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babyrunsforfanfic · 1 year

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Tangled Necklaces

summary: the four times steve harrington untangles your necklace for you, and the one time do it for him.

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings/tags: light angst, talk of anxiety, reader and steve meet while reader is dating someone else but they don’t cheat or anything they just kinda have a moment y’know, reader described as having hair long enough to put in a bun at one point, everyone lives ok like zero talk of the upside down or vecna, platonic fruity four, talk/use of drugs & alcohol, talk of kids but it’s like four sentences and it’s over so fast i swear

based off these two posts (one) (two) that i really had the urge to expand on.

wc: 4500ish

1. when steve harrington agreed to tag along to a party to keep his friend, eddie munson, company during some “party favor” deals… he didn’t really know why. okay that was a total lie, he had mainly agreed due to nancy and robin being out on a double date with vickie and jonathan respectively, and he didn’t want to fifth wheel.

however, watching the party with a red cup of warm beer to his lips, he wasn’t sure why people still threw these fucking things. eddie was decently in his element, happily spouting about something to some guy buying a pre-rolled spliff, the guy in which who looked like he had no want to be there. said guy who, after passing eddie a ten dollar bill, made some comment about a girl sobbing in the upstairs bathroom.

now steve, steve couldn’t deny he had things for saving people and the whole ‘kicked puppy’ schtick, so when he glanced at eddie, eddie simply waved him off toward the house. steve maneuvered through wasted teenagers, kicking a few plastic cups out from under his feed, before he treaded up the stairs slowly. upstairs was quieter, though not completely vacant, and the floor still thrummed from the music that was being played just below.

“i can’t believe that girl is in there crying over a stupid fucking necklace.” a girl had snickered in passing, and steve ignored whatever the girl’s friend had said (though he knew it was as equally malicious as the first girl).

instead, steve walked straight to the only closed door on the floor, and tapped his knuckles against the wood. he could hear the sniffles, the water running, and when you opened the door… god he didn’t think he had ever seen someone as pretty.

“m sorry.” you mumbled, mascara black tear lines under your eyes, and steve watched as your hand came up to wipe at your face. “if you need to-”

“what’s wrong?” steve instead asked, and he caught the surprise in your eyes as you rapidly blinked. “someone said something about a necklace?”

“oh.” you wince, and you lifted your clenched fist that steve had just realized had been tucked behind your back so far. “it’s nothing, really.”

“let me see.” steve folded his hands on his hips, waiting, before you let out a soft sigh. “let me see, c’mon.”

you said nothing, and instead just brought your hand around to open your palm face-up. steve sucked a breath through clenched teeth, though didn’t say anything as he glanced at the clump of metal chain you had in the center of your hand.

the necklace itself was pretty, some thin silver chain with a tiny stone on it, and you scrunched your nose as you shrugged noncommittally.

“it’s fine, i can take it to a jeweler in the next town over.” you shrugged again, and steve watched as you touched the knot with the tip of your nail from your other hand’s pointer finger. “not a big deal, y’know?”

“give it.” steve murmured, and when you didn’t move quick enough- steve plucked the necklace out of your hands for you. “wash yourself up, i got it from here.”

you blinked owlishly as steve closed the toilet lid and sat, balancing the chain on his own palm as he stared at it. you didn’t necessarily know what to say (was there anything to say?), and so instead? you just listened to him.

you used a hand towel to wash your face, paired with the bottle of cheap face wash you found tucked under the sink. you were able to scrub off most of your leftover makeup, though you were delicate around the eyes, which left the majority of your now smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow. you huffed, breathing deeply as you leaned forward, before you cupped water in your palms. the trickle of the water, the coolness of it, grounded you- and you didn’t flinch when you looked up in the mirror to see steve harrington standing just behind you. he smiled at you, slow and steady, before he jerked his head toward you.

“move your hair.” steve kept his voice soft still, and you did as he asked- before your necklace was back where it belonged. your fingers smoothed over it, as steve connected the clasp closed, fingers brushing just under the back of the collar of your sweater. “there we go.”

you both stared at each other’s reflection, unblinking and quiet, your fingers of one hand pressed to your necklace- while the other kept you steady as you stood against the counter. steve watched you, arms and hands limp at his side, though he offered you a smile still.

a sharp thwap on the door caused you to jump, and you glanced at the locked doorknob as it jiggled.

“baby? you in there?” chris, your boyfriend of six months and some change called, and while steve mouthed the word ‘baby’ to himself, you answered back with your eyes still locked on the harrington boy still stood behind you.

“i’ll meet you downstairs!”

steve let you go when you stepped away. when you whispered your apologies, he murmured his own back.

later that evening, when he makes eye contact with you when you’re pressed into the side of some jock, he can’t help but feel smug when your hand lifts to ghost against the necklace that’s nestled between your collarbones.

2. steve harrington was pretty sure his friends were out to get him. when eddie had whined and pleaded to let him throw a little friend-movie night thing. steve had reluctantly agreed, but he made his friends instead switch it into an all day thing. starting with swimming in the pool, and then. when they were tired enough, pizza and movies.

steve should’ve known something was up when eddie asked if he could invite someone over, and when steve later asked who, eddie had instead changed the subject.

but steve hadn’t pressed, and instead figured eddie had probably lucked out with a girl or guy— and was embarrassed.

he hadn’t expected to walk out of his house to see you sitting by the pool. most of your hair was scraped up in a bun on the top of your head, but your hands were currently fiddling with that fucking necklace of yours.

steve dropped off the case of beers next to a grinning nancy, who winked playfully at steve, before she gestured to you. when you turned around you beamed, giggling and waving at steve as he got closer to you.

“surprise!” you grinned wide, eyes bright, and steve chuckled as the sun caught the shine of the sunblock you’d applied to your cheeks and nose.

“hey there!” steve greeted you in an quick one arm hug when you dropped one arm, though he took note that one of your hands stayed tucked at the hair at the nape of your neck. “what are you doing here?”

“eds invited me!” you chirped, eyes bright as your dark tinted sunglasses tipped down your nose. steve glanced over his shoulder toward eddie, who was fiddling with the boombox steve had propped on a table. “said you wouldn’t mind.”

“the more the merrier.” steve grinned when you smiled wide, before he couldn’t help but gesture towards your neck with a jerk of his chin. “problem?”

“oh.” you winced, and steve felt a familiar rush of deja vu, though this time you’re spinning to show steve the back of your neck. your necklace had grabbed hold of the hairs at your nape, and it was spun almost to the root. steve whistled this time, murmuring a curse word. “i know, it’s bad huh?”

“you sleep in that thing or something?” steve settled down behind you without asking, and quickly flicked your hand out of the way. you flushed, though tipped your head forward as to make his ministrations easier.

“yeah, i uh, shower in it too.” you shrug, and steve balks as he sets about carefully pulling your hair out of the chain’s teeth.

“now, i’m no jeweler…” steve’s words trail off as he untangles one section, before moving to the next. “but pretty sure sleeping in this and showering in it is not helping you with taking care of it.”

“i just.. i don’t want to lose it, y’know?” you shrug, and steve can see over your shoulder you’re fiddling with a thin bracelet that’s around your wrist. “i don’t want to lose any of it.”

you gesture then, from head to toe, and steve looks at where you point. the tiny earrings in your ears. the necklace in between steve’s fingers. the bracelets. the rings. an anklet on your left ankle.

“i don’t have a jewelry box so i just..” you shrug again, and steve watches from over your shoulder as you start to turn a ring around your thumb.

“hm.” steve makes a noise of acknowledgment, mainly so you know he’s still listening to you, before he smooths his hands under the last bit of your previously tangled hair. “all done.”

you smile from over your shoulder at steve, an ear to ear thing, and steve pretends his heart doesn’t skip a beat when later you tell robin while you’re tipsy that you dumped your boyfriend.

you pretend yours doesn’t skip a beat, when you get back home and empty out your bag. tucked inside the towel you’d borrowed, you find a beat-to-shit jewelry case. when you eventually got the courage open it, all that’s inside is a small sticky note.

signed— from, s.

you don’t tell anyone that you tuck the sticky note away into your wallet for the safest of keeping.

it’s the first night you sleep where when you wake, your necklace isn’t tangled into your hair, and your anklet isn’t snagged on a lose thread.

steve pretends to not blush when he gets his own sticky note back, alongside a small ring, a ring that while it doesn’t fit his hand, it does fit on his key ring.

his note is signed— with a doodle of a necklace.

3. steve liked working at family video on one particular day the most out of any other day. sure, there are the days where his friends come in, keeping him and robin company at the two work while their two other friends pick their way through the stacks.

steve however, steve especially likes saturdays.

he mainly (okay fully) enjoys saturdays because those are the days where you come in. the hour varied— sometimes right when the store opened and other times you’d slink in just before your shift though.

however, when he arrived to work one day and found you sniffling while you sat on the curb in front of your car, his heart ached. you’d blinked up at him, pretty and hands shaking, as your hands cradled two parts of the necklace that you usually wore. the clasp was in one hand and the body of the necklace in the other, and steve said nothing to you as he ushered you inside the family video store.

robin wouldn’t be in for another hour, and steve didn’t care what keith would probably have to say come monday. steve instead ushered you to sit behind the store’s counter, and you sunk to the floor as steve moved around quickly.

first, he’d relocked the doors. secondly, he’d taped a piece of paper to the glass of one with just the word ‘emergency’ scrawled across it. thirdly, he’d draped his jacket around your shoulders in passing, since your body was still trembling as you cried. fourth and fifth, he snagged a coke from the vending machine in the break room, alongside a pair of needle nosed pliers.

when steve came to sit in front of you cross legged, knees touching yours, you sniffled as you held the broken necklace in your hands. you didn’t say anything at first, and instead let steve pluck the broken necklace bits from your hand, swapping them for the coke. he let you, keeping quiet as you drank, before you started to fiddle with the tab.

“my mom gave me that.” you explained, and steve nodded, set about using the pliers to reopen the clasp end that had gotten pulled off. “and whenever anything happens to it… god i just fucking freeze.”

“what made you come here?” normally, steve would think he had more tact then that, and for a moment he thinks about robin and the ‘you suck’ tally marks at scoop’s.

“i…” you blow out a huff of air, and steve gets a smell of mint and coke, smiling as he watches you become flustered. “this is gonna sound so dumb.”

“hey, you aren’t dumb.” steve’s answer is an almost bite, and you blink up at him prettily as steve’s eyes harden as he watches you. “you’re not. we all have things that stress us out, yeah? so don’t say you’re dumb just because you think you’re overreacting about something.”

you say nothing, bottom lip between your teeth.

steve continues to fiddle with the necklace, pliers helpings as he’s able to loop the rings back together. you’re smiling as you watch, steve notices, and you happily turn around after steve lets out a small ‘ta-da’.

you move your hair out of the way as if it was something you did all the time, and steve is gentle as he clasps the necklace around your neck.

“be careful with this, okay?” steve murmurs, and you hold back a shiver at the way his breath fans over the back of your neck. “if it breaks, try and not lose the rings, i can get it back together if you have all the pieces.”

you nod and promise, and for the next forty minutes, you and steve talk about life. you both say nothing when robin walks in, the girl mumbling to herself about an ‘emergency’ and you and steve both try to not squirm when she grins down at you. instead, you let steve pull you up so you’re standing on your own feet, and he finally opens the store with robin as you’re looking for your next movie to watch.

when you find it and are later checking out, you see steve’s keys, and steve looks up when the most adorable choked out puff of air falls from your lips.

“oh.” you’re grinning, shifting your weight on both of your feet, eyes bright as you rub your thumb over your ring that’s sitting on his keys.

steve just smiles at you, nervous, and you accept the movie and receipt from him. when you leave, robin slides a sticky note to him, with a sloppily drawn ‘you rule | you suck’ diagram, with a single tally mark under ‘you suck’.

steve pushes it away with a scoff, just as the door chime alerts your re-entry to the store. you don’t have the movie in your hands, and instead you’re fiddling with your necklace, your bracelets, your rings. steve and robin both keep quiet as you huff to yourself, before you send a smile to steve.

