlock his hand with yours and walk at a slow, comfortable pace for you. If you ask, Geto will always carry you on his back.

Gives random, frequent kisses. Geto knows that you go through a lot of emotions during your time of month, so he always makes sure to give kisses often to remind you that he loves you.

Geto absolutely loves snuggling you on the couch. He’ll put on a movie and ease you to sleep in his arms.

As you sleep, he takes the opportunity to admire your face. Geto will trace the outline of your features and give you feathery kisses. He’s never in a rush for you to wake up; the more you sleep, the more he can study the love of his life.

When you wake up, Geto is always by your side. He won't ever leave unless you ask him to. Geto’s usual way of greeting you when you awake is by kissing your eyelids. He finds your reaction to his eyelid kisses precious.

Whatever it is that you want to do for the day, Geto accommodates. He believes that his sole purpose is to love and please you.

Brings you medicine throughout the day to improve cramps. Geto sets alarms so he won't forget to give you another dosage. Along with the medicine, Geto brings you a heating pad that he bought who knows how long ago for your use.

He won’t admit it, but Geto secretly loves the warmth of the heating pad. He’ll lay on top of the heating pad with you, practically falling asleep from how warm it is.

You both end up falling asleep in each other's arms, with the heating pad underneath.

Geto never fails to demonstrate how much he loves and cares.

Nanami Kento:

Nanami calls out of work to be with you. If he can’t call out, he’ll make sure to come home early.

As soon as Nanami comes home, he’s rushing to your side just to check on you. If you need absolutely anything, he’s on it.

Gets panty liners instead of pads by mistake. He’s quite inexperienced, so this was bound to happen. Don’t worry; he’ll immediately rush back to get the right thing.

Comes back home with candy as well to apologize for getting the wrong thing. Nanami always feels bad when he messes up; he feels that you deserve nothing less than perfection.

Wants you to be as comfortable as possible. Nanami will wrap you in dozens of blankets, put fuzzy socks on your feet, and place a heating pad under you to top everything off.

Nanami understands that you may not want some type of affection. He always asks for permission to show affection or waits until you ask. As much as he wants to suffocate you with his love, he respects your space.

Asks if you prefer him to cook for you or order takeout. It doesn’t matter what you choose; Nanami is happy to do either one or both. What you two decide to eat is all up to you; he’s here to tend to your needs.

Bubble baths are a must. You've expressed how uncomfortable it is to be bleeding out to Nanami many times. He always prepares a bath for the two of you because of this, just as you like it.

Nanami is so gentle with you. The feeling of his hands in your hair when he washes it is very soothing. He’s always gentle with you, but when you’re on your period, he somehow becomes even softer when he tends to you.

Will always help you fall asleep. No matter how tired Nanami may be himself, he will always give you what you need to fall asleep first.

You don’t have to worry about absolutely anything with Nanami around during your period. The house will be clean, food will be made, and you will be taken care of.

A/N: I decided that being on my period was the perfect opportunity to make headcanons with a few of my favorite jjk men. Feel free to request anyone for a potential part two.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #nanami kento #geto suguru #jjk #gojo headcanons #nanami x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #geto headcanons #nanami headcanons #gojo scenario

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livwritesstuff · 3 months

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i’ve been very quiet so srry - my week started with my annual performance review (which went well) and ended with an emergency surgery (also went well) so…a lot going on to say the least

this is a deleted scene from the first chapter of plant a seed

When Robin called, Steve and Eddie were in the phase of newborn parenthood where they froze every single time the phone rang (because said newborn was napping more often than not and when she was, there was a 50% chance minimum the phone would wake her up).

So when Robin called and the ringing of the phone broke the otherwise peaceful silence, Steve froze and he waited. When the baby didn't wake up, Steve exhaled a sigh of relief and answered the call.

"This is Steve."

"Hey Steve-o!"

Steve immediately recognized the voice as Robin's – of course he did, even if he hadn't heard it since she and Nancy left for a work trip in Japan a little over a month ago.

“Oh shit,” Steve said, because this means that Robin and Nancy are finally home, finally back in their Boston apartment fifteen minutes away from his and Eddie's in Cambridge instead of the opposite side of the entire world, “You’re home!”

“Yep,” Robin replied, popping the P, “That plane was a million degrees, I’m pretty sure. No more August flights if I have any say in it. Anyways – wanted to let you know we made it back unscathed. What’s new with you guys?”

“Uh…” Steve began, not totally sure where to start, because Robin didn't know about the baby he and Eddie had been placed with two weeks ago and she certainly didn't know that they're going to adopt her (because they'd landed on that decision that very day – about two hours ago, to be specific), “Well–”

“Hey, do you still have those placements?" Robin interrupted, "The kids who like to read the Goosebumps books?”

“Oh,” Steve blinked, “No. They went back with their mom a couple days after you left.”

“Damn. Been a while. Forgot this trip was longer than usual – wait, so are you between placements now, then? Hey, we should finally make that trip to P-Town!”

"Might need a raincheck on that," Steve said with a laugh, because at the moment a trip to the goddamn grocery store required at least a day's worth of planning, "We've got another placement right now – a newborn. We've had her for, uh, for just under two weeks, pretty sure."

“Shit, a newborn?" Robin repeated.

