#what are the odds he has one in his bedside table and another under his pillow and another in his glove box and another in his trunk and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maopll · 7 months

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Could I request something like this https://www.tumblr.com/maopll/712602219674058752/hello-hello-may-i-request-zhongli-kaeya-ayato?source=share

but with Kaveh, Itto, Childe, and Thoma?

My muse | genshin edition !

#pt.1 here || pt.2 !

⌗:, where you draw your lover in a sketchbook only for him to soon find out the peculiar way you show your love and adoration for him ♡

⌗:, a/n: what if I draw them in jojo poses ?...

⌗:, warning: there are gingers and blondes and bullchucker. there's mention of blood in childe's part.

⌗:, pairings: kaveh, itto, childe & thoma w/ gn!reader

KAVEH —

It was a warm Sunday evening. The afternoon glow of the sun illuminated the room. You and your lover, Kaveh, are basking in the quiet comfort of eachother. On the sofa, you sat crossing your feet and sketching countless pictures of what or of who. Your lover sat on the other side, making minute and very careful details of splendid architectural designs. You noticed the way his face would scrunch up when he would make those little designs on the railing or even on the roof. The way he would do a soft 'yes!' When he got something right on his first try. You recorded down every single detail on the small sketchbook of yours. When you would feel his gaze upon you, you would be quick while closing the book lest he sees what you made.

However, on his birthday you decided to gift him the sketchbook. He was dumbfounded and asked why you would give him something you were using. Until he flipped the pages and marvelled at the beautiful drawings you made of him. for him. It was simple yet so meaningful to him. His eyes filled with tears with how pure and sweet your love for him was. You were his everything, a beacon of light in his world.

ITTO —

Having you as his s/o was like winning the lottery. There wasn't a single moment that he didn't enjoy when he was with you. Whenever he would be playing onikabuto fights with the kids in hanamizaka, you would shelter yourself under a tree and sketch away the little doodle of your lover. Capturing each and every little detail of his face. The way he would scrunch up his nose when he would be thinking of his next move or the utter look of shock on his face when he would lose for the nth time...

Nevertheless, you find this hobby to be quite comforting. The sun was already starting to set, and the kids had returned home. Your lover hadn't won a single round, but he doesn't care much about it. As soon as they were gone, he went up to you screaming, "Hey babe!" only to find that you have fallen asleep. It's alright he's strong enough to carry his lover on his back, but he was in for a little surprise. When he picked you up in his arms, he saw the sketches, doodles of his and his...abs? although he has minimum knowledge about art and anatomy, he was still surprised seeing someone looking very similar to him and his name on YOUR notebooks. Ofcourse your one and only oni should be the one to grace the pages of your sketchbook! and also to grace your soft lips!

CHILDE —

Bloodshed, Bloodlust, Bloodthirst. That's all he knew all his life. He barely found respite, but with your coming into his life, things started to get a lot better, and he found happiness with you.

Your lover, childe, has gone out once again to take care of some "business." Apparently, he has loads of things to take care of, so today was another one of those sleepless and quite cold nights in Snezhnaya where you yearn for your lovers warmth but unfortunately he cannot be there. The candle was lit by your bedside table. You used the faint glow it provided to draw on your sketchbook. After all, you needed something to help you sleep, and this was the best thing you could do now. It was 3 p.m. now. Childe entered through the front door into your shared home. He tiptoed softly and carefully to not wake you up since it was an odd time to be awake. He stepped foot into your room and smiled, seeing you fast asleep. It was quite cold, and your blanket wasn't on top of you. While pulling the covers over you, he saw him drawn on your sketchbook. He looked at the drawings and he felt butterflies in his stomach. A faint shade of pink was dusting his face and a small smile graced his lips. "ajax?...you're home?" you spoke in a drowsy tone. He smiled and said "I'm home" while removing the sketchbook from you and setting it aside. Although the room was quite dark, you swear you saw a faint glimmer in his eyes...

THOMA —

He runs back and forth around the house from morning to evening. As expected, he grows tired by the end of the day, even if he tries napping during his breaks. You, however, seize this opportunity to admire his angelic features more closely since he is static in one place. At least for some time...

The Kamisato Estate was obviously busy with him conducting some classes about housework and dealing with the housework of the estate. Finally it was four o'clock in the afternoon and he had finally got his much needed rest. While he dozed off on your lap, taking in the comfortable warmth, you were busy sketching away on your sketchbook. His eyes, his sleepy face, his ruffled hair, his parted lips. Not a single detail would you miss. When his rest was finally over, he got up, but you had fallen asleep. It's understandable since you also work around the house with him a lot. When he tried getting up, the book fell from your hand. Whilst trying to pick up the book, he saw his sketches on your book. He was amazed and embarrassed since he was drawn so intricately on such a small piece of paper. A soft hue of pink bloomed across his face. He turned his body towards you and gently caressed your face. He kissed your temple and whispered "sleep well dear.."

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brittleangel · 6 months

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❝ HEAVEN’S IN YOUR EYES ❞

!! SONG RECCOMENDATION: a soundtrack to my life - mage tears

content: yuta okkotsu x reader / another list of headcanons yippieeee!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

genre: fluff <3

warnings: none!!

notes: hhhhh might be a lil half-assed sorry!!!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

- yuta is awkward at the start. he never thought he’d be able to fall in love again, and he doesn’t know what to do with this pecculiar feeling bubbling in his heart. something about your relationship is different from the one he had with rika, and well, it’s not surprising. he was just a kid back then. but now, he doesn’t know what to say, or do, and neither does he know where to put his hands. although, hes willing to learn. for you. he takes his time, and he soon learns that loving once more is not as hard as he initinally thought. he learns how easy it is to be vulnerable around you, how easy it is to be comfortable with you. you’ve warmed his heart, the walls he has built around it melting just for you.

- he’s a sucker for skin on skin contact. it’s not even in a sexual way, he just loves feeling your skin against his in a way he can’t describe. let it be his fingertips tracing your collarbone when you wear an off shoulder top, or his hand wandering under your shirt to hold your waist while the two of you cuddle in bed. your warmth is more than enough to make him feel safe.

- yuta has a habit of nearly always having a hand on you. he’s the type to worry, be nervous over things that might seem silly to other people. but you keep him calm. so, when he’s in the train with you, dont be surprised if he takes your hand and plays with your fingers. or when he places a hand on your thigh while you sit next to him somewhere.

- he leaves notes for you sometimes. he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up in the morning when he has to leave for a mission, you simply look too peaceful. so instead, you recieve a kiss on the temple along with a note on your bedside table. he’s definitely the type to scribble hearts on it as well.

- however, if both of you have important matters to attend to and he’s the first to wake up, he makes sure to wake you up gently. he’ll take your hand in his, and place soft little kisses to your fingertips, your knuckles, and then eventually, your face. even if you two slept in and you’re running late, he’ll make sure to wake you up in the softest way possible, because he believes that’s the only way to wake up an angel like you.

- sometimes, you make him nervous too. but he feels nervous in the best way possible. your actions, such as throwing random compliments his way, never fail to get his heart racing. and at times, he lets you know. he’ll take your hand, placing it against his chest and so that you’ll be able to feel his heart pounding beneath your palm. the soft chuckle that slips past his lips afterwards is the best part of it.

- he can’t handle you flirting with him, it’s too much for his heart to take. he feels as though he’s about to turn into a puddle in your palms as you stroke his cheeks and innocently toy with him in that way. he’ll forget his train of thoughts, simply staring at you while stuttering throughout nearly every word that comes out of his mouth. and as you giggle in response to his pure embarrassment, he’ll sigh and place his hands atop of yours.

- yuta is a busy guy. and as much as he hates it, there are times where he needs to be away from you for long periods of time. sometimes it’s quite short, other times it’s unbearably long. during these times, he likes texting you. it calms him down, knowing you’re doing fine. he’d be a little shy, but after gaining the courage to do so, he’d also ask for you to send him a picture of you. he misses you. a lot.

- he’s the type to tie your shoelaces for you. for some odd reason, he really likes doing it. perhaps it’s about the little amount of success he feels after providing you his assistance. it might sound silly, sure, but even a gesture such as small as this is able to make him feel even the slightest bit of genuine happiness.

- yuta loves gently, unconditionally. so tenderly, you feel like it could make you cry. his kisses can be chaste, quick and soft, but they can also be passionate. he holds you so tightly, and at the same time, his embrace is so delicate that he sometimes feels as if he’s holding something sacred. he’ll love the ugly parts of you, and he will always find them beautiful.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

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I'm obsessed with this series. I'm such a sucker for love that's given often and shown so freely. Andy and Reader are each other's world. I feel like they're the type of (one day) elderly couple who if one passes, the other is following right behind in a few days to months.

I can't wait to one day read a little drabble about them when they're old and retired, maybe having their kids and grandkids over for christmas and their kids' POV watching Andy and Reader sway and canoodle under a mistletoe.

At Last...

Summary: True love stories never end...

Warning: the following answer contains talk of death as well as celebrations of love and life. Read at your own risk. Takes place in my ongoing Growing Pains Series. __

Thank you. It makes me so happy that you've fallen in love with Growing Pains as well as Andy and Reader's love story. Those two are so incredibly and irrevocably devoted to one another - they really are each other's entire world.

If I'm being honest, I have thought about what the end of their time on this planet would look like. And Baby Girl always outlives Andy. Not just because she's a few years younger than him, but because there is just no other way.

He could never live without her. Not even for a month, or a couple of days. So, when the time comes and life finds him on his deathbed, they make a plan.

They're both such stubborn people, you know? So damned headstrong even up until the very end. Andrew Barber doesn't want to go.

Not yet.

But while his spirit remains young, his body is old. After all, fighting your way into your nineties is no easy feat. But he's also got four children right here in this realm to take care of, and an errant wife to look after who is just as much of a brat as she's always been.

And the doctors, well, they don't understand how he's made it so long. From everything indicated on his chart, he should've left this world days ago. But somehow Andrew Barber continues to defy the odds.

That stubborn ass ogre.

But he's also in pain. Even as he's fighting, refusing to give in. However, it's not sustainable. And Reader knows that her Big Man needs to rest. She spends every day by his bedside, rarely leaving for more than a few minutes at a time. It's been a few days since she's been able to catch a glimpse of his beautiful blue eyes, every once in a while, she's treated to a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Baby Girl knows her husband better than any other person on the planet. She knows that in order to leave her behind, even for just a little bit, she has to give him a purpose. So she crawls into bed with him, bad hip and all, and tells him her plan.

It's just between them - this task that she gives him.

She tells him to go on ahead and get their home ready - their dream home. And start decorating it the way he knows she'll like. She even promises not to get mad if the color schemes aren't quite right, because she'll just fix it all when she gets there.

Simple as that.

And while he's taking care of the house, the next thing she wants him to do is find Jacob. Wherever he is. Because she expects him to be at the dinner table sharing a meal with them for her first night in their new home.

And in return for doing all of that, she'll handle everything else with BiBi, KitCat, RoRo, and A.J. and all of their precious grandbabies. She swears that she will make sure that every single little detail is taken care of, and when it's all done...

She'll come find him. And when she does, they'll share a dance in their kitchen to the tune of their favorite song - At Last by Etta James. Baby Girl goes on to assure him that it will be the first of many.

Some time later that night, her sweet Andy Bear takes her up on her offer. But not before opening his eyes one last time to see her sleeping in the chair at his bedside. Now that makes him crack a smile.

Because in the last dream he had he could've sworn he told her fine ass to get to bed. A real bed. Not a chair.

His sweet, beautiful girl never fucking listens.