“go on a date with me.”

later, after steve agrees and gets your number, robin slides a new sticky note his way when the store is packed full.

‘you rule: I | you suck: 0’

4. steve harrington is pretty sure, almost a hundred percent fucking positive he was meant to be your boyfriend. he decides this early on in your relationship, while he’s listening to you giggle to robin about leaving hawkins and all seven of you moving into a duplex of some kind. he listens to you giggle with nancy, mainly when nancy tells you steve’s vision of having six kids.

when you squirm and say you wouldn’t mind, eddie claps steve’s shoulder and proclaims him to now officially be a goner. steve rolls his eyes and pushes eddie away as eddie teases him about being whipped. (steve will never tell eddie about how that night, you and steve laid nose-to-nose in his bed talking about name ideas).

he later hears you checking with nancy that she’s not upset with you for dating steve, and when she assures you that she’s not- you quietly say you think someone like steve had always been missing from your life. (that night, steve lays in your bed beside you and wishes that you’ll never leave him). when you wake up the next morning and notice he’s more bleary-eyed than usual, you have him call out and you spend all day in bed together, sheets tangled and skin to skin.

steve doesn’t mind that you both have morning breath the whole day. you do, but you’d never say a word.

if steve had to pick a favorite though, mornings would definitely be at the top of the list. you had a job at the police station with nancy, both of you working as secretaries to save up money so all of you could get the fuck out of dodge, before you all intended to move just.. out of hawkins.

but mornings, mornings steve got to help you. he got to slip your rings onto each finger, before he pressed a kiss to the digits. He carefully selected your bracelets, making sure they wouldn’t snag on anything you were wearing that day (he knew you had certain ones that were finicky for certain clothes).

your necklace, the one your mom had given you, was long since broken. you’d had a full meltdown when it happened, sobbing into steve’s shirt as held you to him. you’d both stayed like that for a long while, him cradling you to his chest as you held the necklace to yours. later, when your tears ran dry, he helped you slip the necklace into a small plastic bag, and tuck it carefully against your jewelry box.

(he’d offered to buy you a new one, a better one than the old one he’d snuck into your bag. you told him to shut the fuck up with silly questions, and steve hadn’t asked since)

he’s gifted you a necklace, just last week, a dainty chain with a small teardrop pendant that hung in the hollow of your throat. your eyes had teared up, breath stuttering in your throat, and you’d instantly turned around so you could push your hair off your shoulder.

and all of that, led to now— where you and him were getting ready to go pick up steve’s adopted children (how you’d fit them all in his little car you weren’t sure), but you’d manage. you were fully ready, one of his sweaters on but pouting, your chin cradled by the palm of your hand. steve shook his head fondly at you, even as he used the pair of tweezers you’d offered him to try and untangle the knot that you’d made with your necklace.

“oh.” you mumbled, and steve huffed playfully at you, eyes rolling fondly as he hushed you. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize, pretty thing.” steve wet his lips with his tongue, slowly working out the chain as he shrugged his shoulders. “not too bad, ‘m a pro at this now and everything.”

“need to start paying you.” you teased, and you squirmed when steve grinned at you.

“pay me in kisses, huh?” steve grinned as you stuck your tongue out at him, before he pressed his hand to his chest with a grin. “ouch! fine, pay me by doing my dishes when we all move in together.”

steve gestured to one of the polaroids tacked to your vanity mirror, and you smiled as you glanced at it. it was a picture of all of you; you, steve, robin, vickie, nancy, jonathan, and eddie. you were all tucked close, hazy eyes but with bright smiles, and you’d loved the photo since the day you’d taken it.

“you want that, really?” your voice was soft, and steve clicked his tongue at you and gestured you closer as he held your necklace up.

you turned, allowing him to clip your necklace on, before his hands curled around your shoulders to hold you in place.

kiss. a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“i can’t wait to move in with all of you. waking up every day with you in our bed, not having to sneak around anyone.” steve hummed, and you let out a soft sigh to urge him on. “we’d all balance each other out, and we’d have our own space to hang out if they got on our nerves.”

kiss. a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“i can’t wait to start the rest of my life with you, sweet thing.” steve thumbed the clasp of your necklace, and you nodded as you shifted so you could straddle his lap and face him. “okay?”

“okay.” your answer has steve smiling, and you can’t help but smile back shyly.

steve let’s out this soft, almost fucked out laugh, before his fingers curl around the necklace chain..

and pull.

the kiss is shy, sweet, both of your noses brushing and giggling and smiling into each other’s mouths. steve pulls away first, eyes flickering to the clock you have above your bed, before he presses another kiss to your mouth.

“c’mon, sweet thing. let’s go get the kids.”

you don’t tell steve, but the entire drive there and back with the kids… you can’t help but think that it would be easy to have a life where steve’s hand was in yours.

unknown to you, steve feels the exact same way.

5. steve huffed as he leaned his head to rest against the headboard of the bed he sat on, brow furrowed and lips pulled down in a frown. he glanced around the room, and couldn’t help but let a slight smile curl at the edges of his mouth.

you’d all done exactly what you said you would, and now, two years almost to do the day of meeting you, you’d all moved out of bum-fuck nowhere that is hawkins. it wasn’t without its challenges, of course, the main one being it took a whole extra year to follow through with the group’s goals plan. (the group had unanimously voted to stay while eddie finished his third try of senior year, even with eddie’s insistence that you didn’t have to and he’d follow soon)

but, all eventually was okay- and you’d all thrown several darts on the map to decide where you’d move. you’d all decided on texas of all places, renting a large 6-room duplex to fit the entire lot of you. it was nice, slipping into the domestic life with steve’s friends and you around him— if he was honest with himself, it was everything he’d ever wanted in life.

on the day you all moved in, you’d gifted steve a necklace of his own. steve had blushed (and totally did not teared up thank you very much), and now it was his favorite thing to wear. it was simple, just a chain necklace, but you’d given it him. steve could also fully recall the nervous ramble you’d slipped into, one that rivaled one of robin’s. you’d been worried he wouldn’t like it and that it wouldn’t fit his style, but steve just cut you off with a kiss, before clipping it around his neck.

all of that culminated to now, steve having gotten off much earlier than the rest of you. he’d changed and showered to rid himself of just the funk for working for a little under eight hours, and while slipping his shirt over his head- he knocked his necklace off the bathroom counter. it’d fallen to the floor in a clatter, and steve felt his heart lurch in his throat as he scrambled to pull it off the floor.

his hands shook as he tried to untangle the knot of chain, but everything he did just seemed to make it worse. he’d been working at it for over an hour, hands trembling and curses on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but feel idiotic. he couldn’t count the amount of times you had to have his help untangling yours, and here he was not even being able to do his own.

“hey baby,” your voice caused steve to flinch and instinctively cup his hands together, and steve glanced up at you with wide-eyes as you slipped into your shared bedroom. your fingers were quickly unbuttoning the blazer you had on, and steve watched as you cocked your head as your brow quirked. “what’d you have there?”

“oh.” steve blushed, and took a few short breaths as you draped your blazer over the footboard, before you crawled up so you were sitting across from him. “uh-”

your hands were on his, uncurling and parting his hands, and steve watched as you smiled. you didn’t say anything, even as his own hands trembled as he held them flat. you used them as a surface as you carefully began working at the knots, and steve wet his lips with his tongue.

“do you wanna talk about it?” your brow pinched as you glanced up at steve, and he felt his cheeks warm as he swallowed. “you always make me talk about it, y’know?”

“it fell and i just-” steve let out a puff of air, clenching his eyes shut as he steadied his breathing. he focused on the light brush of your fingers against his, and the small hum you made to prompt him to continue. “i can always get yours untangled and then it fell and i…”

“i know.” you had a smile on your face when steve opened his eyes, and he watched as you plucked the chain up and shook it lightly. it was untangled now, dangling from the tips of your fingers, and you cocked your head with a small smile. “there we go, want me to put it on for you?”

you were teasing, steve could tell, but you didn’t even wait for him to respond before you leaned forward. your hands went behind his neck with the necklace, and he felt the slight brush of your fingers as you clasped the chain together. when you pulled back, you brushed your fingers down, smoothing the chain so it sat smoothly on his chest.

“there we go.” you smiled up at steve, who stared down at you with a slight shyness in his eyes. “all good, baby?”

“mhm, love you.”

steve watched as you curled your fingers around the chain of his necklace— and pulled.

your lips connected in a kiss, nose bumping and giggling into each other’s mouths when your teeth clashed. when you both disconnected, you had your hand placed on his chest, fingers twisting the chain of his necklace around.

“love you too, stevie.”

later, that night, while you’re flush to his chest- quiet snores falling from your mouth as you sleep, steve is thinking about rings.

specifically to go on that finger on your left hand.

#babyrunsforfanfic #first fic please be gentle ok i’m scared #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #except i never actually used y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #read steve’s shirt it says ‘boyfriend material’#steve harrington is boyfriend

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selfishdoll · 6 months

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FOUND OUT FT. VAMP! ARMIN ୨୧ ｡ ⟡ ⋆ ࣪. ໒

armin arlert, your good friend of two years and hard crush of one. you decided to become his roommate just three months ago and all has been well. except for the fact, a ludicrous idea has entered your mind. one so silly, you didn’t even want to believe it. what was it exactly? well.. that armin, was a vampire. this wasn’t some fantasy or fairy tale.. you weren’t bella and he wasn’t edward. there was no way, no way in hell armin was a vampire.. right?

❛author’s note...❜ ━━ please bare in mind i haven’t touched aot for a long time & only posting this fic for my reawakened obsession with the anime & manga. that said, if you think armin is ooc, i’m sorry— but again, i warned you (plus i’m not the creator). if you enjoy this, please give me more characters to make vamp versions of. of jjk or aot. and as always, please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos <3 (4680 WORDS)

It was common to question reality. To ponder about situations that were outside the norm. What if a zombie apocalypse happened? What if aliens were real? And finally, what if your good friend— turned roommate, was a vampire?

You felt silly as the thought, the pondering consumed you within the first week of living together. You really had no reason to believe Armin Arlert; a sweet young man with a heart of gold was some bloodsucking beast. Or rather, you didn’t want to believe it. Such information would drastically change the trajectory of the relationship you had with him.

The pipeline from friends — secret one sided pining — to prey wasn’t one you wished to follow.

Yet, all signs pointed to the answer; all signs pointed to Armin being a vampire.

For one, you’ve never seen him eat. Ever. Each time you offered some of your food, Armin would give you a gentle smile— while refusing. I already ate. Was the signature line he delivered, no matter the time of day. But, that wasn’t too concrete; he worked at home and you worked in a clinic— there was a possibility he was telling the truth.

The second piece of evidence may have been the key. The man would stock up his side of the fridge with this.. juice. Red liquid within clear bottles, the print labeled in a language you couldn’t understand. No matter how much you searched online, you simply couldn’t find it. So, you did the unthinkable.

You popped open a bottle, taking a swig. You expected a disturbing metallic taste; one that would cause you to spill the contents of your stomach. Instead a sweet fruity flavor tickled your tastebuds, causing your eyes to widen and quickly pull back from the bottle.

In time to see Armin entering the kitchen, flashing you a smile.

“I was wondering when you’d try them. I bought so many.” He spoke sweetly, informing you it was some random juice he bought whilst on a business trip.

With both his words and the concrete evidence, you believed him.

But there were so, so many more instances where you wondering if you were grasping at straws. His refusal to enter a home without access? Well, Armin was always polite. The way he avoided you whenever you got hurt? He did inform you blood makes him queasy. Or how each time you got your period the man just suddenly had a business trip? Armin did state his work schedule was weird.

It frustrated you to no end. You hated yourself for developing the thought in the first place. You already fucked falling for him a year ago, and now you just had to come up with the most ludicrous idea.

Armin Arlert, a vampire? Please..

The breath that escaped you was ragged, eyes pinched close and leaning your head against the steering wheel. The way a cramp could ruin your mood in a matter of seconds was beyond you. Truly, it was.

