#akrasia (n.) chapters

[sirhamburrger]

𝐢: 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚 (𝐧.)

𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚 (𝐧.): 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚 (𝐧.) [𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1206 || next

keiji akaashi wants out, right now.

it’s not because he’s worried about having to talk to you without your liaison and mutual friend, hitoka yachi. in fact, you look equally as nervous, if not more, than he feels.

it’s not because your apartment is tidy. it’s not nearly as neat as his own, he thinks to himself, but well-organised and clean. photos of you with family and friends line the walls. you’ve also hung up many beautiful pieces of art; they’re gifts from college art major friends, you tell him. 

it’s because you’re pretty, almost unnervingly so. he wasn’t even expecting that this anonymous author would be female - you’d been going by a pen name online, so no one knew anything about you except your last name, l/n.

it's a nice last name, keiji decides.

your frame is swallowed up in the oversized hoodie you wear, and your grey sweatpants almost brush the floor with how long they are. you’re almost catlike in your gestures, padding across your own hardwood floors in fuzzy blue cloud slippers. keiji unwittingly finds himself drawn to your every movement, and the way the soft lighting of your dining area paints you in warm golden light.

“please, akaashi-san, take a seat.” you smile brightly at him, despite looking slightly wan and bleary-eyed. he does so, settling into your rather comfortable armchair with a small nod of gratitude. “can i fix you anything? coffee? tea?”

“water would be lovely, thank you,” keiji says, not wanting to impose. he watches on awkwardly as you move about the kitchenette gracefully, finally coming back to the sitting room with a glass in hand. your fingers brush against his as he receives it, and he tries valiantly - fights, even - to maintain his poker face.

“i don’t believe i’ve properly introduced myself,” he says in what he hopes is a pleasant tone. “i’m keiji akaashi from tekipaki publishing, and i used to work for udai tenma-sensei in the manga department. you know meteo attack? that barē manga?” you nod, and he continues on. “udai-sensei recently finished serialization, and the firm put me on this project with you. i’ve heard many good things about your writing, and i’m honored to be working with you.” he ends off with a deep bow, his head almost touching the coffee table.

then he hears you chuckle softly, and he thinks he might just die.

it’s a cute sound, just as cute as your other little mannerisms, but it also means he’s probably just done something stupid. he looks up, flushed with embarrassment.

“there’s no need to be so formal, akaashi-san,” you giggle. your hands are cupped around a mug of black coffee, and you’re positively radiant. “i'm l/n, y/n l/n, and i’ve heard many good things about you as well.”

“oh? like what?”

“you went to princeton to study lit, didn’t you? you must be a real genius, then.”

“one would argue that studying philosophy at stanford takes significantly more brainpower,” he replies.

you lean back in your seat. “only you would, akaashi-san. you’re waaaaaay too humble. then again, aren’t we all raised to be like that?”

“i suppose so,” he says uncertainly.

you make small talk for a little while longer, and he finds you remind him so much of udai-sensei with your quick, witty remarks and insightful thoughts. you tell him how you only met yachi when you came back to japan after college. you went to itachiyama institute, same as msby's kiyoomi sakusa, on an academic scholarship. you were in the classical guitar orchestra for the whole of high school, so keiji and you were basically fated to never run in the same circles.

after a short while, your conversation has come to a lull. keiji glances at the clock, then looks back to see you sipping your lukewarm coffee. “well,” he says casually, “shall we look at the manuscript now?”

you nod eagerly. “of course, let me pull it up for you right now.” you flip your laptop open, and as you wait for it to start up, you pat the seat beside you. keiji doesn't register your gesture at first, at first, and jolts when you call out his name. 

he stares at you, wide-eyed. 

“come on, i don't bite,” you remark dryly.

keiji abandons his water glass on his side of the table and walks around to the couch, completely flushed. the couch cushion dips down as he sits down beside you, his leg brushing against yours. you turn the screen towards him. “why don’t you have a read of the first few pages?”

he gladly accepts your invitation, pulling the laptop closer to him. you sit back as he scans over the first page, scrolling to the next one shortly after - he’s a relatively fast reader. page two. three. four. five. you watch quietly from the side, observing every microexpression that flashes across his face.

it’s good, keiji thinks. very, very good.

you’re good with your words, and he’s instantly hooked. he doesn’t stop reading until the words fall away midway on the page, and the bold words “chapter ii” stare at him from the top of the subsequent page. he’s surprised, since he doesn’t typically do well with fiction, but you’ve managed to immerse him completely in the world you’ve built. 

he looks back up to see you watching him intently, your expression nervous and excited. your lips are parted slightly, and the soft sheen of them makes him dizzy.

“so. do you like it?”

“it’s, well…” keiji is at a loss for words, though he understands so well the way your writing’s left him speechless. i hear she’s good, udai-sensei had said to keiji a few days back, when he’d just gotten the job. like, really good. they’re the kind of author a princeton grad like you should be editing for, intellectual but ultra-creative. at first keiji was skeptical of this mysterious online-published writer, but now he sees how true this statement is. 

he almost doesn’t catch you mouthing something in english under your breath. 

“lethologica,” you repeat louder upon seeing his confused expression. “derived from the greek morphemes ‘lēthē’ and ‘logos’.”

keiji racks his brain for their meaning.

“the inability to remember a particular word or name”, he says, going with his instinct.

“happens to the best of us.” you shrug your shoulders, relaxing slightly. “i’m gonna assume that means you like it,” you say hopefully.

“i see the references to some european languages; they’re very nice,” he remarks, not knowing what else to say. 

you visibly light up, happy that he’s managed to appreciate the linguistic features of the setting’s language. “it’s a modified creole of dutch, luxembourgish, and northern german dialects,” you say happily. “they may not be romance languages, but they sure are romantic in their own right.”

he reads the first page again. it’s well-structured and subtly ushers the readers into the small town setting. if the rest of your book is just as good as the first chapter, he absolutely can’t wait to sink his teeth into this project.

and you, y/n l/n, being the woman that you are, know just how to tongue-tie him in more ways than one.

[m.list]

author's notes:

i think keiji would just be completely enamored with y/n from the start (sorry if this is a little ooc) because my man is just so happy to have a fellow intellectual to banter with ykyk

meteo attack is the name of the manga tenma udai (the og little giant) is serializing in 2018 in hq canon. this fic is set about two years later than that, when udai's already finished the manga and keiji's ready to take on other editing projects

so he's about 25 in this fic, and reader is yachi's age (24)

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

© sirhamburrger 2024

[praisethegabs]

AKRASIA

ID!Professor!Leon Kennedy x Student!F!Reader

euphoria masterlist

summary: you met him during a party, and it was a one night stand for both of you. (un)fortunately, it turns out he's your new college history professor, and neither of you expected that.

warnings: age gap, reader is in college and in mid 20s while Leon is in his 30s. NSFW content, delicate to rough sex, p in v, oral receiving (both), praise kink, degradation kink (eventually), use of pet names (bunny), vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, dom!leon and sub!reader. leon is insecure af. oc named chloe as the reader's best friend.

word count: 5684k

a/n: this is a new mini series I'm writing since I had a hard time with creative blocking, and I'm taking this very slow just in case.