Steve faintly heard Nancy's voice, though he couldn't make out exactly what she was saying. He listened as Robin recounted to her what he'd just said, then started to laugh.

"Nancy just said that if she misses out on a chance to hold a new baby, she'll kill you," Robin told him, "Any idea when she might move on?”

Steve paused for a second. He and Eddie had decided earlier that they wouldn’t be telling anyone about the baby until the adoption was finalized, but…it’s Robin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever kept a secret from Robin before, certainly not something this big and certainly not for very long.

He has to tell her.

“We’re, uh, we’re actually adopting her.”

Robin was silent.

Then –

“Holy shit – Steve.”

And then –

“I’m coming over right now. Immediately. Wait–” Robin stopped, “Damn, I can’t be a dick and come over unannounced anymore, can I? Because you guys have a baby. A baby. And she’s gonna be yours? What the fuck? Wait, let me start over.”

Robin paused long enough to take a deep breath.

“Steve Harrington – my best friend who’s finally fulfilling a lifelong dream of becoming a dad – when will you allow us to come and be formally introduced to our niece?”

Truth be told, Steve wouldn’t say no to a visit from Robin and Nancy that day (especially after the our niece comment), but their case worker had just started faxing over all the paperwork to get the ball rolling on the adoption process and Steve has a feeling that he might catch Eddie trying to fill that shit out as it came out of the machine so tonight they might be a little occupied.

"Tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Morning?" Robin added.

Steve laughed, "Sure. Tomorrow morning."

"Bright and early, dad. Holy fuck, I can't believe you're a dad."

"You can't?"

"No, I totally can."

#remember faxing?#i don't but it was def a thing in 2001 #liv’s steddie dads verse #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #ronance #-> hesitant to tag bc ik folks get annoyed when steddie content clogs up the ronance tag but this is mostly stobin - will delete if asked

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its-all-stardust · 5 months

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Sugar || 3

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Four

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

A week goes by without a word from Steven. You told him to take his time; you expected him to. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every day.

If he was going to say no, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Or he might not answer you at all. That, you think, is worse. You would rather know for sure than guess what the silence means.

You try not to feel disappointment for something that hasn’t even happened—technically, he hasn’t rejected you—but it still prowls in the back of your mind. You haven’t been this worried about something since your company got off the ground when everything was still uncertain, with no guarantee you could make a living.

You especially never felt this way about your other babies. The situations are entirely different. You didn’t have to worry about a referral rejecting you, not right out of the gate anyway. And all the ones you met through specific apps were the same: saying yes and figuring out if things worked as time went on. You at least had a couple of months with all your previous babies, each of you getting a feel for the other before mutually deciding to part ways for one reason or another.

And yet none of them were quite as unforgettable to you as Steven is. Try as you might, you still don’t understand how you’re so drawn to him. Maybe you see enough of yourself in him that you can’t help but want to take care of him, like how you wished someone had cared for you before you broke out and started making what would lead to your fortune.

But it means nothing if he says no. So, as much as you dislike it, you try to put him from your mind. You go about your days as usual, attending meetings, fielding phone calls from heads of different departments, approving the latest marketing budget, and finalizing every move your company makes to ensure you know exactly what is happening at all times. Technically, you don’t need to be as hands-on as you are. There are certainly other people in a similar position who aren’t. You could be on a beach somewhere, signing documents someone else has already read and approved for you. You could be the kind of CEO who never reads a thing and just puts your signature wherever you’re told. You would effectively be retired while still earning an ungodly amount of money.

But you can’t do that; you can’t stand not knowing what’s happening with something that is your responsibility. You don’t want to rest easy, and you like working. While you have plenty—more than enough, really—saved away in investments, trusts, and more than a few bank accounts, you know how easily everything can be taken away. It almost happened once in the beginning, and ever since, you’ve been trying to ensure it never happens again.

And for all your worries about the state of your business, you don’t let it cross over into your after-work hours. You would, quite frankly, go insane if you didn’t clock out promptly at five. If nothing is on fire, it can wait until the next business day. The meeting you had the day of your dinner with Steven was a rare exception, but even then it only ran a few minutes past before you shut it down. The rest of the time was spent traveling from your office building to the restaurant.

You never understood people who worked later than they needed to. You’d much rather spend your evenings on things you enjoy, which, when you have one, is often your baby.

And you’re thinking of Steven again.

Would he like sitting with you while you were entertained by your other, mainly indoor, hobbies? Some of your other babies grew restless with the inactivity. Or would he be needy, constantly endearingly wanting your attention but never pushing too far?

You picture him looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, begging for you to take him somewhere, talk to him, lavish him with affection—

Stop it.

Try as you might, it’s impossible to shake him. He’s in skin deep, and you have no clue how to carve him out.

Another week goes by, and still no word from Steven.

You had assumed, after he said he would tell you after he blushed so prettily and didn’t run screaming, that he would at least have the courtesy to tell you he had to turn you down. You’re less upset at this point and more irritated. Annoyed with Steven, sure, but annoyed at yourself for going against your better judgment, hoping that everything would turn out fine. You had to be smart to get where you are; you should have known better than to pick up a random person to try to make your sugar baby.

It’s Saturday night, and you’re cozied up on your couch, watching your favorite movie and enjoying a molten fudge brownie to drown your sorrows and anger. This was how you spent most weekends, in truth. All the money in the world didn’t make you any less of an introvert, uninterested in loud clubs or parties—unless you had a date to show off.