You were glued to your seat unable to move due to the pain within your stomach. Which could only be described as millions of knives being rammed directly into your uterus. A dramatic metaphor, but a fitting one.

A groan escaped you as you lifted from your curled position, the back of your head pressed against the seat. The pills you consumed just ten minutes ago had obviously not taken effect yet, leaving you unable to fight against the pain. You tried, you really did try to make it to work despite the aches— but you couldn’t. You pulled over into the nearest store parking lot just to make a quick call to your supervisor.

Thankfully, she was very understanding; even gently scolding you for attempting to work in the first place. The interaction caused you to smile, thanking her profusely and promising to make up the hours.

Now, all you had to do was get home. Though, as your eyes opened from its previous pained scrunch, you focused on the store in-front of you. A soft hum escaped you as turned the engine of your car off. A quick run to get some much deserved snacks was fine, right?

You opened the car door and exited, locking it behind you with a hand pressed against your stomach. It was comical attempting to massage the cramps, but the warmth of your hand was elevating the pain— slightly. Not much.

You approached the store doors and entered, flashing a smile to a worker that greeted you. You turned down an aisle whilst looking over the selection of snacks, kneeling to take in the rest of the shelf. While thinking over what you wanted, an idea popped into your mind.

Armin was always so doting and sweet whenever he went out to the store; always asking if you needed something. You wanted to do the same.

So without a second thought you grabbed your phone from your purse, clicking his contact and placing the receiver to your ear. The ringer went off two times before the man picked up, his usual tone entering your ears;

“Hey (Y/N)— are you okay? You don’t usually call me during work.”

You smiled, standing from your kneeled position. “I’m okay!.. well, not really. Cramps are kicking my ass right now,” You hummed, walking down the end of the shelf.

A silence entered the call for a moment before Armin spoke again. “You mean.. menstrual cramps?”

“Yeah!— sorry if that was too much to share.. Anyway, I’m at the store right now do you need anything?”

Armin cleared his throat a bit, the faint sound of something entering the call— but leaving quickly. “N—no. No, I’m fine. Thank you for asking, (Y/N).”

With chaste goodbyes you ended the call, placing your phone back into your purse. You finally decided on some gummies and chocolate, heading over to the register with a little pep in your step.

Pigging out on the couch seemed like the perfect day.

You left the store quickly after paying, entering your car even quicker and reaching your shared home in record time. Opening the door, you sighed as you placed your keys onto a table nearby; purse following. You walked towards the back of the house, glancing over at Armin’s closed bedroom door. With a small smile you walked up, pressing your knuckles against the maroon colored wood.

A minute passed before the door was opened, revealing his form. His eyes bored into your own, flashing the same gentle smile he always did. “(Y/N).. you should be resting.”

You smiled back at him, “Just wanted to check on you before I lay on the couch for the rest of the day.”

The man blinked as your words set in, watching you turn to enter your bedroom. Hesitantly, he followed, standing in the doorway. “On the couch?”

“Yeah! Don’t worry I’ll have a towel under me.”

“I wasn’t worried about that..” Was the faint mumble that escaped the blonde, words you didn’t hear. A soft sigh escaped him, however, blinking to glance at you. “Hope you feel better.” Armin said more clearly, turning to walk into his room after you gave soft gratitude.

You grabbed some pink bebe shorts and a random black tshirt, walking over to the bathroom with a pad in tow. After doing your business and changing, you entered your bedroom again to place your work clothes away— grabbing a clean towel shortly after.

You exited to enter the living room, smiling at the couch waiting for you. Walking over, you stretched the towel out along the cushions, pulling the coffee table closer for convenience. After grabbing your snacks and a water bottle, a stiff sigh escaped you as you laid across the couch. The towel was a bit uncomfortable if you moved, but you rather that then possibly leaking through the pad you wore.

Your hand reached for the remote beside you, turning the channel to a tv show you’ve currently been obsessed with; True Blood. A small chuckle escaped you as your cheek sunk into the pillow under you, placing the remote down. Maybe you were watching it too much, maybe that’s why you thought Armin was some blood sucking beast.

But, there was no way. You were literally on your period and he was.. well— normal. As normal as Armin Arlert was anyway.

You turned to open the pack of gummies, taking a bit in your hand before sinking back into the cushions. Your eyes remained glued to the screen as you popped one into your mouth, oblivious to the hard stare you were receiving.

An hour and a half passed with your continued watching, getting up in between to use the restroom. Your snacks were long gone, water bottle empty, and pill; worn off. You had zero energy to get up and grab some more, especially since you just found the perfect spot to help your cramps.

You hissed softly, moving to press your face deeper into the cushion. You’ve had a period for twenty-two years now, yet it always felt as if you were experiencing it for the first time. It was annoying, truly annoying. With a subtle groan your eyes blinked open, racking your mind for a moment before an idea peaked within you.

“Armin!” You called out from the living room while turning to lay on your back, hand strewn across your lower stomach. Moments passed before his bedroom door opened, footsteps entering the living room and revealing your roommate. Who looked a little tired. Strange, you’ve never seen him in such a way.

But, instead of inquiring you gave a little smile; “Could you grab my pills from my bedroom, and a water bottle?”

Armin’s eyes carried down your form for a moment, mouth opening before closing. Instead, he simply nodded; turning to head to your bedroom.

Maybe periods really did make him uncomfortable. You’ve never seen Armin so fidgety and nervous, as if scared to speak. It would concern you more if another cramp didn’t pierce you, causing a soft groan to slip past your lips. You heard Armin move from your bedroom to the kitchen, opening the fridge and closing it after.

You looked up at the man, watching him stand a few feet away; placing the items you requested down on the table. You sat up with a sweet smile, swinging your legs over the couch. “Thanks Min.” You spoke, watching him nod and turn to walk away. Instead of leaving him be, you spoke up again;

“You wanna watch something together? I’m sure being cooped up in your room is boring..” You don’t know why the suggestion escaped you, feeling embarrassment the moment you noticed Armin’s form stiffen. Your eyes turned to the pill bottle, twisting the cap slow. “It’s uh.. cool if you don’t want t—“

“Is this another test, (Y/N)?”

You blinked slowly as his words permeated the atmosphere, entering your mind and settling there for a split second. You thought over the sentence, tongue nervously swiping across your bottom lip the moment you realized his tone. It’s usual softness was gone, replaced with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You tried to play off your silence, a soft— forced chuckle escaping you. “Test? What test, Armin?”

You watched as the man’s shoulders lowered, body turning to face you. Your teeth was caught on your bottom lip, feeling tension enter the air.

Armin looked at you, or rather observed you for a silent moment. You didn’t know what to do, trapped under the gaze; unable to look away. Your fingers gripped the towel underneath you, debating whether to apologize or demand to know what was suddenly wrong.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was truly five minutes; Armin spoke.

“First, you take a bottle of mine and drink it without permission.” His words were slow, as if listing off the directions of a cookbook. What’s more, Armin moved towards you, your chest bumping with each step he took. “Next, you accidentally, cut yourself whenever I’m in the kitchen.” He was close now, standing beside the table.

You sunk into the cushion behind you, gasping the moment he closed the space; hands pressed against the furniture— trapping you. “And lastly, you invite me to sit with you in such an innocent manner.. I don’t know whether to call you a genius or just plain naive, (Y/N).”

“Armin..” You breathed softly, feeling your mouth go dry. His eyes flicked between your body and lips, clearly struggling to focus on a single thing. “Armin, I—.. I’m confused, what are you talking about?”

Finally it seemed he had made a choice, gaze focusing onto your own. Silently, the man smiled, a forced one— a toothy one. Your eyes widened, breath hitching the moment you spotted the fangs placed perfectly in his mouth. A shudder went down your spine, gripping the towel even harsher.

“Oh wow..” Armin spoke lowly, stealing your attention from his canines. “I reveal something.. so, so troubling and yet— you’re excited. More then excited actually.. ecstatic, maybe?” The man pondered, coming even closer to you.

Your hands rose to grip his arms, gasping the moment you felt his face lower to your neck. As his teeth ghosted your neck, you felt your heart threatening to escape your chest. You pinched your eyes closed, twitched, even turned your head to the side.

And yet, Armin did nothing. He simply.. hovered there.

A frustration you didn’t wish to acknowledge build within you, manicured fingers digging into his cool, skin. “Armin..”

“What is it, (Y/N)? You want me to bite you, don’t you?” The words escaped him the moment you uttered his name, a hand lifting from the cushion whilst he pulled back from your neck. Now face to face, his fingers collected your chin to assure you didn’t glance away. “I thought at first you were concerned for your safety, maybe even scared. But no..” His lips quirked, thumb rising to smooth across your wet bottom lip. “You’re clearly far from scared.”

“Armin.. please just—“

“I will. I promise.” He interjected, releasing your face. Your eyes widened the moment he pushed your shoulder, laying you down on the couch. The cushion in-front of you sunk in as he sat down, hands dragging to your waist covered in shorts. “But first.. I think I’ll get my fill another way.”

Your eyes widened at his words, feeling his fingers hook under the thin pink fabric of your bottoms and panties, peeling them from your body in one swift motion. Embarrassment flooded through your body, instinctively closing your thighs.

Armin’s eyes switched from your legs over to your face, head tilting as he took in your nervous expression. To your surprise, a gentle smile stretched across his face, one that you’ve gotten used to, one that caused you to melt easily.

Noticing this, it didn’t take much to gently push your legs apart, featuring your cunt to him. “That’s a good girl..” Armin spoke softly, hand slipping under your shirt, spreading across your stomach. The man lowered until he was face to face with your slit, unfazed by the blood upon it.

You whimpered the moment his thick tongue glided up— hole to clit, hands reaching down to rest upon his hair. A soft groan escaped the man, rising up whilst licking his lips clean of your mess. It was clear all restraints were gone now, the wild look in his eyes causing your stomach to stir.

“Do you know how long I waited for this?” The man questioned you, resting on one hand; the other’s fingers gently gliding up and down cunt, collecting your mixed essence and blood. “You were gonna drive me crazy one day; parading in such small shorts, showcasing your skin to me.” His words escaped him shamelessly, fingers pushing past your folds to gently brush your clit, moving away before you could even moan.

“You wanted this from the beginning.. didn’t you?” Armin suddenly spoke, escaping the trance to look at your face. He watched as you shook your head far too quickly, a small no even escaping you. That alone caused his reddened lips to curl into a smile, “You should leave the lying to me, sweetheart.”

You gasped the moment he dove back down, lips pressed against your wet slit. The man wasted no time in allow his tongue to glide across your slit, pushing to licking at your clit. Your taste, your smell— it was enough to have him groan right into your pussy, drinking every crimson droplet that escaped you.

You thought you would feel uncomfortable, maybe even a little gross; getting ate out in such a state. But those thoughts melted the minute his lips wrapped around your swelling bud, teasing you gently with the points of his fangs. Your back was rising from the cushion now, squirming upon the towel underneath you.

Your hands lowered to his hair, fingers curling in the blonde tresses for a tight hold. With the way his tongue was moving against you, you needed leverage; you needed an anchor. You felt far too pliable, melting into the feeling as wanton moans escaped your slick lips.

Gasps of his name, sweet whispers of how good it felt. Your arousal mixed with blood was trickling freely from your entrance, making such a mess; one that Armin lapped up far too eagerly.

And the moment you felt his thick tongue curl inside your awaiting hole, oh— you were finished.

“Hah.. Fuck, Armin—!” You hissed softly, feeling the wet muscle twist and turn inside you, brushing against your gummy walls and delving on you like a meal.

Which, to Armin, you were.

The man groaned into you in response, hands moving to your thighs and gripping; halting your moving. You were forced to lay there as he ate you, a band forming within your stomach; long replacing the agonizing cramps.

Your moans bounced off the living room walls, face turning into the cushions as hot pants escaped you. Your toes were curling, a sweat presenting itself upon your forehead as the pleasure consumed you full; flooding his mouth with more crimson arousal.

