#also also sorry if i tagged you on a thing twice today and it bothers you

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Tough Work - Bang Chan ‗ ❍

Pairing : Bang Chan x f Reader

Summary : Bang Chan gets his plans ruined yet again by a late notice schedule and he's pissed. His friends call his girlfriend to the rescue to calm him down before he punches his laptop.

Word count : 3.2k

Warnings/tags : a little angst at the beginning, Chan is an emotional mess, swear words, smut (ONLY 18+), sex on a desk chair, unprotected sex (don't be silly goofy y'all), use of pet name baby, baby girl.

A/n : I had some inspo (not gonna tell you eheh) + it's the holiday season so yeah why not! Let's slut the holidays away🤣🙏🏻 merry Xmas pookies 🤎Also be KIND it's my first full written fic since like...august or sumn

masterlist

ps: No Beta'd. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy!

♡︎.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 When Hyunjin called you, it definitely came as a surprise. It was around five pm and you were doing absolutely nothing except chill on the couch watching a movie on your (very deserved) days off for the holidays. Until the phone suddenly rang, making you curious as you saw the name calling. Especially since you thought you heard Chan, your boyfriend, saying that they were working today.

'Hello?'

'Hey, yn, hi. Are you busy right now?' your friend's voice sounded slightly defeated as he answered, even though you could tell he was trying to play it off.

'Hyune, hi. No, I'm not, what's up? Is everything okay?' you sat straight, listening carefully.

'Yes and no. Listen, we got some late notice from the company and now Chan hyung is pissed. Like very pissed.' you frowned as he sighed, 'But mostly he's upset. And I know for a fact that the only thing that can calm him down it's you. Would you mind maybe coming over?'

You and Chan were supposed to meet at your apartment to have dinner together later, despite that you didn't even think twice before getting up and walking to your room to change quickly.

'Yes, got it. Don't worry, I'll be there in 10.'

-

You didn't bother getting ready properly, with a full on makeup and hair done, or a carefully picked out outfit. Usually you'd have some decency going out, even just for meeting your friends. But right now you didn't have the time, nor the mood for it.

Hyunjin didn't give too many details, but since he mentioned a late notice schedule, you probably imagined that it would mess with your and Chan's plans for New Year's. It was not the first time that it happened unfortunately, but then again, it was his work. He couldn't truly help it, and you knew that it upset him.

You put on a gray wool oversized dress, some pantyhose, a padded jacket and a beanie, after quickly fixing your hair slightly. Then you grabbed your bag and before you knew it, you were in your car driving to the boys' dorm.

-

Like you predicted, around ten minutes later you arrived and opted on sending Hyunjin a text instead of ringing the bell. He immediately came to answer the door and gave you a quick hug and a small smile.

'Changbin is not home. Me and Jisung are going out for a while, okay? Let me know when the threath has been doomed.' he joked, just as you waved to Jisung who was wrapping a big scarf around his neck. He smiled back and hugged you too.

'Thank you, yn. He wouldn't hear us out at all, so we decided to call you.' he said. You shook your head slightly as you took off the beanie.

'It's okay. I'm sorry that you guys probably also had some plans spoiled.' you responded. They both had a sweet yet quite defeated expression on as you switched places, them on the doorstep on their way out and you on your way in.

'Ah, It's alright. It's out job after all. Take your time, alright?' Hyunjin replied, and you nodded with a small smile before they closed the door behind them.

You sighed, mentally preparing to try and not look too disappointed. You were, of course, but now it wasn't about you. And besides, the last thing you would've wanted was to make Chan feel more guilty.

You made your way down the corridor to his room, which was pretty much silent. You knocked on the door gently, and just after a couple of seconds your boyfriend showed up. He was wearing a black hoodie, gray tracksuit pants and his big headphones. His face looked tired, serious and there was the slightest hint of red in his eyes.

His expression switched fast as soon as he realized it was you at the door and not one of his roommates, which had already taken turns in trying to comfort him and calm him down. He even had a small argument with Changbin, hence why he had to leave the house before they started shouting names at each other.

'Yn? What- weren't we supposed to meet later? Did I loose track of time-?' he quickly glanced down at the time on his phone, taking off the headphones with one hand and discarding them on his bed. The wallpaper being a sweet picture of you too making yout heart shrink a bit.

'Channie, hi baby. No, it's okay, you didn't. A little bird told me you needed some cheering up.' you smiled sweetly at him as you brought your hands up to stroke his arms.

He scoffed, releasing himself from your grip gently, just to walk back and plop down on his big plush desk chair.

'Which one of those fu-...ah, I don't even care. I assume that they told you, then?' he sighed heavily, stopping himself from curing at his friends. You walked closer, taking off your bag and jacket, placing them on the clothes hanger behind the door.

'Don't be mad. They did it because they care about you enough to not see your hair turn white from stress before your time.' you tried to lighten up the mood, but it didn't seem to work as he just proceeded to put his head down in between his hands.

Your smile fell, taking a deep breath, understanding that he really needed some time to get out his feelings first.

'Just about a late notice schedule. Nothing more, but I assume that it's for New Year's. Is that why you're so upset?' you scrunched down in frot of him, your hands placed on his knees.

He waited a few seconds before speaking, his voice low and quite monotone. 'We got two Japan schedules for the 31st and the 1st. But we have to leave on the 29th. And we'll probably not going to be back before the 2nd. Just in time for our already pre paid and organized planes to be canceled. Of fucking course.' his tone getting sharper as he spoke.

You stroked his thigh gently to comfort him, 'I'm sorry, baby. I know you were looking forward to a few days off.' you responded. He shook his head, frowning as he sat up straight.

'Fuck the days off. I can have days off all year. I was looking forward to spending at leas one fucking holiday with my girlfriend, in peace in a nice luxury cabin in the middle of damn nowhere.' he ranted angrily, before pausing for a second and giving you a quick look. 'It's me the one who should be sorry.'

'But it's not your fault, Chan. It's work, you have schedules and many times they may not be planned. That's how it works for many other jobs too, think about it.' you try to reason, once again taking his hands into your stroking them.

'It's the third time in four months. First it was your birthday, then Christmas, and now New Year's. It's starting to stress me out. Isn't it stressing you out?' he asked, frowning. You sighed.

'What do you want me to say? 'Chris this is too much, you're always busy with stuff that's out of your control so I'm leaving you'? Is that what you want to hear?' your tone slightly more stern. You weren't mad, but his constant throwing himself under the bus was bothering you. He widened his brown eyes, squeezing your hands slightly.

'No! What? Of course not. I was just-' you stood up straight, shushing him.

'Then stop with that shit. We can reschedule later. I don't give a fuck whether it is December 31st or April, or whatever. I'll be happy to spend time with my boyfriend and that's it. Okay? Stop beating yourself up about it.' your voice got warmer. He leaned forward, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you close.

'Still. Im sorry that I keep disappointing you. You deserve better.' the last sentence made you snap so you pushed him back slightly, making him look up at you.

'Oi, don't say shit like that. It's not true.' the little oi clearly being his Aussie influence.

'You are better. You're the best. Don't ever say that, because it's not true. I love you.' you cradled his face in your hands. His big brown eyes looking up at you so sweetly.

'Am I though?' he said sadly. Always doubting himself, you sighed internally.

'Yes you are.' you planted a kiss on his lips, trying to lighten up the mood 'Besides, you know that I'm too honest. If you were being shitty to me I'd tell you. Well, I'd tell your friends first and then you. Just to add that bit of embarrassment.' you shrinked your eyes jokingly, finally getting a chuckle out of him.

That made you smile in return, as you kept caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up at you again, shaking his head slightly with a small smile on his face. 'What?' you said cutely.

'I love you so much. I wonder what did I do to deserve you.' you smiled sweetly at him before switching again, and clicking your tongue.

'Getting sappy here, Christopher' you released his face, about to turn around to go get your phone, just to shoot a quick message to Hyunjin reassuring that the situation was handled, but chan grabbed your hand making you turn around.

He laughed, smirking up at you slightly. 'Hey, come back here' you chuckled, letting yourself be dragged back. You were now standing in between his legs, him still sitting on his big desk chair.

'You need something?' you joked. 'Just my girl. Right here. Close to me.' your smile turned into a smirk, as your hands started to wander on his shoulders.

'I am close.' his hands came up to your waist then down to your hips, pushing you more into him, your faces close.

'Closer' you carefully straddled him, your arms around his neck.

'Enough?' he chuckled faintly, his lips grazing your neck and then whispering 'Never' into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

'Greedy boy' you teased 'I can get even more greedy. Will you let me?' he looked back at you, the slightest hint of humor in his voice, but his eyes were telling a different story.

'Yes' you respondeded without a doubt. 'Go ahead. Do whatever you want. I know you need it.' at that point he crashed his lips to yours, immediately starting a passionate kiss. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders as his hands pressed your hips down to his crotch.

At that point your dress had already pooled around your hips, so the only thing separating you two were your pantyhose and panties, aside from his own pants. As you continued kissing and grinding, he got hard quite quickly.