Which you don’t.

You scrape the crumbs from your plate and lick the fudge from your fork before tossing them down on the coffee table with a clatter, the sound making you wince.

Before long, the movie isn’t able to distract you. Still feeling a little spiteful, you grab your phone, letting the movie play for background noise.

You open the app you use to look for new babies—the one everyone has to pay to use. Maybe what you need is a professional, which many who use the app are. At the very least, you’ll have a more timely response from them. The professionals don’t play games. And even if you don’t see one tonight that catches your interest, there’s no harm in looking.

After glancing at a few profiles, you pause on one belonging to a dark-haired man with glasses. He says he lives in New York—you have your settings set internationally since you have the funds to bring someone to you—and you entertain the idea of asking him to relocate. You’ve never had someone move for you, but seeing how devoted a baby could be to you is always an ego boost.

Just as you’re about to send a few coins the man’s way—the paid in-app currency that mommies and daddies use to show interest and initiate contact with prospective babies—your phone chimes, the delicate notes of your ringtone filling the room.

A call. From Steven.

Disbelief fills you, tamping down some of your anger. It doesn’t dissipate entirely, though, and you’re tempted not to answer to teach Steven a lesson. But he’s not your baby, and reacting with anger before you hear him out isn’t fair to him.

Pausing your movie, you swipe to answer just before the call gets sent to voicemail.

“Hello,” you say simply, unwilling to try saying anything witty lest it comes across wrong over the phone. It’s happened before, and it’s never fun to have to backtrack and explain yourself, especially in such a delicate situation as this.

“For a second there, I was afraid you weren’t going to answer,” Steven says, sounding relieved.

“Why would you be afraid?”

“Because…” Steven hesitates. “Because it’s late, and I meant to talk to you sooner, I swear. But something…weird happened, and it was days later, and I could have sworn I left your number on Gus’s tank, but then it wasn’t there. And after everything else, I forgot for a day there and—”

“Steven,” you cut him off, ignoring the “forgetting” thing—for now. “Your answer?”

Steven is quiet for a moment. Then, a soft “Yes.”

“Yes, what? What do you want?” You need to hear him say it.

“Yes, I want to…be your sugar baby.” He whispers the last part as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud. If he doesn’t want to be called that, you won’t force it, but the affirmative response makes you grin.

“But I have some questions first,” he quickly adds.

“Of course. We’ll go over the terms and everything first before we make it official. Are you available tomorrow?”

You had Steven pick the meeting place, wanting him to be somewhere familiar and comfortable to discuss such an unfamiliar topic. The courtyard where you’re to meet Steven is small but lovely. You arrive a few minutes earlier than the set meeting time of ten. Early to ease Steven’s nerves, which you could hear from the other end of the line, and so you weren’t left feeling like you couldn’t do anything for the rest of the day now that you had one thing planned.

You spot Steven sitting on the bench in front of a ground fountain in the middle of the square, shoulder slumped and eyes staring down at the ground. You slowly approach, making sure your heeled boots clack loudly on the bricks. He looks up when you get close and jumps to his feet when he sees you, saying your name. Then he sticks out his hand before abruptly dropping it.

“Sorry. I’m not sure what the proper greeting for…this is.”

Smiling, you ask, “Would it be alright if I hugged you?”

Steven nods, his face flushing. You wonder, the longer you know him if that’ll ever stop. You hope it doesn’t.

Pleased, you step forward, tucking your arms under Steven’s while his come over your shoulders. His hold is light, like he isn’t sure how firmly to hold you. You tuck your chin onto his shoulder and close your eyes, enjoying his warmth. You relish affectionate touches with your babies, and Steven’s arms feel lovely around you.

It’s not a quick hug. You keep your arms around him, giving Steven a chance to relax into it. If he doesn’t, he may be one of the ones you forgo such actions with. Pleasantly, though, he readjusts his arms, settling their weight around you more completely to actually hold you.

He even lets out a pleased hum, and you have to bite your lip to keep your smile from turning into a too-wide grin.

Steven seems a little startled when you eventually pull away.

“So, what would you like to know?” you ask, sitting on the bench, setting your bag beside you on your free side.

“Right, erm…” He sits next to you, close but not too close. “What would I have to…do exactly?”

“Can you be more specific?” What a sugar baby does can encompass a number of things that vary for every mommy and daddy.

Steven looks around at the people passing by, shifting back and forth in his seat. “Would I have to…sleep with you?” he whispers.

It’s a fair question. Usually, one of the first a new baby will ask, and his hesitancy tells you that, for whatever reason, he’s shy about the topic.

“Only if we both want to and sometime in the future when we both know each other better,” you answer honestly.

You don’t sleep with all your babies, and it’s not a requirement for you. Some people don’t like sex with their mommies or daddies, and you’re not going to force someone to sleep with you. You can perfectly enjoy having a baby, being their mommy, without having sex with them.

“Oh,” Steven says evenly. You can’t quite make out what his tone means.

“And if you don’t want me to touch you at all, that’s fine. We don’t have to hug again or anything like that again if it’s uncomfortable for you.” Though you’ll be more than a little disappointed if that’s the case.