Armin drunk you up eagerly, fingers digging into your skin to keep to right there. He licked you clean, leaving no spot untouched; savoring his plate. After moments of this pleasure it melted into overstimulated torture, hands falling and pushing against his head.

“A—armin.. fuck, I can’t—“ Your eyebrows were pushing close, rising to sit up; gasping the moment he tugged, forcing you to fall back on the cushions. His face was flush against your messy cunt, drinking you up completely. Little tears formed in your eyes, legs moving as your stomach clenched and clenched.

Your worried words fell on deaf ears, literally. With how much your warm thighs were wrapping around his head, he could barely hear a damn thing. Even so, Armin refused to leave— not until you came on his tongue again.

With more fearsome licks and sucks, hands massaging your skin as if coaxing you— Armin felt his dick jump the moment you cried out for him, coming all over his tongue again.

“Taste.. so good, so fucking good princess…” He drawled right into your center, the vibrations of his voice causing you to keen. Unlike before, he let up from licking you dry, raising from between your legs— a complete mess.

You watched as Armin’s tongue licked the rest of your taste off his lips, his eyes closed; relishing it.

His hands slowly dropped your body to the cushion, hand curling under his shirt and pulling it off his body. Once off, the man used it to wipe his face— tossing it to the ground shortly after.

He’d wash it later.

Armin moved to hover above you, hand falling to your chin and turning to looking at your eyes. The man smiled the moment your hand wrapped around his wrist, leaning down and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Your cramps gone?” He asked in a soft, coy tone. The small huff you released caused the man to chuckle, moving to plant his lips on your own.

You moaned as his tongue intruded your mouth, ignoring the foreign taste of yourself on your tongue. Instead, you focused on him sucking your own wet muscle whilst his hand lowered to your covered chest, a thumb brushing over your hardening nipple. Your soft pants entered his mouth, hips rising against him; caring less if you soiled his pants.

And it seemed he didn’t either, hand gripping your hip and grinding back against you. Your hands traveled up his back, a hiss escaping him from how your short nails dragged across his cool, uncovered skin.

Pulling back, Armin stared down at you, taking in your bruised lips and the clear want swimming within your dark eyes. To add to the pretty picture was your bonnet slipping off your head, exposing the perfect boho braids you’ve recently got; edges sweated off.

“Such a mess.” The man murmured softly, hand rising and treading from your neck to your cheek; cupping it to allow his thumb to drag under your eye. “My pretty mess..” Armin dragged, leaning closer as his hand released your face, falling to his hips to tug down his sweats and boxers.

Your noses brushed together, your soft breaths fanning against his face. “Yours..” You murmured back, staring into his eyes. Such words brought a smile to his face, stealing your lips in another kiss while his tip brushed against your soaked slit.

Pushing you wider, Armin angled to slowly push inside, gripping your thigh the moment you tensed up. He pulled back from the kiss, forehead rested against your own. “Mm, don’t tense up; relax for me.. Just, relax.” He cooed softly, thumb tracing the stretch marks that littered your hips. With less effort he pushed all the way inside, praising you softly;

“Taking me so well, pretty.. such a good girl.” Armin spoke, chuckling at the small whine that escaped you. Pressing a gentle kiss to the space between your eyes, the vampire rose to rest on his hunches. He observed you closely, searching for any sign of restraint or discomfort. The moment he discovered neither, he was pulling his hips back until only the tip was inside.

Armin then plunged his hips forward, the wet sound echoing in the room; followed by your soft moan. His hands moved to your hips, starting a languid pace. Despite how good you felt around his throbbing length, you didn’t want to hurt him. Despite how sweet your moans were, he controlled himself in fear of harming you.

But, you were far from compliant with the current pace.

Your hips rose to meet a thrust, the action alone causing a moan to escape the both of you.

“N—need more, Min.. please.” Was the soft beg that escaped your slick lips, rocking your hips; watching the way his eyebrows creased and lip was caught under his fangs.

His restraint was dwindling with each roll of your hips, each sickeningly sweet plead that escaped your throat. Finally Armin’s inhibitions melted away, the slow; carful moans switching into fast snaps of his hips.

Your head landed against the plush cushions, crying out as your legs wrapped around his waist. He was drilling you into the mattress at this point, a harsh grip to keep you in place as he fucked you. A string of curses escaped you, gripping the towel underneath you as your feet bounced with each thrust.

Armin lowered, the new angle causing your swollen bud to brush against his pelvic area; the new sensation completely turning your brain into mush. The man enjoyed it all, glancing down at you in complete awe. You looked far too beautiful like this, far too—

“Perfect.. so fucking perfect— fu..fuck—“ The man hissed, pressing an arm above your head whilst the other grabbed your cheeks. “Look at me, princess.. that’s it, keep your eyes on me. Watch how well you take me.” His words were driving you deeper and deeper, your walls clenching as jumbled cries of his name escaped you.

“A—armin—!”

His eyes were rolling back at the call of his name, drilling into you as he leaned down to your neck. Between the harsh bouncing of your body his fangs sunk right through your skin, gripping you even closer the moment a shriek escaped you.

A guttural groan escaped Armin as he delved on your blood, hissing the moment you creamed all over his cock. Yet, his hips never stopped; continuing to ruin you, using his form to keep you laid out and open on the couch.

Your eyes were meeting your skull, lips parted as shameless noises leaped from your raw throat. Soon he let up, licking the wound from his fangs and moving to be face to face with you again.

“Taking me so good, princess— like your.. fu—fucking made for me, shit—“ Armin closed his eyes tight, feeling his orgasm build. Your velvety walls were clenching him so nicely, pulsing around his heavy length with each drag of his hips. His balls were slapping against your center, the wet strikes entering the room of sex and combined moans.

Tears trailed from your eyes, staining your brown, chubby cheeks as your hand carried to his hip. Despite the pleasure, the pain of another orgasm was approaching; your body writhing as you furiously shook your head. “Fuck, I— fuck, I can’t Min!” You whined out, breath bitching as a feverish kiss was placed to your forehead.

His face was close now, nose brushing your own as his lips ghosted your own. “You’ve been so good so far, don’t stop now sweet girl.” Armin hissed between clenched teeth, a hand falling from your hip between your conjoined bodies. The moment his fingers rubbed against your little bud you were arching, the vampire easily chasing your body to continue the harsh circles.

“Fuck, fuck! Armin—!”

“That’s it, baby.. let it out, don’t hold it.” The man coaxed softly, eyebrows creasing as he felt his own orgasm arriving. Armin watched intently as your stiffened, a drawn out cry of his name escaping you while making a complete mess of his lower half. “That’s my girl.. my good fucking girl.” He leaned to plant another kiss to your lips all while his hips never stopped their pace.

Soon enough, a harsh groan entered your mouth as he flooded you with his come; some spilling out from inside.

You pulled back from his lips for air, clinging to him with your eyes pinched closed. Your body was aching, you felt sweaty, and frankly gross— but you didn’t care. Not one bit.

A subtle whine escaped you the moment Armin pulled out from you, his gaze settled on his come escaping you. With a slow rub of his thumb against your skin, the man leaned to stamp a kiss right above your heart. “I’ll start the shower up.”

You watched as he stepped off the couch, moving to walk over to the bathroom— only for your voice to stop him.

“Armin.. those bottles in the fridge, they weren’t blood right?”

He looked at you for a long moment before a little grin pulled his features. “No. Just the ones in back. I knew you would pick from the front.”

With that Armin resumed his walk to the bathroom, leaving you there; feeling just a little stupid.

Well, at least you were right. Your good friend of two years turned roommate turned something more— was definitely a vampire.

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #mdni #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet smut #armin arlet x black reader #armin arlet x you #armin arlet x female reader #armin arlet x fem reader #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x blk reader #armin x black reader #x black reader #vampire au #true blood inspired

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yourantag · 1 month

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Do NOT Let Him Cook (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: Happy White Day! I'm probably not posting more than this and the other fic I was supposed to post Valentine's Day (which, as you can see, I failed in doing) for March. I will, however, be posting a little more in April cause that is my birthday month! Expect a few indulgent fics. This fic is honestly just crack, so if you need something silly and sweet, here we are! Genuinely, do not let this man cook. Word count: 2.2k words Summary: It's White Day, a day of reciprocated love. Of course, Helel has to give you something in return for your wonderful Valentine's gift. Now, if only he could figure out how he turned a tart into a fruity croissant...

There were very few things Helel feared. The first, of course, was you. He held your heart in his hands as you did too, yes, but no one could get him to obey them quite like you could. It was loyalty, it was devotion, one reciprocated through blood and love. To possess such power over him is somewhat of a marvel, something to fear, even just a little.

The second was your death, the thought of you leaving his side forever. He'd tear apart the world, commit sacrilege in the holiest places, and declare war upon the gods before he'd let someone take you from him. Still, he cannot control plagues, time, or the hostility within the hearts of humans. Life is delicate, even Helel cannot deny that.

The third thing he feared, Helel learned, was baking.

It seems simple enough, really. Chuck a few ingredients in, mix it, then toss it in an oven. Easy, right? Looking around him now, with smoke billowing off the charred tray (and wow, he didn't know metal could burn like that), Helel was completely at a loss.

"Ah, these don't seem quite right." He muttered, scratching his cheek. All Helel wanted was to give you something in return for your Valentine's gift, something special. He had consulted many people, even asking some of the prisoners, as odd as that sounded.

Most didn't give any good responses, only saying "please let me go" or "you're going to pay for this." Terrible advice, really. Not even on topic, either, but it could be worse, he supposed. So, he went to ask his favorite person to bother.

"For the love of- just make them cookies or something!" Nebuchadnezzar had exclaimed, absolutely done with Helel's ramblings. He looked about ready to chew his tongue off so he could finally know peace again. At least death wouldn't ramble about their lover for 15 hours straight.

It had been a decent suggestion, so Helel had taken it. Perhaps he shouldn't have, considering the disaster that was most of his creations.

The counters were covered in flour, the fine powder dusting the area like snow. Splatters of batter, egg, and butter painted some places like abstract art. The worst place of all, funnily enough, was the table. It was completely clean, presenting only a few delectable looking treats.

Sadly, they were not exactly what they were made to be. Somehow, Helel had managed to make bread instead of cake, a croissant instead of a tart, and now small bricks instead of cookies. He carefully tapped one against the counter, wincing as the wood chipped under the force. The cookie, however, was fine.

'I... can't give them this.'

Helel smiled awkwardly, wanting nothing but to slam his face against a wall. He had thought "it couldn't be that hard!" and look at him now. It was pathetic, to the point he genuinely considered just asking a servant to make something instead. However, that's literally something he could do any other day. It didn't carry the significance he'd want it to.

You had given him the head of the rebellion's leader, which most would find horrifying but he found terribly romantic. The best Valentine's gift, truly. Sure, he couldn't give you something of equal value, but he could try and match the sentiment. Helel knew you loved effort and thought, so he would do his best to give you something of that in equal measure.

So, he couldn't give up. Helel once again turned to a different page in the cook book, praying to himself that he didn't fuck up this time. He couldn't possibly mess up sugar cookies, right? They were simple, so surely no matter what they'd be fine.

He was cursing himself wasn't he?

He poured the ingredients, carefully measuring them as he went through the motions. It went smoother this time since he just made cookies (if he could really call them that). With practice under his belt, Helel managed to make a tray of cookies.

"Now I roll them in sugar before baking... where's the sugar?" He looked around, grabbing at the jars in front of him.

"That's flour... that's baking powder... or is it baking soda?... that's powdered milk... wait why do we have powdered milk? Oh!" Helel smiled as he finally found what he was looking for. He didn't know how the chefs managed to get anything done with nothing labeled, but that was the beauty of not being a chef. He didn't have to know, and perhaps he never would.

So, he popped open the glass jar, pouring in the crystalline fragments into a bowl. They glimmered innocently in the light, small gems that melted upon one's tongue.

Helel quickly tossed each cookie ball into the bowl, placing them back onto the tray afterward. Making sure they weren't too close together, he arranged them one last time. Finally, he placed them in the oven. The timer would let him know when they were ready.