One of his hands were holding you close to him while the other wandered under the dress and then straight to the hem of the pantyhose and the panties.

'Off' he mumbled in between kisses, so you carefully stood up, a little dazed from the heat of the moment and quickly discarded them both at the same time. Chan also got up to get rid of his own pants and underwear, and then reprised to kiss you.

He tried to lead you to the bed, but you stopped him 'No, I want to ride you there' you slowly pushed him back on the chair, his gaze not leaving you for a single moment.

'Fuck baby' he cursed, before widening his eyes for a moment 'Wait let me close the door-' you pushed him back again, shooting him a smirk.

'Relax, baby. Hold on' you went to close the door, turning the lock for safety, even though you knew that most likely none of the members would've stepped back into the house unless you told them to.

'Need you so bad, c'mere' he grabbed your hand, almost making you stumble into him. You chuckled, straddling him again. He wetted his fingers slightly with some spit before his hand went straight to stroke your slit. You moaned into his neck, as you kept your knees raised at his sides to allow him access.

'So wet already' he teased, making you groan and hump his hand more.

'You made me go out in the cold and interrupt a good movie. Now get to work, Christoper.' you complained, erupting a chuckle from him.

'Okay, okay.' he surrendered, I'll warm you back up real quick, baby girl' at that point he lined up his hard cock with your pussy, gathering some wetness before helping you sink down on him. You both moaned deeply, mumbling some curses.

'Fuck, Channie...so big' he hummed while kissing your neck as his hands supported the back and forth movement of your hips. You started kissing as your hips kept on going faster, then slower again, then going in circles.

After a while though, Chan seemed to notice you trying to get more stimulation to your slit, so he decided to take matter in his own hands.

'Wait, baby, hold on' he interrupted the kiss and grabbed the hem of your dress, taking it off of you and throwing it on the carpet nearby. The fact that you weren't wearing a bra was a pleseant surprise.

'No bra? Naughty girl' he smirked, making you laugh faintly. He attached his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking and licking, while he played with the other with his pointer and thumb.

'Ah-' you moaned as he grazed the nipple with his teeth lightly, 'Wait, you too' you said, this time being you to take his hoodie off. In the meantime your pussy kept grinding on his dick, a bit more lazily since your knees were kinda starting to ache a bit.

Chan seemed to remember what he wanted to do before getting distracted by your tits, so he stopped once again 'Turn around baby. Want to touch you properly' he said sweetly as he helped you change positions.

You were now sitting with your back pressed to his chest, one of his hands grabbing your breast and the other working on your clit. He was making you feel so good that your mind was starting to get a little fuzzy, your hips grinding on his cock and his fingers mindlessly.

'Yeah, just like that. So good for me, baby' he whispered into your ear, his nose pressed to the side of your head, 'Such a good fuckig girl for me' he kissed your hair, your head, your neck.

'C-Chan, baby, m' close' you whined, one of your hands covering his one on your breast, while the other was between his hair desperately holding on for dear life.

'I know baby, I know' he sped up, pounding you so quick and deep that you were seeing stars, 'Come for me, c'mon. So beautiful' he groaned.

'My beautiful, patient, amazing girl' his fingers applying some more pressure, 'Really don't deserve you' the last phrase so quiet that your fucked out mind almost didn't catch it. Almost.

'C-chan, oh my god' your back arched, moaning out his name as you came. His rythm gradually slowed down, but his thrusts were still sharp and deep.

'Come inside me, baby. Wanna feel you, need to feel you, please' you pleaded, grabbing his jaw to kiss him. He moaned into your mouth, and after a few more sharp thrusts, you felt him coming inside you.

'Yes, that's it, so good' you cooed, giving little kisses on his mouth 'Love you so much' you whispered. He smiled slightly in the kiss, hugging you tight. You moved around, getting more comfortable but still hugging each other tight and cuddling. You were left in a comfortable silence for a while.

'I heard that, you know.' you said softly, his gaze pointing down at you as his fingers still delicately caressed your arm.

'What do you mean?' he asked. You didn't look at him, concentrating on playing with his hands.

'You know exactly what I mean. Stop saying that. I mean it. I love you, and I know that you love me. There must be a reason why we're together and we work. So stop getting into your own head' your eyes locking with his. 'Promise?'

He chewed on his plump lip, definitely feeling guilty that he got scolded yet again. Naked, on his bedroom chair, after some mind blowing sex and a whole lot of feelings. In the end he sighed, nodding and planting a longing kiss on your head.

'Good. Now get me a blanket or something, I'm fucking freezing.' he laughed, bumping his head gently to yours jokingly. Then he helped you get off him and opened one of the closet's drawers and grabbed a fuzzy blanket.

'Wait for me a second, I'll get something to clean up.' he told you as he quickly put his hoodie and pants back on. You nodded as he exited the bedroom. Wrapped up in the blanket, you searched for your phone in your bag. When you found it you quickly dialed Hyunjin's number, who picked up after just a couple of rings.

'Hello?' you could hear some noise in the background, so you assumed that they were maybe in a bar or something.

'Everything's fine.' you said, sitting down to wait for Chan to come back.

'Oh, I'm glad. I knew you would make him reason' just as he said that, you clearly heard Jisung yelling 'Are you done fucking or what' with some laugh erupting.

'Oh my Gosh' you replied, embarassed while you pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

'Shit! Yn, I'm so sorry about that. This motherfucker is just jealous you're getting some' he chuckled, as you heard Jisung saying something along the lines of 'Fuck you'.

'Hyunjin!' you scolded him, not being able to not laugh. They laughed.

'Sorry, sorry. We'll be back in an hour or so, bye!' and he hung up.

'You know, I would've betted on Jisung, because he's a nosy fucker.' you got startled by Chan's voice. He closed the door behind him again and scrunched down in front of you, gently helping you clean up with a warm damp towel.

'But he only talks behind people's back. Should've known it was Hyune.' he sighed. You smiled, messing with his hair.

'C'mon. You should be thankful. You started off wanting to punch a hole in the wall and now look at you'. you teased. He smirked, getting up and discarding the towel in the dirty clothes basket.

'Yeah, the power of pussy I guess' your mouth went slack, as you threw at him your previously discarded panties. He caught them, laughing hard at your outraged reaction.

'Oh so that's what I am to you, uh? Good to know, Christopher' you feigned annoyance and dramatically crossed your legs, looking away from him.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' he laughed, coming close to grab your had in between his hands and kissing you. 'You know It's not true. Well, not only-' you gasped in shock again as he threw his head back laughing.

'You little-'

♡︎.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That's it folks! I know it was quite a rollercoaster, but hopefully decent nonetheless. Until next time <3

[kunikinnie]

Hiii! How are you? Hope you are well! I was searching through Fukuzawa X reader's tag and I saw your headcanons for "accidently hurting their SO" and it was soooo cute!! Are your requests open, by any chance? If they are, is there any chance you could write headcanons with the same prompt, but with Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa and Atsushi? If they are not, just know that you are a great writer and I just loved your work!!

a/n: HELLO I'M ALIVE! sorry these SO LONG but here they are :) some of them might be ooc but ahkdjsf also if you're curious i was reading Spinning Gears while writing Aku's so ye

warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, blood, very angsty for some, probably ooc

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

featuring: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi x GN!Reader

Dazai Osamu

There was something uncertain that stirred something deep within him - something he couldn't bring himself to face.

It could've been anything: the staleness of the air, the lingering aftertaste of the shitty coffee he had that morning, an intrusive thought he left uncontrolled, the sadness of the setting sun...

Not knowing the source bothered him. It bothered him so much that although words were flying exasperatedly throughout the room, he had regressed into his own mind.

It was the wrong move. He had underestimated how powerful the darkness was, and as it continued to grow like a whirlpool, he was swallowed into an ocean of abandoned thoughts.

He hadn't felt like this in years. Memories and voices from those times reverberated so strongly that nothing from the current moment could touch him. He didn't even have any idea what was happening.

Yet just a single phrase had managed to penetrate, and as soon as it hit it had triggered something despicable.

It was the silence that followed that snapped him out of it, not the stinging sensation at the back of his hand.

You slowly slumped down the wall and onto the floor. Not for a single moment did your stunned expression or blank eyes waver - in your silent tears flowed the last drops of your energy.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Why were you apologizing? It was he who had done wrong, so why-

"Y/N..." he weakly called out, only to be met with another apology.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..."

He fell down to his knees before tightly embracing your whole body. He apologized once more, yet you didn't even stir. Another attempt amounted to nothing. Desperate to feel something from you, his grasp on you tightened further.

"Y/N, I love you-"

How many times had he said that? Countless times at this point, countless. Each and every one was as genuine as it could get - he hoped you knew that - yet none of them seemed to reach the same level of sincerity and regret to those declarations of those moments.

For all the eloquent speech this man had cultivated over the years, there he was, repeating the same three words over and over again - each iteration once more getting twice as desperate - until finally your hand grasped his shirt.