“The hug was nice!” Steven quickly assures you. “I just wasn’t sure if-if you’d need that for me to…”

“We don’t have to be sexual with each other for me to enjoy your company, Steven.”

He nods. “Good. That’s…good.”

Sometimes, you have trouble understanding what people mean when they speak. Steven’s an endearing sort of awkward, but you’re starting to learn that makes it hard to tell what he means.

Is he happy that he doesn’t have to have sex with a stranger? Or is he like some other people and disappointed that he doesn’t get to have a very-few-strings-attached relationship?

You’ll probably need to start asking for clarification in the future, but for now, don’t say anything and let the topic drop.

“What else do you have questions about?”

Steven shakes himself from his thoughts and turns back to you, no longer looking uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to quit my job?”

“Do you want to quit your job?” You’ve never asked a baby to quit working—if they even had a job to begin with—unless it was something that did more harm than good. Not to mention, it’s a good way to keep them busy when you’re not around. You can’t exactly be with your baby twenty-four-seven.

You don’t know what Steven goes through on a daily basis, though you can guess based on what his manager is like.

“Well, I don’t exactly love working with Donna,” Steven says, his mouth twisting when he mentions the woman of his apparent nightmares. “But the others aren’t so bad, and I really like it there. I mean, I wish I weren’t stuck in the gift shop, but it’s not all bad.”

“Then keep your job,” you shrug. “Set up a savings or investment account and put every paycheck in there. Then you have it for the future if you ever need it.”

“Are you sure?” Steven presses. “Because some of the things I read said I would have to.”

“If you need me to tell you to quit so it’s easier for you, then quit. But otherwise, I don’t care. I’m more than capable of working around your schedule. This is kind of another job, in a way.” He still looks unsure. You gently place your hand on his jaw, needing him to not just hear you but listen to you. “I want to take care of you, not control you.”

In a manner of speaking, you do control your babies, telling them what to wear and what to do to make you happy. Some even have a sort of persona around you that you find particularly pleasing. But you don’t force them to make life choices like that.

Helping someone quit their shitty job is vastly different than making someone stop doing something they enjoy. You’ve also noticed that it can be hard for new babies to give up the way of life they’re so used to. For them, it’s difficult to actually go through with not working when it’s all they’ve ever known, despite how often they’ve dreamt of never having to work ever again.

Steven doesn’t say anything, though he does seem to lean into your hand a little.

“So what’ll it be?” you prompt.

“I’ll keep my job,” he answers quietly, still mesmerized by your touch. You nod and take your hand away; you need his head clear.

“I just have one question for you before I start going over everything else.”

“Whatever you want to know.”

“Are you in any sort of relationship? Committed, casual?” You carefully watch Steven’s face, looking for any tells. You can’t always tell when people lie, but almost everyone has common cues indicating when they’re being deceitful.

“Oh, no! Nothing to worry about there,” he says with an awkward laugh. When he sees the slightly skeptical look on your face, he continues. “Let’s just say you’re the only one who’s been interested in me.”

His uncontrollable blush is on his face again, and he meets your eye without issue.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from asking Ever? Or recently? That’s something you can ask later if he’s willing to talk about it to sate your curiosity.

“Do people really do that?” Steven asks. “Date someone and be a sugar baby at the same time?”

“Of course, and usually consensually between all parties. It all comes down to what someone needs from their baby. Me, though? I like having them all to myself. It can be hard to try to fit in a third.”

“So I take it you’re not in a relationship?” Steven asks slowly.

You shake your head. “I’m not. It’s why I like having sugar babies.”

With the major questions out of the way, you start going into your expectations.

“There aren’t a lot of events that I attend, but I expect you to come with me,” you start, and Steven pulls out his phone. For a second, you’re confused, but as he starts typing., you see he’s making notes for himself. “Sometimes I like to take overnight trips, and I’d like you to come with me. We’ll have to go around your work schedule, though, so you always need to let me know your hours.

Steven writes it all down, mumbling the words to himself as you say them.

When I call, you answer. When I tell you to call me, you call me. No excuses.

If I ever tell you to do or not do something, you listen. It won’t ever be anything morally objectional. Depending on what it is, I’ll ask if you’re comfortable with it.

I’m your mommy, I expect please and thank you.

I like being affectionate. That means hugging, holding hands, and the like. I’d even like to be able to kiss you on the cheek if that’s alright with you.

I’ll give you a card. When you’re on your own, I expect you to use it. If I don’t see any large purchases on the statement, you’ll get a talking-to.

When we’re together, you ask me to buy things for you. Nothing is too big or too small.

I’ll be paying all your rent and any bills, so we’ll need to take time to get those sorted.

I’m paying you for your time, so you’ll get a payment every time we’re on a date or go out. Feel free to ask for more than I give you. There’s nothing wrong with being playful and saying you’re worth more.

“Also,” you say once you finish your last point. “Most of my babies are fine with informal, verbal agreements, but I can get something written up for you if you’d like.”

Steven is so focused on typing that he doesn’t realize you want his input. It isn’t until he registers what he’s typing that he finally looks up.

“Oh, sorry.” He locks his phone, putting his hands in his lap. “Is one better than the other?”