Reader knows when he leaves. She later describes it to their children as feeling his lips brush her skin, right behind her ear. His favorite place to kiss her.

She and the kids keep the actual ceremony small, but then they throw a party - a celebration of Andy's life. And after that, Reader spends the next two years making sure everything is in order.

Just like she promised.

Andy comes to her in her dreams every now and again. And in those dreams he always looks like he did when they first met - her handsome man.

And when it's finally her time, Reader passes on surrounded by their babies. But she tells them not to worry, because their father has been sitting by her bedside for the last few days. She knows they can't see him...

But she swears he's right there. And he's brought along Jacob. She tells her sweet babies that she's finally ready to join the love of her life. They even share a little laugh when she tells them how their father keeps pestering her all because she owes him a dance.

And when she takes her last breath, the sweet sound of Etta James is playing softly in the background. Bianca and her siblings sit there quietly for a few minutes after her passing holding hands and reveling in the fact that they know their Mama went home.

She's finally back in the arms of the man that she loves. They have no doubt that their Mama and Daddy are finally sharing that dance. And wouldn't you know it...

Somewhere in the great beyond, they were right. Their Mama made it home at last. And she left the light on for them too. Just like she told them she would.

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lostcauses-noregrets · 8 days

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What are your eruri headcannons? Modern au or cannon—or both! Doesn’t matter!

I have 8 years worth of headcanons and ficlets posted on AO3 here: Skin on Skin. There's 54 chapters here of canonverse and modern AUs, some of them are short, sweet and smutty, others are painfully angsty. Hopefully there's something here for everyone! Here's a little taste of some of them...

Skin on skin

Sometimes, when Levi cannot sleep at night and needs to feel the warmth of another body, he makes his way to Erwin’s quarters, undresses, climbs silently into bed beside him and curls against his back, arm around his waist. He’s always cold and his chin digs into his back but Erwin says nothing, just clasps his hand and pulls him closer, because it’s everything just to have him there.

Smooth

From this distance, the distance from the bed to the mirror, Erwin looks entirely hairless; smooth and flawless like the marble statues Levi once saw in the halls of Mitras. As he lies in the Commander’s bed and idly watches his morning ablutions, Levi quietly envies and adores his flawless perfection. But he knows that as Erwin turns, just so, the light will catch the fine strands of gold that dust his arms, his thighs, the darker blonde scattered across his chest, the thick trail tracing down his belly to the dense tight curls where Levi loves to drag his fingers and press his lips.

Sleeping on a Clothes Line

Headcancon that although Levi can barely sleep longer than an hour or two at a stretch, he has the ability to put himself to sleep at will, anywhere, at anytime. The Survey Corps members become used to finding him folded up in odd chairs and corners around headquarters. They joke that the Captain could sleep on a clothesline, but no one ever dares wake him. Like a cat, he has his favoured spots; a bench in the mess hall when it’s quiet, the chair in Erwin’s office, the space in Erwin’s bed.

It takes Erwin years to coax Levi into spending an entire night in a bed, and even now, years after the war, he still wakes sometimes to find their bed empty. Padding through to the kitchen he finds Levi curled up on the old couch by the window overlooking the ocean, empty tea cup by his side. Erwin settles beside him, draping his arm over his shoulders and pulling him close, careful not to disturb him. He sits quiet, content, Levi sleeping by his side and watches as the sun rises over the sea.

Warmth

Headcanon that when Erwin gets out of bed first, Levi rolls over into the warmth left by his body and presses his face into the pillow to breathe in his heat.

The absence of Erwin’s warmth in his life is one of the things he misses most.

Tea, Lee

Levi wakes early and, unlike Erwin, is not one to lie in bed. Unless his mind is on “other things”, he chafes and fidgets. He refuses to admit it, but he craves tea when he wakes, the same way that Erwin needs the kick start of coffee late in the afternoon. So Erwin has learned from long experience that the only way to keep Levi in bed is to bring the tea to him. As soon as Levi shifts and wakes beside him Erwin stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen. After years of practice, he has almost perfected the art of making tea without fully opening his eyes. He shuffles back through to the bedroom while Levi is still yawning and stretching and places the cup on the bedside table.

“Tea, Lee.”

Then he slides back under the covers, grateful to return to the warm cocoon of their bed, curling around Levi’s hip as he sits up to drink his tea. Erwin drifts off to sleep again with Levi’s hand tangling in his hair.

(I also have a list of nsfw headcanons with fics attached 😏)

#asks #eruri #lostcauses fic #i may have a thing for sleeping eruris #snk #headcanons

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koilarist · 2 years

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Devotio de·vo·tio A ritual to devote either enemies or oneself to gods of the Underworld.

This is a zone for over 18s only. Please don't follow me if you aren't of age.

Petrichor and gasoline. Wet concrete glistens with the neon glow of everlasting city lights. You aren’t sure for how long you’ve been cruising through the Nowhere - Endless roads stretch the twilight hour to a thin film behind your weary eyes.

The traffic light glows red.

There’s a static in your head which does you no favours - What street is this? You don’t recognise the signs. Perhaps it’s time to find a place to park up for the night.

The light ahead shifts to orange. Time to make a choice.

[ WHERE TO? ]

• Discord • You’re still hungry despite the emergency snacks you kept stashed in your glovebox. You squint against the glare of a bright white sign. ‘HOTDOG SHACK’. There are people inside, quietly eating and chatting amongst themselves.

• Bluesky • Did you take a wrong turn? XXX reflects off your windscreen. This district seems to be for those who walk on the ‘explicit’ side. Although only members may enter, a handful of invitations dance haphazardly in the chill of a sudden breeze. Maybe you should snatch one.

• Twitter • A dilapidated building stands tall on the corner. It looks old, crude graffiti peeking out through the broken windows... It doesn’t seem to be of much practical use anymore - But it's still worth peeking inside.

• Carrd • A faceless businessman approaches your driver's side window as you wait at another red light. You roll it down, allowing the cold night’s air to bite blood to the surface of your cheeks, and he wordlessly hands you his card. It transforms before your very eyes - It seems to boast the ability to find this city again, should you ever lose your way.

You turn it between your fingers, and it changes again. There appears to be more information on the back.

[ YOU HAVE SELECTED: ‘SHY NIGHTS MOTEL’ ]

> CONTINUE

The keycard takes a frustrating number of tries before the lock clunks open and the grip of your shoes scrapes the grubby welcome mat of the motel room.

Your numbed fingers clack the lightswitch on, though the following moment of flickering has you doubt the bulb’s integrity. Against the odds, it holds its dim amber glow. Admittedly the room isn’t much, but it’s good enough to keep you for the night.

• City Residents • [ OC MASTERLIST ] You scrounge in the bedside table for some bedtime reading material. Your immediate find is… A phonebook of sorts? It appears to list city residents. Though some pages have been torn out and others state little more than names and relations, others include photos and personal information…

Some of these articles seem fairly private, you aren’t sure how they came to be documented in a book like this.

• Gallery Pamphlet • [ ART POSTS ] A leaflet flutters free of the heavy phonebook pages - An advertisement for a gallery not too far from here. When you open it up for more information, all you find is a sheet of coupons for ‘extra fries’... Well, alright then.

• Devotio Newsletter • [ PERSONAL/TEXT POSTS ] Pocketing the coupons, you return to the nightstand to see what else it has to offer. Pushing your arm into the drawer and exploring the dusty further reaches rewards you with the sensation of glossy paper as a reprieve from grimy laminate wood.

Pulling it free of its hiding spot reveals it to be a newsletter. Between the occasional informative article there are what could only be described as the nonsense ramblings of a madman.

• Display Cabinet • [ RECOMMENDED ARTISTS ]

Across from the creak of the mattress complaining under the weight of your body stands a display cabinet, tall and proud. It hosts a collection of artworks from various artists - All of which you recognise as depicting residents of the city from the book you picked up earlier.

A part of you wonders if your own work would be added to the collection if you were to offer something for it.

#pinned

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calciseptinefic · 1 year

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then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 1 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys and is inspired by the courage of my waifu, who once maxed out the title character limit using lyrics from Mitski. To you, waifu, an eternal source of inspiration. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

Wade wakes. His hand is under the pillow, gripping the handle of his gun, unlocking the safety as he sits up. A lifetime of instinct and years of military training pinpoint the shadow against the dark of his bedroom and he fires—one-two-three times—the rapid pops loud despite the long silencer affixed to the end.

The shadow dodges the bullets—

Jumps up—

Sticks to the ceiling—

Wade's gun follows and—

People can't stick to the ceiling, Wade thinks. A dream?

A hesitation. His finger goes slack on the trigger at the same time a near silent thwip emanates from the shadow above him. Something cool and vaguely sticky hits his hand and coats his gun. He tries to move his fingers on the grip and cannot.

"The fuck?" Wade snaps as the shadow above him says in a deceptively friendly tenor, "Nightmare?"

The shadow drops, feet landing softly upon the bare wooden floorboards. The lamp on the bedside table is switched on and—

"Oh," the shadow says, freezing in place, one hand on the lamp pull, as Wade says again, more loudly, "The fuck?"

The shadow is a man in red-and-blue spandex. Large, white lenses dominate his mask and black piping radiates like a web over every inch of his body. A stylized spider sits atop his sternum, an obvious target Wade keeps his gun trained on. They stare at each other. Wade is sure that the shadow is taking the details of him in too: his scars, his hard-earned and hard-kept muscles, his sleep-wild hair. Wade cannot tell who is more surprised, him or his oddly dressed intruder.

"What are you supposed to be?" Wade asks incredulously. "Some sort of... man-spider?"

"Spiderman, actually," answers the spider-man faintly.

"Of course, how silly of me." Wade glances at his immobile hand. Both his hand and his gun are covered in gauzy, white fiber not unlike spider silk, and since he's not ready to process what the hell that is, his eyes flit back to the spider-man. The body beneath the costume is lean and corded with muscle. Wade's eyes drift down from the curve of the spider-man's shoulders to the narrow taper of his waist, assessing.

"I'm not here to hurt you," the spider-man blurts, stepping back from the bed and holding both hands palm out. A plea for deescalation. "So don't do it."

"Don't do what?"

"Shoot your gun. The webbing around your hand dissipates force about a hundred times better than Kevlar, so the bullet won't make it half an inch out of the barrel. You'll just hurt your hand—trust me, I've seen it."

Wade hums. Tries to wriggle his fingers again. Again cannot move them, even a little. He thinks briefly about how quickly he could grab the Bowie knife taped to the underside of his bed frame. Quick enough, he supposes, though truthfully, he doesn't think he needs to. The spike of adrenaline that woke him has faded and he cannot discern any negative intent radiating from his surprise visitor, which is... odd. Usually people who sneak up on Wade are trying to kill him.

Put another tally into the dream category, Wade thinks, and lets his incapacitated hand fall to the mattress. Aloud, he asks, "So are you here to kill me, my little arachnid assassin?"

"Kill you?"

"Murder me. Turn me into worm food. End my earthly career. Put me six feet under. Make'a me sleep with the fishes—"

"Do you have to butcher the accent like that?"

"Bumped. Smoked. Whacked. Snuffed. Offed. Iced—"

"Oh my god, shut up," the spider-man says, but there's an edge of laughter in his voice. "Jesus, this is weird enough without you listing as many murder euphemisms as you possibly can."

"You're the one standing in my bedroom dressed like a Power Ranger reject," Wade points out. "But hey, dreams are weird. For example, mine usually involve more lingerie than second degree criminal trespass. And no matter how skin-tight your costume is, I don't think what you're wearing qualifies as sexy underwear. It's more like... one of those BDSM leather bodysuits. Do you think this is my subconscious's way of telling me that I need to open myself up to new experiences?"