He could still feel your tears flowing freely, but at least you relaxed somewhat, letting him relax somewhat as well.

"I love you too," you weakly replied. "I love you so much... idiot..."

No words were exchanged after that; perhaps none were needed, or rather none existed that could fill in that need. The whole night he never let you go - not even once - as you two reconciled in each other's presence in silence.

Nakahara Chuuya

It's no secret that Chuuya's temper was more volatile than his favorite wine. Depite that, however, he doesn't let his emotions get the better him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it this far in the mafia hierarchy.

Today was different. The stressful events of the week left him with hardly any room to breathe, and an argument at home was the last thing he needed.

"Can't you handle that shit yourself, Y/N?!"

He knew that you knew that there were times, such as now, when he should not be approached. So why were you here, being more insistent than ever?

The tone of your voice was already rubbing off of him, and you just had to-

"Fucking hell-"

Without thinking, he kicked the chair beside him. The poor thing managed to take most of his anger, but a piece of debris had unfortunately broken off and flew, hitting you squarely on the face.

It was in such unbelievably perfect timing that Chuuya thought at first his mind had come this stupid situation until he heard your scoff clearly.

"What the-"

Before you could process what had happened, he ran to you and grabbed you into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You just stood there, still confused. Your forehead stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the warmth you were enveloped in all of the sudden. You had expected a raging anger and frustration from Chuuya but it just... disappeared.

"Shit- I really didn't mean to, Y/N. I'm sorry-"

Were you relieved to hear that from him? Sure, a bit. But what about the fury that was all-consuming just a while ago? What were you to do with that?

Your silent rumination only unsettled him more. If he clueless as to what you were thinking, he would be just as lost as with what to do.

"Let's go over it again, okay? I'm not going to get mad this time."

More than the chair, it was his words that he flung at you that upset him the most now that he was sober from his emotions.

"I swear I won't get mad. So talk to me. Please. Y/N-"

He was vigorously but gently shaking your shoulder all the while, hoping to get something from you.

And he finally did - but a loud laugh was not what he expected.

"This is so stupid."

It was his turn to be confused. Yes, it was stupid - stupid of him to have done any of that - but he had no idea what you meant by that.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his neck. "I mean - a flying piece of broken chair? Really?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N-"

"I'm also sorry," you finally said calmly. "I knew you've been stressed recently, but I-"

"It's still my fault. It ain't your fault."

"No. It's mine."

"The heck are you saying?"

You stared at him again, pouting this time yet barely able to contain your laughter.

"Tsk. We are not going to fight over this," he answered playfully.

As quickly as the tension built so did it dissipate - a feature of most of your quarrels that the two of you were grateful to have.

You embraced him tightly once more. "I'm so lucky to have you, Chuuya."

Although you couldn't see his face, you could feel his smile spread. "Same here."

"I love you, Chuuya."

He loosened his grip on you before kissing you on the forehead. "I love you too."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You both knew this would happen eventually. Yet that didn't make things any easier when it did.

The rage had blinded him instantly; he didn't even realize it happen. Within a split second there was a reddish-black flash and a small familiar gasp.

The scent of blood triggered such a vivid vision for him. You had fallen to the floor soundlessly, and there you were lying lifelessly. It was a vision he'd seen many times before - in lucid moments, in delirium, oftentimes in his sleep.

It couldn't be real this time... could it? By instinct, he covered his right eye with his hand. There he still saw the same bloody scene, while on the left eye he saw that there was nothing in front of him: no pool of blood and no motionless corpse. But as what always happened when he tried to disillusion himself, a headache then formed.

Only letting himself relax a bit, Akutagawa began to slowly look for you. He was sure there was blood spilled - although his eyes failed him, his nose never did. The same goes for all his other senses, it seemed, and so he let those four lead them to you.

He landed in front of a mahogany door. The sobbing and shuffling were unmistakable to him despite the thickness of the wood muffling the sounds significantly. He carefully approached and knocked on it lightly before calling out your name.

"Y/N...?"

The whimpering did not stop in the slightest, shaking him further. What if you weren't actually there and his hearing became unreliable as well?

"Y/N, please answer. I need to know you're there..."

His eyes saw fresh blood ooze out of the gap between the door and the floor. No. There was nothing there; his nose and fingers confirmed it. Shit. His delusions were getting worse even if both of his eyes were closed.

"Y/N, please... forgive me-"

There was no way you could, he thought. You shouldn't, you wouldn't, and if it was true that he had hurt you let alone kill you, then he wouldn't forgive himself either.

The gentle creak of the door jolted him despite how soft and slow you opened the door. He was met by a disheveled and tear-stricken you, blood slowly dripping down from your left arm. So many words flashed by in his vision but the only one that came out of his lips was your name.

"Y/N..."

His hand slowly reached for you - although where it aimed to touch it had no idea - as he waited for any sign from you to stop. You seemed fine with it, and his fingers ended up softly landing on the wound. It was just a graze, fortunately, however the bleeding was still continuous.

He unleashed Rashoumon to wrap and put pressure on the wound. "We should get you to a hospital," he said in a low and gentle voice.

You two wordlessly walked to the nearest clinic, almost wordlessly had your wound treated, and just as silently went back home. The entire time his still persistent headache throbbed along with the worries of what exactly it was you were thinking then. How could you still be okay with this? Or were you already planning to leave him then and there? If that was the best for you, then he had no choice than to accept it.

"Ryuu..." It was so affectionate that he thought he was delusional again. "How's your headache?"

His eyes widened at your words. How did you notice that? "It's not so terrible," he replied weakly. Really, it should be him asking how you were.

"That's good."

Before you entered your own room, he pulled on your other arm (gently) to explain himself. His delusions have been getting worse, that's why his instincts targeted you in his anger. That's what happened, wasn't it? But making such excuses was for weak men, and weak as he may be he couldn't bring himself to waste your sanity any further. He decided to apologize, but he ended up staring intensely into your eyes the entire time.

"It's alright. It's really alright."

"It isn't," he quickly asserted. "And it won't happen again."

Your smile, although weak from that night's endeavors, seemed genuine enough to him. It truly must have been real with the way it somehow subsided his headache. Still, it wasn't enough to wipe away the guilt.

And so he had decided to sleep on the couch: a preemptive measure and act of penance. But it wasn't like he could actually sleep after what happened. Most likely he would've spent the entire night reflecting on the incident and on ways to make it up to you.

"What are you doing?" There was a mix of curiosity, confusion, and amusement in your voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Without waiting for him to reply, you pulled on his arm and dragged him to bed. Your arms then wrapped themselves tightly on his waist.

"...isn't it dangerous? I might hurt you again." He was referring to his dreams affecting his physical sleeping, but his mind had pinned a larger meaning to it.

"You might," you answered nonchalantly. "But knowing you, it would never be intentional."

The gentle weight of your head on his chest had always soothed him. "You trust me too much."

"I do. It's because I love you too much, you know?"

You heard a small scoff, but even if you couldn't see his face you knew it accompanied a small smile.

"I don't know how rough you're having it right now, but please know that my love for you is real... just as I know your love for me is real."

Oh, if only you knew how much those words mattered to him- no. It would be too much.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered as he embraced you tighter.

"I love you too." You then snuggled deeper into his chest. "Good night, Ryuu. Sweet dreams."

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi was always afraid that he'd hurt you some way or the other, and so he was always extremely careful with anything that involved you. Even in arguments he did his best to collect himself (not that he got THAT angry anyway - most of the time he just becomes sad) and not break down in front of you spontaneously.

That's why he wasn't sure why he got so worked up this time. Perhaps everything has just been overwhelming recently and you getting angry at him was simply the final straw. Was he truly such a failure at everything to everyone?!

He was grasping a glass of milk to drink and calm himself when the frustration rushed through his blood. His grip tightened and shattered the glass, spilling liquid, shards, and blood everywhere.

Of course, you somehow quickly remained level-headed and tried to attend to his injury.

"Wait let me see your-"

As soon as your hand grazed his, he swatted it away with great force. Leave me alone, it screamed, and you heard the message loud and clear. Too clear, perhaps, since you took a few steps back to counter the impact.

Your silent and intense stare was what brought him out of it. Just the idea of hitting you, let alone that powerfully, was just so unimaginable to him that he began to break down.

It must've been the tiger's uncontrollable strength again - it's always been that. Whenever he loses control himself it's that wild beast that takes over, causing Atsushi to commit acts of savergy.

But there was no ability at that moment. There was no tiger. There was nothing to blame it on, except himself. By instinct, he retreated to himself and fell to the floor, staring at nothing in particular.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't know what I was thinking-"

His stammering and shivering were so intense - it was unlike anything you've seen before. Apology after apology came, but did the complete opposite of relieving you.

You slowly approached him, wondering if you should try and touch him again. Usually your gentle shoulder rubs were enough to calm him down.

"Atsushi...?"

More than being hurt once again, you were more afraid that he'd regressed into that place again.

You tried to snap him out of it slowly: gently talking to him, reassuring him, trying to convince him that you weren't going anywhere despite what happened and will happen.