AKRASIA is the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will.

You sat in your cozy room in the apartment you shared with your best friend, Chloe. The pale evening light casts a warm glow over the mismatched posters adorning the walls. Your textbooks were spread out across your desk, a mountain of assignments awaiting your attention. But Chloe, your vivacious best friend, had other plans.

"Come on, my lovely pumpkin," Chloe pleaded, tossing a colorful scarf around your neck as she perched on your bed. "You can't spend another Thursday night buried in textbooks. It's the first college party of the semester, and you've been MIA for weeks!"

"Chloe, you know I have that history essay tomorrow morning. I can't afford to waste any more time." You sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"But it's not just any party, it's Jake's party! He's practically begged me to convince you to go. And you know he's got a major crush on you." Chloe's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned closer.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of Jake, the charismatic guy from your history class. You had caught him stealing glances at you during lectures, but you were too wrapped up in your studies to think much of it. Besides, you already had your share of a "bad girl" period. Now, you need to finish your obligations.

"I don't know, Chloe," you hesitated, twirling a pencil between your fingers. "I feel so out of my element at those parties. I used to get drunk just for fun, but I don't do that anymore"

"Sis, that's what makes you unique. Besides, I promise you'll have fun. And who knows, maybe Jake will be your study partner for that history essay or whatever you need. It's a win-win!" Chloe chuckled, tousling her auburn curls.

You bit your lip, torn between your dedication to your academics and the allure of a night filled with laughter, music, and maybe even a spark of romance. You glanced at your textbooks, then back at Chloe's eager expression.

"Okay, Chloe. I'll go to the party. But only for a couple of hours, and you owe me a serious study session tomorrow." Finally, with a hesitant smile, you relented.

"Deal! Now, let's get you ready. You're going to look stunning, and I promise you won't regret this." Chloe's face lit up with triumph as she jumped off the bed.

As you both began raiding your closet for the perfect outfit, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. Little did you know, this college party would mark the beginning of an unforgettable chapter in your life.

After a shower, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, twirling in your black cocktail dress. Your reflection grinned back at you, the dimples on your cheeks deepening as you admired your outfit. The cocktail dress that Chloe picked up for you, which she said it looks beautiful on you. She was perched on the edge of your bed, her perfectly curled auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.

"You look amazing, sweetie" Chloe gushed, adjusting her own outfit. "This party is going to be epic!"

"Thanks, Chloe. I can't believe you really convinced me to go to this college party." You laughed, the excitement bubbling within you.

Just then, your phone chimed with a familiar notification tone. You picked it up, your heart sinking as you saw the message. It was from Matthew, your ex-boyfriend. The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows furrowing with both concern and curiosity since you had a strange expression on your face.

"Hey, I know it's been a while, but can we talk? It's important." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you read the message out loud.

"Oh no, not him again. What does he want now?" Chloe's expression shifted from excitement to concern, her voice sounding annoyed for a moment. She really hated your ex.

You chewed your lower lip, feeling torn between responding and ignoring the message. You hadn't spoken to Matthew since your messy breakup a few months ago. Your relationship had ended in bitter arguments and hurtful words.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice wavering. "Maybe it's something urgent. I should at least find out."

"Honey, I've been looking forward to this party for weeks, and I had a lot of trouble to convice you to join me. You can't let him ruin our night. Besides, he had his chance to talk when you needed it." Chloe shook her head, her green eyes filled with worry, and her face with evident disapproval. She really cared about you.

You sighed again. It was really difficult to put your past behind, especially after everything you had with Matthew.

"Look, you go first, and I'll meet you there." You glanced at Chloe, hoping she would give up and just leave you to take care of your ex-boyfriend on your terms.

"Do you promise?" Chloe asks, with those big green and puppy eyes, which she did every time she wanted something.

"Yep, I promise." You nod your head and smile when Chloe screams like a little girl, hugging you tight.

As you watch Chloe leave your shared apartment, your entire attention returns to your screen. You felt a wave of buried feelings returning slowly, leaving you with the hard choice in hands. You hesitated, your phone still in your hand. You knew Chloe was right, but curiosity gnawed at you.

"I'll just send a quick reply. Let him know I can't talk right now." You muttered to yourself, deciding what was best for you at the moment. You typed out a short message, your fingers tapping the screen rapidly. "Can't talk now, Matthew. At a party. We'll talk later."

But as soon as you hit send, your phone chimed again, this time with a call from Matthew. You watched the screen light up with his name and number. Your heart raced, torn between answering and turning it off.

Instantly, you pictured the image of Chloe in front of you and what she would say at this very moment. She would, of course, curse him a lot, and then, as your best friend, she would say something like, "Ignore it, honey. You made your choice. Let's not let him ruin our night"

And again, she was completely right.

As you entered the place, the pulsating beat of music washed over you, drowning out the noise of your own doubts. The college party was in full swing, with colorful lights flashing in time with the rhythm, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns on the walls.

You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of anxiety. Your best friend, Chloe, had convinced you to attend, promising a night of unforgettable fun. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for Chloe's familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

You finally spotted Chloe near the makeshift bar, holding two red plastic cups filled with a mysterious concoction. Chloe grinned when she saw you and waved you over. Chloe joined you, your tension slowly giving way to excitement.

"Oh, you made it!" Chloe shouted over the music, handing you a cup. "This is the famous 'party punch.' Drink up!"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a cautious sip. The sweet, fruity mixture danced on your taste buds, and you couldn't help but smile. Chloe always had a knack for finding the best drinks.

Feeling the alcohol mess with your mind and following the rhythm of the music, you two chatted and laughed as the night went on, your voices blending with the raucous sounds of the party. You watched as people swayed to the music, their bodies moving in sync with the beat. It was a wild and chaotic scene, but there was an undeniable energy that you couldn't resist.

"Come on, let's dance!" You grabbed Chloe's hand, leading your way to the crowd, letting your body follow the flow.

You swayed to the beat of the music, your body moving sensually with the rhythm as colorful lights flashed around you. The college party was in full swing, the pounding music reverberating through the entire place as students danced and mingled. You, feeling adventurous and carefree due to the alcohol in your organism, held a red plastic cup in one hand and scanned the crowd for someone intriguing. Your eyes settled on a tall, ruggedly handsome man who stood out from the rest of the college-aged crowd.

As you glanced around the people, your eyes met those of a striking man across the dance floor.

He was, obviously, a few years older than the typical partygoer, exuded an air of maturity that drew your attention. He leaned against the wall, his brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of amusement. He was an enigmatic figure who seemed to easely blend into the college scene while maintaining an air of mystery. For a moment, you thought he was too old to be there, but can you blame the man for wanting some fun? Despite the age, he was very handsome.

And his eyes were locked specifically on you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. You couldn't believe that this stranger was actually looking at you. A burst of self-confidence surged within you, urging you to take action.

You couldn't resist the urge to approach him, so you casually sauntered over, a playful smile curving your lips. You didn't let their age gap deter you; after all, age was just a number, right?