The man sighed, moving quickly to wash the dirty dishes. He knew he could leave it to the servants, but at this point, he just wanted to get rid of the evidence of his failures. Sure, most of his baked treats looked... fine, but the first few looked as though it had gone through someone's digestive system already.

After all was said and done, Helel felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. If this was what the chefs dealt with on the daily, he was going to have to give them a raise. All this for some desserts? Really? They deserved to be paid more for this misery.

Checking the timer, he nodded to himself. 10 minutes was enough time to snack on something. Helel let himself drop into a seat, groaning as his weary legs finally got to rest. He grabbed the cake-turned-bread, cutting off a small slice. The cookies were a definite no, and he had his suspicions about the croissant, but the bread seemed fine.

'If I get poisoned from this, they're never going to let me live it down.'

You would absolutely make fun of him. Morningstar, the King of Babel, dying from his own creation. It sounded like a story Shakespeare wrote, really. Helel hoped more for his pride rather than his life that he wasn't that bad at baking.

Taking a few bites, he found that he wasn't dying yet. Which was relieving, of course, but to his surprise, the bread also tasted not bad. Sweeter than most breads, but nothing unbearable. It was probably going to be one of the few things he could actually share with you.

At the chime of the timer, Helel took the cookies out of the oven, letting them cool. That would give him another few minutes to start packing things up. Should he use red ribbon or white? It's a White Day gift, yes, but you told him red reminded you of him.

Humming, the young king started slicing the bread, gently placing the slices in a nice container. Perhaps he should pack some jam in the basket too- it would go well with it.

Helel glanced at the first batch of cookies, opting to dump them in the trash after a brief moment of contemplation. Could they be used as projectiles? Honestly, yes. Was he going to let anyone know he failed that badly? Never.

Finally, he took a bite of one of the croissants. It was fine as well, just odd. The fruit fillings and cream were distributed well throughout the pastry. If it weren't for the fact that it was supposed to be a tart, Helel might have been proud.

Packing those up as well, he placed the 2 containers in a basket, grabbing a few jars of jam and a butter knife. By then, the cookies were sufficiently cooled. Though, after taking another look at them, Helel wondered what he had done wrong this time.

Unlike the first batch, these cookies were puffy. They weren't like cream puffs, but they were certainly not cookies. Had he mixed up which of the powders he was using? He really wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

The other pastries he had packed weren't made to be what they ended up as, but tasted fine anyway. Maybe, these would be the same.

So, shrugging his shoulders, Helel tossed one of the "cookies" in his mouth.

And instantly he regretted it.

It was salty. Not salty in the pleasantly seasoned way, but salty as in if he had drank salt water it would taste better than this.

Spitting out the abomination, Helel glared at one of the jars. Of course he mixed up the sugar and salt, of course. Still, he at least had something other than this. He'd just have to dispose of these.

If you didn't find him.

The door clicks open, and Helel can't decide whether he wants to scream or jump right out the window. In the doorway, as he expects, is you. You're always welcome in his eyes, his wonderful, perfect significant other. However, at this particular moment, he really wishes you weren't here.

"Helel? What are you doing here?"

Though you ask, you already seem to at least know he was baking. Not a very hard assumption to make, all things considered, but that just makes things harder for him.

"I was... baking." He says, giving a strained smile as he slowly grabs the tray of cookies. Hopefully, if he's quick enough, you won't even notice him toss the entire thing in the trash.

'Please do not ask about these, please don't notice-'

"Is that a scone dusted in salt???"

Helel was going to throw himself off a cliff.

"...I was trying to make sugar cookies."

The look you give him simply reaffirms his decision.

"I... see. What's the occasion?" You draw closer to him, staring curiously at the basket. He's thankful he managed to add a blanket on top beforehand, though it would've been nice if he had tied a ribbon around the handle, too.

"It's White Day, so I wanted to give you something special." Helel responded, dropping the tray with a sigh. It was too late to hide it, so why bother?

You hum softly, lips curling into a smile. You grab one of the scones, taking a bite before he can warn you. Yet, instead of spitting it out like he expected, you chewed as though nothing were wrong with it.

"Are- are you okay?" He can't help but ask. He had tried one right before you came- he knew they didn't taste good. So, how was it that you ate the entire scone without even cringing in the slightest?

"Yep, I'm fine. I'm sure you already know, but these are salty." You laugh, quickly grabbing a glass of water and chugging it. Despite the concern he feels, Helel can't help the way his chest warms.

"Well, yeah, I was going to warn you about that. Can't believe you ate it all- I spat it out immediately. Why did you eat it anyway?" He can't help but ask. You weren't one to shy away from being honest. The fact you looked him in the eye and told him it was salty was proof enough. You weren't scared of him, so why would you put yourself through that?

You give him a smile, tilting your head towards the window. The sun is high in the sky, letting all know that it was sometime in the afternoon.

"You've been here for... I'm guessing at least 5 hours. I don't know how you haven't collapsed yet, but that's not the point right now. The point is," You take his hands into yours, kissing each of his knuckles. "I see your effort, and I don't want to let it go to waste."

Helel, for all his cruelty, his hatred, his grief- cannot be anything but in love for you. To love is to be seen, to be known, and it seems that for all his life, that's exactly what you've done. Seen him, known him, but most of all, loved him.

So, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing kisses from your palm down to your wrist. He lingers there, letting you cradle his face as he closes his eyes.

It wasn't perfect by all means, but he thinks that this small moment is worth more than anything he could've ever orchestrated. Helel doesn't need endless praise, gifts, or overwhelming acts. All he needed was a bit of acknowledgement, a bit of love.

"Happy White Day, my sun.”

ALTERNATE STORY:

Helel did not realize he was that bad at baking. He completely blames Nebuchadnezzar for everything.

"HELEL, HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MANAGE TO MAKE A MONSTER!?"

"HIS NAME IS FREDERICK KREIBURG AND HE'S SORRY TO SAY THAT HE'S FRENCH!"

"WE AREN'T EVEN IN FRANCE! WHAT DID YOU ADD TO THOSE COOKIES? THE CREMATED REMAINS OF YOUR DAD!?"

"...that explains why the sugar was so dusty."

"...Helel Morningstar Babel-"

"Ahaha... ha..."

Yeah, Helel was going to kill his brother if you didn't end up killing him first.

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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bludrogue · 29 days

Text

Another Random Headcanon About Jason Todd

This is another weird experience I have had, but this is due to a personal experience. If I slam on my breaks too hard, witness a car accident in front of me, or bash the back of my head against the driver's seat (or any seat in the car for the matter), I tend to have the scent of burning oil fill my nostrils.

I don't know if that's normal, and sure, I'm projecting myself onto the headcanon, but I think it's an interesting experience. With that said, here's headcanon #3:

Headcanon #3: Phantosmia

-- Every time Jason has bashed his head against a hard surface, whether it be a wooden table, a brick wall, a lamp post, the concrete streets, a car door - honestly, the list is so long he can't even remember what he's smashed his head against -- the first sense to kick in was his olfactory.

-- Now he wouldn't care if this was just a physical response in general, but his nose always picks up on a scent that's never there. He's not entirely certain why his nose fills up with nonexistent fumes, this has been the case for as long as he can remember.

-- You'd think the scent of bourbon would remind him of Willis, the man always had one in his hand or in the cup holder of his arm chair. Jason can still recall the scent to this day - oak dipped in smoke, tinted in caramel, and saturated with vanilla. And as much as his mind can recognize the smell like he can recite a Shakespearen play off the back off his hand - that's not the scent his body would use to recall Willis.

-- No matter how many times Willis got close enough to burn his nostrils with his breath, it's never been the whiskey either.

-- Instead, it's fucking drywall.

-- Of all the scents in the world, it's fucking drywall. Because of course it is.

-- When he was a kid, it was this putrid scent of a heavy dose of rotten eggs nearing sulfur with a hint of chalk dust. And maybe those particular remnants are from a memory where Willis probably bashed his head hard enough into their shabby walls that he made a hole. Not that Jason remembers aside from the egregious smell - whether that's a side effect of the pit or straight up trauma, Jason is not would willingly attempt to recall any shared memories with his biological dad by choice.

-- If he could, he'd bury those memories deeper than when his body was trapped in the earth and surrounded by an ocean of soil.

-- But it's not just before being Robin.

-- During his time spent as Robin, if he hit his head hard enough, Scarecrow gave off a musty odor with a tinge of the world's worst garbage dumpster. Peguin, oddly enough, reeked of spoiled milk. And don't get him started on the Riddler -- that one he can't even describe with just words. (He weirdly gives off the scent of nail polish remover, do not ask him why.)

-- But the Joker?

-- The Joker's scent was nothing what he expected.

-- His sense of smell doesn't go toward the crisp and suffocating scent of smoke, the one that clogged his lungs so much that he wondered if that was the final straw to lead him marching towards death's door. Nor was it the smattering metallic smell emitted from the crowbar that bashed him over and over and over and - And his nose does not recall the Joker with the lead heavy scent of blood, no matter how much of his own spilled the day he died.

-- No, instead the monster carries the scent of fucking bubble gum.

-- Sweet, fruity, pink chewing gum.

-- Because of course the universe just has to ruin the little things, those simplicities of enjoyment. Like the birds chirping in the morning become screeching alarm clocks, his coffee mug always being chipped, a hole in his favorite pair of pants, just anything to ruin his day. He wonders whoever the fuck is in charge of mapping out his life is relishing in the misery he endures every fucking day. When he fucking gets his hands on -

-- Did you know it took him a solid year to even so much as spare a glance at a pack of the most basic, minty chewing gum again after his spent training with the League of Assassins? Did you know that it was until two years after his whole war between him and the bats he was finally able to even hold a stick in his palm without gagging? Did you know that only four years after all the bullshit he went through, he could finally place one stick of ice peppermint gum in his mouth for a solid ten minutes without throwing up immediately after?

-- He still can't handle the fruity flavor gum - no sour apple, no watermelon, no strawberry, no cinnamon, and especially no bubble gum flavored shit - without the dreadful urge to vomit lingering after.

-- And before Jason mended his relationship with the bats (or is still trying to, he has plenty of ups and downs with Bruce that he's getting dizzy from the ride.) Bruce's scent was ruined.

-- When he was Robin, Bruce carried the redolence of leather and a warm campfire. There was just something that screamed safety in his scent that he couldn't explain. The every time he woke up in the gurney from a concussion, the smell would hit before he would open his eyes and he knew Bruce was there.

-- But everything changed the night Bruce chose the Joker.

-- Bruce had hit his head hard enough against a porcelain toilet seat that his nose was bashed with the scent of leather instantly. He thought he had picked on his own jacket, but once the campfire wood wafted into the air he knew that was his designated scent for Bruce.

-- The emotional side was then crying for his dad, begging him to keep him safe from the monster in the closet, pleading to just let him come home, to choose him - his son - please - But the logical side was louder, especially when he aimed the gun at the Joker's head and gave Bruce a choice to make.

-- He had a job to complete and Bruce had a choice to make.

-- And Bruce decided and his scent was tainted.

-- Now, when there's a meeting held in the bat cave, or the only company he shares is with Bruce, he has to resist the urge to rub the scar on his neck to reassure himself he's not bleeding. To remind himself that his nose is just playing tricks to get himself to believe his throat is sliced open again.

-- But he never minded his olfactory any attention about these scents. Honestly, it was more subconscious than anything else, so why pay any attention to the matter? Plus, it wasn't like the matter was giving him any issues or disrupting his routine in any sort of way. He was still able to patrol and function to his usual capabilities -- which was not the standard, but still... functional.

-- And that meant had nothing to be concerned about. That these phantom scents had to be normal, right?

-- Maybe this was just another secret human function nobody spoke about. Kind of how the American education system fails to explain safety for sex because of the desire to keep a 'puritan' image.

-- But, as usual, he was proven wrong.

-- According to Tim, phantom smells were not a normal human function. Because, 'No, Jason. People do not have specific scents when you hit your head too hard,' and 'No, Jason. It is not common when you hit your head hard enough to smell a person or smell a nonexistent scent.' And blah, blah, blah.