And by some miracle it worked. His tear-stricken eyes met yours, and the softness in them finally returned.

"Are you okay?" You asked once more.

"Y-yeah, I'm fi- No, wait. Are you okay?"

His hand instinctively shot up to check your hand and arm, but it stopped right before it grazed your skin. What the heck was thinking, trying to grab you right after that?

"Oh, don't worry too much. I'm fine. There's no wound and it probably won't bruise."

Atsushi wanted to breathe easily after hearing you say that but there was more to the question that needed answering. Thankfully, you caught on quickly.

"I swear, I'm fine." You smiled at him again and gently pat his head. "You've apologized enough. So let's just clean up this mess, okay?"

Before you could even attempt to stand up, he practically grabbed you and squeezed your whole being as he buried his head in your neck.

"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered before hugging you even tighter. "I love you so, so much. I promise I'll do better next time."

You returned the gesture. Awgh. How much your heart swelled despite what happened. "I love you too, Atsushi."

Taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @kunikida-simp

[prettyboykatsuki]

territorial woes | k. leona

✮ tags ; fem!reader (referred to as leonas woman very briefly) fluff, territorial / needy leona , he is sickly in love in this sorry they're so domestic, one singular sex joke, this is a college au so everyone is over 18 for sake of my sanity, sfw but this blog is 18+ so minors don't follow please and ty

✮ wc ; 2k (? ? ?)

✮ a /n ; im so embarassed that this is leaving my fingertips actually. i do have to clarify like... i dont rlly think leona gets jealous easily but he can be kind of childish bc he's spoiled if that makes sense lmao. i was so Plauged by this i couldnt sleep its like 4am. i took my melatonin at midnight im so sick. blame @/petrichorium i am not responsible.

✮ synopsis ; leona kingscholar is often annoyed, but not usually over something like this.

He shouldn't have come to class.

The clock on the wall is agitating. Tick, tick, tick. On repeat over and over, plainly the same and piercing. Leona is sensitive to his surroundings, and particularly to noise.

He hates loud noises and sharp cries and he hates the sound of the damn clock in Trein's classroom. He's never been a fan of the classroom setting, general lack of motivation aside. It goes against his very nature to listen to boring lectures and sit through assignments he's already done hundreds of times.

All of his education from being young royalty paid off but ultimately amounts to nothing, because if he wants to graduate he still has to do this all over again.

He's a hunter, so he's not opposed to sitting and lying in wait if there's a promise of reward at the end. If all this sitting around with a twitching ear and bored sigh would amount to anything he'd be a little less annoyed with attending.

And there was one, originally. A thing, that Leona had wanted (which he can only admit to himself begrudgingly) that was worth hauling his ass out of the peaceful botanical garden and into class today. That very thing which is currently giggling their heart out to one of those idiot freshman from the Heartslyabul dorm.

Tick, tick, tick. Leona snaps his jaw close and tears his eyes from the sight, nose scrunched in frustration with a knuckle pushed against his temple.

He wants to go back to his dorm. But he can't. He won't until he gets what he even came for.

The presence of another person alerts his senses, but he relaxes upon realizing it's Ruggie, sitting on the edge of his desk with that usual smug air about him. Leon passes him a glance but doesn't say a word.

"Somethin' troublin' you, my liege? Shyehehe."

Leona all but growls.

"Shut your trap or I'll hang you up by your tail."

"Ouch. That bothered by it, huh?"

"I'm not bothered by squat."

Ruggie laughs hard at that and Leona considers throwing him through a wall. Ruggie is also looking ahead where you at, staring a little more openly than Leona is. He whistles under his breath. He can't remember the names of the two brats, but they're always together. One of them with orange hair and the other with the short blue.

"They're pretty close with those two, yanno. Heard they were having sleep-overs and all durin' their first year.''

Leona narrows his eyes. The clock ticks on. Ruggie grins and Leona knows he should just up and leave. It's stupid to be hanging around here. It's lame that he's even looking. He should just go up there and—

"They're best friends, basically. Been like that since before you two had a thing going too. Way before that, I think."

Leona knows well enough what Ruggie is doing. What Hyena's are good at, goading his annoyance to push him to act. He's looking for a show, and Leona is nearly tempted to give him one. Nearly.

You're not the fierce type like the women back home. You probably wouldn't think twice about it, just bat your little lashes and wave your friends goodbye like the herbivore you are if he decided to drag you away. You'd pester him, follow him around while he acted moody and cold for a while before frowning.

You'd get mad at first, before huffing and saying sorry for something you didn't even do. Mumbling and poking around until Leona eventually drags you in his bed to nap instead of being outright about any of it. If his sister-in-law knew he was acting like such a kid to his woman, he'd never hear the end of it. It's that voice in his head that keeps him stuck in his chair, seething.

"Not like you to be so docile, King." Ruggie says. Leona shoots him a mean enough glare that he backs away in fear.

It's not like he's being docile. Not really. There's more to it than that.

Thing is, Leona is used to being chased. Regardless of his inferiority in birthright, he's still royalty. Royalty means plenty of people itching to get in his good graces to get a taste of the highlife. Leona is used to cheap tactics of seduction and luxury in order to earn his favor - he can smell it from away. He's always half expecting to uncover secret intentions.

It never happens. You are all by all measures, frustratingly sincere. Leona doesn't really know how to respond to it. You don't pay mind to his royalty or his ability aside from a normal amount of awe. You're an herbivore firstly, and a stranger to this world after that. Whatever traits in Leona you've latched onto, he can't wrap his head around nor does he understand.

It's the first time in his life that he's gotten into a romantic entanglement like this. Where everything is all lovey-dovey and things are so important. He's always been respectful to his women but he's never been seriously in love in his life. It's different from just being decent. He cares what you think to an extent that's unfamiliar. It's not like he'd ever fix his mouth to say all that, but it really matters that he does things the right way.

Leona doesn't usually act in self-interest, to begin with. Cocky as he may be - he's still king and kings act in the interest of his people. Regardless of what it looks like, you are part of his people. His pride, in more simple terms.

It's not being docile as much as it's an effort to show some respect for you.

Leona isn't usually jealous about petty, trivial shit. It doesn't matter to him what you do or who you do it with in your own time. He likes that you're independent, too.

He is however, a territorial apex predator and a prince. For better or for worse whenever he looks at you, all he can see is to prey animals encroaching on his territory.

That's the part of him that's raring to go. Teeth clenched and agitated, brows all drawn together in frustration. Leona wants to go back to his dorm, but he wont without what he came for. It's putting him in a bad mood.

But ultimately, he doesn't move from his spot. Ruggie leaves eventually when his mood has soured completely. His head is on the desk and he's got his eyes closed, but his ears twitched at the sound of your chair dragging on the floor.

"Can you guys walk Grimm back to the door? I'm gonna go with Leona. Thanks! See you later,"

And just like that, the classroom clears of the last nuisances occupying it. Leaving only you and Leona and that ticking clock together.

He hears you walk up to him before he sees it. Your voice is annoyingly pleasant to listen to.

"Leona? You sleeping already?"

He's starting to understand why his older brother folded at every single word that came out of his sister-in-laws mouth. He lifts his head just barely to look at you and you're looking at him all wide-eyed. He wants to tick you off a little, but can't conjure up any ideas.

"You done with those little yippin' herbivores you call friends? Can we leave now?"

You frown.

"You're in a bad mood. And don't be mean to them, they are actually my friends, you know?"

He scoffs and your frown deepens.

"Leonaaa," You drag out the syllables of his name as you stand beside him "What's wrong with you?"

He hears you pull a chair up. When he finally sits up, you're sitting directly in front of him on a chair turned backwards. There's hardly any room between you. Your face is twisted up with worry.

Leona reaches to pinch your nose. You pull away making his lips twitch upward.

"I shouldn't've came to class." He complains. You rub your nose but don't say anything back, considering him.

"I didn't think it was that bad today though. I guess it might always be for you though since you know like, everything, but I don't—"

Before you can keep going, he leans forward to press his lips to yours. It shuts you up effectively. Your lips are soft. They're sweet and a little sticky - mouth warm and welcoming.

When he pulls away, you blink at him.

"What were you sayin'." He asks.

You look a little taken aback.

"I don't know. Oh, uhm. I liked the lesson. It's fun to learn stuff about this world, I guess." You stumble over your words like you're shy. It's ironic to him, but charming all the same.

He grins.

"What? You nervous after a little kiss?" He teases.

You flush.

"You're not usually that forward, dummy. Which brings me to my question again, what's up? You're sulking."

"What the hell? I'm not sulkin'"

"Yes you are. Your doing the little nose scrunch thing too. Did something happen?"

He pushes the comment about his nose scrunch away entirely because he's sure thinking about too long is gonna get on his nerves. He glares at you for a while, debating on what he should say. Truth is, he is a little pissed. But he isn't going to tell you that your little chat with friends is making him territorial. That would be ridiculous.