With the music pulsing through your ears, you decided to seize the opportunity. Hopefully, you could put the blame on alcohol and say you weren't thinking right — despite the fact that you weren't that drunk. You made your way through the crowd, not even seeing Chloe around, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. The closer you got, the more you noticed his rugged charm and the intensity in his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there," you said, your voice carrying a hint of confidence as you leaned closer to be heard over the music. "You seem like you're in the wrong party. This crowd is usually reserved for broke college kids."

"Hey," he replied, his voice just loud enough to be heard. He then leaned in closer, his expression intrigued but slowly changing. Leon turned his attention to you, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Well, maybe I'm just here for the youthful energy. It's refreshing."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to relive your college days." you said, taking another generous sip on your drink. At this point, you weren't caring about anything else.

"What makes you think I'm not still in college?" Leon raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing.

"Because I've been around here long enough to recognize someone who's seen a few more semesters than the rest of us." You chuckled between another sips, leaning even closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're perceptive, aren't you?" Leon's lips curled into a grin, and he took a sip from his own cup.

"I have my moments. So, Mr. Mysterious, what brings you to our humble party tonight?" You nodded, your flirtatious energy in full swing. At this point, you were regretting your decision to stop with alcohol because you could never talk to a man like him the way you were doing.

"Well, I heard there was someone here I couldn't resist meeting. Looks like I found her." Leon's eyes held a glint of intrigue as he leaned in slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his response, your flirtatious banter taking an unexpectedly genuine turn.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" You asked him, feeling a sudden heat rush over your body like a wave.

"Only when I'm talking to someone as captivating as you." Leon leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your ear.

After a few more drinks and flirts, you decided to ask what was eating you inside. Of course, in the next morning, you wouldn't remember anything, and you could live without regrets. Chloe was having fun with a bunch of friends, so why couldn't you just do the same? You were so horny at this moment that you were willing to have fun.

"So, it was my impression, or were you practically eating me while I was dancing?" You provoked him, drinking another sip from whatever Chloe said it was.

He almost spit his drink, completely shocked by your question. The old man looks at you with curiosity, but then, a slight smirk appears on his lips. Those beautiful blue eyes that never left yours made your body shiver, and that smile, well... that smile of him almost ripped yourself in two parts.

"How presumption of yours, huh?" He replied, still smiling, his lips meeting his glass again.

"It wasn't presumption, it was true," you said back, sounding cocky; you didn't care, and you had the balls to do so.

"Well, I might have done that. Who knows?" He says, his voice softly husky, almost low, like he did on purpose to provoke you.

"Well, lucky for you, I might have enjoyed that," you said, leaning closer to his ear, enough to whisper to him and enough to make him smile.

It was amazing what alcohol did to you. Honestly, you weren't this type of slutty horny girl, but let's face the truth; your ex-boyfriend was an asshole and the last time you had sex with someone with your age, it was a terrible experience. Maybe someone older could handle the job well? And besides, you both knew you wouldn't see each other again.

"You know, this party is fun, but I have a feeling the night could get even better." He leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, and he seemed to think the same as you.

"Oh, really? And what do you have in mind?" You turned to him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

Leon grinned, his confidence growing as your connection deepened.

"How about we leave this noisy place and head to my apartment? It's not far from here, and we can continue our conversation without shouting over the music." He suggests, and you had the certain he was thinking the same thing you were.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. The party was completely wild at this point. Everyon, with no exceptions, seemed drunk enough, but the prospect of spending more time with this stranger and handsome man seemed far more appealing. Plus, there was an undeniable attraction that had been simmering between you two all night.

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. Lead the way." You replied with a playful smile and finally decided what you wanted.

Leon offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to guide you through the lively crowd. You both made your way out of the crowded house and into the cool night air. The stars above shone brightly, and the distant sounds of the party slowly faded into the background.

As you two walked together, Leon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The decision to invite you to his place had been a bold one, but it seemed like the right choice. The night was filled with possibilities, and he was eager to explore where it would lead.

When you both reach his place, it's just a matter of seconds before he grabs you by your thighs, pinning up against the wall, kissing your neck desperately. Your hands meet his hair, holding so tight that between his kisses, he groans a little.

"God, you're so beautiful" he moans softly, leaving marks on your skin, to remember you that he was there.

"Stop talking, handsome" you said, now biting his earlobe, making him moan again. You were feeling something between your legs, and you couldn't tell if it was yours or his. "And just fuck me"

"That's what I intend to do" he whispers, still holding you by your thighs, leading you to his room, not caring about the mess he did along the way.

Your body falls graciously on his mattress, and he removes your black dress, throwing it somewhere inside his room. He removes his belt so quickly, like he really wanted this. You can see his cock inside his underpants, which makes you smile.

"Do you like the view, huh?" He provoked, sucking his fingers and making them touch your already wet pussy. "Is this all for me?"

"Shit" you moan louder when you feel his fingers circling around your pussy, tasting you. You sighed with pleasure, leaning back your head, biting your lower lip.

"Don't worry, we have all night" he whispers, his wet lips meeting your skin between kisses, making your body joint and shiver.

You feel him sucking and licking your left niple, his hand holding your other breast while his other hand was still circling slowly your clit. Your moans were so loud, so pornographic that you knew his neighbor would here your scandal. But God have mercy, he was very talented with his hands.

And then, without any warnings, you finally feel him inside, slowly sliding between your legs. You groan, letting him know you needed time to adjust to his size. Your nails found their way into his skin, leaving scratches that would take time to heal — a reminder about this night.

When you feel comfortable enough with him, you nod slightly, and he starts to move between your legs, penetrating you so softly and yet so caring. His eyes observe you, sometimes his lips meeting yours in a smooth kiss, and sometimes moaning in your ear.

You follow his pace, and when you notice, he's moving faster inside you. One of his hands holding yours so tight that it's almost impossible to escape his grip — which you don't intend to do. You wouldn't mind be his bitch for a night.

"You're taking me so well" he moans again, leaving marks on your breasts and smiling as his hips hit yours harder.

"Oh, fuck..." you moan again, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes, already feeling a wave of pleasure running through your body.

"Oh, be a good girl for me" he teases, his free hand circling your clit again, making your body joint.

And he kept teasing you for a very long time. Each time you were close to orgasm, he stopped what he was doing to make you beg for him and your pleas were almost insignificant to him, despite the fact that he was enjoying seeing you beg to cum.

"Please, let me cum" you begged again after the fifth time he denied your orgasm. You were almost crying at this point, unable to hold the ache in your pussy. "I need you, please"

"Such a baby girl begging for me" he said, smiling and starting to circle you clit again, making you whine. "I'll let you cum if you take me in your mouth right now"

He stood up on the edge of his bed and you crawled into him, opening your mouth to put his cock inside, sucking him while your hands massaged his balls. You can hear him moan, grabbing your hair to force you to keep sucking him. You started to tear up, gasping while his cock was inside your mouth.

He didn't care.

You kept sucking him until he released his cum inside your mouth and he didn't had to say anything. You swallowed him, like the good girl you were. And with his smile of approval, you knew you earned your time. He made you lay back in his bed and started to suck your clit, tasting yourself in his mouth.

"So good" he said, holding your thighs against his shoulders, sucking you, licking your wet pussy.