“Having a written agreement is more for the baby’s benefit. Based on my experience, babies like it because they can have a signed statement for continued payment for some time after the relationship ends. I usually only hear of high rollers doing it; that way, the baby is set up if things sour. And if the mommy or daddy doesn’t want to pay, the baby can threaten legal action, which usually gets settled out of court very quickly. A win-win for the baby.”

“And what would you get out of it?”

“For me personally? It would just be a way to hold you to the agreement enough to keep you from running out without notifying me. It’s fine if you don’t want to be my baby anymore, but I am at least owed a sort of resignation whenever the time comes.”

You remember that one baby you had a couple of years ago. He was new to the game, took his first payment, and left without speaking to you again. You were more annoyed at having to make someone track him down to ensure that nothing had happened to him than upset that he didn’t want to be a baby anymore.

“So, if I don’t want to be your baby anymore, I just say so and walk away?” Steven asks with a hint of skepticism, likely thinking that it surely can’t be that easy.

“Exactly. Like I said, I don’t want to control you or own you, but I think I deserve enough respect to be told you’re no longer interested.”

Steven thinks everything over for a moment.

“I can’t say I see myself wanting to sure you, so I think I’ll be okay without signing anything,” he eventually says.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, this doesn’t have to be as complicated as all that, does it?”

You give a small smile. “It doesn’t. This is supposed to be fun, after all.”

Steven smiles back at you, and you feel a flutter in your chest. Normally, your babies don’t set your heart pounding, but Steven isn’t quite like them. You push it out of your mind; it’s best not to get too attached, not like that anyway.

“Did you set up that account I asked you to?” you ask, ready to get on to the fun part of a new baby’s first arrangement.

Steven unlocks his phone and opens the online banking app you asked him to download last night. It’s the best way to send his payment, and then he can move it around however he likes afterward.

Pulling up the QR code to share his profile, you scan it with your app, adding him to your contacts. Then, you tap to start a transaction.

“This will be for our initial dinner and for today. Go ahead and type any amount you’d like in there,” you say, handing your phone to Steven.

He stares at the screen, frozen, like he’s afraid to move.

“Go on,” you urge him. You had wondered what he’d be like once he was told to start asking for money. Much like your other new babies, he’s hesitant, afraid to name a number, even though this whole arrangement revolves around money.

Steven looks up at you, eyes wide and biting his lip. Finally, looking back down at your phone, you watch as he types a single “1” before thrusting it back toward you.

You don’t take it. “Do you think that’s all you’re worth? Add some zeroes on there.”

Steven types one zero.

“Another,” you command. Very slowly, he types another. “Think you can give me one more?”

“I… That’s just…” Steven flounders, shaking his head.

“Steven.” Just his name, nothing more. Your voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

This time, he quickly hits a third zero and practically throws the phone back at you.

“Good boy,” you say, quickly hitting the ‘transfer’ button to send the thousand pounds to Steven. You think you see him shiver.

You grin, already loving his reactions. You can’t wait to tease him, give him more.

“Now, what do you say?” you ask, tucking your phone back into your leather handbag.

“Thank you,” Steven says quietly, face once again flushed.

“You’re welcome, baby.” His eyes flit down shyly, but he doesn’t turn away from you.

Then you reach out and tug on the sleeve of his shirt, examining the fit and pattern.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to do today if you have the time,” you say, eyeing up the rest of his outfit.

“What’s that?” Steven asks, sounding nervous and perhaps a little excited.

Your eyes flick to meet his, that predatory look returning to your face.

“I want to take you clothes shopping.”

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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heich0e · 1 year

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leave the light on - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 10 in the bff!osamu series tags: childhood friends to lovers, tw instant coffee mention, miscommunication, confessions, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Onigiri Miya closes early on Sunday nights.

It’s not for lack of business—the shop would certainly take in enough revenue to justify staying open regular hours an extra day per week, especially on a weekend. But in the early days of Onigiri Miya, when it was just a one-man show, Osamu needed at least one night that he could count on having off. The workweek business—office workers and students going through their routine hustle and bustle—kept him going, enough so that Sunday nights weren’t a make or break for him, and he was able to start shuttering in the early afternoon once per week.

He remembers those early days. Sweet talking vendors to bring down the cost of produce and haggling with the grubby, bleary eyed men at fish market stalls at the crack of dawn for a deal on the catch of the day. Promising suppliers that he’d be able to get them their money in a couple of weeks if they’d just give him some more time. Standing on the road, because Onigiri Miya was just a street stall back then, trying to coax people in and try his food. To convince them to take a chance on him. He remembers burns on his hands and cuts on his fingers and an ache in his bones that ran so marrow-deep he forgot what it felt like to not be so sore. Sunday nights were the only night he had to relax. The only night he had to sit down, to take off his hat, and to have a beer—or, even more frequently, pass out on his couch in his uniform at 8pm and sleep right through to his alarm the next morning.

Closing early on Sundays had been your idea, way back when— suggested to him gently while he rested with his head in your lap in your tiny student apartment after another 16 hour workday. He still remembers the worry in your eyes as you brushed his hair back from his tired face.

Nowadays things aren’t so hectic. Osamu’s got a good team of people around him to help Onigiri Miya run smoothly—a team who he trusts and values. It doesn’t all fall onto his shoulders in the same way that it used to: he doesn’t have to be there for every open and every close, his bills are paid, he’s not fighting to lure people in off the street just in the hope that he can scrape by for another week.