There's a brief moment of silence before you pause. You tilt your head, eyes shining with curiosity.

"...Were you lonely?" You suggest.

His face drops.

"You're not the jealous type usually, but you're like a big overgrown kitty. So, you missed me right? That's why you're moping?"

The tone of your voice makes him want to pinch you again.

"Watch your mouth, herbivore." He grits, agitation rolling back into his tone like a wave. And you laugh, the nerve of you. Giggle a little as you lean in closer.

"You didn't say no."

"Shut up." He says, weakly.

"Leona," You say his name again, a little sweeter. Purposefully full of affection and he hates everything about how mushy it's making him feel. You reach your hand up to his head, petting behind his ears in the place you know he likes "I'm sorryyy,"

"Do you go 'nd tuck your tail between your legs like this for everyone? Where's your self-respect, huh?" He means to say with a lot more characteristic sarcasm.

But it all comes out gross and sweet sounding instead.

"Mm, no? It's just that my boyfriend is pretty shit at being honest about his feelings so if I don't dote on him he'll wither away like a houseplant and—"

He covers your mouth with his hand and glares at you, faux annoyed. And you're giggling against his palms, all bely laughs. It's all a little nauseating for him. He pulls away by cupping your jaw instead, squishing your face together.

"When'd you get so damn mouthy?" He grumbles.

"Since forever ago." You say through squished lips. He huffs, leaning forward to kiss you a second time. You're all soft everywhere. Squishy and mellow. Leona kisses you three times in the process, each one a little more impatient than the last before releasing you.

He doesn't let go, hand going to cup the back your neck instead. He cradles your head close, sighing against your mouth.

"Annoying," He says. You smile at him and he has to look away to deal with the intensity of it.

"You love me." You say with a smile. If only you knew the half of it.

He doesn't say that of course. Just scoffs as he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. The warmth of your body makes him purr.

"In your dreams. You owe me for cuttin' into my naptime."

"What can I do for you my liege?" You say sarcastically, grabbing his hand openly. He squeezes it "You wanna take a nap with me?"

"Can't promise I'll get you in my bed and not fuck you about it." He says with a lazy chuckle. You nudge his side.

"You're so crass."

"You love me," He mocks. You huff.

"Unfortunately, I do. Could use some rest though," You yawn, and blinking blearily "So nap time it is. 'kay?"

He kisses the side of your head.

"Sounds good t'me."

[maochira]

Ok, but I absolutely love platonic/family relationship fics

So what if Chigiri had a younger sibling, by like 4 years, who also had long hair, and they were very close, and chigiri would do their hair.

So after his leg injury he kinda grew distant and stopped doing their hair and kinda ignored them.

But one day he saw them struggling to do the hair style he use to do for them, and they get frustrated tears, since they can't do their hair like him, and they just miss him.

You guys are feeding me so well with these asks about family headcanons today omg please never stop. Requests are open, so suggest as much as you want. I write for every Blue Lock character!

Tags: hurt/comfort (my favourite), gn!reader, Chigiri has recovered from his injury for a couple weeks aka he can walk normally again, Chigiri is 16, reader is 12

-you always loved it when your big brother took some extra time in the morning to do your hair before the two of you had to leave for school, it was one of the few times a day when you got to be completely alone with your big brother. You always talked about anything and everything on your mind

-but then, he injured his leg. And he's been so different ever since it happened.

-you were worried and felt sorry for him, so Hyoma doing your hair in the mornings has been the last of your concerns. But whenever you would attempt to talk to him, he would either respond super dryly, ignore you or simply send you away

-and it upsets you. A lot. But you keep that pain to yourself because hey, Hyoma went through so much more pain with his leg and he's probably still in emotional pain, so you decide to not bother him anymore

-the more absent Hyoma acts towards you, the more you start missing all those mornings when he did your hair. So one morning, when you see he got ready earlier than usually, you decide to ask if he can do your hair for today

-even though a part of you knew he was going to decline, as soon as the word "no" leaves his mouth, you feel extremely upset again. But you're also angry at him. So you decide to do your hair on your own, rushing to the bathroom to attempt styling your hair like your big brother used to do it

-but after countless attempts, you can't get it right. There's always a strand left out, it's asymmetrical or it looks too messy. And it frustrates you. So. Much.

-you can't hold your tears back anymore. You feel a mix of frustration about not getting your hair right, missing how close you used to be with Hyoma, and the emotions you hid away because Hyoma had it worse than you

-and you're so angry at your hair. You grab scissors, about to cut your hair off when-

-Hyoma enters the bathroom and takes the scissors out of your hand.

-"What do you think you're doing???" He almost yells at you. He can't believe you would just cut off your beautiful hair like that

-all the emotions inside of you make you yell back, louder than intended. "It's your fault!"

-those words hit him like a truck. He wants to be mad at you for blaming your emotional outburst on him, but he worries way too much about you. Seeing the tears running down your cheeks, dropping down onto your shirt just makes his heart hurt.

-he pulls you into a hug, which is something he hasn't done in a while. He holds you until you finally calm down a little bit. He cleans your face with a wet towel, then makes you sit down so he can do your hair like he used to before his injury

-when he's halfway done with your hair, he asks you to talk about your feelings. He doesn't want you going to school with your thoughts being a mess. So you open up and tell him about everything

-Hyoma feels incredibly guilty. He didn't even notice how much this affected you. He finishes your hair, pulls you into a really long hug and apologizes over and over, promising he'd try to be a better brother again

-he doesn't do it every day, but at least twice a week Hyoma takes his time for you to do your hair again. You slowly start to bond again, but things still don't quite return to how they used to be before his injury

[drev-the-procrastinator]

Ohhh thanks for the tag Ev!! Ohoo let's see

Last song: Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron

Currently watching: Sorta Mob Psycho II, all the drama on my dash about the 2nd season is kinda making me wanna try Good Omens, planning a BNHA rewatch, and also gotta rewatch some Owl House for a little fic thing uvu

Currently reading: Operation Hail Mary by Andy Weirrrrrrrrrr I LOVE that book. Although I am reading it in Finnish so it's actually Operaatio Ave Maria. There's also a Terry Pratchett book I'm in the middle of, but I don't remember the English name rn... Oh! And I also gotta read some articles on gathering oral history for my bachelor's degree essay materials qvq

Current obsession: my own fics always but specifically the TOH fics!! so elegantly named hypothetical toh fic, the road trip fic (less obsessed with this one atm ngl) aaaand toh fic 3 :) I wrote a whole 200 words of one of them today!!! Also low-key obsessed with playing minecraft with my friends :)

Tagging @mimuliliava, @zyrafowe-sny, @unholycross aaaand @peach-oolong-tea, if you want :)

Tagged by @voxofthevoid

Last Song: Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. Got the whole album after hearing it on @words-writ-in-starlight's Kencyrath playlist!

How dare you love me like you've never known fear When you've got more troubles than minutes in the year And a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free Well that may be, but you're walking home to me

Currently Watching: Brain not currently accepting video input? Really wanna finish Spy x Family and watch Nimona tho. And Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Currently Reading: Uhhh. Uhhhhhhh.

Non-fiction (Academic)- Collecting, Preserving, and Interpreting the History of Electronic Games by Jon-Paul C. Dyson for an essay I should be writing about the "discourse community" around archiving video games and connected materials

Non-fiction (Leisure)- Word by Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries by Kory Stamper and The Billionaire's Vinegar by Benjamin Wallace (it's about wine fraud)

Fiction- direly tempted to, instead of writing my essay, start either In the Watchful City by S. Qiouyi Lu (an extrasensory human, Anima, starts to question ær job maintaining and protecting ær city when a cabinet of curiosities comes to town) (FUN PRONOUNS) or Tentacle by Rita Indiana (trans masc protagonist in the Dominican Republic tries to get transition drug and also prevent environmental disaster with time travel)

Fanfiction- where are they fucking hiding the Star Wars clone shenanigans. This fandom is massive why can't I find more CLONES and (this is important) co-dependence and polyamory. Anakin is a background character unless it gets me more Padme and Obi-wan being considerate and kind translating directly to bottoming has gotten old fast

Current Obsession: I have brainworms about GrimmIchi and have recently been consumed by Don't Starve Together (game).

Tagging: Gabe (above), @aethersea @tanoraqui @smallblueandloud @thesuninperigee @starcloud-nova @firecoloredwater and @mothman-etd

[otteli2000]

Okay so my Resident Evil Chreon! AU

Here's some world building:

-Chris and Leon met at some point through Claire and it was love at first sight. They ended up in the bathroom of bar they were in and they haven't let go of each other since. They moved with each other within a matter of weeks and got married soon because life is too short to not be with the one you love

-Jill was never controlled by Weskher. She and Carlos got married after Racoon City and later had twin girls (Because Carlos is such a girldad). Jill is still working with Chris at the BSAA while Carlos, after the death of his whole platoon, decided to retire. He's now a househusband and a stay-at-home dad and he LOVES it

-Claire and Rebecca also are together in this universe because I said so

Now, onto the actual story, during a mission, Leon gets hurt, bad, and almost dies. Of course, he survives but he messed up his leg and the doctors force him to retire which leads him to basically being a caged lion in his and Chris' apartment; pacing around with nothing to do because he already cleaned everything. Twice.