"Wait wait wait wait wait," the spider-man says quickly, slurring the syllables together. "What do you mean, dream?"

"I mean that as much as I would love to be handed a vaguely anthropomorphized arachnid stuffed into the body of the hottest twink alive, the real world just don't work like that."

"Twink?" The spider-man's voice hits a high note.

"That can't be the first time you've heard that, baby boy." Wade smiles at him. It's the same, wide and charming smile he uses when he wants to get laid or get in a fight. "And you've just beat out Cary Elwes for first place on my 'Dudes in Tights I Would Bang' list."

The spider-man freezes once again. The stylized lenses of his mask haven't moved, but the line of his shoulders and his sudden stillness convey his shock perfectly as he tentatively says, "... Wade?"

"Yes. Obviously." Wade rolls his eyes. "Aren't figments of my subconscious mind supposed to know who I am? Oh, wait! Maybe you're my id trying to communicate a hitherto unknown kink which, that ass? I'll toss your salad until there ain't nothing but ranch."

"Yeeeep." The spider-man pops the p. "Wow. You're definitely Wade Wilson."

"In the flesh! Or, umm, whatever not-flesh non-corporeal bodies are made of. Really makes you wanna get all philosophical, doesn't it? Nature of reality, value of truth and knowledge, all that Plato shit, blah blah blah." Wade jazz hands using only his unwebbed left hand. His right hand and gun are still immobilized. Wade doesn't know if he's impressed or frustrated by the continuity.

"Wade," the spider-man says slowly. "This isn't a dream."

"Of course it's a dream," Wade answers. "And not to like, rush you or anything, but I'm bored, and also really curious as to what the next stage of this subconscious sequence is. Are we gonna bump uglies in ye ol' human tradition? Does this spider theme extend past foreplay? Oh! Are you gonna bundle me up in a blanket of cobwebs? Drink my blood while you fuck me? Bite off my—"

"What? No! Wade, I don't drink blood or bite anything off—"

"But the cobweb bondage is still on the table? I have to say, this stuff is ridiculously strong. Does it come out your butt?"

"My—? Nononono—it comes from my wrist canisters!" The man holds up a hand and shows him a small lump beneath the red fabric and a trigger mechanism that protrudes subtly from it. "And before you ask, it's a polymer I developed that mimics the properties of spider silk. I synthesize it in a lab. It's definitely not... organic."

Wade's shoulders slump and he pouts. "I don't know why I find that disappointing."

"Neither do I." Then, "Out of curiosity, why do you think you're dreaming?"

"Exhibit A: the didn't-come-out-your-butt polymer." Wade holds up the white mass covering his right hand and gun, and waves it around a bit for emphasis. The webbing is surprisingly lightweight for how ridiculously strong it is. "Exhibit B: you were on the ceiling two minutes ago."

"And that's... unusual?"

"Where I come from, yes. And Saskatchewan churns out some real fucking weirdos."

"So there's no one like me here? At all?"

"Nope! You're the first arachnid-themed twink I've ever seen."

"Mazel tov," Arachni-twink says, but he sounds more dazed than sarcastic. He crosses his arms over his chest and absently rubs his chin, obviously thinking. "This... might sound weird but how much do you know about the multiverse? Alternate universes? Parallel realities?"

Wade wonders why his brain would rather play out this borderline mundane scenario than a much sexier or scarier (or scarily sexier) (or sexily scarier) version of a wet dream, but hey. Even the most exciting rollercoasters have their boring bits. Might as well play along.

"Not really. Why?" Wade cocks his head to the side. "Do you have a sexy evil mustache under that mask?"

"Negatory, Captain. Not from Roddenberry's mirror universe." He flashes a quick ta'al. "And do you know anything about the Avengers?"

"I'm guessing they're not a boy band."

"Superheroes?"

"Last summer blockbuster was funny enough but lacked the real emotional substance of its predecessors."

"Weapon X?"

"Can't say I know her."

"And... the cancer?"

"El cancer?" Wade shrugs. "Yeah, we have that here. Mom died of it when I was five. Got a small bout myself a few years ago and—let me tell you—that radiation therapy shits sucks balls. Also took one of my balls. But hey, still swinging." A pause. "Half swinging? What's the terminology here?"

The spider-man hesitates before saying, more quietly, "...And Peter?"

"Pumpkin eater? Had a wife? Couldn't keep her?"

"Yeah, uh, something like that," the spider-man says. Then, mostly to himself, "Oh, okay, ouch."

Wade hears the strange undercurrent of real hurt which.

Huh.

Can dream people feel hurt? Wade wonders.

They fall into a second silence. This one lasts longer than the first. The spider-man standing by Wade's bed has lost himself completely in thought, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath and tap-tap-tapping one booted foot against the floor. Wade has no idea what said thoughts are about, but they look intense. At one point, he takes a cellphone out from a hidden pocket and attempts to use it; he even opens the window and stretches out as far as he can to get a signal, and is unsuccessful.

"Okay okay okay," the spider-man says after he comes back inside. Wade, who had turned his focus to futilely picking at the webbing around his right hand, looks back up at him. "Um, well, firstly, I just want to say that, uh, I'm sorry I broke into your apartment at three in the morning. This is... my apartment in my universe. I just wanted to go home and sleep. I did not mean to wake you up and scare you and make you shoot at me."

"You're apologizing to me for... shooting at you?"

"Yes. That is what I am doing."

"Weird flex but okay." Wade shrugs. "Apology accepted."

"Secondly, I would like to revise my previous assertion that all of this is not a dream." The spider-man moves his pointer finger in broad circles, as though to encompass what he means by 'all-of-this'. "What is happening right here, right now, is one-hundred-and-ten percent a fever dream. And it was brought on by the, uh, the bad beef lo mein you ate before bed."

There is something strange in the spider-man's tone and body language that makes Wade sit up straighter. He doesn't know why. Instinct, maybe, or awareness of a shift in mood. But Wade's gut is what kept him alive through special ops and mercenary work and his cancer scare, so he's learned to pay attention and—more importantly—listen.

"How the fuck do you know that?" Wade asks, eyes narrowing. He thinks again of his trusty Bowie knife. "Did you dig around in my fridge as recon or some shit? Because questionable leftovers are sacred, a holy secret meant to be between a man and his god. I'd rather you look at the questionable porn stash underneath my mattress."

"Weeeeeell," the spider-man says. "Since this is a dream, and I'm part of the dream that you are dreaming, dream-me who is actually dream-you knows that the beef lo mein is making you dream crazy things. Crazy things like Spiderman—"

"Oh, I hear the capitalization now."

"—climbing on the ceiling and babbling on about the multiverse. And it had to be a dream because superpowers aren't real, and superheroes aren't real, and the manipulation of space-time is purely theoretical. In this universe." He pauses and says, slowly, "Which is... the only... universe. Yeah."

And suddenly—

Overwhelmingly—

Gracelessly—

Wade knows to his bones that this is not a dream.

This is real.

A spider-themed superhero from a parallel universe broke into his apartment.

The epiphany hits him hard, as most epiphanies do, and he laughs at the absurdity of it. Spiderman watches Wade as he laughs harder and harder and harder, until his cheeks are wet from his leaking eyes and he's clutching his abdomen and he's choking on every painful inhale. It hurts and it verges on hysterical, but what else is Wade supposed to do? There's a man from another fucking reality standing less than four feet away.

This is the thought that cycles through Wade's brain on repeat. A man from another reality. A man from another reality. A man from another reality. Wade's never been real book-smart; he has a knack for languages, and if it involves fighting or fucking, he's a goddamned savant, but he's never been a memorize-and-regurgitate kinda guy, so the concept of other universes existing alongside his own has always been in the realm of sci-fi. He's never bothered with the nitty gritty of it or thought about it too long. It has always been a concept beyond himself, like black holes or string theory or teleportation. Cool, but largely irrelevant.

But now?

Maybe Wade wouldn't be so overwhelmed if he hadn't seen Spiderman crawling on the ceiling. If his hand and gun weren't wrapped up in a weird white goo unlike anything he's encountered before. Perhaps if Wade were literally anyone else, he would be less affected. But Wade's had to learn to take in the reality of a situation without hesitation, to accept the improbable and strange instantly, to adapt. Ignoring the truth only gets people killed and, well, there's a reason Wade's in his mid-thirties and still kicking.

The hysteria wanes eventually and Wade's existential crisis laughter lessens to intermediate hiccuping. His sides hurt. He scrubs the wetness off his cheeks and Spiderman asks, "You don't think you're dreaming anymore, do you."

It isn't a question.

Wade answers anyway.

"Not really, no." Wade's voice is raspy. "It's just that... you're a spectacularly shitty liar."

"Yeah." Spiderman sighs. Deeply. Puts his masked face in one gloved hand and rubs at his eyes in a multi-universal display of begrudging acceptance. "So I've been told."

"I mean, you're so bad at it that I immediately believed all the bullshit you were saying before just because you tried to lie about what I already thought was the truth."

"Wade..."

"I have, like, so many questions." Wade pulls his comforter off and gets out of bed. Standing, he finds that he's almost a head taller than his late-night visitor, who barely moves away or acknowledges Wade's ridiculous pajama pants. Interesting. "But I'll start with some easy ones. Firstly, can you get your webbing off my hand and, secondly, do you like pancakes?"

Part 2

#spideypool #deadpool #wade wilson #spiderman #peter parker #rating: m #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker

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n3onstarss · 2 years

Text

Unnamed Big Mama AU, Chapter 1

This is my writing account btw, my main is @ne0n-leon, which is where i post about this AU minus the writing parts

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. It was nearly 1 am and not a wink of sleep had reached her. 1 am and yet Lou was getting his phone blown up on the bedside table. The light flickering on and off at increasing speeds, lighting up the room. Faking rest was the best she could do with Lou frantically scrambling out of bed to check his phone. Click-clacking was audibly from his speedy response to the constant pings.

She had her doubts about this being casual, but she always blew it off as agency stuff. Because Lou, her boyfriend, was also her manager.

She'd stared in so many movies she'd almost lost count. Action, romance, thriller, comedy. You name it, she has at least one. Her natural white hair and some special connections had earned her keep.

Lou was grumbling now as she tried to keep her breathing even. This will all blow over in the morning, she thought. Water under the bridge.

Sleep hit her like a bus as she finally passed out, oblivious to Lou's odd glances over his shoulder and frantic typing.

(Line breaker)

The next day was similar to any other. Breakfast, interviews, lunch, work and film, dinner and then 'free time'. Free time was never free though, it came at a price. Being such a well known movie star had made it hard to go out without being harrassed by paparazzi, and Lou certainly didnt help. He was insistent that she "make the most of the publicity, this could earn us a lot of money y'know!" And she would do anything to keep him happy.

So, free time was often dinner dates with Lou, or dates on the town with Lou, pr being out and about with Lou, but never alone and never at home. Never what she wanted, but what she "needed" to do.

Necessity was a driving force, that's for sure.

Complacency, the benefit of the doubt and publicity is what Lou needed from her, and that was what she gave.

Lou, actually, needed much from her. Full access to all their assets, her financial support as he didnt have a job of his own. Her food, her money, her home. Everything of hers, even her privacy, was Lou's, but nothing of Lou's was hers. He insisted his acting career would take off like hers had, that he would be a well known 'cult classic'. He insisted that he would pull his weight, and she believed him without a doubt.

This is how all relationships go. Right..?

Another day out on the town, as per usual. New York was such a pretty place, but lost its charm after too long in one place.