-- He stopped paying attention after the third no.

-- But how did this conversation come about? Allow Jason to draw the scene for you:

-- Jason 'allowed' himself to be dragged to the manor by Bruce due to the severe concussion he received due to an Arkham breakout, followed by the orders of mandatory bed rest. And so, he was trapped under one roof with his siblings, who were piled into his room to force him to remain awake for the required hours necessary to be deemed safe from a coma.

-- He knew Dick was besides him, and the head massage he was receiving was not helpful in keeping him awake. But the others were somewhere in the room, he didn't need to open his eyes to know. He could tell by their scents.

-- The only person who wasn't in the room was Tim, who claimed he'd come right back without another word. (He's positive Tim went to go refill his coffee mug for the seventh time, and someone needs to get a handle on this kid's caffeine addiction.) But when Tim returned, he heavily smelled of apples - he always did when he was anxious.

-- Not that Jason usually minds if he hits his head, but this time the pounding was an incessant bitch who brought a drill to ram against his skull, so he couldn't handle the heavy scent at the time.

-- Jason immediately scrunched up his nose the moment Tim entered the room the moment he caught a waft of green apples. He rolled onto his side to have his back face the door, followed by a groan of, "Dude, Timbo, you fucking reek."

-- If Jason hits his head, sometimes he can practically smell Tim's potent and eternal state of anxiety. It's just as bad as Bruce's paranoia (but no one can ever beat that man in his levels of anxiety). However, when Tim is anxious, he carries the particular scent of green apples.

-- He hears Tim scoff, and there's a dip of weight at the corner of the bed. Jason lightly kicks Tim to shove him further away, only for the asshole to scoot closer.

-- "Hey, I took a mandatory after-patrol shower," Tim retorts, and he lifts his mug up to his lips and sips his coffee.

-- "No, you smell like fucking green apples," Jason hisses, burrowing his face into the pillow. If Tim gets any closer, his churning stomach might aim at Tim as his puke bucket. "You always do when you're fucking anxious about something, but Jesus fucking Christ, tone down the scent or, fuck, go sit in the arm chair."

-- "Green apples?" Dick mumbles, pausing in the movement of his hand. Jason almost whines at the loss of movement and he taps Dick's wrist. The moment Dick's hand continues those soothing circular movements, he relaxes.

-- What Jason doesn't see - or decides to blatantly ignore -- is the wide - eye stares everyone is glaring into his head. If Jason were to look, he would find a 'what the fuck' expression on each of their faces.

-- "Are you positive you're not smelling one of Tim's scented shampoos, tough guy?" Steph asks with curiosity lacing her tone. Tim has an array of scented shampoos and unscented ones -- the kid may be shit at self-care, but he certainly knows how to tend to his hair -- ranging from pomegranate to coconut to lavendar to oaky to vanilla, etc. (The list could go on.) But he certainly does not have a single apple scented shampoo.

-- "I'm positive," Jason replies. "He has a scent, you have a scent, everyone has a scent. Especially when I hit my head, it's normal."

-- People having individual scents is totally normal. He's positive of it. Plus, he's hit his head a multitude of times that the phantom scents kind of linger.

-- Tim taps the side of his coffee mug with his nails. "Jason... that's not- that's not normal."

-- Jason lifts his head from the pillow, the combination of scents burning his nostrils, but he ignores the hot twinge in favor of glaring at Tim. "It's fucking normal, Tim. I fucking experience it every time I hit my head."

-- "May I implore that none of your human experiences are what is considered 'normal', Todd?" Damian raises an eyebrow. He's settled on the ottoman by the end of the bed.

-- Jason opens his mouth to argue, but quickly clenches his jaw shut. As much as he hates to admit... the demon-brat has a point. Not that he needs to elaborate.

-- 'Is this a side effect from the lazarus pit?' Cas signs, tilting her head at a slight angle. Her eyebrows furrow together and the corner of lips curl - just as she always does when she's curious about a topic she doesn't understand.

-- "No." Jason whispers, keeping his tone gentle and crossing his arms over his chest. These phantom senses have always been around for him, even before the pit.

-- "So," Tim drawls, shifting the weight in the bed as he crosses his legs and holds his coffee mug. "When did this start?"

-- Jason narrows his gaze at Tim. "Fuck you, you're not my therapist."

-- Besides, he'll see his therapist next Wednesday, and he'll snitch on Bruce to his therapist. (And yes, his therapist is Harley.) He's not clinically insane - yet - but if this another 'Jason Todd anomaly', then why does he have phantom scents that hit his nose at random times? Especially when he hits his head?

-- "Wait, Lil' Wing," Dick pipes up, and Jason finds a cheeky grin on his face that warns Jason that Dick is about to ask a question he won't want to answer. "What do I smell like to you?"

-- "Yeah! I want to know too." Steph chimes in, resting her head in her hands as she places her elbows on the bed. There's a doe-eye look in her eyes that screams 'Pretty Please' as she flutters her lashes.

-- Heat crawls across Jason's face and spreads across his cheeks. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he just had to go and whine about Tim reeking of fucking apples. It's not that he's embarrassed - not that he'd admit the truth out loud - but he's now more nervous than anything to reveal their scents. Especially now that he's more aware that having phantom scents isn't a typical human function.

-- Jason releases a breath, and decides to tell each one of them their identifying scent.

-- He has to admit, there are some positives to this phantom scents.

-- Dick carries the scent of sugar coated, blue cotton candy and mouthwatering salted popcorn. It reminds Jason of the one chance he took to sneak into the circus tent and hide under the bleachers as he watched the performance of the graceful Flying Graysons. He's always transported back to that memory when the scent hits his nose. But there's always a hint of hyacinth, and Jason has no idea where that comes from.

-- Tim may smell like apples when he's anxious, but he always carries a different scent of a different apple depending on his mood. If Tim is anxious or afraid, he reminds Jason of the odious redolence of a green apple. If Tim is mildly annoyed, enraged, or upset, he carries the scent of red apple. If Tim carries the scent of a yellow apple, it's an indicator that Tim is in a good mood.

-- Jason likes the yellow apple the most because A) That means Tim is in a good mood, and B) the smell of a yellow apple is a piquant flavor he has added on to his list of good scents. He doesn't feel has to avoid that apple without a specific reminder which is nice.

-- Steph smells zesty and sweet and reminds him of pop rocks candy, specifically the grape flavored kind. This could be due to her vivacious nature, but he nose tingles every time her scent appears. That could sometimes lead him to sneezing - which he doesn't admit to her.

-- Cas smells like Jasmine and sandal wood with a hint of roses.

-- Damian smells like paprika and cinnamon.

-- Duke smells like honey (and a part of him wonders if that's just because of the suit or the bee meme that his nose decided to join on the bandwagon.)

-- Alfred smells like his homemade chocolate chip cookies and hibiscus tea.

-- "And what about Bruce?" Dick's question is hanging in the air as Jason is drifting off to sleep. And Jason will never speak the truth of how Bruce smells now.

-- But he can always bend the truth.

-- "Used to smell like leather and campfire wood," Jason yawns into his pillow. "Used to smell safe."

-- "Used to?" Tim's question remains unanswered as Jason finally falls asleep.

-- When Jason wakes up, he notes that everyone is asleep except for Tim, who's claimed his spot in the armchair and curled around his laptop. His mug rests on top of the coffee table, his fingers are rapidly yet quietly typing away on the keyboard, and his focus is so honed in on the screen in front of him that he's caught off guard when Tim abruptly states, "Phantosmia."

-- Jason rubs the sleep out of his face. "Phanto-what?"

-- "Phantosmia," Tim repeats, adjusting his body weight on the arm chair and his eyes remain on the computer screen. "Or more known as a phantom smell, meaning you'll smell something that isn't there. Most people typically smell metal, burnt toast, or chemicals. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, just what occurs with either strokes or severe head trauma."

-- "Well, that explains a lot." Jason huffs, a smirk teasing his lips.

-- Even though he has an answer - which is pretty rare considering his medical history puts Santa's naughty list to shame - he doesn't believe having phantom smells is necessarily a horrible thing to have.

-- If the wind blows in just the right direction, he'll have scent of his mom follow him. Not his birth giver, Shelia, but Catherine. His mom carried the luscious scent of marshmallows, lilac flowers, and lit vanilla candles. And in his mind, it's still like his mom is there, still with him. Oddly, that was the last scent he remembers before he died in the warehouse and it's the safest he ever felt in years despite all the surrounding chaos.

-- "Thanks for researching, Timbo." Jason whispers.

-- Tim turns his head to Jason, and his lips lift into a grin. "Sure thing, Jay."

-- Phantosmia, while there are aspects of it he despises, he thinks there's a bit of a blessing buried in it too.

Hey guys! It's been a solid few days (I got super busy this week), but I thought I'd produce another headcanon. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! I'll post another head canon soon!

Other headcanons:

Head canon 1

Head canon 2

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mingtinys · 1 year

Text

Soggy Cereal

pairing : choi san x gn!reader

college roommates!au , friends to lovers , fluff , valentines day fic !!

warnings : language

word count : 2.8 k

requested ? no

a/n : this was horribly rushed , barely proof read , and i kind of hate the ending , but i do want to post something for valentines !

You really should've just turned off your phone for the day. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling so bitter. But after being bombarded by post after post of your friends being surprised by their significant others with vibrant bouquets, fancy brunches, expensive jewelry, and fluffy stuffed animals, it's a little hard to not feel so sour. Perhaps it's a bit unfair to hate an entire day, but February fourteenth just sucks, and you're ready for it to be tomorrow.

"What's wrong with you?" San asks, genuine concern gracing his features at the way you've been scowling at your phone for the past hour. You'd nearly forgotten he was even in the room with you. Too caught up wallowing in your own misery to appreciate the bowl of cereal he'd so kindly made you. He digs into his own, spilling milk on the counter in the process.

"Nothing's wrong."

The look on his face tells you that excuse isn't going to do you any justice. He chews as he speaks, pointing his spoon at you from across the kitchen island. "You're a shit liar. You've been glaring at your phone all morning, something’s up."

"It's stupid." Your response is short, clicking off your phone and placing it facedown so you won't be tempted to glance at it any further.

"No, it's not. C'mon, just tell me."

San slips from his spot across the island, bowl in hand as he takes up the stool next to you. "Please," he drawls, putting on the most god-awful puppy eyes you've ever seen him muster up. You've lived with Choi San long enough to know, unfortunately, he's not just going to give up.

". . . I've never had a valentine. And I know it's cheesy but it'd be nice to have someone confess their undying love with some stupid rose bouquet or overzealous box of chocolates. Just once, ya know?" You sink in your seat, elbows propped up on the counter to rest your chin in your hands. You refuse to look at San.

"What do you mean?" San's voice is a little too optimistic for your mood. "We get each other gifts every year!" By his terms, he's not wrong. While the cheap boxes of gimmicky drugstore chocolates are a nice gesture, they're far from romantic. Not that you've ever expected such from San, but it's just not the point.

"No, San, like a real valentine."

He blinks at you for a moment, the frown on his lips only stays for a millisecond. "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just call me a fake valentine."

"You know what I mean. We only get each other gifts because we're friends and no one else will." You plop down from your stool, sliding your bowl of soggy fruity pebbles over for San to finish. You've always found it weird that he actually prefers his cereal mushy. He'll even wait a good ten minutes after making a bowl before he eats it so it'll absorb as much milk as possible. But as nauseating as you find the mannerism to be, it is quite convenient. It's basically become tradition for him to finish off what you don't eat once the texture becomes too soft.

But it's the first time he's ever declined your leftovers. Instead of immediately polishing off your bowl like usual, he sticks to you like a shadow. San follows you down the narrow hall and to your room, making himself comfortable on your bed while you begin sorting through your closet for your work uniform. "I thought you liked getting each other gifts."