Chris, obviously, is pretty worried about his husband and talks about it with Jill who suggests for them to move into the house next to her and Carlos. It's already up to sale but it's pretty and cheap so it won't stay on sale for long so Chris buys it right away without talking to Leon who is pretty pissed once he tells him. They argue but when he finally, and reluctantly, agrees to visit their new house, he agrees it was too good of an opportunity to pass on.

Of course, right next door, Carlos is basically vibrating with excitement because he finally got someone to bother and he fully intends to show Leon that staying home isn't such a bad thing.

So as soon as Chris and Leon are settled in, Carlos starts dragging him to all kind of activities; taking the twins to the park, local football matches, community events like barbecues.

And at first, Leon complains everytime because that's just who he is but eventually, he's the one who takes the initiative to go over to Jill and Carlos' house to ask him what they're doing today (Carlos tackles him into a hug, laughing like a maniac).

So Leon takes on some hobbies like gardening which he doesn't suck at as much as he thought. He's even pretty good at it, enraging the local Karen when his garden wins a prize in the neighborhood contest.

Leon comes to realize that being a civilian again doesn't suck as much as he thought and that retirement might be the best thing that could have happened to him (Beside Chris of course)

Chris is super grateful because it finally feels like he's getting the old Leon back (He buys Carlos the most expensive bottle of whiskey on the market)

And then one day, as they're getting to bed, Chris can see something is bothering Leon so he asks him what's wrong.

"What do you think of having kids?"

And Chris absolutely did NOT see this coming. At all. Leon had never been much of a fan of kids before (Except for Jill and Carlos' daughters because they're just too cute to resist) so he's pretty surprised by his husband's question but he can't deny how warm and fuzzy the image of the two of them makes him feel inside.

They start looking into adoption the very next day and Carlos burst into tears a few months later when they ask him to be their son's godfather (He doesn't even deny it unlike Jill who pretends she didn't tear up when they asked her to be the godmother)

Claire complains to Chris that as his sister, shouldn't she have had dibs on being his kid's godmother? The next year, Chris and Leon adopt again, a girl this time, and they name Claire their daughter's godmother

So this is it. Sorry for clogging the tags with this fluff-fest, I just needed to get it out of my head ❤️

[weltato]

Why I Think Toad Is So Obsessed With Speed - Long Post

This is a long post (and mostly a wall of text, sorry) about The Wind In The Willows, specifically the 2016/17 musical version since I haven't read the book in a very long time.

TL;DR in the tags

Using my new friend Medical News Today I have found an article via Google that was medically reviewed by someone with a PhD, so I'm kind of inclined to believe this is pretty accurate. It's littered with references too, as all good articles should be.

This article is about the definition and symptoms of an "adrenaline junkie" (also known as a "thrill-seeker" or a "daredevil") - I think Toad is addicted to the adrenaline and the feeling he gets the faster he goes. He's not just bad at driving because he doesn't bother to learn, he's bad at driving because he actively enjoys and is seeking out the danger to get another hit. To quote Ratty in 'Speed Is Of The Essence' -> "Speed is an addiction, and alas poor Toad is hooked." He really is hooked, it's plain to see through the show.

He goes from boat to boat, then to a horse-drawn cart (despite the horse's desire to not have a fast paced life, hence why she decided to pull barges instead), then to a motorcar and then finally (by the end of the show at least) to a jetpack. We see what happens with the motorcar through the show - Toad is obsessed with the thing. He says multiple times that he needs more speed (both in 'The Amazing Mr Toad' and in little moments through the show that I can't remember right now, but he says it at least twice) and even repeats the line "speed is the quintessence of what Toad is all about" from earlier in the show. He even stole some bloke's car when he couldn't have one of his own; he faked a heart attack (poorly, but he did it) which scared Mole so much that he ran off just for Toad to bounce back up again two seconds later without a care to go and steal a car.

Now, I could go on a whole other post about Toad's relationship and attitude towards Ratty, Mole, Badger, etc., but I won't right now. Maybe later, who knows. Just know that it's there.

Even when in jail, he didn't seem too bothered. Yes he was dramatic and over the top and yes he was devastated to be in prison, but he was doing it for the attention. It wasn't a subdued "oh I've done it this time" with how he took to the chains and the bars coming up, but rather a big show and dance and an "oh, woe is me, look how I've been wronged!" performance. Yes, most likely there for theatrical effect because it's a musical for all ages, but that's just it - Toad is theatrical. He annoys his escape route, but when she threatens to leave he goes quiet and apologises and then goes right back to being dramatic and happy-go-lucky. I do believe that was a genuine show of remorse to the Gaoler's Daughter, just like how he was when he realised the same guy was coming his way in the car and when he started singing 'The Finale', but as soon as he finds a way out he takes it and runs.

Sorry, I got a little off-track there, but here are the symptoms for when someone is getting dosed with epinephrine, which is the hormone your body produces when in the fight-or-flight response (which is a "reaction that occurs when a person senses or perceives they are in danger"):

increased heart rate

sweating

decreased feeling of pain

heightened awareness

sharpening of mental focus

increased strength

Now, I'm going to focus on these when they become relevant, because the first two that I notice the most is decreased pain and increased strength - have you noticed how many times Toad gets knocked off somewhere? Mole even says that he's been in hospital three times and that's just in the first two seasons that Mole knows him. He crashed the toff's car, then he was thrown off a moving train, then he fell into a canal (or wherever the barge was, I'm assuming a canal) which will not have been warm at all, and then he crashed the same car again! Even the tightening of the corset around him didn't wind him for long; probably set off his epinephrine again, idk.

Toad is usually a loud and brash and blustery fellow who has little regard for his or anyone else's safety, but one thing he isn't is a coward. I won't lie, I've tried to put that label on him because at first glance it suits him so well with how he tries to get his way out of the 20-year sentence, but he goes straight for the Chief Weasel when Portia is in danger - as usual, he fumbles at first, but he eventually gets the upper hand. He's a proud and ungrateful creature, as the Gaoler's Daughter said, but he's nothing if not creative; once given the chance (and really, his only escape option), he went head first into Being A Woman™. Being the first to fight against the Chief Weasel - "step away from that sir, step away I say!" - isn't just latent bravery: it's getting the sense of fear and the kick of adrenaline by being the Hero Of The Hour. He didn't even focus on being chased across six counties and causing thousands of pounds worth of damage, he just focused on having his Hall back.

Heightened awareness let's you pay more attention to details and analyse the things around you to greater length. Now, this isn't really shown by Toad in the show, apart from maybe how obsessed he is with his own motorcar and how he wants it to be perfect, but do you want to know who does keep note of everything? Ratty. That's more of an anxiety thing for him possibly, since he's exasperated with Toad for pretty much the entire show, but there is a moment at the end where Toad finally says out loud what he's recognised about himself - "sometimes I ask a lot, sometimes I lose the plot".

Again, sharpening of mental focus probably doesn't apply to Toad quite so much, but it does apply to Mole when he frightens the stoats that are guarding the door to Toad Hall - Mole is a cautious animal, despite the joy of the new adventures that he's finding through the show. We see it when he first finds the river and meets Ratty, literally jumping into his arms so as not to get wet. We see it when he tries to hide under his coat when learning about the Wild Woods. We especially see it when he goes into the Wild Woods itself to find Badger and gets ambushed by the Wild Wooders. Mole is easy to scare, and yet in the moment when he should be the most scared he uses Toad's discarded disguise to scare off the stoats who then go and tell the rest of the Wild Wooders.

Oh boy, sweating and increased heart rate. Well, with the adrenaline from the speed of the car (and the thrill of flying with the jetpack later on), then yes his heart rate will kick up. I can't really give sweating a proper thing here because being in a theatre production gets very hot under the stage lights and with the choreography and the amount of energy you need to play Toad's role (nowhere near as much as Elle Woods, but still a lot) then you'll be sweating anyway. In the filmed London production of WITW, you can visibly see the main cast are sweating, so this point is moot. However, generally with fear, sweating is aligned, e.g. 'woke in a cold sweat' symbolising a nightmare. Also, according to the Woodland Trust, toads virtually always have dry skin, so I'd say it would be very easy to tell if Toad was sweating.

Here's a direct quote from the article about the causes and psychology behind adrenaline junkies (the severe ones, the ones who are dependent): "An adrenaline junkie enjoys seeking out activities and experiences that trigger the release of epinephrine. They may feel a compulsion to take part in these pursuits, which often drives them further. When a person undergoes a stressful or intense experience, the amygdala releases the hormones norepinephrine and epinephrine. Bursts of norepinephrine can lead to extreme happiness or euphoria. According to a 2009 study, norepinephrine could be a key factor in a person becoming dependent. Anecdotal evidence suggests that this unconscious need for stimulation can affect the way a person’s everyday behaviour. An adrenaline junkie may therefore create drama in their life to trigger their body’s response to stress. There are few studies on why people enjoy risk-taking activities. However, some research shows that personality type can play a role in a person becoming more of a risk-taker. One 2013 study suggests risk-takers were more likely to have a personality that showed traits of low conscientiousness combined with high extraversion, high neuroticism, or both."