"S-shit" you moan again, holding his sheets with violence, wanting desperately to cum on him. Your moans get higher and again, you started to feel the warm pleasure in your body.

"Cum for me, baby" he orders smoothly again, giving the attention you required, his tongue doing such a great work on you.

Finally, with his approval, you had the liberty to release yourself. You felt something hot coming out of you at the same time that your body reached the peek and you finally had the orgasm of your life. You had to control yourself, your body almost collapsing while his mouth was still between your thighs.

And after you had your orgasm, releasing your cum on him, he smiled at you, licking his lips to savor you and then crawling his way to your side on his bed.

"You're okay?" He asks, going to his bathroom to grab paper to help you clean yourself. "I hope I wasn't that hard"

"You kidding me?" You ask him, cleaning yourself from the mess he did. "You were great, I'm impressed"

The moonlight cast a soft glow through the curtains, filling the room with a gentle, silver light. Leon and you were laying side by side on the cozy, disheveled sheets, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Leon turned toward you, his eyes filled with tenderness as he reached out to stroke your hair, his touch feather-light.

"Are you okay, really?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern.

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and affection.

"I'm more than okay. That was... amazing." You said honestly to him. And it was entirely true; despite his age, he was the best sex you ever had.

Leon's smile mirrored yours as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, tracing soothing patterns along your back.

"I'm so glad to hear that," he said. "But I want to make sure you're comfortable. Is there anything you need right now?" He asks, sounding curious and kind. You felt he came from a fairytale. He was too good to be real.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

"I just need you here with me, like this."

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Leon leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, his lips warm and reassuring.

You two lay together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their intimate moment. Leon's caring touch and reassuring presence were all the aftercare you needed, a reminder that your connection ran deeper than the physical. As you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you knew that this bond was something truly special, despite the fact that you both also knew it wouldn't happen again.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, you groaned and slowly opened your eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of Leon's apartment briefly disoriented you until the events of the previous night came flooding back into your memory. You'd met him at the party you went with your best friend, and one thing had led to another. Now, you were here, alone in his apartment.

With a groggy sigh, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your temples to soothe the pounding headache. Your mouth felt like a desert, a testament to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed the night before. Your bleary eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Leon.

A folded piece of paper on the coffee table caught your attention. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly, and unfolded the note. Leon's neat handwriting greeted you:

"Hey, stranger. I hope you slept well. I had to head to work early, but I didn't want to wake you. There's coffee brewing in the kitchen to help with your hangover, and I left some pain relievers on the counter. Make yourself at home. There's my number if you need anything. Leon"

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of waking up in a stranger's apartment, Leon's thoughtfulness warmed your heart. You stumbled out of bed and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen.

As you sipped the steaming cup of coffee, the pounding in your head began to subside. The pain relievers helped, too. You glanced at your phone and gasped when you saw the time. You were so late for your college classes.

With newfound energy, you left your phone number on his desk and rushed back to the bedroom, desperately searching for your scattered clothes. You managed to piece together an outfit from the items you found strewn across the floor. It was far from your usual put-together look, but it would have to do.

Once dressed, you scribbled a quick note of thanks to Leon and left it on the kitchen counter. You grabbed your bag and dashed out of his apartment, promising yourself you'd explain everything when you saw him again.

As you hurried to catch a bus to your college, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. Meeting Leon had been a whirlwind, and while your head still throbbed with the remnants of a hangover, you couldn't deny the spark of excitement and curiosity that had ignited between the two of you.

As you ran down the hall, your heart raced with anxiety. You knew you were late for your history class, but your unexpected encounter the night before had left you disoriented and sleep-deprived. With your disheveled hair and the remnants of last night's makeup still on your face, you approached the classroom door. The chattering of your fellow students stopped abruptly when you entered.

The professor, his back turned to the door, continued writing on the chalkboard. You sighed with relief, hoping you hadn't disrupted the class too much. You scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. Most of your fellow students had already found their places, and the only available desk was in the front row.

You tiptoed down the aisle, trying to make as little noise as possible, and took a seat at the front. The professor turned around, ready to begin his lecture. When your eyes met, your heart dropped into your stomach. It was Leon, the man you had met at the college party the night before, the one you had shared an unforgettable night with.

"Fuck" you muttered in surprise, your face going red like a tomato.

Leon's expression changed from one of stern concentration to one of recognition and shock. You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you realized that he was your history professor. The sounds of your obscenes moans echoed inside your head. You wanted to evaporate.

"Good morning, miss" he said, his voice tinged with surprise, but trying to sound polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I...I didn't realize this was your class," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The rest of the class watched the exchange with keen interest. You could feel their curious eyes on you. Leon cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure.

"Well, since you're here, you might as well stay," he said, attempting to sound professional despite the awkwardness of the situation. "We'll discuss your tardiness later. Now, let's begin our lesson on the American Revolution."

As the class continued, you tried your best to focus on the lecture, but your mind kept wandering back to the night you had spent with him. It was going to be a long semester, filled with more than just history lessons.

At the end of his class, you were so nervous that you felt you could explode right there. Leon hesitated as he watched you from across his desk, where he had papers and books strewn haphazardly. Your presence filled the room with an electric tension, one he couldn't deny any longer. You were his student, and you both knew the boundaries you both had crossed were dangerous. And when everyone left his room, you stood up to leave as well, until you heard his voice.

"Sit down," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he gestured to the chair in front of him. You took a seat, your eyes locking onto his, searching for answers.

You never felt this nervous before. You were shaking, and your palms were sweating cold. You wanted to disappear forever.

"We need to talk about last night," Leon began, his gaze never leaving yours. "What happened between us was a mistake, and I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Your lips quivered, but you remained silent.

"I'm your professor, and you're my student. It's against the rules, and it's unethical. I can't let this continue." Leon continued, his voice softer but resolute.

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of your notebook.

"I know, Leon," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny that I felt something for you. It's more than just physical attraction."

Leon's heart ached at her words, his inner struggle evident. God, this was so wrong, and yet, his mind was a battle over what was right and what was wrong. He couldn't deny he felt something for you too — something he thought he would never feel again.

"You don't understand, I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also care about your future, and I can't jeopardize it."

You raised your eyes to meet his once more, tears glistening.

"What are we going to do, then?" You asked, feeling sad and, somehow, pathetic. You met him the night before, then why were you feeling like this?

Leon sighed, his resolve crumbling.

"I don't know" he confessed, his voice filled with regret. "But we need to find a way to move past this and focus on your education."

Your eyes locked in a shared moment of vulnerability, the unspoken desire still simmering beneath the surface. Leon had tried to convince you it was wrong, but his feelings for you were undeniable. The battle between his heart and his principles had only just begun.

"I think it's for the best if we keep this as it should be. I don't want to risk anything" Leon said, his voice sounding sad for a moment. "And I'm sorry, but we can't see each other like that again"

You nod and then leave his class. You made your way back to your apartment, wanting a shower, because you felt you could drown yourself in the water and forget everything that happened. He was your professor. You knew it was wrong, but for God's sake, why him? Why did he have to take you to heaven and then throw cold water on your head?

"What the hell happened?" You heard Chloe ask as soon as you enter your apartment. You completely forgot about her.