"Come on dear, we're late!"

"Coming Lou!" All she had to do was apply the finishing touches. Sitting at her vanity, a small bowl or red gems in one had and tweezers in another, she applied the gems in a slightly reminiscent shape of spider eyes.

Oh how she missed being herself. A longing sigh slipped from her as Lou entered the room, leaning against the floor and foot tapping rapidly.

"What's taking so long, love? We have a dinner reservation!" Lou was clearly exasperated at her gem appliance, and voiced so. "Love, honey, dear. You do not need those gems. They are best saved for more common, casual affairs like parties. Maybe leave them, just this once?"

She knew it wasnt a question, but she took it as such.

"I'm sorry love, but they're already applied! And they take soooooo long to get back off!" Swinging the tweezers in little gestures helped emphasize her point, apparently, because Lou visibly gave up.

The final gem was applied and, as Lou had been complaining about the entire time, they were 10 minutes late to a dinner reservation that was across town.

She stood up and smoothed out her red, mermaid tail dress while Lou fiddled with his tie. Once they were both situated she offered a false bow.

"Shall we be off?"

"We shall indeed," said Lou, linking his arm with hers as they exited the building.

(Line breaker)

The drive to the restaurant was lengthy and silent. She sat, hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared out the cars window.

Lou, however, was furiously typing at his phone again and practically drooling. It might've just been a great contract, a good deal. She'll never know and she'll never ask.

Benefit of the doubt.

Benefit of the doubt was always something Lou provided her. And so she was expected to provide it back. And provide she did. She turned a blind eye whenever he claimed her stuff was his, she turned a blind eye when money would go missing from her account, she turned a blind eye to the fact he was always texting on his phone but never said who. She ignored all of it if just to keep them both happy. Or.. at least Lou happy.

Speaking of Lou, he was sitting as far across the seat as possible from her, typing away on his phone again. The limo looked empty and felt dead without the chatter that used to accompany these drives. This used to be a place of music and laughter and joy before the seriousness of the public, but now all it held was ghosts of times past. A disco ball, the one Lou had insisted she install, spun slowly in the center, reflecting a dim and dull light. Music played quietly over the speakers and only succeeded in making the atmosphere more melancholy. The mini bar against the wall, really just a little shelf of bottles and glasses, was dusty and untouched. Minus, one spot on that shelf. The spot where Lou kept the Jack Daniels.

The Jack Daniels sat abandoned next to Lou, half empty and lidded. Lou had claimed he'd need it for confidence, but he was always ecstatic to be out in public. So what had changed? What was happening?

The limo finally rolled up outside the restaurant. The very one on the other side of town. The big sign above read Olive Garden. She knew Lou was a known cheapskate when he wanted to be, but this was new. They hadn't been to a Olive Garden maybe ever. How thrilling!

Stepping out of the limosine was like stepping into a nightmare. A familiar one, but a nightmare all the same.

Almost the second they were out of the car they were swarmed by paparazzi, adoring fans, weird fans, and anybody else you could think of. It took millennia to get indoors, rushing autographs and trying to make small talk as fast as possible. Lou, however, kept his arm tightly entwined with hers and walked slower to soak up the spotlight.

They eventually made it to the front door.

"would you like a table?"

she jumped nearly 6 feet into the air. Not literally, oh no no no, but figuratively. She hadn't seen the employee or heard them until they spoke. She was still looking around with her eyes wide, startled when Lou answered for her.

"Yes, please. A table for two." He held up two fingers to emphasize his point.

The employee nodded and walked off, leaving the two to their own devices for a minute. And with this moment, she took in their surroundings. The walls were white, but had brown wooden lattice fences on top. In some places there were little false windows and along the roof they had exposed supports wrapped with faux grape vines. A large white brick fireplace sat in the center with decorative plants around it and pictures hung from it. It was truly beautiful in a way she hadn't known since meeting Lou.

The employee escorted them to ta table on the other side of the fireplace. It was warm and cozy, lit by the glow of the fire. The table was small and round, a light tan top and a rich dark wooden leg. The two celebrities sat down and, while she browsed the menu, Lou began talking to the waitress in a hushed tone. So hushed, infact, that she could barely make out a word. Eventually the employee departed and returned shortly with come champagne in a bucket of ice and two champagne glasses. Neither placed a order for food for a long while, Lou seemed busy with something on his phone and she didn't want to order without him.

From across the table she could hear the sound of something being sent and the power button being clicked before Lou stood up and moved to her side. Instinctively she stood as well.

Moonlight streamed through the real windows, lighting her face in pale silver moonlight while the fire behind her lit Lou in gold. They looked like the sun and the moon, those two. But we all know what happened to Icarus when he flew too close to the sun.

Lou took a deep, shuddering breath. Her hands flew to her mouth as he produced a box from his suit jackets pocket.

"You are the most wonderful woman I know. You are sting, kind, brave and so much more."

the small box was opened as Lou dropped to one knee. a sparkling diamond sat atop a golden band and was surrounded by small rubies, all sparkling in the combination of moonlight and firelight.

"Will you marry me?"

#big mama au #rottmnt big mama #big mama #rottmnt #lou jitsu #hamato yoshi #rottmnt lou jitsu #rottmnt hamato yoshi #rottmnt au #tmnt au #my au #my writing #alt account

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casspurrjoybell-26 · 1 month

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Too Old For This - Chapter 9 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Leroy wasn't sure what he'd expected but not exactly what he saw.

It was a small room with a double bed pushed against the wall.

There was a study table that was pressed against the bed's lower edge with a chair on the other side but it seemed that Zachary used it from the bed, for the most part, judging from what direction the stack of books and the laptop was facing.

The room smelled strongly of medical-grade pain relief cream and a hint of candles and essential oils.

"Hey," Zachary said, making Leroy turn his gaze toward him.

There was a small smile on the older man's face... a bit unsure... maybe nervous.

"Hey," Leroy said, walking over to the chair propped on the other side of the desk before sitting down.

He had wanted to sit beside Zachary on the bed but he'd come to the conclusion that it would be a little weird.

Also, there was a cat right next to him and the cat wouldn't take too kindly to Leroy moving it out of the way.

There was silence after that, with none of them saying much but random pleasantries.

Leroy had asked about Zachary's sister and the older man had confirmed that, yes, that was in fact his sister before asking Leroy how his night was.

The younger man had shrugged, mumbling 'good' under his breath and just like that the silence returned.

They sat there awkwardly, both occasionally looking at their phones in between the odd staring contest they had established.

"Erm, you said you wanted to watch a movie," Zachary said after a while of awkward silence.

"I wasn't sure what to pick but I do have Netflix," he muttered, reaching for the laptop on the table before flipping it open.

He was on it for a bit, before flipping it to face Leroy.

"Whatever you want to watch. I don't mind," he added, giving Leroy another awkward smile before picking up his phone.

"Sorry about the smell if it bothers you," Zachary said, making Leroy look up from his phone.

The two locked eyes for a bit, before Zachary, blinked and moved his gaze to the bedside table with a humidifier.

"I know it's strong but it helps."

"It's okay," Leroy said, smiling a little and Zachary gave him an awkward smile back.

"So, do you want anything? A drink? A snack?" Zachary asked, moving to get off his bed.

Leroy noticed his little wobble but the older man didn't make a fuss about it.

"I'm sure Avery has some Diet Coke in there somewhere."

Leroy chuckled.

"I'll have Diet Coke, sure."

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit. Maybe find a movie before I get back."

Leroy nodded, watching Zachary slip out of the room before he turned to the screen of the laptop in front of him.

Just like Zachary's phone, the laptop was questionably ancient with its compact keyboard and clunky mouse pad, though the software was updated.

Leroy scrolled through Netflix, looking for something they could watch together.

They generally had the same taste, so he didn't have to compromise as he did with his sisters or friends when they had video-call movie nights.

As he was scrolling, he noticed the 'continue watching' tab and raised a brow at the shows he saw.

Err, there wasn't really any other way to put it besides that he noticed that they were a bit... a bit gay.

One show was a shrug worthy, two a coincidence but every single show with maybe two not being a bit gay was pushing the whole 'probability' thing he'd been going with was starting to push it.

He took in a deep breath, debating whether he should just ignore the whole thing and keep scrolling for movies but his curiosity got the better of him and soon he had clicked Zachary's Netflix list, noticing the pattern of shows and documentaries he'd liked to watch.

Sure, they were in the same genre he liked as well but Zachary had conveniently omitted that... well... he was really into gay media.

'He's gay.'

Leroy felt the words buzz like white noise in his ears.

He wasn't sure why he felt stunned and a little self-conscious.

He had gay friends... he'd had them for years but learning that Zachary was potentially gay made him feel awkward and a bit self-conscious.

Despite this mix of emotions, Leroy couldn't stop himself from snooping.

He opened up another tab and quietly went through Zachary's bookmarks.

Most of them were innocent but some of them made him blush a little too hard.

"Fuck," Leroy cursed under his breath, closing the new tab before returning to the one with Netflix opened.

"I shouldn't," he sighed, forcing himself to stick to what he was originally told to do... find a movie.

He settled on 'The Colony' and sat still for Zachary's return.

'It's okay,' he told himself, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Zachary was gay and so what?

The man had always been respectful, hadn't come on to him and seemed to keep it to himself quite successfully.

Zachary didn't seem interested in him and their friendship had worked up until now, so it would keep working with or without the knowledge of his sexuality.

Leroy nodded to himself, affirming all his internal statements but he couldn't quite rub off the fact that he felt a tad disappointed.

Maybe he was a little upset that Zachary didn't trust him enough to tell him.

It was definitely more complicated than that.

In the rawest of terms, it was upsetting that Zachary didn't want him.

Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

Leroy had no clue it just felt bad.

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indyflanery · 2 months

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4, 6, 15 and 18 :)

A PEAK AT WHAT’S INSIDE THEIR . . .

04. car glovebox.

Indy doesn't actually have a car glovebox, or a car, so this question doesn't count. He has a motorcycle.

06. bedside table drawer.

An odd assortment of cliché and noncliché things, if he's being honest. He absolutely has condoms and lube in there, but he also throws his journal in that drawer. Probably his phone charger and other random things he needs to hold onto but doesn't know where he'd put them without losing them.

15. bookcase.

Which bookcase is the better question? Indy has multiples. One has a lot of paperbacks science fiction, historical fiction, and adventure books being favorites. Another one has the beginning of his academic resource collection...

18. “secret” hiding spot.

He doesn't have or need a "secret" hiding spot as a grown adult. As a teenager, a secret hiding spot would have been in a niche under his bed. And while his father left him to his own devices and didn't go into his room, he absolutely was the teenage boy that stashed his porn there.

#asks #headcanon

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roman-cates · 10 months

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It's good to see Roman walking, even if he is only able to go a few feet at a time. The house is small, so he'll be able to get around even if he's a bit slow.

Which means Bryce should make sure everything he shouldn't access is locked up.

"Take your time," he tells Roman, and goes into the kitchen. He adjusts the rice on the stove and grabs the bottle of painkiller. He leaves the vitamins out, hard to abuse those. The kitchen is short and narrow, barely enough room for two people even if neither has crutches, so he glances at the living room -- nothing there to move -- and heads goes to the other hallway.

There's three doors at the end. Bryce he takes a key from his pocket and locks the one on the left. Storage, laundry, and two small holding cells. Better if Roman doesn't see that. He slips into the door on the end that he's claimed as his bedroom and deposits the medicine inside. There's a cage in here too, but Bryce has never actually seen this one used.