Now when he closes early on Sunday, it’s more for the sake of his staff than anything else. Occasionally Osamu will take the night off, too; he’ll go home and catch up on housework, run an errand or two, or even grab dinner—usually with you, though evidently not so much lately. But most Sundays he stays behind after his last employee heads out for the night; locking up behind them, switching off the sign in the window to tell the world the shop is closed, and then holing himself up in his office to do some admin. He’ll grab a plate of whatever’s leftover from the day’s service and a cold can of beer from the fridge, put on a rerun of Atsumu’s game from the night before, and get to work shuffling through the paperwork that he’s left to pile up over the past seven days.

Osamu hates paperwork.

It’s not that it’s particularly challenging work—the really hard stuff is left to his bookkeeper after all. It’s just tedious, a mindless task in many ways, and he always finds his thoughts drifting as he sorts through invoices and inventory registers: catching himself being inattentive halfway through a spreadsheet, and having to force himself to go back to the beginning just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything in his carelessness.

You used to help him with this kind of work, or at least keep him company while he got through it—sitting on the lumpy couch crammed into one corner of his little office and pretending like you weren’t asleep each time Osamu caught you with your eyes closed. More often than not, he’d throw his jacket over you to keep you warm while you napped and then rush through the last of his work so that he could wake you up and get you home. But just having you there on those late nights was enough for him; your presence was the thing that helped.

Coffee is his only saving grace, these days.

Samu shuffles out to the front of the shop on one such Sunday evening, taking off his baseball cap and ruffling the hair underneath tiredly. He’d finally gotten a trim, and he’s glad that things feel a bit more normal again as he rakes his fingers through it—his mother had been right when she remarked that it was getting too long the week before. He tosses his hat down on the front counter of Onigiri Miya, rounding the end to grab a sachet of instant coffee from behind the bar where he keeps his emergency stash.

The overhead lights in the shop are off, but there’s enough brightness filtering out from the still-lit kitchen that he doesn’t need to struggle to see as he prepares himself some hot water to add to the mug in front of him. He tips the granulated contents of his instant coffee sachet into the bottom after ripping it open with his teeth, tapping the empty plastic packaging against the edge of the cup to make sure it all comes out. The kettle behind him hums quietly as it heats to boiling, and Osamu sighs, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

He stares out at the restaurant—his restaurant, as hard as he still finds it to believe some days—his gaze sweeping over the tables with their corresponding chairs resting atop them. One of the staff had mopped the floors at the end of the night, which left them still slightly wet and glistening. There’s light filtering in through the front windows from the streetlights and the other shops that line the Osaka street outside, and their glow catches in the water that hasn’t yet dried from the tile.

Osamu’s eyes suddenly snap up to the glass that lines the front of the restaurant.

There’s a silhouetted figure—so familiar he could trace it even with his eyes closed, from memory alone—standing on the other side of the door.

Osamu blinks, thinking that the paperwork must have finally gotten the best of him, or maybe that the beer he’d had earlier is inexplicably hitting him too hard. But no matter how many times he squeezes his eyes shut, the familiar shape stays where it is on the other side of the glass each time he opens them again.

His heartbeat thumps, loud and wet, in his ears.

Like the shot of a gun, the man stumbles gracelessly into action: loping around the end of the bar and slipping slightly on the wet tile as he heads towards the door. He fiddles with the lock as he struggles to unlatch it, accidentally trying to force it the wrong way in his haste before eventually getting it right. When he finally throws open the door, a gust of cool night air flooding into the restaurant along with it, he takes in a deep, gasping breath.

“Hey.”

His voice is shaky when he greets you—mostly air and very little shape to the word.

You stare at him from a few paces away, your arms crossed firmly over your chest and a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth. Osamu thinks you look pretty when you’re mad. He always has. But it’s worse now because he knows all too well that he shouldn’t—because he knows you’re mad at him.

You seem to have something to say, he can tell as much from the almost spiteful glint in your eyes, but you stay tightlipped as you simply stare at him.

“D’ya… wanna come in?” Osamu asks, still holding the door open. He nods his head back into the shop. “Still got some stuff prepped, I could make ya—“

“You’re a jerk.”

Osamu blinks, taken aback.

“Yeah,” he agrees plainly after a moment, thinking it’s only fair of you to say given then circumstances.

His concurrence only seems to upset you more.

“Like, you’re a real asshole, y’know that?” You’re nearly spitting you’re so angry, your features twisted up in contempt. Your arms uncross and drop down to your sides, and Osamu watches as your hands ball into fists. He’s the one who taught you how to throw a punch, years and years ago now, and he’s wondering if he’s about to experience a practical demonstration of his teaching abilities firsthand.

“I don’t necessarily disagree.” He nods, agreeing with you once more, though this time his response is slower, more hesitant—not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he’s not sure that it’s what you want to hear.

“Ugh!” Your following exclamation is loud, and palpably frustrated, all but confirming his suspicions. “You…!”

Your tone is climbing with every passing second, and Osamu looks furtively up and down the road around the two of you. It’s late in the evening but there are still a few people out, and he sees heads turning in your direction at the commotion.

“Hey,” he says, his own voice dropping in volume but still pleading all the same. “My name’s on the door and we’re gettin’ some weird looks. I wanna hear everythin’ you have to say, but could you please just say it to me inside?”