"I met someone last night" you explained, avoiding details. You were still feeling the effects of the hungover.

"Really? I bet it was good... you didn't even come back home, you naughty girl" Chloe teases you, laughing. "Have you heard about the new history professor? He's really hot"

"Yeah, I got late for his class" you sighed, laying on your bed with Chloe right behind you, excited about the new professor. If she only knew...

"No shit? Lucky you, he's cool. I've heard he was at the party last night and left with someone. I wish I was that lucky" Chloe kept saying, sitting on the small armchair in your room.

"And they saw who this person was?" You asked in panic, suddenly glancing at your best friend, which you regretted immediately.

"No fucking way... it was you!" Chloe almost screams, surprised and then, throwing a pillow on your face. "I can't believe you were banging the new professor!"

"In my defense, I didn't know!" You said, defending yourself. Deep down, Chloe didn't care. She wanted to see you happy. "I found out this morning... but it's okay. He doesn't want to see me"

"Too bad for him. You're too much for him, anyway" Chloe smirks, being the supportive friend you needed.

Chloe always had the ability to make you feel better with few words. You were really thankful for having her; so, you decided to do what he wanted. For the next few weeks, you watched his classes and noticed that, sometimes, he was glancing at you.

How could you both forget that night?

It was almost impossible. He made you feel so fucking good and you wanted so bad to be with him again. You even fantasized having him fucking you all over again, making you completely his. God, this was very hard. They've always said you will always want more intensely what you can't have, and they are so right about that.

And then, after one month since that party, Leon couldn't avoid that anymore.

He felt the urgency to talk to you, to smell your perfume or see your smile. He was going insane for not having you the way he did that day. Why was he feeling like that? He couldn't tell. But it felt good.

"May I have a word with you after class? It's about your essay" Leon says, closer to you and sounding very professional.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy" You nod your head, already feeling your heart skipping a few beats and your body shaking again.

That was it.

After class, you remained sitting, waiting for your colleagues to leave his room. He avoided your eyes until there were just the two of you. Your breath was heavy, and instantly, you were feeling the heat on your body.

"What is it you want to talk with me?" You ask him, breathing nervously.

Leon gets closer to you, enough to make your body shiver. You look at his blue eyes and the image of him fucking you plays in your head like a movie.

"I shouldn't do this..." he whispers, his breath reaching your face smoothly. "But to be honest, I don't give a shit about morality anymore"

And then, he finally kissed you like he meant that.

It was everything you needed to know. He wanted you, and you wanted him. This could end bad for both of you, but you didn't care. You were weak, and he was weak as well. And right now, he wanted you more than anything.

[pussytime]

|| ohfuckno’s second, messier masterlist ||

heyo peeps!!! so, i “orphaned” (cuz there’s no option to actually orphan fics on tumblr, so i just removed them from my main masterlist) some fics from my main, and all of them can be found here (including the non-orphaned fics)! :))

Natasha Romanoff x Reader:

The Majestic Devils || ONGOING

You wake up in an underground obsidian cave in Hell with no memory whatsoever. Amongst the confusion of being in a new place with no recollection of who you are, a certain redhead, who happens to be the Queen of Hell, reveals some crucial information to you that will change how you view her forever.

{individual warnings for each chapter}

ONE - The Dummy’s Arrival

TWO – The First Conversation

THREE – An Unfortunate Encounter-ish

FOUR - Being Au Fait with Hell

FIVE – Two Awkward Idiots being Awkward

SIX - The Garden Talk

SEVEN -  Is Everything Okay?

EIGHT - Bring You Back

NINE - Creation of an Insurmountable Force from a Barren Womb

TEN - A New Fire

ELEVEN - The Last Battle

TWELVE - The Devil’s Homecoming

THIRTEEN - Nick’s Trial

FOURTEEN - Finding Middle Ground

FIFTEEN -

Experiment || FINISHED

A mission brings you back to your traumatic past, let’s see what happens.

violence, angst, a bit of fluff

Part-1 : Underground

Part-2 : Hey y/n!

Part-3 : Lab Hamster

Part-4 : EGS37

Tipsy Basketball || oneshot

fluffy –> tiny fight –> fluffy

Imprinted || oneshot

You and Nat have a day off and decide to hike to the waterfall, and BOOM, now you have 7 kids. FLUFF

Mannequin || oneshot

Natasha and you have a horrible fight, and break up after being together for four years. After the breakup, you both lost parts of yourself. ANGST

It Was Nice Knowing You || oneshot

You and Natasha have been together for two years. Two years of being together, and you break her heart in the worst way possible. IT IS RAINING ANGST IN THIS ONE

Only If She Knew || oneshot

You haven’t led the most righteous life, but will that lead to Nat having doubts about your relationship?? Why don’t you come and find out, huh?? Oh, and minor warning, it’s gon’ be ANGST.

Rotisserie Chicken || oneshot

Wade is visiting, Steve gets traumatised. FLUFF

Big Oof || oneshot

You’re a jock, she’s a nerd, what more can I say than I am bad at summaries. FLUFF FLOOF FLUFF!!

Times New Roman || oneshot

Nat is, well, acting, umm, kinda unusual- LIKE A DEMON!!! Also, you need a summary for 414 words?? JUST- just read it?? ???

Nat?? || oneshot

It’s your wedding day, and the most unexpected, random thing happens. 1674 words. FLUFF.

Nat being obsessed with kissing you || hcs

The Devils Universe:

These are set in the same general setting (hell au) and don’t affect the plot of The Majestic Devils :))

Never Gonna Get Over You || Carol Danvers x Reader || oneshot

You are the Ruler of Hell, and the Queen of Heaven, Carol Danvers has the hots for you, even though that bitch is in constant denial of her own horniness. Let’s see what happens at a certain gala. SMUT. 18+ ONLY.

Ruler of Hell!Reader shamelessly flirting with Queen of Heaven!Carol || hcs

The Avengers accidentally summoning you, the Ruler of Hell, on a game night || hcs/blurb

Wanda Maximoff x Reader:

Come With Us? || ONGOING

Wanda and you are retiring from the Avengers along with your mentor, Natasha, to go live on a secluded hill-top.

{individual warnings for each chapter}

Chapter-1

Chapter-2

Chapter-3

Wanda dating a touch starved Reader || hcs

Wanda falling in love with Civilian!Reader || hcs

Being in a sapphic skateboarders’ gang and dating emo!Wanda || hcs

Carol Danvers x Reader:

Hurtful Endings & New Beginnings: Part-1 // Part-2 || FINISHED

Carol has a crush on you, and is a gay mess, let’s see what happens.

a bit of drinking, rest is FLUFF

Go A Little Easy (On Me) || blurb || 400 souls celebration

alexithymia (n) the inability to express your feelings // basorexia (n); the overwhelming desire to kiss // akrasia (n) lack of self control

a bit of blood, a lot of fluff

Hoeing Around The Galaxy:

You’re an intergalactic outlaw, going around the galaxy, just having fun ;)……this is basically a fem!reader-insert smut series with different characters in each chapter.