Mate. If this doesn't sum up Toad, idk what does!

Extreme happiness or euphoria?? We see that all the time! He's ecstatic to have his home back, he's a puddle of joy when he finally gets back into a motorcar, barely anything phases him even when Ratty is tearing into him about their past friendship. Of course Toad creates drama, did you see the 'As If In A Dream' sequence? 'The Amazing Mr Toad' was pretty dramatic too, he had an entire performance and wasn't bothered by the hedgehogs at all - he didn't hear them over his joy of getting (what I assume to be) a fake award that was just for show, most likely. According to that 2013 study, Toad definitely has the traits of a risk-taker, at least in my opinion.

Now, in all of this, I'm not talking about substance abuse. This isn't someone administering adrenaline to Toad, but rather about him seeking out thrills to get the feeling of adrenaline and the euphoria that comes with it. This is all natural. At least, in a human sense, and since I'm mostly focusing on the more humanised musical version of WITW, this makes sense. As for the original animals they are based off, I have no idea, I'm not an animal expert.

As with any addiction, there are withdrawal symptoms:

cravings to do the thing he wants to do (as previously mentioned, he fakes a heart attack just to steal a car so he doesn't have to stay cooped up without a car)

less interest in other activities besides what he wants to do (the entire show is about Toad chasing speed, even yelling at the train driver to shovel in more coal to make the train go faster, and he gets bored of things very easily)

negative emotions, such as frustration, agitation, and restlessness (again, see the faking a heart attack scene; he's restless and runs Ratty and Mole around, even Badger to some extent, and gets very easily frustrated [such as when the guard was making a joke at his expense])

"A 2017 study states that individuals suffering from a compulsion to specific actions can reduce tension, stress, or anxiety by carrying them out."

I refer you to the moment when he's back in the toff's car after he's been thrown off the barge: he jumps up and down, requests to get in and then gives it a hug. Here's a picture.

See the smile? All tension and stress at being found out? Gone.

He's in his element, he's back where he feels he belongs. It's euphoric.

This article says that there is no inherent risk involved with leading an "exciting life" but it also says that if things get dangerous and out of hand then one should seek medical attention. These things include:

putting their health and well-being in danger (been in hospital at least 3 times, crashed at least 3 times over the course of the show, got thrown off a moving train and fell off a barge into (very most likely) freezing cold water)

causing distress (see Ratty, Mole and Badger through the show, and also that poor man who's car he stole twice)

causing the person not to fulfil their work, home, or other responsibilities (Toad? Responsible? As if!)

Also, remember the line "then he staggered, and he stumbled, and he fell on one knee"? Well, in the article following this main one, one of the changes to the body during an adrenaline rush is "redirecting blood toward the muscles, causing a surge in energy or shaking limbs". Staggering and stumbling? Well, the guy's just fallen from a barge into cold water and is still in shock from it, makes sense that he'd be all over the place.

Getting a jetpack is the next big thing because he's finally grown weary of motorcars. Finally. Once again, in 'Speed Is Of The Essence' Mrs Otter and Ratty tell both Mole and the audience that "[Toad's] tastes are rather fickle." Toad is showing off by flying around and arriving to his party in a jetpack...and so the cycle starts all over again!

For now, that's all I have to say on Toad. I want to hear what other people think! Even if this gets nowhere I'll have still written it down. Maybe I'll do more deep diving on the other characters soon.

[scuttling]

Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

���Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

[harleysarchive]

Among You and Me - Corpse Husband x reader oneshot

Fandom: Corpse Husband, youtubers Warning: Swearing, me being in a good mood when I wrote it so a happy, positive reader, alcohol, hangovers, comfidence boost Pairing: Corspe x reader Summary: You got some extra confidence after having a couple of drinks and write a message to Corpse during his live stream, he answeres you messages and everything continues from there.

Next >

A/N: I was in a super good mood when I started to write this and it shows, I’m sorry if it’s annoying and I don’t know if it’s shit but yeaah. Enjoy! :D

You were watching Corpse Husbands stream among us and was just having a good time. You had had a couple of drinks before the stream so you were in such a great mood. You melted every time he laughed because he couldn’t do the card swipe and just thought of how adorable he was. In your intoxicated mindset you got a confidence boost and opened the stream chat and also instagram. In the stream chat you donated 10$ and wrote “you are the most adorable person on this planet and you deserve the world! Thank you for exciting, love y/n” and hit enter, and also doing the same on Instagram on private messages.

He won’t see that, you thought to yourself and turned on some music to match your good mood and after a while forgetting about your stream that was on. Some days life is just great!

You had fallen asleep and woke up with a hangover, all the positive feelings you had yesterday were gone and now you just wanted to stay in bed all there with some aspirins. Looking at your phone seeing that nothing interesting had happened. You were scrolling through your feed on instagram and saw that you had an unanswered message. You opened it and saw that it was from Corpse.

You flew up in your bed and were staring at your phone.

I can’t believe he answered me, you said. Your hands were shaking and you were too nervous to open the message. Maybe he was annoyed with you for messaging him. Nooo he seems like a nice guy so I don’t think he is.

You opened the message and it read:

“Thank you for your kind words! I saw your donation and the message, means a lot 🖤”

You buried your face into the pillow and screamed for all that you were worth. He answered. You also felt ridiculous for reacting like this but there is no hindering the fangirl when she is out.

Your fingers were shaking but you wanted to reply so badly.

“Thank you! I can’t believe that you actually answered or noticed my message, it made my day honestly. Can’t wait for more content from you!” You hit send and left the bed. You had things to do today and if you were home you were only going to look at your phone all day to see if he would answer you. So to not get tempted you left your phone at home.

You came back to your apartment in the afternoon and we’re dying to check your messages. So you unlocked your phone and went straight to messages. Nothing. You felt a pang of disappointment but you tried to not dwell on it. He had probably many girls messaging him how much they love him and so on. You went to the kitchen and started to cook some dinner. But when you were preparing some vegetables you got a ding from your phone. You went over and saw that you had a message on Instagram. From Corpse. Your heart first stopped and then sped up like crazy. He answered you again! Wtf?!

“That's so kind of you to say, thank you! There will be a new stream tomorrow :)”

“Omg I’m gonna die” you said. Well if you died now you would be okay with it because you had been noticed by Corpse not once but twice.

“Yay can’t wait! I will be glued to the screen!” You answered and immediately felt embarrassed by your response.

Two days later you were waiting for the stream to begin. You had bought some of your favorite ice-cream in honor for tonight. The stream started and you heard Corpse say multiple times that he was super nervous and a shitty impostor. You felt your heart melt for him, he is so sweet and precious. You donated money to him and wrote “you don’t have to be nervous, you are doing great! It’s super entertaining! Love y/n” and hit send. You saw your donation in the chat.

“”you don’t have to be nervous, you are doing great! It’s super entertaining! Love (y/n)” thank you (y/n), that means a lot to hear right now. And I remember your picture from Instagram. Nice to see that you are watching the stream.”

The ice-cream you were about to eat dropped to the floor and you just sat there with an open mouth. He remembered your picture. HE FUCKING REMEMBERED YOUR PICTURE!

The rest of the stream was a fog in your memory because you were still stuck on the moment that he remembered you from your profile picture. Nothing could top that. Nothing. When the stream ended you turned of your computer and were of to bed. But there was no way in hell that you were going to fall alseep after something like that. Your phone lit up again and you saw that you had a new message from instagram. You opened up the app and it was from Corpse!

“I hope you liked the stream today :)” he wrote and again your heart raced like crazy. 

“I did it was super entertaining to watch! I think you are an incredible impostor.” you hit send. Not long after you got a reply.

“Thanks, I am very nervous during the streams and I hope that is not annoying or it bothering those who are watching it.”

“Not at all, well at least for me. I think it makes you more genuine when you confess that you can get nervous even though you are a big youtuber 😊”

 “Well I’m not a big youtuber... but it’s nice to read all your kind words in the chat. It makes me happy.”

“I’m glad that we can help you feel better, and I mean every word I’m sending you.”

You saw that he started to reply, but you had to go to sleep so you turn off the phone and closed your eyes. Surprisingly enough you fell asleep quite quickly, and woke up by the sun hitting your face. Fall has jsut begun and the leaves were turning every beautiful colour of red, yellow and orange. When you brain had woken up more you remembered that Corpse had started to reply to your message. You quickly grabbed your phone and went on instagram. A new message, 8 hours ago. 

Shit, you thought and opened it. It was just a smiley face and nothing else. A little disappointed but then you saw the conversation that the two of you had had. You actually talked to him and he had replied instantly. Your brain must’ve given you some weird confidence and stable fingers at that moment. You didn’t really know what to reply so you just let it be and you didn’t want to annoy him with spamming his dm’s either - but you really, really wanted to.