You look at him blankly, your lips puckering into a petulant, unhappy pout. You seem like you want to say no, to keep causing a scene, and for a second Osamu really thinks you’re about to round in on him again. Instead you trudge forward, stomping past him over the threshold of Onigiri Miya.

Osamu hesitates for a moment after you pass, half in shock and half in relief, and then he lets the door swing closed and locks it behind him for good measure—he’s not sure he wants any unsuspecting people coming in search of onigiri and stumbling upon a brawl.

It’s dim in the restaurant when he turns to face you, but he can still see your fury burning in the dark.

Neither of you say anything.

“You can keep goin’ if you want,” Osamu is eventually the first to speak, and he means what he says. This is the least of the punishment he deserves, after all. And hearing you yell at him is markedly better than the silence.

“Martyrdom doesn’t suit you at all,” you mutter sullenly.

Osamu sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I just wantcha to say whatcha came here to say.”

You begin to pace as you work through your thoughts, slowly walking back and forth in front of the counter, picking at your cuticles. You’d put a fair amount of distance between the two of you, and he’s sure it was intentional. Osamu keeps himself confined to the entryway near the door, while you walk a path back and forth along the length of the service counter. His eyes follow every step you take, like a captivated child watching fish at the aquarium.

“I had a terrible dream last night,—” you finally force the words out, your feet stilling against the shiny tile as your pacing comes to a sudden halt.

Osamu decides to just do the right thing and shut the hell up for once, giving you the floor.

“—I was going to buy 30 kilos of rice from Kita-san’s farm—”

That’s a lot of rice, Osamu wants to note, but his lips part to let the words through and then he decides better of it.

“—and I was there, at the farm, and then Kita-san started telling me that you got married and had a baby. A baby, Samu! Kita-san standing there telling me all these terrible things with that big bag of rice in my hands, and I couldn’t even get mad at him because he’s Kita! So I just had to listen to him go on and on and on about the venue and the flowers and the baby name that you picked out. And the more he’d tell me the worse it was, and the bag of rice just kept getting heavier.” Your teeth bite down so hard into your lip as you suck in a breath that Osamu's amazed he doesn’t see blood. “I was hearing all of these things—terrible things—and all I could think was that I should have been there to see all of that for myself. I shouldn’t have been hearing about it from someone else. And I realized that you were living a whole life apart from me, a life that I didn’t know about or get to be a part of, and it just kept getting worse and worse and I woke up and I felt like I was going to scream.”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish your rambling thought, your chest heaving and your eyes wild and your mouth faintly wet. You look to him, and Osamu doesn’t see that same indignation in your eyes anymore, only hurt. He watches as the expression hardens again, whets itself like a blade—sharpened not in anger, but rather in resolve. In resignation.

“That day. I looked for you first.”

Osamu feels lost now. Are you still talking about that dream?

You understand without him saying it, and explain yourself further. “In high school. The day that I kissed Suna.”

Osamu’s stomach drops, all of the blood rushing to his head so quickly that the shop begins to spin a little around him. He can hear his pulse in his ears. He can feel it in his throat. He can’t help the twist of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, writhing and ugly though it may be, at the mere mention of his friend’s name. He doesn’t have the right to feel the way he feels, but it happens all the same.

“I looked for you,” you keep going, like you’ve broken a seal and have to let it all out. Osamu doesn’t dare try to stop you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He watches on like it’s a conversation that’s happening not with him but rather to him. “You were eating lunch with Tsumu in your classroom. I realized he would have had a fit if he knew that I was asking you and not him. I thought about asking him but…”

Osamu can’t feel his fingers from how tightly his hands are balled into fists at his side. His lungs burn in his chest—the breath he’s holding having long since lost the oxygen his body needs, though he can’t seem to draw in another.

“If it wasn’t you, I didn’t care who it was. So I asked Suna.”

The young man processes your words slowly. Incompletely. Like only every third word seems to register.

“Ya wanted me to be yer first kiss?” It’s not the question he ought to ask you but it’s the one his brain chooses to spit out.

Your reply is frustrated, but with an unmistakably melancholic rasp running through it. “Yeah. I did.”

Somewhere distantly, Osamu recognizes a sharp, stinging pain. An ache as part of him realizes that it could have been him. All along. All this time. Him. But the pain is muted, because part of him—most of him—still doesn’t quite understand.

“I think that was the first time I realized it.”

Osamu watches your face, maps the achingly familiar lines and dips and curves of your features as he tries to read meaning in the space between your words. But he still finds nothing.

“I liked you, Samu. More than I should have. Differently than I liked Tsumu, or Suna, or any other guy.” You laugh, but it’s a hollow, watery sound. “I realized it and it was awful.”

You’re waiting for him to say something, but Osamu is at a loss for words. No, that’s not quite it either. It’s not that he has nothing to say, but that he has everything he wants to say to you. To ask you. But he doesn’t know where to start, or how to sort through them, or even how to will his lips, teeth, and tongue to shape any of them.

“You… Y’know ya don’t have to say this,” his voice is tight, like a rope drawn to secure a knot not unlike the one in his throat, when he finally manages to speak. “Ya don’t have to pretend or convince yourself that you… felt the same as me. I care about ya too much to ever ask that.”