Series Warnings - This is just…a whole lotta smut. They’re all just boning down in each chapter. Each chapter will have individual warnings. || 18+ ONLY

ONE - Sly Motherfucker || Carol Danvers X Reader

You go to the bar to collect the payment for one of your recent jobs, but when the middleman bails on you, and you end up finding some wayyyy better company.

Yelena Belova x Reader:

Cotton Candy || blurb || 400 souls celebration

3) first kiss // 7) Your friends walk in on your kissing but they don’t know about your relationship

Bobbi Morse x Reader:

Stay || oneshot || 400 souls celebration

Prompt - 2) Your child (goddaughter*) holds their hand instead of yours by mistake // Dystopian AU

Maria Hill x Reader:

Lost In You || blurb || 400 souls celebration

Prompts - basorexia (n); the overwhelming desire to kiss // sehnsucht (n): the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what, a yearning for far, familiar, non- earthy land one can identify as one’s home // 27) They get hurt and you patch them up

Wade Wilson & Reader:

Being best-friends with Wade Wilson would include || hcs

Bollywood:

Saala Dard || Safeena x Reader (Gully Boy) || [english translation]

Unable to hide your feelings from her any longer….you finally tell her.

SMUT, fluff, cheating, angst….18+ ONLY

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Akrasia

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XgTmKC

by cassie_oh_peiathequeen

Akrasia (n.) lack of self-control

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting them the hell out of here."

The adventures of Red Hood and his apparent problem with taking in kids off the street.

:Trigger Warning: Contains MENTIONS of sexual abuse, drugs, rap/non con. None of these topics are graphically written, but they are IMPLIED. (It's Gotham city after all)

Words: 2032, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Protective Jason Todd, Canon Compliant, Somewhat, Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Original Character(s)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XgTmKC

[sirhamburrger]

𝐢𝐢𝐢: 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚 (𝐧.)

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚 (𝐧.): 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚 (𝐧.) [𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1209 || prev || next

you’re late.

keiji taps his foot impatiently on the shaggy carpeted floor. sure, the new office is nice, but it just doesn’t feel the same as his old cubicle back in the manga department. in any case, he’s glad he now has an office so he can invite people over for meetings without feeling stupid.

he glances over at the clock again. it’s 8.37 now. 

maybe you overslept, he thinks. 

a knock sounds at the door, and he jumps. his first thought is that it’s you. but when the door swings open to reveal a familiar face, though not who he was expecting, he can’t say he’s disappointed at all.

“hey, hey, hey!”

“bokuto-san?” keiji watches on, pleased, as his senpai struts into the room, looking around appreciatively at his office decor. “what are you doing here?”

the msby player beams at him. “thought i’d stop by to see you! morning practice doesn’t start for another hour, and i'm soooooo bored.”

“oh, i, uh….” keiji starts, but bokuto inadvertently cuts him off as he starts rambling on and on about some new addition to the jackals, and how atsumu miya and kiyoomi sakusa are finally dating after years and years of mutual pining. falling back into conversation with bokuto is easy even after all these years, seeing as keiji doesn’t have to say much, or anything at all. he doesn’t have the heart to interrupt bokuto and tell him he’s expecting someone over, and eventually he forgets that you’ve even scheduled a meeting with him.

until he hears hurried footsteps outside his door, and you come tumbling in without knocking. 

it's amazing how good you look even when you're not trying to. your loose maroon sweater hangs off your right shoulder, exposing the strap of the white tank top you’re wearing underneath. the creases on your baggy khaki chinos are painfully pronounced. sheafs of paper stick out of your partially unzipped laptop bag, and your hair is slightly messy. 

you pause in the doorway, trying to catch your breath. “sorry,” you wheeze, sounding - and looking - as if you’ve run all the way here. “i thought the meeting was for nine o’ clock, so i…”

your voice trails off, and keiji sees that your eyes are trained on bokuto, who catches you staring and sends a toothy grin your way. you look like you're going to combust, and keiji can't blame you. bokuto’s a good-looking guy, and it's only natural you'd be distracted by him.

feeling an unpleasant pang deep within him, he quickly brushes it off, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “bokuto-san, this is y/n l/n-san, and i'm working with her on her first publication deal. l/n-san, this is-”

“yeah, no, i know who he is,” you say, somehow sounding even more breathless than before. you're practically beaming from ear to ear.. “uh, hi! i'm a really big fan of the jackals. it's great to meet you.”

of course you know who bokuto is, keiji finds himself thinking, annoyed for some reason he can't quite place. “you can stay, bokuto-san. i don't mind.”

keiji tries to ignore the way you giggle at bokuto's childishly adorable whoops.

you slide a copy of chapter thirty-one across the table to him, pulling out one of your own. “i was thinking of restructuring this whole part, so the pov switch doesn't have to happen halfway through. what do you think?” you tap your pen on a highlighted section of the plain black text, brows furrowed in concentration.

“let me have a quick look.”

he scans over the transition from one pov to the next, and he finds you're right in your judgment of your own writing. it seems slightly abrupt how levan's narration is suddenly cut off by glory, the love interest's perspective. it's a rather poignant scene between the two, with the pov switching from levan's point of view to glory's immediately after he reveals his innermost secret to her. 

glory is headstrong, confident, cheeky. the chapter doesn't quite do her justice.

“cut his part out.”

“what? don't you mean push it forward to the previous chapter?” you say, puzzled.

“cut levan's part out of the story completely,” he explains. “doesn't it get explained in later chapters anyway? yes, levan’s the protagonist of the book, but you've dedicated an inordinate number of words to his pov sections. as the deuteragonist, glory isn’t getting the development she needs.”

“huh.” 

he looks up and he can't tell if you're offended or not, with the way your arms are folded across your chest. you sit back in your chair, staring intently at him. 

“i… i just think you should let glory shine in this scene,” he presses on earnestly, trying not to falter. “she reminds me a lot of you.” he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. how cheesy is that? 

“oh” comes your response. “okay.”

he faintly registers bokuto sitting up in his armchair, a mischievous glint in his eye. he opens his mouth to speak - 

“i think it's time for you to leave for practice, bokuto-san,” keiji suggests hastily, a strained smile on his face. he stands up to see bokuto out, walking to the door with him. “wouldn't want you to be late on this fine morning.”

“suuuure, akaashi,” the wing spiker drawls slyly. “have a good meeting.” 

he sees you blush at the implication. 

keiji's eye twitches as he bids a grinning bokuto goodbye, not-so-subtly ushering him out the door. “we'll talk another day.”

the door closes behind him. 

“i-” you both say at the same time. keiji purses his lips. “go on.”

you look down at your lap where your hands fidget. 

“did you know,” you say slowly, “that out of all the characters i’ve created over the years, glory is the one i’m proudest of? i relate to her a lot. and… it really means a lot to me to say that you think i’m like her.” you look up, and you’re smiling. “thanks. you made my day.”

keiji hears his heart pounding in his ears like he’s in a surround-sound movie theater. you’re trying to kill him, of that he’s sure.

he sits back down and backtracks with you to previous chapters, pointing out little things here and there. some are creative liberties you've taken, which you explain to him in-depth, while others turn out to be mistakes or simply don’t flow well in the larger storyline. he keeps thinking about this word he sees in chapter nineteen, and finally he asks you about it.