He locks the door behind him and opens the door on the right. This room is motel-simple: a full bed, an empty dresser, a bedside table that holds a clock with glaring red digits. A rod in place of a wardrobe, sunk deep into the walls. No hangers, good. There's a chain scattered across the floor, anchored in the center of the room. It has an ankle cuff attached. Bryce kicks it to the side so Roman won't trip. He won't need to even think about using that for a few weeks, and so he does not think about it.

He returns to find Roman has almost made it to the living room.

"You're allowed to sit on the red chair in here, on any dining chair, or I might let you on the sofa sometimes." He'll have to explain if anyone sees Roman on the furniture, but the leg is a safe excuse for now.

"There's a bedroom for you through that hall," he gestures, "It's open. The other doors there are off limits." That's about it, right? Oh, and…

"When I leave the house, you need to engage the second deadbolt for safety." That's about it for now, he thinks. "I'll get you some more rice."

Roman focuses on getting out of the bathroom and into the main area of the house. It takes a lot out of him. He's not very strong at all after two years almost exclusively chained in a basement. Still, he's determined. His determination makes up for the lack of strength.

Once he gets past the hallway to where he can see the main rooms, Roman looks around. Under the guise of being amazed and interested at the new environment, he's really looking for ways to escape.

There are windows. Roman is able to tell what time it is roughly. It can't be later than 3 in the afternoon. It looks... so bright outside. The windows are all barred. No way out through them.

There's a door, too. Only one. Unless there's another door somewhere he can't see, then that's the only way out. Roman puts that information into a safe corner of his mind. He can't use it right now, but he sure as hell will later.

Eventually, he gets out to one of the chairs that Bryce says he's allowed on. The remark about being allowed on the sofa 'sometimes' makes Roman feel like he's a pet. Then he realizes that... he kind of is...

Somehow the though of having a label like pet is worse than having the label of captive. At least captives are still human beings, there against their will, but still recognized as a person— even if their captor doesn't care. A pet... Well. Pets aren't humans. Pets are there for their owners amusement.

Roman is curious about the bedroom down the hall, but his arms were already screaming at him to stop by the time he got to the closest chair, so he can't go look right now. He has to take a break.

When the rice is ready, Roman is allowed to feed himself this time. Bryce takes the crutches away once Roman has settled in. He's gone for an odd amount of time. It feels long. But when he brings the crutches back, they don't have blood on them anymore. Bryce doesn't say anything about it, so Roman doesn't either.

After a while, Bryce picks out a DVD and puts a movie on— there's a much bigger TV out here— before making his own dinner in a microwave. Roman is more interested in watching Bryce than watching the movie, trying to glean any information that might aid an escape attempt.

When Roman starts getting tired— which doesn't take very long— he's allowed to go to the open room at the other end of the hall. It's hard to get there— his arms are already too tired— but he makes it.

For a moment, he freezes in the doorway when he sees the chain on the floor. It looks much too similar to the one J put on him— only this one is longer. It takes Roman a minute or two to swallow his fear and go into the room anyway. He doesn't sleep well.

#whump #whump roleplay #whumpee #roleplay #whump rp #rp #roman cates #whumplr reader

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kyyuri · 2 years

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to be or not ! -yang jungwon

27 ! love (written)

★彡 synopsis: what happens when y/n, who is hopelessly pinning over her best friend, jungwon- gets betrayed by not one, but both of them ?! and what happens when jungwon falls for her despite all odds ?

word count: 1.3k

taglist 2 ! open <12 slots left> may or may not have a taglist 3 :( so send an ask if you wna be added and ill add u once im back from hiatus <3

perm taglist open

a/n: take this as my hiatus gift before i go missing for another 1.5 months ? exams are honestly such a pain in the ass :(

you stood in front of jungwon’s front door. as much as you hated how you gave in so easily to help jungwon, you still decided to knock on the door, knowing how yujin isn’t going to come help the poor boy anytime soon. “yn ? come in… ” he looked so pale and yet so adorable with his teddy bear pjs and a long soft blanket draped over his body. “here’s the notes for today.” you handed him a stack of papers. with a grateful look, he muttered a quick thank you and reached for it, leaving the teddy bear he was clinging onto under the blanket exposed to your eyes. it was the bear you bought for his birthday years ago. it honestly shocked you how he kept it for so long and likely cuddles it to sleep. “you still keep it ?” eyes directed at the plush in his grasps “yeah. why wouldn’t i ?” jungwon asked with an innocent look on his face. choosing not to answer, silence fell upon the both of you again.

as he made himself comfortable on his bed once again, he looked at your awkward figure that’s standing by his bedroom door. he chuckled “why are you acting so weird ? this isn’t the first time you’re in my house.” “it’s the first time im here as someone that isn’t your friend.” you almost felt bad instantly for the comment you just made. “i’m sorry..” he muttered softly “i really am i-” before he could finish, you decided you’ve heard enough today, “I’ll go make some soup for you, just rest jungwon.” unknown to you, jungwon said softly, “ i hate it when you call me jungwon…”

having been to his home often in the past, it didn’t take you long to find the ingredients and utensils needed to whip up his favourite soup. it only took a while before the soup was ready to be consumed by the sick boy when there was a knock on the door. Preparing mentally for yujin’s arrival, you cursed yourself for not leaving once jungwon apologised. “hee ?” “yn, please hear me out.” “okay you have five minutes.” heeseung grabbed the bowl of soup “ I believe jungwon would want to hear about this too.” with you following behind, the both of you headed upstairs. “how are you feeling, jungwon ?” surprised, he sat up, “ im doing ok hyung, what brings you here ?” “ i figured i have something you might want to see.” placing the bowl of soup on the bedside table, he pulled out a pink envelope and places it on jungwon’s lap. “ you should open it and see what shenanigans your lover has been pulling.” inside held a delicately decorated piece of parchment paper.

“heeseung oppa,

i really really really like you. i think you know that. i also think that you like me back. after all, youve been nothing but nice to me. it must be hard keeping your feelings hidden, but we dont have to do that anymore. yn is just using you to get to jungwon and im using jungwon to get to you. i believe it would be a fair trade. yn isnt good for you. i am. give me a chance and i’ll show you what true love is all about. oppa, i hate it when you look at other girls the same way you look at me. i hope you can make me someone special~ i will break it off with jungwon if you agree to give me a chance, give US a chance. what do you say, my love ? meet me after school ?

ily <3 yujin”

from the way jungwons face fell slightly, you could tell he was disappointed. “i.. kinda saw it coming but.. kinda didnt… i suppose i was in denial… but.. but it doesnt.. hurt ?” the two of your head turned towards jungwon in shock. his own girlfriend just admitted that she was using him and there was physical evidence yet he didnt feel upset by it ? heeseung didnt seem to understand either.

“won. im here !” a sing song voice came from the door. “what the fuck are the both of you doing here ?” she shrieked. “baby did they hurt you ?” she cooed towards jungwon. “were we not allowed to visit our friend ?” heeseung sneered at her. “o-oh of course y-youre allowed.” she sheepishly turned away. “baby how are you feeling ? i brought you your work from school.” she said, completely ignoring your presence. “dont’ baby ’me. you dont deserve to.” it honestly shocked you how jungwon was finally standing up for himself against yujin. after justifying her actions on her behalf for so long, it felt refreshing to see jungwon fight back. “what ?” a hint of annoyance appeared from her voice. he picked up the pink envelope and flung it towards her. yujin’s face drained of blood. “yea. its your love letter.” “i was framed ! it wasnt me !” she frantically pleaded. “yn ! she tried to frame me ! it was you wasnt it ? you witch !” she pushed you off the corner of the bed. “yn !” jungwon rushed to your side immediately, not giving a damn about what yujin think. “thats enough yujin. its time to leave.” heeseung took yujins bag and threw it at her, causing her to stumble upon impact. “i showed jungwon the letter YOU wrote to me. stop trying to ruin yns reputation. its not going to work. i appreciate the fact that im likeable but not the face that YOU like me. for the last time..leave yn alone !”

a sniff was heard. knowing that yujin was crying, jungwon didn’t hesitate to make her cry even more. “please leave yujin. you’re not welcomed here any longer. and for the record, whatever we had going on between us, its over. you’ve crossed the line way too far this time. its time to humble down. you can take your leave now. thank you.” he opened his bed room door and signalled for her to leave. with one last glare towards you, she stormed out of jungwon’s room.

everything that had happened today was too much for you to even process. first, you though heeseung had betrayed you. next, you head to jungwons house and heeseung showed up as well. then the whole love letter fiasco happened and now jungwon and yujin were no longer a couple ? it hurts your head honestly. “i think i’ll take my leave too. rest well jungwon and hee, im sorry for the way i acted earlier today. i’ll see you around.” you grabbed your stuff and gave them both a final wave before heading home.

once you had left, jungwon buried his head in his hands. “why didn’t it hurt when yujin left hyung ?” he was in so much distraught over this matter. “you dont love her as much as you believe you do. rather, i have every reason to believe that you have feelings for yn.” heeseung chuckled. “i-i have feelings for yn ? thats… impossible.” “how so ?” “im not sure… but i know i dont ! because around yujin, i feel different from when im around yn !” heeseung chuckled once again. “but you dont love yujin… you know what that means right ?” it was as if the realisation had finally dawned on him. “i-i love yn… all this time..” heeseung gave the poor confused boy a pat on the back “take care of yn’s heart. its fragile. it killed me that i didnt have a chance with her but im glad that its you that stands a chance. not any one else in this world.” heeseung stood up and with that he bid his farewell to the lovesick kid.

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watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Touch-Averse | Kiyoomi Sakusa x Reader

✧ Summary: Physical affection was something you loved, and while Sakusa was not exactly the biggest fan, you didn’t want to encroach on him. You weren’t expecting your boyfriend to get jealous!

➳ A/N: Hey! This has been waiting around for so long; I think I steered a little too into the angst with this one asfdgfhj ;-; ➳ Tags: Angst with a happy ending, komori is a lil shit; ➳ Masterlist

—xXxXxXxXxXx—

By all intents and purposes, Sakusa was the perfect boyfriend.

You were friends before through Komori since junior high and one thing led to another before the wing-spiker finally asked you out. You knew long before as his friend that he was averse to physical contact — even if it was under two layers of gloves.

No, the germaphobe kept everyone at a distance further from arms length. He wanted to keep things neat and orderly and straying from that made him uncomfortable.

And it warmed your heart that, despite this life-long struggle, Sakusa still let you into his world in little ways.

He would hold your hand through the halls of school (of course, you had to thoroughly wash your hands first and then get his personal approval). And, on lucky days like when Itachiyama won their practice matches that week, Sakusa would kiss you on the forehead openly in public.

All you had to do was vocalize things, keep the roads of communication between you two and he would respond. If you wanted to come over to his family home or vice versa — just let him know ahead of time and he would be happy to accommodate you. You want to go on a date to the arcade? Sure, send him a text and he’ll pencil you in for a couple days from now. A part of you also liked wearing his sweaters, the ones that plastered his last-name across the back. And on request, Sakusa let you wear his own to school.

Sakusa was generally aware of your needs and was not against being vocal about your relationship. You knew all about this prior to being his official girlfriend and had even found it endearing how much he cared about your personal health.

All it took was a look.

A single look was enough to plant the seed of doubt and make it take root.

It was after volleyball practice — you had stayed behind after your student council duties and went over to the courts instead of heading straight back to the dorms. You hadn’t told Sakusa before that you would be visiting, just popping in so you can walk back together.

You waved at the others, Komori noticing you first from the sidelines and greeting you. Some others from the team took notice beside him and recognized you from being friends with the second-years.

Between the break, you approached Sakusa’s pack where you knew he would go, happy to greet him.