You laugh—a single, sharp, distinctly mirthless ha!—as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “There you go again not letting me have any say, Samu!” You punctuate your exclamation with a frustrated little sound. “Stop deciding things all on your own and just listen to me.”

That shuts him up again.

“I thought I was over it,”—you begin to pace once more, your steps slow and measured—“I really did. I told myself it would never happen and moved on because I never ever wanted to fuck things up between us. Between any of us.

“You told me that you’ve loved me your whole life, but you don’t know if or when something changed. I do. I had a singular moment that I could point to where I realized that if I did or said the wrong thing after that, I could fuck up something that meant more to me than anything else in the world. Even if you felt the same way I did, there’s no guarantee that something like that would work out. But if we tried and it didn’t work, we wouldn’t be able to just go back to how things were. So I told myself that no matter what I wouldn’t. No matter how hard it was or how awful it felt. I could get over it if it meant I never had to lose you. And it was fine. For years it was fine. We were fine. Everything was fine. And then I lost you anyway.”

You suddenly stop pacing and crouch down, your arms winding themselves around your knees as if to comfort yourself.

“That night, when you…” You swallow, and risk a glance up at him. “I don’t think I’m over it.”

Osamu feels like he might die. Maybe he did already. Maybe this is his life passing before his eyes, because it’s always been you anyway.

“But it’s scary, Samu,” your voice is so small, so vulnerable, when you speak to him again. You’re trembling as you hold yourself. “Aren’t you scared?”

Osamu is suddenly reminded of that fall day in the woods, so many years ago now. Reminded of two kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Who didn’t know anything. But who knew each other.

Slowly, Osamu crouches too—his joints cracking in protestation as he drops his body down to your level. Your eyes never leave his.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. Soft but sure. “‘Course I am.”

You let out a soggy, incredulous laugh, but it somehow doesn’t feel out of place. He watches as you reach up and scrub at your eyes.

“I love you,” Osamu says, because it’s true. Because there’s no other words he can possibly think to say in this situation. Because it’s the only thing that he has in his mind.

You look over at him, sniffling a little, wiping at your running nose with the back of your hand in a way that Osamu absolutely should not find as endearing as he does. “How can you just say it like that? Like it’s so easy?”

Osamu wants to laugh too, like you did earlier, but he worries that the sound might come off as almost hysterical thanks to the misplaced hope he can feel simmering in the pit of his stomach. “Sayin’ it’s the hard part, that’s why it took me so long. But I’ve spent forever lovin’ ya. S’always been the easiest bit.”

You choke back a sob, your head hanging defeatedly as your body slackens. You’re a ghost of the angry little thing that was outside of his door only a few minutes earlier, but more yourself now than Osamu has seen you in weeks.

“What about you?” he poses the question so quietly he might worry you didn’t hear him if not for how silent the dark shop is around you both.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. You’re stalling, trying to buy yourself time that’s run out now.

“Do you love me?” he asks, praying to anyone who’s listening that he’s been a good enough man up until this point to deserve the answer that he wants to hear more than anything else in the world.

“Of course I do,” you say evasively, refusing to meet his gaze. But it’s not the same. It’s not enough.

“But are you in love with me?” Osamu finally dares to ask.

There’s a stretch of the most painful, profound silence that either of you have ever experienced. It goes on for an eternity, though the clock hands in the corner say differently.

You still refuse to look at him, your gaze fixed instead to a point on the wall on the other side of the restaurant. Osamu watches how the light from the windows catches in the tears that cling to your bottom lashes.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, barely a whisper. You speak the confession like it’s the most terrifying thing imaginable. Like it's wretched.

And it is maybe, but Osamu’s never felt happier to hear anything in all his life—he feels a rush of something so visceral and elated flowing through him, he thinks he might pass out.

“Can I touch ya?” he asks hesitantly, his voice thick and unlike its normal tone. He hardly recognizes it as his own.

You peek over at him for the first time, and Osamu revels in the feeling of having your eyes on him. Delights in watching you watch him and knowing that behind the gaze is the same feeling as the one he holds inside of himself. You consider it for a moment, and he doesn’t dare rush you, but eventually—mercifully—you nod.

Osamu inches forward slowly and wraps you in his arms. Your body relaxes into his hold instantly, and he pulls you into his lap on the tiled floor. He holds you so tightly that he’s scared he might break you, but he still can’t find it in himself to be more delicate. You cling to him anyway.

It’s the first time he’s touched you in months, but every inch of you is still known to him. Still familiar in every way that matters. You smell the same. You feel the same. You’re soft and warm just like always. Osamu buries his face into the crook of your neck, and your fingers eventually lift to play with the hair at his nape. He holds you, and holds you, and holds you more—sating a thirst that’s been building for longer than the time the two of you have been apart.

And you let him.

You hold him too, in the same way.

“If I kiss ya, you gonna cry again?” Osamu asks you quietly after a while, his lips brushing against your throat as he murmurs the words.

You snort, your fingers twisting into the material of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Osamu peels himself away from you and looks up, and finds that your faces are so close. Too close, in any other circumstance.

His palm lifts, cupping your cheek in his hand, running his thumb against the smooth skin underneath.

“Shut up, Samu,” you say, a little smile twisting up the corner of your mouth.

And Osamu happily obliges by pressing his lips to yours.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #bff!osamu

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