“oh, it's, like… hmm. doing something and, uh, making it look good without trying, i think,” you say, deep in thought. “describes glory's personality and style pretty well, don't you think?”

“how do you pronounce it?”

“sprezzatura,” you say slowly, with all the inflections he expects it might have. he doesn't say anything for a second, and you stiffen. “i can take it out, if-”

he tries not to blush at the way you say it. 

“that's not necessary. i like it. keep it in.”

it's elegant, in a sense, and he's willing to bet you're not even trying to make it sound that way.

and he likes it, he really does, because it's so you.

[m.list]

author's notes:

another chapter of simp akaashi i guess (this was originally like 1.3k but i cut it back down)

saw a post of editor akaashi x mangaka reader and it was... wow. yeah so this fic won't be nsfw at all let me just say this rn-

are we seeing jealous akaashi as early as chapter three of the fic?? yes. yes we are

literally am living day to day have not touched match point in a week even though i already have three chapters written and edited

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

© sirhamburrger 2024

[sirhamburrger]

𝐢𝐯: 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 (𝐧.)

𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 (𝐧.): 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚 (𝐧.) [𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1238 || prev || next

akaashi slides the manuscript back over to you, pointing at the neatly underlined part. “this part - you need to explain this a little more. you might have context, but the readers probably don't.”

“hmm.” you muse over his suggestion, then pick your pen up to make a few quick edits. “thanks, ‘kaashi.” you look up from the document, the tip of your pen pressed to your bottom lip. “what did you think about this part, then?”

he looks down at where you're pointing, and his dark messy locks fall into his eyes. as he runs a slender hand through his hair, you can't help but admire his side profile. a slight blush creeps over your cheeks when you realise what you're doing.

things between the two of you have been changing lately. somehow or other, your chair is now on his side of the table when you come into the office, with a mug of freshly-brewed tea ready for you. so it's easier to discuss edits, you distinctly remember akaashi saying. no sense in sitting across from me when we're working on this together.

and honestly? you think you might just like it. but he is your coworker, first and foremost, and you need to keep things professional. 

no harm in teasing him a little every now and then, though.

“it's good,” he says appreciatively, eyes still locked to the page. “you've not only developed your deuteragonist's perspective, but that of other characters as well. it adds a lot of depth.”

“what can i say?” you turn in your seat to face him, purposefully crossing one leg over the other. the fabric of your short skirt shifts in your lap as you do so, riding up on your thighs. “you do give the best advice.”

you see akaashi’s eyes dart downwards quickly as he lifts his head, then flick back up to you. he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. 

“don't mention it,” he says thickly.

oh. 

just then you hear his stomach grumble, and you decide to take a leap of faith. 

“i was thinking we could have lunch together today, my treat,” you offer. “you've been working your ass off lately. you don't even go on your lunch breaks some days, don't think i haven't noticed.”

he waves a hand in front of his face, embarrassed. “thank you, but there's no need. i wouldn't want to inconvenience you-”

“let me,” you insist. “just so you know, i won't stop until you give in, okay?”

akaashi huffs and rolls his eyes, a small smile creeping over his face. “fine,” he relents in mock helplessness, though you hear the gratitude in his voice. “i'll bring you to my favorite spot.”

it's only when the two of you have taken your first steps outside the office building, and you feel the cold winter breeze nipping at the skin of your palms, that you realise you've left your gloves in akaashi's office. “damn,” you mutter, shoving your hands in your pockets. 

you feel his eyes on you just then, and look over to see him pulling his own gloves off his slender hands. wordlessly, he presses them into your palm. his hand is warm and slightly rough where your bare skin brushes against his, and you gape up at him. he's blushing madly, eyes darting around, looking anywhere but right at you.

“thank you.” the words come out a tentative whisper from between your lips. your hand feels like it's on fire where he touched you, and you quickly pull on the gloves. they're much too big on you - his hands really are big, huh - but so, so warm.

you make the rest of the walk in relative silence and stop right outside this cozy-looking onigiri place, where the man behind the counter works impossibly fast to prepare customers’ orders. akaashi waves at him, then excuses himself to go to the bathroom, asking you to join the queue first. 

the line is getting shorter by the minute, and you suddenly realize with horror that akaashi hasn't even told you his order. as the old lady in front of you picks up her takeaway bag and walks away on slightly shaky legs, the man at the counter flashes you a dimpled smile, beckoning you forward. he looks strangely familiar.

“welcome ta onigiri miya, what can i get for ya t’day?”

“i've never been here before,” you find yourself admitting to the dark-haired young man, whose name tag displays the kanji for ‘miya osamu’. he must own this place, then. “what would you recommend?”

he leans forward against the counter, adjusting his cap where it sits on his head. “you should get the tuna mayo and the salmon mentaiko. they're popular among my customers.”

you smile. “sure, i’ll get that.” 

“i'll hook ya up with keiji's usual, too,” the owner calls out as he turns to the ingredients on the counter behind him. “ya his new girlfriend or what?”

“uh…” blood rushes to your cheeks at what he's saying. “no, i work with him. he's my editor.”

osamu shoots you a sideways smile. “sorry, m'bad,” he says. “you look good together, though, so i just assumed.”

you think your heart might've just stopped beating.

akaashi seems to appear right by your side, saying a cheery hello to osamu. you tense up slightly as his elbow knocks against yours, your mind empty of all thoughts as your face tingles, and it's not from the biting cold of the wind. osamu fixes you with a knowing, devious look, and you squirm. 

“here ya go, wait a minute and i'll be right out t’join ya.” he sets a tray of food on the counter, which akaashi brings over to one of the tables out on the sidewalk. you trail along behind him. 

“how do you know him?” you ask the editor.

“he's atsumu miya’s twin brother,” he responds as the two of you watch the man in question walk towards you, carrying a tray of his own. “played each other a few times in high school.”

osamu sits down with you, and you find yourself watching on as akaashi says a quiet ‘itadakimasu’ and digs in, seeming satisfied. “go on, take a bite,” osamu prompts, observing you intently.

rather tentatively, you unwrap the packaging on the rice ball and take a bite. immediately, you're greeted with a myriad of flavours. the tuna with the creaminess of the mayo, plus the crunch of fresh green onions is heaven on your tongue.

you swallow, a smile on your face. “it's really good,” you tell him.

osamu beams. “ya should bring yer friend here more often, keiji-kun. i'll even give you a special couples’ discount-” “thank you for your kind offer,” akaashi cuts him off, and you don't know how to feel about that.

“got another offer for ya, i’ve got two tickets to the ejp vs. falcons game on saturday morning.”

akaashi’s ears seem to perk up immediately. “really?”

osamu smiles the same devious smile as before. “yeah, but i don't think i can go, i can't seem to clear my calendar.” 

your editor narrows his eyes in suspicion. “how much do you want for them?”

“bring yer cute friend here along and you get them completely free of charge.” his kansai drawl practically drips with teasing playfulness.

sighing heavily, akaashi turns to you. “well,” he says more to himself than to you, looking down into his lap. “this looks bad now, doesn't it?”

your face burns. “it's fine, i get it-”

“i… i'd still like to take you, though. i really would.” he meets your eyes almost bashfully, and you're surprised to see your usually stoic editor blushing like a timid middle-schooler. “will you go to the game with me?”