He shot you the most disgusted look you had ever seen.

After, Sakusa had greeted you in his usual monotone voice. Voice clipped and simply drinking his water, Sakusa was there for a quick minute before returning back to the match without so much as a goodbye.

Your walk back to the dorms was eerily silent.

It could have been nothing, just a look that he always had in his resting judgmental grandma face. But for some reason it stuck to you, how mean his tone was towards his girlfriend of all people and how quick he was to get away from you after.

You tried to wave it off, give him the benefit of the doubt as you lay awake in your dorm room. Not saying anything to your roommate, you internalized most of your feelings and let it continue to fester below the surface.

He already didn’t like physical touch with you. But you had just greeted him, hardly pushing into his comfortable space. But even so, it was clear Sakusa had still been disgusted with you.

Was this what he really thought about you?

You tried your best to wave it off — maybe he wasn’t feeling too well that day? Maybe the match was annoying him? Maybe something just happened with his other teammates?

And so the next day after you were done with your extracurriculars, you dropped by the gym again just to see how Sakusa was doing.

Sakusa was quick to find in the crowd of boys, his tall height and curly black hair bobbing along as he readied to jump in the air. Seeing him spike, hearing the smack of power as it slammed into the floor, it always made you so proud at how fair he had come.

That moment didn’t last long.

No, it was pushed out by another emotion entirely.

The coach called the players on the opposite side, ringing them in to give some tips to them specifically. Sakusa’s side backed off to grab drinks of their water, the main manager running up to him with a towel in hand.

And Sakusa let her wipe at his face.

A small dab at his forehead and at the sides of his face and the moment was over. But that was not what you saw. You saw your boyfriend, your long-term friend, allow someone in his close space to touch his face of all things! You still had to wear gloves sometimes. And here she was, noses only inches away from one another, as she was allowed into his world.

What was it that made you so undesirable?

Was Sakusa annoyed with you? Had you been asking too much of him? You knew he was averse to the things you liked, but you never thought that it would push Sakusa away to this point.

You loved Sakusa and you had tried really hard to accommodate what he was looking for in a relationship. But was that really fair? Was he being fair to you at this point? Did he even view you as anything special, as his girlfriend?

Walking out the gym without a single word, you turned around with all intents to go back to your room and reevaluate your decisions. You failed to notice Komori’s wandering eyes that followed you out the open doors.

Your roommate commented that you looked terrible that night and was a willing open ear for you. You were grateful beyond compare, she was an awesome friend that you shared classes with and was alsoa member in the student council.

But instead of venting, you just relished in the tight hug she gave you. This physical touch was what you crazed and, while it had never really affected you before, it made you sad that this was something Sakusa would never want.

Was it really fair to have to schedule a hug with him?

Did he even want you as his girlfriend?

You internalized this hard and the it was hard to even look at Sakusa the next day at school, these thoughts only propping up again and again. What hurt even more is that you were actively avoiding the wing-spiker and it seemed that he did not even notice. Just went about his day, avoiding most people and sticking to corners alone.

But you were his girlfriend. He avoided most people but should that really include you?

Did he feel like you were suffocating him? You loved him and didn’t want to lose him. And so if he wanted space, you were willing to give it to him. But for Sakusa to treat you so cruelly when you were trying so hard - was it even fair at this point?

A text-tone from your phone permeated the room and you felt your spirits almost physically lift themselves up at the prospect of Sakusa reaching out to you.

But his text only made your heart drop.

Give me back my sweater already. Sakusa’s words read, Don’t you have your own?

And suddenly your thoughts of doubt were solidified as fact in your mind.

Grabbing the sweater from your bedside, you almost cried as you folded it up. Sakusa’s terms of endearment were few and far between, you wearing his sweater was one of the few things you could compromise on. And now he did not even want that.

You went about your morning weakly, going into Sakusa’s homeroom and leaving the sweater in a bag there. Alongside it was only a small note that you did not have time to wash it while it was in the bag. You did not wait a moment longer, dropping off the package and hoping to avoid him the rest of the day.

And throughout the school hours, you were doing a good job. During lunch you were able to avoid spending time with both Sakusa and Komori, leaving your classroom the moment the teacher dismissed you and retreating to the outside area behind school. Would it do you any good to confront Sakusa over something that he probably did not even care about? Was he planning on breaking up with you?

These thoughts only continued to plague you throughout the day and the more you continued to ponder on it - the worse it got. Maybe he always viewed you this way, just humoring your relationship for the sake of your friendship.

Your mindset spiraled downward worse and worse and you had little initiative to even go to club activities after school. Your roommate had vouched for you at the student council meeting while you went back to the dorms depressed and very not well dressed.

The moment your phone dinged to life you shot up in repressed excitement, wondering if Sakusa had noticed your mood and reached out.

It was Komori.

Hey, missed ya during lunch. Wanna catch dinner together?

Of course, it was Komori.

You wondered for a hot second if it would be smart to go with the libero out to dinners the campus cafeteria. Odds are you were going to pour your feelings out to the boy and he was undoubtedly loyal to Sakusa. Komori was always one of your closest friends, even before dating the wing-spiker.

Another ding ringed out a second later.

Come on, you’re my friend too.

It was almost like he was reading your mind - the poor boy was probably so used to your evasiveness from before that it was no doubt he remembered it.

You typed back, Okay, I’ll meet you after practice.

See you then <3

You texted your roommate that you would be meeting with the libero, so as not to worry when she returned. In the meantime, you hung around your room and completed some of your homework early. Once Komori texted you that he was ready, you put on a large hoodie and some leggings, trying your best to look presentable despite your solemn expression.

“Hey!” Komori perked up when he saw you, already at a table in the cafeteria. Thankfully he was sitting alone. The moment you were close enough, Komori pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

Komori always gave the best hugs and you squeezed your arms around his middle right back. It had been a while since he, or any male for that matter hugged you like this. Most of the male population at school was well aware of your relationship with Sakusa and all it took was a look from the strong spiker to get most to back off.

But with Komori being his best friend and also one of yours, he was one of the few people who could get away with sharing you in a warm embrace. However, you did notice as of late that he was withholding some of the best hugs from you.

“Thanks for joining me tonight.” Komori continued, leaning back while you were still in his arms. “I know you’ve been kind of down.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, you can tell me anything or nothing if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with - I just wanted to spend this time with you so you know you’re not alone.”

You almost teared up on the spot, with the exception of your roommate, it had been so long since someone had been so considerate with your feelings. Komori was the best bro and just all friend anyone could ask for.

Nuzzling further into his chest, you shakily replied. “You’re the best, Komori.”

Komori guided you to the seats, telling you that he had actually placed a comfort food order and was waiting for the number to be called. You smiled at him in response, placing your hands on the table and mentally preparing for what you wanted to say.

It felt almost therapeutic, admitting to the libero all the feelings that you had bottled up over the past few days. Komori nodded along, listening to you without cutting in or interrupting with his own point of view. He took in every word, keen on gaining your perspective before he added on.

“It makes me wonder, does Sakusa even want to be in this relationship?” You asked aloud, baring your insecurity to him.

Little did you know that Sakusa was reacting exactly opposite to what you were thinking.

Komori had actually invited the wing-spiker to join this dinner, but he had simply walked away in silence back to his own dorm.

Sakusa would never admit this aloud, but he cherished you in so many ways that it frightened him. Your relationship was built on years of knowing each other. And from the beginning of it all, Sakusa knew that he was all in. From high school to the end of your days, he was sure that this was the only relationship he wanted to ever be in. You were the first and only person he ever loved and he wanted to be that for you too.

And with that thought, Sakusa had always been afraid of losing you. He wondered, on multiple occasions, if you would be happier with someone else. After all, yes you were friends for a while, but you were much closer to Komori before you were in a relationship.

Sakusa saw it all - he knew how you leaned into the libero for tight hugs and how the both of you were still fond of spending time alone together. He had never doubted you or his cousin’s loyalty; neither you nor Komori would ever do anything to hurt him, Sakusa was sure. But he had a much more looming fear, one that frightened him simply because it was probably true, that you would probably be happier with Komori.

The libero was capable of easily reading your mood and reacting to it properly. It was Komori after all that noticed you had left the gymnasium the other day without greeting either male. He was very in-tune to your personality and it seemed the both of you were very agreeable. Sakusa remembered the time that many of your classmates had thought it was you and Komori dating after all.

Sakusa would honestly never forget that.

And so the wing-spiker had thought on multiple occasions if you would be happier in the arms of another. Maybe someone who had more time for you, who liked being as affectionate as you did.

Admittedly, Sakusa knew something was off from the moment you returned the sweater. He knew that you cherished wearing it for some reason. But you had it over a week and it was time for him to wash it. After all, it must have been dirty from overuse at this point and he did not want you possibly getting sick from something he wore.

Besides, he could just lend you another cleaner sweater for you to wear.

This was simply the way he thought - cut and dry and oftentimes misconstrued by other people.

But the last person he ever wanted to hurt was you.

Sucking in a hard breath, Sakusa attempted to figure out what to say. Not that he was unsure what to get across, but that he wanted to get out the proper wording before he caused any true damage to you. He must have been standing in the middle of his dorm room for a good twenty minutes, trying to keep a level head as different phrases evaded him.

Calm and collected, he told himself as he got near the cafeteria.

The last thing he wanted to ever see greeted him - you and Komori standing alongside a cafeteria table, you in his arms as he held you tightly.

It seemed you were still in the middle of your meal, your trays of food still stacked with chopsticks to the side. Regardless of the situation, Sakusa stalked over quietly and made his presence extremely known.

From Komori’s nice hug to suddenly pulled into another, your ten seconds of panic morphed into surprise at seeing your boyfriend.

“Sakusa!” You exclaimed, head against his chest as he continued to stare down his cousin. “This looks bad, but I was just talking to Komori about something.”

Komori only laughed, picking up his tray and taking it with him elsewhere. “See you tomorrow, lovebirds.”

“I--” You stuttered over your words as the libero made his quick escape, “We were in the middle of a meal!”

“We need to talk.”

Wait.

Was Sakusa breaking up with you right now?

You felt fresh tears break your visage as you asked him outright, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Sakusa recoiled before grabbing your hand, “No. Let’s go.”

You allowed him to drag you wordlessly, following along as he led you back to his dorm. He unceremoniously brought you along with him - was he sparing your feelings by breaking up with you away from the public eye?

The worries must have shown up on your face since, once you entered the elevator, Sakusa took one look at you before pulling you into his embrace again. He lingered for a second, as if unsure where to place himself, then leaned down to put a small mask-covered kiss on your forehead. You stilled at the motion, surprised that he was willing to show any display of affection in public.

The moment was only broken when he pulled you toward his dorm room, closing it loudly behind you.

“Why would you think that I would want to break up with you?” Sakusa asked, not at all sugar-coating his words.

You hesitated, looking at the ground before back at him. “Sakusa, are you even happy being with me?”

His eyes peeking over the mask widened in surprise. In the next second, Sakusa pulled his mask off and threw it in the direction of his trash bin. You took a step back at his aggressiveness, but he only followed the movement and wrapped an arm around your waist.

Sakusa pulled you against him and stated clearly, “I want to be with you forever, if given the chance.”

“Really?”

He did not hesitate in response, “Yes.”

You smiled at how sure he was, but his actions from the last few days still had you on edge. With a hand on his chest, you bit your lip before asking. “You don’t feel like I’m suffocating you?”

Sakusa angled his head in question before shooting back, “Why would you assume that?”