There's a certain dejected undertone to his words that make you pause and rethink how you're wording things. You aren't upset with him. If anything, he makes days like Valentine's significantly more bearable. If it weren't for the small box of chocolates and singular rose waiting outside your door this morning, you'd probably be having a lot bigger crisis over being alone on days like today. But your point still stands, nothing about the gesture is romantically inclined.

Your eyes finally land on your uniform, crumpled up in the laundry basket that sits next to your dresser from the last time you washed clothes yet never put them away. "That didn't come out right," you sigh, watching the way San's frown deepens as you lay the articles on the bed next to him. "I really do appreciate the gesture, San. It's incredibly sweet. I just meant it'd be nice to receive something from someone who likes me more than just platonically."

The last thing you want is for San to feel like you don't appreciate him. In fact, you probably do a little more than a friend or roommate should. "Please tell me you get what I'm saying. It's not you, I promise, I'm just feeling a little . . ." You search for the proper word. "Lonely."

San looks like he's about to say something but pulls his lips into a thin line before any words come out. He thinks, then says "I get it." But the frown is still there. You know he's the one who asked, but there's a bit of guilt that gnaws at your insides for dumping all of this on him so suddenly. So you pad across the room to your desk and pull a small pink gift bag from the bottom drawer in hopes to remedy the sad look on his face. Confusion pulls at his brows when you extend the bag to him.

"I was gonna wait until after work to give this to you, but seeing as how you already gave me mine . . ." His face lights up at the realization. He's quick to snatch the present from your hands, His excitement tugs at the corners of your lips. "And be gentle with the bag, I wanna reuse it for your birthday in a few months."

You're not sure he even hears you, already tossing the tissue paper to the side and digging inside the bag. You'd love to watch his expression as he opens each component of your gift, but you're a few minutes shy of running late to the only thing that pays your half of the rent. So you begin slipping out of your pajamas and into uniform, not caring that San's just a few feet in front of you. You've learned to be pretty comfortable around him, given his bad habit of never knocking and the broken lock on your door that the landlord never got around to fixing. It was cause for him catching you in quite a few awkward situations for the first few months.

Though eventually, as the two of you grew more comfortable with one another, you were both willing to drop your guard around the other. Even to the point of just leaving your door open for him to come and go as he pleases. No one but San can say they've truly seen you at your worst and vice versa. Besides, San doesn't pay you much mind anyways, too engrossed in his gift to notice you changing.

You've just finished pulling your shirt on when you catch him eyeing you with one eyebrow raised. "What?"

He clears his throat theatrically, holding up the glittery pink card you bought for no more than two dollars. "'I think you're out of this world,'" He reads, turning the card to reveal a picture of a cheesy cartoon alien once he's done. "Really?"

"What? It's cute and it was on sale!" You giggle. The smile that breaks his playfully judgemental expression is enough to light the room. "Just keep going, there's more."

San neatly tucks the card back into its envelope. You take a seat beside him, watching while you tie your sneakers. At the bottom of the bag, underneath his favorite candy and snacks, sits a little box wrapped in shiny red paper. He holds it up, looking at you with an expression that reads what is this?

"Open it," you encourage.

He's gentle as he peels back the tape sealing what's inside, mumbling something about being able to use the wrapping paper for your next birthday gift as well.

While what's hidden inside the paper is no surprise to you, anticipation still grips your insides. The last of the paper falls away, revealing a hinged black box with a silver logo that sparks recognition in San's wide eyes. He looks at you, then the box, and to you once more before settling back on the box.

"This is . . ." He starts.

"I hope it's the right one, I went back to get that bracelet you pointed out a few weeks ago when we passed by the antique shop."

San opens the box and inside sits a silver chain bracelet, adorned with a singular little mountain charm. "I can't believe you remembered that," he whispers, delicately lifting the bracelet to examine it further. He then slips it onto his wrist, turning it this way and that to watch how it catches the light.

It was by no means some huge expensive gift, the owner of the old shop was more than happy for it to finally find a new home. But the way San's eyes lit up when he spotted it through the window was enough for you to know it was priceless. Though you knew he likely would never go back to get it for himself, and Valentine's seemed like a good enough excuse to get it for him.

"Thank you, Y/N. Seriously, I love it so much."

"I'm glad," you give him a smile, though it's nothing compared to his. "Now enough sappy shit, I have work soon." You snatch your keys from your bedside table and gesture for him to get up. He stands, though not without a groan of annoyance, "It's so stupid you have to work on a holiday."

"Like I have anything better to do today."

San follows you back out to the kitchen, spotting the long-forgotten remnants of your cereal still sitting on the counter. He lets out a soft "Oh!" and picks it up, taking a heaping spoonful into his mouth. It makes you cringe, the flakes so swelled up and half dissolved from how long it has been sitting there. It might as well be illegal to consume.

"You're seriously disgusting."

"And you're seriously wasteful. Besides I thought you were late, do you really have time to be heckling me?" He glares.

"I am and I’m blaming you." You state, glancing at the time once more.

You're halfway out the door when San calls out for you again. "Text me when you get off, I'll order takeout and we can watch shitty romcoms until you feel better."

While you're not sure watching movies about people finding their true love will necessarily make you feel better, San always does. So you don't think about it much and give quick confirmation before rushing out the front door and down the steps of your building.

To say work was horrible would be an understatement. As if watching your friends post their Valentine's gifts and significant others online wasn't already bad enough, serving table after table of happy couples was worse. Throughout the night, you were constantly subjected to copious amounts of PDA and extravagant confessions of love. Even witnessing a proposal at the end of your shift. Not to mention tonight's dinner rush was particularly bad at tipping.

But the cherry on top came when a customer, in a horrible attempt to impress his date, decided to nitpick at every tiny aspect of your service. Not refilling their wine fast enough, not checking on them enough, not being cheery enough, anything and everything he could think of.

The relentless critiques while being surrounded by the one thing you wished to avoid today stirred up every unresolved emotion from earlier. Turning your tastebuds sour once more. When your shift was up, you drove home as fast as you possibly could, completely forgetting your promise to let San know when you'd be back. The thought didn't even register until you pulled into your apartment's parking lot. That's right, San wanted to watch movies.

There's a part of you that wants to cancel on him. You're so tired and beaten down from the day that you honestly want nothing more than to tuck yourself away in bed and sleep for days. San would understand. He'd be disappointed, but understanding. Just as he always is. But when you open the door, the apology speech you'd been planning to let him down with dies out on the tip of your tongue at the sight before you.

Your usually messy and rather bland apartment is lined wall to wall with twinkling fairy lights. Their soft yellow glow illuminate the otherwise dim room. The scent of warm chocolate lingers in their air, mixing with the cinnamon-scented candle San always keeps lit. It's all very magical, yet confusing. You rack your brain as to why San chose today of all day to decorate.

Dropping your keys and bag by the door you venture further into the space. Peaking around the living room for San, you find the area to be completely vacant. You check the kitchen next, but there's still no sign of your roommate. However, what you do find is quite the arrangement of items set up on the kitchen island.

A bouquet of six tulips sit nicely in an ornate glass vase, vibrant in their color. Next to them, a tray of messily crafted chocolate-covered strawberries. Judging by the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, they're homemade. One of San's university sweatshirts is folded up neatly on the other side of the tulips. The one you've always told him you keep one eye on at all times because the design is your favorite and they sold out before you could get one. In the middle of it all sits a small, fuzzy teddy bear. It’s leaned up against a new box of fruity pebbles with a folded-up note in its lap. The writing on it is messy, but unmistakably spells out your name. You instinctively reach for it, flipping it open to reveal two scraggly sentences surrounded by pink and purple hearts.

"Not to be "mushy," but I am "cereal-sly" in love with you. Be my Valentine?"

"You're not supposed to be home yet!" San's startled voice breaks you from your thoughts. You nearly drop the note at his outburst. "I– did I miss your text? I thought I'd have more time, shit– um . . ." San looks frantically between the array of gifts and you. Then says, very unsure of himself, "Surprise."

For the first time in your life, you are truly at a loss for words. Because it's pretty obvious why San set all of this up, but your brain seems to lag at the thought of it. You feel like you need him to confirm before you can believe any of it. "Is this for me?"

He nods. "I know it's not exactly perfect, but after what you said this morning about not having a Valentine, I just thought . . . Well, I thought now might be a good time to tell you I sort of, kind of, maybe like you. Like a lot."

He gets antsy in your silence.

"And I know you said you wanted roses but everywhere was sold out. So that nice lady next door– you know Mrs. Kim– lent me some tulips she picked from her friend's garden. Oh, and everywhere was also sold out of boxed chocolate, but Yunho had some chocolate chips he let me borrow and I picked up some strawberries from that market down the street—"

It's pretty obvious San doesn't plan on ending his rambling any time soon. Words continue to waterfall from his lips, but they're all lost on you. Too overwhelmed by the thoughtful gesture and all the work he put into it to register the details of his story. You struggle to find the words to properly convey how much San, and all of this, mean to you. So you discard any semblance of a simple thank you from your tongue and instead take the opportunity to do something you've thought about time and time before.

You waste little time in closing the gap between you and San. Note still clutched in your fingers as you throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips in to meet your own. He reacts impressively fast, holding on to your waist and kissing you back eagerly. The rush of warmth that courses through your veins is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It leaves your mind with no thoughts but those of Choi San.

In your opinion, the moment ends too quickly with San pulling back to look at you. But how can you complain when his eyes hold that much love within them? "You didn't have to do all of this," you whisper after a minute.

San just shrugs, letting his thumb graze over the skin of your cheek. "No, but I wanted to.”

"I love you too, ya know?" You refer to his note. "Even if you like gross soggy cereal."

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sweetandgentlecreature · 9 months

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Whoops. My hands slipped.

I was tagged in this post by @peyton-warren and thought I’d give it a go! Fifteen minutes ain’t shit, but I tried my best, lol. Can’t wait to see what everyone else came up with!

Things might get a little spicy below the cut, so minors DNI.

“Oof,” Sy grunted. He’d been ambushed from behind, when she’d gotten a running start and leapt up onto his back. Her arms laced around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as she hung on for dear life. Sy just laughed, lacing his hands beneath her knees to draw them up around himself as he continued back down the footpath from the creek.

“Whats the matter, baby,” Merrin giggled in his ear. “Big Sy cant handle his woman anymore?”

He glanced back at her from over his shoulder, amused, and gave her thigh a playful squeeze. “Yer in rare form today. How many of those fruity lil drinks did ya have back there?”

“Hmm…maybe one or two.”

“So, four’s more like it.”

“Yeah.”

Merrin hummed a soft little tune as he carried her home. She ran her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp. He’d been growing out the buzzcut since he made it back home, and she couldn’t get enough of those luscious curls. His nose was pink and freckling, as was his shoulders. Trying to put sunscreen on that bull of a man was like trying to put it on a toddler. “I don’t need that shit.” “It’s gonna make me all greasy. I’ll drop ma’ beer.” When she pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, he winced.

“Feelin’ the burn, huh Big Guy?”

Sy grit his teeth and looked straight ahead. The house was in sight now. He was ready to get out of those wet shorts, and into hers instead. “...Maybe a little.”

She smirked, tugged his head back by a fistful of those curls, and made him look back at her again. “My poor baby. You should listen to me more often. I’ve got some pretty good ideas every now and then.” The words hung in the tense air between them, and his eyes darkened at the thought of what she could’ve meant by that.

“Hm. You do, do ya?” It gave him plenty of ideas of his own, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. “No.”

“No what?”

“Yer not tyin’ me to the damn headboard again.”

“Why not?! It was so much fun last time!”

“Maybe fer you, but all it did was piss me off. Couldn’t grab ya the way I wanted to, and my fingers went numb.”

“I’ll be softer this time, I promise!”

He paused, mulled it over for a moment, then sighed. Letting her back down onto her feet again, he nodded towards the door. His intrigue outweighed his irritation. “Fine. One more time.”

Merrin squealed and sprinted for the stairs. “I’ll get the rope!”

Half of the fun was just watching how excited it made her, and that made him smile. Shit. He’d do anything for that woman

“Little fuckin’ brat.”