“y-yeah, that… that sounds great,” you stammer. “i'll meet you there, i guess.” 

you have a date now, it seems; this isn’t quite the landing you were expecting from that leap of faith.

but you'll take it.

author's notes:

realised i don't have to care how long chapters are if it has to be 1.3k i won't force it to be 1.2k

i need to rush back over to molto vivace now (i might have set up the next chapter to come out on tsukki's birthday on the 27th)

technically the definition of apricity doesn't really match up with the events of the chapter but! akaashi’s kind of like the winter sun warming yn up (can you tell i just pulled that out of my ass)

i jump at any chance i get to put suna in a story frfr IM SO PUMPED FOR THE MATCH!!

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

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© sirhamburrger 2024

[sirhamburrger]

𝐢𝐢: 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 (𝐧.)

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 (𝐧.): 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚 (𝐧.) [𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1191 || prev || next

“so, i take it the meeting with akaashi went well?” hitoka says almost slyly, as if she's trying to elicit some kind of flustered reaction from you.

you feel your face heat up at her tone of voice, even in the cool of your air-conditioned apartment. it's always been like this - the second you show even the slightest interest in a guy, they pounce on you like predators do their prey, and dissect you like a biology experiment.

which isn’t great for you at the moment because keiji akaashi… is kind of cute.

you simply frown, averting their gazes. “he's a nice guy,” you say evenly, not looking up from the fingerboard of your guitar as you position your hand in the correct chord shape. just thinking about his nervous demeanor on monday morning makes you want to giggle a little. “a little too quiet for me, though.”

“maybe you made him nervous,” alisa suggests mischievously, feeding you a handful of koshu grapes. mouth full of pink fruit, you glare at both your blonde friends. “i wouldn't be surprised if you did.”

knock it off, alisa,” you grumble, swatting at her head with your free hand, which she dodges immediately. 

“not the face!” she gasps dramatically. “how am i supposed to make money without it?”

“nothing some aptly applied concealer can't fix. plus, you've still got the rest of your body!” hitoka says brightly.

alisa’s about to bite back with a quick remark, but her demeanor quickly changes as she seems to have suddenly remembered something important. “hey, isn't he the guy from fukurōdani?” she says suddenly, to which hitoka nods. “they pissed levochka off to no end,” alisa adds, shuddering at what must be some horrible memory of a nekoma vs. fukurōdani match.

“he was a pretty great setter back in the day. he played with bokuto for two years,” the former karasuno manager explains.

“kotaro bokuto? from the jackals?” you say incredulously. “they couldn't be more different!” hitoka and alisa laugh at your surprise. you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed at the fact that the msby player was one of your hyperfixations a few months back.

distracted as you laugh along with them, you play a wrong chord. it rings out discordant in the still night air, and you let out a tiny noise of annoyance.

it's only now that you realise it's ten minutes to midnight, and the numbers on the tabbed fingerstyle score seem to swim between the lines with how tired you are. you've been trying - and failing - to nail this section of the piece for what feels like hours, and now you're positively despondent. the deep-seated ache in your muscles caused by your poor posture does little to lift your spirits. you touch the fingers of your left hand together, feeling the hard calluses.

almost unconsciously, you think of akaashi. you hope he's not as fatigued as you feel right now. you reach for the cup of cold coffee on the tabletop, yawning, only to have your hand batted away by a disapproving alisa. she tsks at you as she stares down at the concentric brown rings lining the inner surface of the cup. 

“hey!” you protest, grabbing at her hand. she's got the advantage of her longer arms, though, and sets it aside quickly. 

“you drink way too much coffee,” the japanese-russian model huffs. “that cannot be healthy.”

“yeah, well, my job doesn't exactly demand much of me in the physical aspect,” you retort, strumming idly at your guitar. “i bring money in as long as my hands can type on a keyboard.”

an abrupt snore from hitoka startles you both, and you exchange smiles as you look at her peaceful, sleeping form. “i think your music lulled her to sleep, solnyshka,” alisa chuckles.

little sun. she calls you that all the time, and you miss her saying it whenever she's away. 

as she hoists hitoka into her arms, you almost forget alisa's due to leave for switzerland in a week's time. it's for some kind of fancy photoshoot with her new agency, and she'll be there for the next few months. she'll go back to her busy life, and you and hitoka will go back to your own. 

what a rat race the modern world is.

“you two should go to bed first,” you tell alisa. “i’ll be staying up a little while longer.”

“if you're not in bed in the next fifteen minutes, i will drag you by your feet into your room and tuck you in,” she threatens.

you nod, your lips curving up in a small smile. “dobroye nochi, alisa.”

“dobroye nochi.”

“dobrobabada gnocchi?” a sleepy hitoka murmurs, causing alisa to gasp dramatically at how her native language has been butchered. with a wave of her hand, they disappear round the corner into the guest bedroom they share when they stay over at your place. their giggles and whispers die down after a few short minutes, replaced by loud snores. so much for making sure you sleep on time.

you bring your hand up to the neck of the guitar again. settling your fingers in fifth position on the fretboard, you prepare to pluck the first note -

and then your phone pings loudly. 

five times.

your concentration broken, you mutter a quiet curse and snatch the device off the coffee table. the sound of the notification tells you they're messages from an unknown number. 

damn right, you think irritably, saving his contact name in your phone as simply “keiji akaashi”. he’s so polite about it somehow, that you find it hard to stay mad at him. 

hitoka, though? you can't believe she gave him your phone number without even asking. you huff to yourself as you type out what you hope is an acceptable reply.

the sound of light rain pattering on your windowsill gently pulls you out of your dreamy thoughts, and you look out over a moonlit tokyo. stepping out onto the balcony, you take a seat on the rattan chair.

the lone plant on the balcony, a little olive sapling, collects rainwater in its pot. an earthy smell wafts towards you - petrichor. a sliver of nature in this concrete jungle. it smells like warmth and love and home.

there are different kinds of quiets you like; comfortable, warm silence as you watch a chick flick with alisa and hitoka. tranquil autumn days when you wake up to spectacular showers of golden leaves. peaceful afternoons spent in the quiet of your room, typing away at your computer.

but this? this is your favourite kind of quiet. 

secretly, you're excited to see akaashi again. he's smart, he's sharp, and he's cute when he's flustered. if you close your eyes, you could picture perfectly his deep blue eyes widening in surprise at just about anything you said. 

they were pretty, just like the rest of him.

you don't remember how long you sit there, or what time you drift off exactly. what you do remember is your very last thought before succumbing to a deep, peaceful slumber -

i wonder if he likes the smell of petrichor too.

[m.list]

author's notes:

this chapter was almost named accismus (a feigned refusal of something earnestly desired), but i think i'll save this word for a later chapter instead heh

i love the idea of reader knowing alisa from some kind of fashion magazine she used to be a columnist for

can i make reader a language nerd. please.

bokuto's my absolute fave and i dragged him into this mess of a fic because why not! we'll see what happens with him later on

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

© sirhamburrger 2024