“I just feel like you don’t really want me around?” You admitted, words coming out slowly. “I mean, the other day you just seemed like you didn’t want me at your practice. And then I saw your manager dabbing you with the towel and even I can’t even hug you without warning.”

Sakusa simply stared at you as you spoke, his full attention to your words as he recalled the past few days.

“I like spending time with you, but at practice I was sweaty and you were still in your school uniform. It would be unfair to you if I was the one to sully it.” Sakusa replied, “While I am not close to the manager, handling the towels is one of her responsibilities. And I prefer to get toweled down rather than do it myself then touch the volleyball with sweaty hands.”

“Oh.”

You were at a loss for words once he explained himself.

“What about the other day?” You recalled, “I get that you don’t like me wearing your sweaters, but you should have just told me outright.”

You were not expecting Sakusa to shoot you a tired smile.

He moved to kiss your forehead again, lips lingering above your brow before he spoke. “I like seeing you in my sweaters. It reminds everyone that you’re mine.”

“What?”

“But you had that sweater for more than five days, right?” Sakusa answered with a question, “I have the proper detergent to clean it. It would do you no good if you got dirty or even sick from one of my articles of clothing.”

“Oh.”

You were an idiot.

An overthinking, doubtful, big dumb idiot.

You felt the small exhale against his chest, tantamount to a small laugh from Sakusa. “Oh?”

“I just--” You tried to articulate yourself, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” You admitted, “There are just these moments. I know you don’t like physical touch that much, but there are times I want to hug you or kiss you. And I get the feeling that you don’t like it.”

You heard Sakusa exhale above you, before feeling a slight nudging at your chin. Using his free hand, the wing-spiker was guiding your gaze back to him. He had an oddly fond expression on, before he leaned forward to slot your lips against his.

Leaning forward into the kiss, you carded your fingers in his curly mop of hair, arms crossed behind his neck. He pulled you as close as possible, lingering in the moment of your passionate lip-lock before settling you back down on your feet.

“I love kissing you.” Sakusa stated fondly, eyes still glued to yours.

You laughed breathlessly, “I know that now.”

“Good.” Sakusa replied, “I’m not good at these things. I can’t comfort you like others do, but please trust in me. Communicate with me - not your roommate and not Komori.”

“Okay. I’m sorry that I closed myself off.” You apologized, receiving a second kiss back.

You were caught off-guard, like the hesitation Sakusa had before was suddenly lifted from its floodgates. He pecked you one, twice, returning over and over as he lost himself in the feel of your lips against his.

“I have two newly cleaned sweaters for you to choose from.” Sakusa whispered, as if this was his version of sweet nothings. “I would prefer it if you wore one tomorrow.”

You shot him back a radiant smile, one that he eagerly savored in the back of his memory. “I would love to.”

Your relationship did not magically fix in that single night, but you resolved to continue working on your communication. It was a two-way street, one that the both of you had to work on.

But by God, you two loved each other.

And that was all that mattered.

8K notes · View notes

rosierin · 3 years

Text

thunderstorms and reheated prawns

pairing; suna x g/n!reader

genre; domestic, fluff

warnings; puking, lame jokes, suna endearingly calls reader "(y/n)-chan"

a/n: a fanfic inspired by all the rain ive had lately, and the fact that my Ma made me prawns yesterday 🤷🏽‍♀️

The rain is relentless today.

It comes down in buckets as it hammers mercilessly at your window, running down the glass in thick streaks and sending the trees outside into a violent flurry. The sight of it alone is enough to make you shiver.

Luckily, it's far warmer inside your bedroom.

You're sitting on your bed with a heavy duvet thrown over your head like a makeshift tipi. There's a chill lofi beat playing quietly in the background, a warm cup of hot chocolate sits deliciously between your hands and you have no chores to tend to, having already sought to them the day before.

To put it simply, it's bliss.

That is until you get a text and you turn your head towards your phone that buzzes twice against the bedside table. Leaning over to retrieve it, your brows furrow a little when an odd message pops up under Suna's ID.

2 messages from Sunarin <3

hello (y/n) can you come over today big brother has a tummy ake and mummy and daddy are out

please thank you

You blink upon realising it's Suna's little sister who has his phone and you can't help but laugh at her message. You don't know what's funnier; his little sister not knowing how to spell "tummy ache" or the fact that she actually had to reach out to you for something as trivial as that.

Either way, after finishing the rest of your hot chocolate, you reluctantly crawl out from your little den, slip on some comfy clothes and head out the door.

"Knock, knoock."

You smile as Suna's little sister opens the door for you, albeit with a struggle since the handle was still a little too high for her. Like you this morning she's wearing her PJ's, giving her an overall relaxed appearance, save for her face which looks rather distressed.

"You need to come quick! I think big brother's dying!"

You snort as she ushers you into the house, barely giving you time to take off your shoes as she pulls you towards Suna's bedroom. As you walk up the stairs you begin to wonder just how sick her brother really is. He seemed fine the last time you saw him— then again, Suna did always have the pesky talent of fibbing when it benefits him, like how he sometimes lies to his teammates about needing to babysit his little sister on Fridays just so he can have a longer weekend, or when he tells the twins he's deleted the videos he takes of them, only to bring them up for blackmail purposes later on. You wonder if perhaps this was another one of these instances and he'd simply faked an illness just so his little sister would leave him alone for the afternoon. (You knew how clingy she could get, especially when their parents weren't home.)

Still, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt as you push open his bedroom door, only to wince as your boyfriend promptly vomits into a sick bowl.

Oh.

This time he's definitely not lying.

"Perfect timing, lil sis. Make yourself useful would you and fetch me a— (y/n)?"

You're torn between bursting out laughing or coo-ing at the sad scene before you. Your attractive boyfriend, usually standing tall (sort of) and looking all slick and sexy is reduced to nothing but a lump hanging off his bed, hair disheveled and sticking slightly to his forehead, his head half in the sick bowl, looking at you with the most disheartened, most sullen face you've ever seen.

"Just end me now, I guess."

This time you do laugh when Suna rolls back onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head like a moody teen.

"Wow, you really are worse off than I thought," you say as you start to approach his bed. His bedsheets rustle however as you take another step closer and you stop in your tracks when he speaks from under the covers.

"Out. I don't want you to see me in my decomposing state."

"Oh, don't be silly, Sunarin. This is what partners do. I'm supposed to help nurse you back to health." You walk to the other side of Suna's bed where the sick bowl isn't lying on the floor and gently rock him against the mattress. "Plus, didn't you just say you wanted your sister to fetch me?" You add with a smirk.

You watch as Suna worms an arm out from the duvets, blindly grabbing your wrist to stop you from shaking him.

"Stop moving me, you sadist. Or next time I'll aim it at you," he says, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust. "And no I didn't call for you, you just so happened to waltz into my bedroom."

You roll your eyes at Suna's usual bite, knowing it's nothing but bark. "You rather I tango in here instead?"

You bite back a laugh as your terrible joke makes Suna emerge from his bedsheets, the green eyes that poke out looking truly disappointed. "You dare come into my room and sully it with jokes like that."

"I know, I know. Sorry," you lie, before a grin makes its way to your face. "No but seriously, should I? Might bring a smile back to your face."

"Please don't," is all he says as he finally fully comes out the covers, sitting up against the bedframe, and although you know he's trying his best to fight it, there's that telltale twitch of his lips that indicate your goofing around has actually effected him. "What you can do is fetch me that glass of water." There's a short pause. "Please."

You smile, relieved that he's finally letting you take care of him. Then you notice that the hand he'd grabbed you with earlier is still holding your wrist. Switching roles, you take his hand in yours and bring it up to your lips, planting a small kiss to his inner wrist.

"Coming right up."

A glass of water with ice later and it's Suna who decides to join you downstairs. You hear his almost cat-like footsteps pad down the stairs and as you turn around you notice that he's freshened up a bit. His hair's no longer the hot mess it was earlier, instead it remains neat and unstyled, he's also wearing different sweats from earlier, that is to say the black joggings with the red stripe down the side of the leg that you'd gotten him for Christmas, along with the black sweater that you always love to borrow.

"Oh look, it's alive," you tease.

"Only just," he sighs before flopping heavily on the couch. He busies himself by switching on the TV and opening Netflix, which you recognise by the familiar opening screen sound.

"How're you feeling?" You ask as you place the cold water on the coffee table. Suna utters a quiet 'thanks' as he leans over to grab it, bringing it to his lips before taking a few swigs.

"Could be better," he drawls after downing almost the entire glass. "'Least I'm not blowing chunks in front of my s/o anymore," he mutters, voice still carrying traces of previously felt embarassement.

You chuckle at that, watching as Suna lays down on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. "Don't worry, Sunarin. I'm sure other couple's have seen worse," you say as you take a seat beside his head.

He stays silent as you gently pull his arm off his face. At first he looks at you with a cocked eyebrow, most likely wondering what you were up to, but once you place the back of your hand against his forehead, he allows himself to relax and closes his eyes.

"What's the verdict, (y/n)-chan? Am I dying?"

You snort and roll your eyes at his theatrics. "You're not dying, you big baby. How did you even get sick anyway? You don't seem to have a fever."

After concluding that Suna's forehead wasn't any hotter than it should be, you gingerly brush a stray piece of his chestnut hair from his eyes, smiling when he exhales pleasantly at the gesture.

"I think it was the prawns I made yesterday. I was the only one who ate them and I'm the only one who's sick."

As Suna tells you this, you immediately start to see where this is going.

"Were they pre-cooked prawns?" You ask. "And did you reheat them more than once?"

"Yeah."

You sigh. Yup. "That'll do it." Shaking your head, you poke Suna's forehead as a scolding, making him squeeze his eyes shut and knit his brows together. "You're not supposed to do that, you know. You can get really sick."

"You don't say," he drones, shooing your hand off with his. "How did you know I was sick, anyway? If I didn't know any better I'd say you were stalking me."

Your nose scrunches up jokingly. "Ew, why would I do that? If I wanted to stalk someone I'd at least go for one of the twin—"

You're promptly cut off mid-sentence when a pillow collides into your face with a dull thud and you giggle when you're met with Suna's eyes narrowing warningly up at you. "I'm just messing with you, Sunarin. Your sister told me. She somehow got access to your phone."

"The little toe rag."

"You trying to say you're not grateful I came over?" You ask with a raised brow, crossing your arms defensively.

"Didn't say that now, did I," he replies cooly, sitting up to face you before a tiny smirk forms on his lips. "After all," you make a small yelp as Suna suddenly worms his way into your personal space, his long limbs wrapping around your body like a koala and purposely giving you no means of escape. "Now I have the perfect pillow to hold onto. One that'll nurse me back to health too."

You gawk, trying to wiggle out of his hold, only for him to pull you closer. "Hold on a minute— What if I need to pee?!" He ignores you completely and deliberately, and instead lazily nuzzles into the area between your chest and collarbone.

"Night night, pillow-chan."

You throw you head back against the couch.

Looks like you're not going anywhere.

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kythed · 3 years

Text

“pillow talk” - a collection of conversations between you and matsukawa issei.

1. october 23rd, 1:03am.

“that was fun.” matsukawa props himself up on one elbow, lower half still covered by a disarray of blue dorm sheets.

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your t-shirt back on, but you turn to look at him, smiling slightly. “fun?”

“great. excellent. out of this world amazing,” he says teasingly. there’s a glint in his eye and a flush in his cheeks.

“that’s what I thought.” you make to stand up, but matsukawa grabs your wrist before you can move another muscle.

“you can stay,” he says, face strangely hopeful and childlike (a sharp contrast to the night’s earlier… activities). “if you want, I mean.”

your body aches to climb back under the covers with him, to press yourself against his hot skin and let yourself fall asleep in his embrace… but what you have with matsukawa is new and fragile, and you refuse to close your fist on something delicate and shatter it in the process.