“You betcha!”

#writing prompt #captain syverson #henry cavill #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson smut #syverson #henry cavill smut

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urrockstar-xe · 2 months

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spiders on valentine's day - spiderman x gn!reader

posted feb 27th, 2024 6:02 pm

im late on v day posts like bad but who cares it's still love month so heres this :)

summary: a way too short blurb of reader spending the love holiday all alone, until Spider-man has his way. soso short, not proofread, late for v-day.

masterlist

wordcount: 0.5k

It was just past ten on the 14th as you made your way to the roof of your building, a bottle of fruity pink wine and a wine glass in your hand as you pushed the door open and moved towards the little metal table, rusted by rainy days and snowy nights.

A few hours earlier your date had stood you up, so much for Tinder being a reliable Valentine. Now you have learned your lesson, never trust a guy named Brad. So now, your Valentine was the noisy nightlife of Queens, New York. and the cheapy wine that you had just picked up on the way home.

You silently thanked your 5-minute-ago past self as you opened the pre-opened bottle, pouring it into the ice-filled glass. “Should’ve brought my book,” You mumbled before taking an embarrassingly big gulp of the wine. It’s not that you were self-pitying, absolutely not. It was more like the opposite actually. It had been a hot minute since you allowed yourself the freedom to sit down and not think a single important thought, just mindlessly sit on your roof.

Plus it was fun to watch people below you, especially if they were freaking out over Spider-man swinging around the city.

That’s until he swings toward your rooftop.

Great

Just the company you needed.

“You know, it’s sad to drink alone on Valentine’s Day.” Spidey started the second he landed, voice muffled by his mask ever so slightly as he stood up straight.

“Spiders on Valentine’s day, something about that just screams bad luck.” You tease back, leaning back against the cool metal. Spidey looked at the floor, tsking as he shook his head.

”Spiders have to be good luck, I mean, without me, you would have to spend this lovely holiday all on your lonesome.” He shrugged, sitting in the chair across from you. You cracked, smiling at his mask.

“There's that smile!” Spidey all but cheered, clapping his hands together triumphantly. You laughed, shaking your head the same way he had a minute earlier. “Did it ever cross your mind that I wanted to be alone?” You asked with a half smile, taking a sip from your glass.

“I’m kinda hungry, just got back from this epic drug bust, you should’ve seen me I was all, ‘wam!’ ‘pow!’ ‘boom!’” Spidey ignored your question and instead made it a point to stand in the chair and show off his moves. “Anyway, I’m gonna go grab some pizza, you like pepperoni? who are you kiddin’ Spidey, course they do, everyone likes pepperoni, c’mon, man.” He muttered to himself while standing up and moving to the ledge, another tactic to get you to laugh and it worked.

“Should I grab another glass?” You asked, watching as he set himself up in the direction of the nearest pizza place.

“Nah, what kinda role model would I be if I drink and swing?” Spidey shot his first web, swinging towards another building as he yelled out.

”Think of the children!”

#spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #ps4 peter parker x reader #tom!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #peter parker #Spotify

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kaziwi · 10 months

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Beach Day!!

Character(s): Zoro, Nami

WC: 832

Note: agagaga plz request stuff im running low on ideas

Zoro

The party pooper of beach days…

He likes to think of the beach as a new terrain to train in rather than hangout with you

You insist he should relax, but he’s very very against it

Somehow always convinces you to train with him, so you end up working even more than you did before your vacation

It was the perfect day to spend at the beach. The sun was high in the sky and there was the perfect breeze so you wouldn’t be too hot. The smell of salt water and meat that Sanji was grilling filled your nose. It was honestly the perfect day, except your boyfriend was busy lifting instead of laying next to you. You’ve asked him MULTIPLE times to stop training and just hangout with you, but he always said no. You knew that asking him again was pointless, but you decided to go up and ask him anyways.

“(Y/N)-swannnnn~” Sanji yelled from his grilling station, “Stop worrying about that stupid moss head and come over here with me!!!”

“Yeah (Y/N), Zoro is just gonna be weird and train the whole time, come lay with me and Robin,” Nami said, patting the seat next to her. You were enticed by her offer but declined as you continued to make your way to your boyfriend.

After walking a little bit further from the rest of the crew, you found Zoro swinging his giant weights around. He seemed to notice your presence, but kept swinging his weight back and forth above his head.

“Heyyyy Zoroooo,” you sang out, “Whatcha doinggggg”

“If you ask me to come back with you the answer is already no,” Zoro said not loosing his concentration.

“Come on Zoro, why can’t you just train later, I wanna spend time with you.” Zoro put down his weight and turned to you, “I did bring some smaller weights if you wanna join me.”

“Are you serious???? Why can’t we just relax at the beach??”

“Look how about this, do a few reps with me and then we can go to the beach.”

“You promise???”

“I promise.”

A few hours later you both walked back just in time for dinner. You were covered in sweat and exhausted, but glad that you now get to spend time with your boyfriend at the beach <3

Nami

Beach days are usually the one day she gets to truly relax

No navigating, not having to worry about marines, spending the day with you: it’s a dream come true

The one thing she hates though is getting her hair wet (she’s just like a cat :3 )

“Nami-SANNNNN, (Y/N)-SWANNNN I have your drinks!!” Sanji yelled twirling towards you. A tray of two drinks was placed in between your and Nami’s beach chairs. You each took a drink and sipped it in delight. Sanji always knew the perfect drink to make on a hot summer day.

"I could get used to this," Nami said while raising her arms up to stretch.

"Yeah, shame the log post resets tomorrow," you replied while sipping down the delicious, fruity drink.

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I don't want this to ever end." You chuckled at her response and grabbed her hand. She was right, this really was a peaceful, relaxing day. You closed you eyes and laid you head back on your chair, hoping to sleep a little.

Just then it felt like the sun was covered up, maybe some clouds were covering the sky, or Sanji was putting an umbrella over you and your girlfriend. You slowly opened your eyes to see what was blocking the sun, and were met face to face with a bucket of water being poured on you.

"Come on Usopp we gotta run!" You hear Luffy's voice as you wipe the water from your eyes. You turn to look at Nami who is also soaking wet. She looks absolutely devastated, her orange hair was soaked and clung to her body. Both of you were in utter shock that neither of you had a word. In all honesty Nami looked really attractive like this, you just couldn't look away.

Nami noticed you staring and quickly turned away, "Don't look at me," she stuttered, "I never look good with my hair wet.."

She never looked good??? Nami literally looked like a goddess right now how could she thinks she doesn't look good. You leaned over and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to turn to look at you.

"Well I think you look beautiful," you said as you gave her a quick peck on the lips. Her cheeks reddened to a degree you've never seen before and she quickly pulled away, "Thank you..." she said shyly.

"If I remember correctly, Franky said he made some new water-guns, how about we get some revenge," you said, a giant smirk growing across your face.

"I like the sound of that," Nami grinned and grabbed your hand and started running towards Franky, ready to get her revenge.

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 11 months

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@real-oddity YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND ok before i wordspill, keep in mind that this is all pure assumption and speculation cobbled together from looking at the map and tidbits i hope i'm remembering correctly. take all of it with a Hefty grain of salt

so.

i think that Julie's character arc might be about societal norms, the pressure of expectation, and how those conflict with the self. because i think the puppet show intended for her to be Wally's love interest - but that's not what either her or Wally want.

STAY WITH ME I HAVE EVIDENCE. first, lets look at Julie's house:

all of the blatant heart decoration, from her tree to the windows to the hedges and even the welcome mat. no other building has heart imagery, and especially none this heavy handed. it just screams Love Interest to me.

like if i was designing a house for a love interest character for a children's puppet show in the show's time period, i'd go ham on it. children's shows are rarely subtle. and more often than not in shows, especially in older ones, the "main character" (in this case, Wally) always has a love interest, and that love interest is always blatant. usually the Moment they appear onscreen, the viewer goes "oh, ok, thats the love interest."

not only that, but look at the windows. to me, they look a lot like eyes - reminiscent of Home. The way the curtains fall, the placement, even the structures under the sills looks like eye-bags. Julie's house is also the only house other than Home to only have one floor, not two. and then there's the fact that she has no flowers outside her house, but she has white daisy decorations - mimicking the white daisy flowerbeds flanking Home's door.

"but why do you think that's not what she or Wally wants" so glad you asked. lets start with Wally:

for one, there's the smiley-face balloon featured in the above image, tied to the swingset. two heart-shaped balloons colored red and blue are on either sides of it. as soon as i saw the balloon, i went Oh, that looks like Wally. but when have you ever seen a smiley-face with closed eyes? when does Wally close his eyes - he loves eye contact! to me, it seems indicative of Wally ignoring or avoiding the hearts.

that, and - now this part is definitely a stretch - the trees behind Home are set up in a strange way to me. Julie's house gives the appearance of "staring" directly at Home. but the trees behind Home are hiding it from the house's view.

(also, just imo, Wally doesn't seem very romance-oriented to me. he just gives off huge aromantic vibes. i could be completely off the mark and might be proven completely wrong <3 i probably am <3)

now here's why i think Julie is also not on board with this:

one, it's interesting to me that Julie's house has a lot of heart symbolism, but her character design doesn't. Wally has hearts on the soles of his shoes, but those have been explicitly linked to Barnaby's heart-shaped paw pads.

Julie's character design and symbolism is all about flowers instead of hearts. Which ties to her being in a best-friendship with Frank, a distinctly platonic relationship.

now, an argument could be made that the show might've wanted her to be Frank's love interest, or have had a Who Will She Choose, Frank Or Wally subplot. what backs this is her being close to Frank (the platonic nature of their relationship could've been a deviation from the "script" due to our lovely fruity Frank Frankly), and the fact that outside of Wally, Frank is the only other neighbor to have a white daisy growing in his "yard". though that could just be to depict his closeness with her - like Barnaby having paint supplies outside his house despite not being a painter like his bestie.

(if you want to read a dissection of neighborhood flowers and their symbolism, here's a post all about it)

also, it just occurred to me - the only design thing she has in common with Wally is her little tie thing. it's very reminiscent of Wally's ascot. but it's also Very vaguely similar to Frank's bowtie. it just stands out - Sally doesn't have any neck accessory (that we can see), Poppy has her shawl, and everyone else has ties. im stretching again. this is a yoga post

and again, despite her house being heart-infested, nowhere in Julie's canon images (outside of the Valentine's Day cards), her character description, or pretty much anything relate to romance. she's centered around friendship and fun.

all in all, it gives the vibe of the show wanting her to be a love interest, but Julie either ignoring it or actively going against it.

obviously something like that would influence her character arc, if not be a big part of it. then - HOLD ONTO YOUR GRAIN OF SALT HERE, FELLAS, I COULD BE MISREMEMBERING - there's the thing Clown said about homophobia being a... not quite theme, im missing the word rn, but it'll be a factor. which makes sense, this is a cast of mostly queer characters from a late 1960s / early 1970s kid's show.

the obvious target for any homophobia, internalized or otherwise, would be Frank & Eddie. but they're not the only gay folks around. Julie (i believe) has been stated to be bi, Poppy is a lesbian, and i'll eat my cats if Sally isn't some flavor of gay.

so i think it's entirely possible that Julie might get in on that storytelling element. if the show wants her to be a love interest, maybe she is. she's just interested in the wrong person (looks intensely at Sally)

all in all, i think she's going to have an arc about resisting the role chosen for her and her struggling with that. and i think it's going to be a Big struggle. i think she might make some Horrible mistakes while grappling with her inner conflict bc of the intense effect expectation/pressure have on a person's mind

(which might uh. which might tie into the flower symbolism i rambled about yesterday, but that's so much of a stretch that it's practically molecular. still. im Thinking.)

#if you got through all of that thank you for listening #i hope you took none of it seriously but also i hope you did. we'll see what happens #all of my thoughts and theories so far are basically me throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks #i hope to throw more spaghetti soon<3 #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home julie #me staring at the map: ive connected the dots #welcome home: you didnt connect shit #me (delusional): ive connected them-

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