“maybe next time. I have class in the morning.” advanced calculus, to be specific. hell on earth, to be even more specific.

“will there be a next time?” there it is again. that hope.

“if you’ll have me,” you say, rising from the mattress.

“I’ll do more than have you.” he grins, cocking his head. “I’ll take you.”

and there it is — matsukawa issei, ladies and gents. you smile to yourself as you slip out of his room, committing the feel of his hands gripping your hips and his lips on yours to memory.

2. october 27th, 4:36pm.

you stay this time. it’s a weeknight, and there’s class in the morning again, but the bed is warm and matsukawa’s arm fits like it was made for you. he’s nervous, you can tell, what with the way his fingers shake slightly as they brush the hair from your eyes — but that’s okay. it’s endearing. cute, even.

“hey,” he says, voice low and throaty.

“hi,” you respond, turning your face to look at him, his sharp, angular face shaded even more dramatic by moonlight. he really is a little too pretty for his own good, you decide, running a light hand down his torso. his mouth twitches when your fingers skim over his waistband and back up again.

“tease,” he sighs, and you laugh.

“it’s what I’m best at,” you say.

“among other things,” matsukawa concedes, grinning. you gasp and hit him lightly on the chest.

“you’re so dirty minded!” you scold, and he scoffs.

“I’m the dirty minded one? listen sweetheart, twenty minutes ago you were —”

you shut him up with a swift kiss on the lips, swallowing his indignant words as he chuckles somewhere in the back of his throat and pulls you on top of him. you slide your fingers into his mess of dark hair and smile into the kiss until he finally breaks away and begins dusting smaller kisses along your jaw and collarbone.

“you know,” you breathe, trying to avoid gasping when matsukawa presses his mouth to that soft spot right below your neck, “you’re acting awfully boyfriend today, issei. you’d better be careful before I up and decide to make you mine.”

“maybe that’s what I want you do to,” he says without looking at you.

you start in surprise, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “oh, really?”

matsukawa unattaches himself from your neck and takes your face in his hands, staring up at you with a grin. “really.”

“okay,” you say, and in response he squishes your cheeks and laughs. you roll your eyes and tug on his wrists until he lets go. “okay, boyfriend.”

“okay, girlfriend.”

you’d never anticipated a relationship to fall into place so easily. but then again, with matsukawa, everything — everything from his sweet talk to his skin to his stupid pickup lines — is pretty damn smooth.

3. january 1st, 11:24pm.

“you have a nice nose,” he says, running a finger down its bridge. golden afternoon light slices through the gaps in his shutters, casting odd stripes across his face.

“I hate my nose.” you bite back a sheepish smile. “it’s weird.”

“no, it’s cute,” he insists, and despite yourself, your heart swells. maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s shallow, but nothing really beats having someone refute your insecurities, however insignificant they may be. “I’m the one with a weird nose.”

you sit straight up, nearly knocking him back. “you do not have a weird nose. I love your nose!”

“I love your face.” matsukawa gently pulls you back down, gathering you into his chest so he can rest his chin on your shoulder.

“well, it is a pretty nice face,” you say, and he huffs.

“you were supposed to say you love my face, too,” he whines in a small voice. you almost giggle at the thought of this six foot two giant baby-talking to you.

“I thought that was self-explanatory,” you say. “I like everything about you.”

matsukawa shoots you a dramatic glare, furrowing his brows. “yesterday you said you didn’t like my t-shirt.”

“it was a rick and morty t-shirt! I was morally obligated to disparage your fashion taste in that moment,” you say piously.

“so you don’t like everything about me,” matsukawa sighs, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “my girlfriend is a liar.”

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you like rick and morty,” you correct yourself.

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you don’t like rick and morty,” matsukawa shoots back, and you let out an ugly guffaw.

“alright, then. agree to disagree?”

before answering, he leans forward to give you a brief kiss that you return, enjoying the faint taste of spearmint on his lips. “you’ll come around eventually.”

“I really won’t.”

“you will.”

“I won’t.”

“you won’t.”

“I will,” you say, and then — “wait, no. damn it, issei, I can’t believe that worked on me.”

“gotcha!”

4. march 20th, 3:16am.

“dude,” matsukawa says. “we should go out for ramen.”

“did you just call me dude?” you raise an incredulous eyebrow.

“sorry,” he says, sitting upright and pulling on a shirt. “I meant babe. can we get ramen?”

“it’s 3am,” you say, catching the shirt he tosses to you and putting it on. “is there any place nearby that’s still open at this hour?”

matsukawa whisks you out of bed, bridal style, and spins you around, ignoring your protestations as you attempt to scold him between giggles. when he finally sets you down you’re dizzy, clinging to him for balance. “obviously you don’t understand the ramen business. when the craving hits, it hits, and these guys know that. that’s why there’s a 24 hour ramen-ya near every college campus in the country.”

“then,” you say, blinking hard as the room comes back into focus. “I say we go eat.”

“let zem eat ramen?” matsukawa says in a phony french accent. you want to roll your eyes but you can’t quite bring yourself to do so. he’s too damn charming about it.

“let zem eat ramen,” you repeat, and he laughs, rumpling your hair before grabbing his keys off the bedside table.

“you’re adorable.”

“I’m a legal adult,” you sigh. “why do you insist on calling me cute? I’m sexy.”

“you’re cute and sexy,” he agrees, opening the door for you. “the two are not mutually exclusive.”

“fancy words.”

“I’m just trying to impress you,” he says with an obnoxious wink.

5. april 4th, 1:58am.

“do you think there’s life in space?”

you’re lying side by side next to matsukawa, both staring up at his dorm room ceiling, where a handful of plastic stars glow in the dark.

he snickers. “you mean, like, martians? little green men with antennae?”

“sure,” you say, ignoring his jab. “or maybe enormous space whales swimming somewhere deep in the cosmos. galactic empires of cyborgs and robot servants. train stations that take you from star to star.”

“that reminds me,” he says. you feel him slip his fingers into your hand. “we should watch star wars together sometime.”

“you avoided the question,” you complain, and he laughs.

“sorry,” he says. “I’ve never given much thought to huge space whales or interplanetary train stations.”

“you’ve never wondered might be out there? never wanted to fly to the moon and see what there is to see?” the thought is alien (pun intended) to you. how could anyone look into the star speckled sky and see anything other than a mass of worlds waiting to be explored?

“I don’t need to. kinda have everything I could ever want here on earth already.” matsukawa shrugs, flashing you a grin. “good friends. perfect girlfriend. a really excellent ramen shop down the street.”

“and that’s all you need?”

“that’s all I need,” he agrees, and you stay silent, scooting closer to press yourself into matsukawa’s larger frame. maybe he has a point. you count over your blessings in your head: good friends, perfect boyfriend, a really excellent ramen shop down the street. even space whales can’t really compare, you decide, sneaking a glance at issei only to find he’s already looking down at you with a soft smile.

and maybe that’s enough. maybe it’s enough to have someone who loves you and your flaws, someone who lets you borrow his dumb graphic tees and never lets you pay for your own dinner. maybe what you have here with matsukawa issei, feet on the ground and hands intertwined, is enough.

#because i've recently been obsessed with One (1) mr. matsukawa issei #i'm pretty sure i used the i'll take you line before but you know what #screw it #it's smooth and i'll use it however many times i want #haikyuu #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa headcanons #hqcorenet

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Can I please get a t-800 fluff fic? Please? In desperate need of some fluff rn and I'm wildly fixated on the terminator movies rn :')

I'm really sorry this took so long! I hope you like it!💛

You're Welcome.

T-800 x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

A groan tears itself from my throat as I'm woken by the shrill sound of my alarm, my slumber interrupted by the piercing noise. Barely stirring from the warm cocoon I'm in, I lazily slap at the bedside table, frustration building in my hazy mind as I continue to miss the offending item, my eyes remaining closed, refusing to open for the annoying interjection. Something shifts underneath me and the alarm cuts off, a weight lifting and returning to my waist as this happens.

Beneath me, the surface I'm lying on begins to lift and sink rhythmically, a faint whirring starting in my ear from where it's pressed against smooth skin. Artificial breaths begin to ruffle my hair, large hands rubbing my lower back gently, eerily close to human affection.

"Your alarm has sounded, (Y/n). You are required to rouse yourself." A rich, deep voice reverberates in the chest under my cheek, making me sigh as I hear it.

"Too early…" I grumble, barely coherent in my sleepy state.

"It is seven-thirty. You are required to be awake by this time." The T-800 under my body reiterates, sitting up ever so slightly, blanket falling from his bare chest.

"Don't care." I yawn, stretching momentarily before returning to my original position, cuddling closer to the cyborg in my hold.

I can see in my mind's eye what the terminator's expression looks like as he processes this, his body going still as he does so.

"You have work. It is an important part of your life, you should care." He intones, sounding for all the world like an exasperated teacher or parent.

"It's boring." I reply, pressing closer to his warmth.

"But you are kept busy for the whole day." He states, appearing confused.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Doesn't mean it isn't boring." I complain again, groaning as I roll onto my back, away from him.

The T-800 turns a confused gaze on me, blue eyes observing my lazy figure, clearly following some thread of data on his HUD.

"What?" I ask, frowning at his scrutiny.

He seems to blink back to the present, head tilting.

"Humans in this time are very different from in the future. There is no urgency to do anything." He tells me, his words making me sigh.

"Yeah, that's because we don't have to worry about a cybernetic war." I remind him, throwing an arm over my eyes, "God, I'm so tired."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you tired? You have slept the recommended time for humans to function normally." The terminator cocks his head.

Bewildered by his insistence on questioning me so much this morning.

"I don't know, I just am." I grouch, pushing myself upright, yawning loudly.

He doesn't reply, his eyes fixed on me as I rub mine, my hair dishevelled and out of place, my body slouched. With a decisive movement, the T-800 suddenly sits up, reaching across to his side of the bed. I shoot him an odd look, but don't pay too much attention until I hear him pick up the landline beside him. Curious, I watch as he dials a number and rings it.

"Hello, I am calling on behalf of one of your employees." The cyborg says, surprisingly using his own voice, "(Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

There's a moment of silence, during which I tilt my head trying to catch his attention.

"Yes. I am (Y/n)'s boyfriend. I'm calling to inform you that they will not be present today as they are very ill." He tells whoever is on the other end, it only just occurring to me what's going on, my eyes widening in response, "No, they will be fine by Monday. They just require some rest, that is all. I would like to keep them home to allow them to rest."

Another few moments of silence pass.

"Thank you. Nice talking to you, goodbye." The T-800 hangs up, turning back to face me.

I stare at him, unable to believe what I just witnessed.

"Did...did you just cover for me?" I ask, astounded.

His brow furrows as he deciphers the term I used, reply swift.

"Affirmative." He nods, settling back into the bed.

I blink.

"Why?"

"You are tired: you require rest. It is not wise to go to work when low in energy." He informs me, jaw set.

"Well...I guess?" I struggle to find the words, telling as he suddenly reaches over, his muscular arms wrapping around my waist.

Without further ado, the cyborg pulls me into his lap, laying back down with me cradled against his firm chest. Welcoming the warmth and contact, I settle down hesitantly, happy with this unexpected outcome.

"Thank you." I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

I can feel him look down at me, his hands rubbing my back soothingly.

"You are welcome."

#the terminator #terminator #terminator judgement day #terminator 1984 #t-800 #t-800 x reader #t-800 imagine #arnold schwarzenegger #break writes

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