Corpse POV.

Another day and another sleepless night. That is just my life right now. But the streams helped them make it a little less agonizing. Especially the nice comments I get from everyone and the conversation I had with one of the fans. What was her name again? (Y/N). Right. I wonder if she has answered my message.

I opened up instagram and opened our conversation. Read but no answer. To be fair I only sent a smiley to her. But... Why am I feeling so anxious that she left me on read?

“Yooo, care to hang out today?” Dave sent a message. I answered with a sure and locked my phone and waited for Dave to arrive to my house. But my mind kept on going back to why she didn’t answer me back. Well I know why, but I didn’t like that the conversation were over so quick. 

Dave entered my house and we hung out for a while but he could sense that something was bothering me.

“Hey man, you okay?”

I snapped out of my thought and looked at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Except from the usual shit.”

“You sure? You seem a little... lost in thoughts perhaps? Is something bothering you?”

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“Not even the kind girl from your streams?” he asked with a knowing smirk on his face. I lost all the colour on my face. HOW DID HE KNOW?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Not even that you recognized her picture from instagram? Like that you haven’t talked to her there?”

Fuck...

“Who is she?”

“A fan that contacted me and were very kind with her words. And I replied to her and after that we have been messaging each other here and there... but she left me on read last night so I guess that’s over...”

“What did you say to her?”

“I sent a smiley because I was too nervous to say anything else.”

Dave made the biggest and loudest face palm. It must’ve hurt his head. 

“You idiot... You can’t expect a reply if you only send her a smiley...”

“I know, but I got nervous.”

“Are you following her?”

“No... Not yet at least.” I said and took up my phone again and went on her profile. It was private. Of course. I hoovered over the follow button but I didn’t dare to press it. Dave gave me a thumbs up and I pressed the follow button. 

Your POV.

You were watching a Among Us highlight video on youtube when your instagram told you that you had a notification. You opened it and saw that Corpse had requested an invite to follow your profile. CORPSE WANTED TO FOLLOW YOU. Holyshitholyshitholyshit. What is even happening?! Of course you accepted it and you started to type a message to him. 

“Welcome to my little boring world. Hope you like what you see 😅”

You could see him typing something.

“I very much do ;)”

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this and I couldn’t stop. It was difficult to get started but after that it was fun :D 

TAGS:

@fanworrior @wibblytimey

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

[tea-stained-notes]

Steve Rogers x OFC - Waiting On a Miracle, Chapter 3

After catching an infamous serial killer in the act, Julie Castillo is in line for the witness protection program. She is sent to a temporary safe house with U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers to protect her. Both of them scarred by trauma and tragedy, they find solace in each other. But how far will they dare to go?

Sorry it's been a hot minute, friends, but since I last posted I have become an aunt, my boss was fired, my grandpa was in the hospital twice, I had a nasty eye infection, I attended three weddings, my work bestie quit and Putin invaded Ukraine - so writing self-indulgent fanfic just wasn't at the top of my list lol

Hope you enjoy this though! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future :)

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

Series warnings: violence, death, angst, trauma, smut

Chapter warnings: anxiety

Chapter word count: ~2100

Song(s) referenced: Waiting In the Wings (Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure)

The next morning I awoke with the sun on my face. Just as a smile started forming on my lips, reality slammed into me, making me shoot up with a gasp. A night of blissfully dreamless sleep lay behind me but now my brain was flooded with all the images I was so desperate to forget. I buried my face in my hands, taking deep breaths and forcing the carousel in my head to a stop. No use in obsessing over things that had been and might be. Right now I was okay. I was safe. I was with Steve. Steve. I could faintly hear him potter around in the kitchen and it filled me with some sort of solace. As insane as the past 36 hours had been, I was infinitely grateful that he was the one I would be stuck with for the foreseeable future.

Dinner had been quiet as I had been worn out and preoccupied. But he hadn’t seemed to mind in the slightest and just thinking of the way he had blushed at my heartfelt compliments for the pasta still warmed my chest. He also hadn’t hesitated for a moment at my request to keep on the hall light during the night despite sounding like a frightened five-year-old. Apparently it had done enough to keep the nightmares at bay, so at least it had been worth the embarrassment.

I made a my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Once more I found myself marveling at my newly dark hair. I let my curls down today, only manoeuvering the front bits into a clip in the back. I didn’t bother with make-up. Steve had already seen me at my worst and I never did more than mascara and blush anyway.

I padded into the kitchen, relishing the feel of wooden floorboards and woven rugs beneath my feet. The scent of pine, wood smoke and coffee lingered in the air. It was almost frightening how comfortable the place already seemed. Despite the circumstances it eluded pure calm. Steve was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring absent-mindedly out the window, his fingers wrapped around a steaming mug. He had swapped his city outfit for faded jeans and a checkered flannel. Wax-free strands of golden hair fell across his forehead. He looked so different. So much softer. The spell broke when he noticed me in his periphery and cleared his throat, the professional demeanour sliding back into place. “Good morning, Julie.” “Hey.” “Did you sleep well?” “Surprisingly, yes.” “Good. I’ve made coffee.” “Thanks. But I’m more of a tea person.” Steve started rummaging through the cupboards. “I think I saw some tea bags in here.” I joined him at the counter to grab the kettle and fill it. We both flinched at his arm brushing mine when he produced a box of tea from the shelf. He quickly stepped back with an apologetic look. “Chamomile okay?” “That’s great, thank you.” He dropped a bag into the mug already set out while I put the kettle back on the stove. There was a palpable tension in the air, the setting so cozy yet so bizarre. Somehow this felt like a couple’s weekend trip, except that the couple were actually strangers and running from a psychotic killer. “So, what’s for breakfast?” I asked, my eyes trained on the gas flames licking at the kettle. “Natasha practically raided the store for us,” Steve said with a smile in his voice. “We could make waffles, porridge, bacon and eggs, green smoothies — whatever floats your boat.” “Porridge sounds great.” He nodded and reached into a cabinet to pull out a pack of oats. “Would you mind getting that going? I'll chop up some fruit we can put in.” “Sure.” We worked in silence, but it slowly shifted into something almost companionable. Despite Steve meticulously keeping his distance, there was something warm and solid about him. Something that fit surprisingly well into this cabin.

I pushed my bowl away and leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh. “I can’t believe how quiet it is out here.” “You don’t miss the sirens and jackhammers?” Steve said, a smile playing on his lips. “God no. There’s a lot to love about New York but the noise sure ain’t it.” “What is there to love then?” I pondered for a moment. “The history. The abundance of cultures. The freedom to be as weird as you want to be.” We both chuckled. “Oh, and Broadway course. Always Broadway.” “Right, you’re a stage manager there.” “Assistant stage manager.” “What’s the difference?” He asked it with genuine interest and a wave of warmth washed over me. “Well, the SM coordinates schedules and information for the creative team all the way from the first rehearsal to the actual production. They assist the director during rehearsals and are responsible for pretty much anything going on backstage once the show opens. They also ‘call’ the show, so they coordinate lighting and sound operators, the conductor and the actors — all communication basically.” “Sounds stressful.” “Cause it is.” “So how stressed are you as an assistant?” I felt my jaw tense up. “I take care of the rehearsal space and help with administrative stuff. Read cue lines. Run lines with the actors, review blocking and choreography. Take notes and update the prompt book when Samira’s not available. Just sort of stand in for her in general, whenever needed. Sometimes I even call the show when she wants to sit in the audience for the night to get a fresh look at everything.” Steve was still listening intently. “God, that sounds so trivial and boring compared to what you do.” “Not at all. I did some theatre in high school. And I always loved rehearsal and the bustle behind the stage. Actually performing though? Not so much.” I hoped my smile wasn’t too tight as I returned his. “Yeah. I get that.” “So what show are you working at?” “Legally Blonde. Have you seen it?” “I think I saw the movie years ago.” “You better have, it’s a deserved classic.” I grinned. “You should try to catch the stage show one day though, it’s really fun and the songs are great.” My grin faded as I ran a finger along the rim of my mug. “And yet you don’t seem particularly passionate about the job.” His intense gaze caught mine and my pulse quickened slightly before I cast my eyes down onto the table. “Ah, you know. Watching Elle Woods set her mind on something and then actually achieve it? The way she realizes her self-worth and finds her place? It used to be inspiring but now…” Steve’s chair creaked as he leaned back and I looked up to find him eyeing me thoughtfully. I forced a quick smile, then abruptly began clearing the dishes. “I’ll take care of these.” “I’ll help, the stuff from last night is sitting in the sink as well.” “It’s fine, I like doing dishes. And I still owe you for dinner.” “Don’t be silly, you owe me nothing.” “Honestly, it’s fine.” He examined my face for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, guess I’m gonna do another check of the premises in daylight then.” “Okay.” “I’ll stay close. Call out if you need anything.”

I was humming to myself as I cleaned plates and cutlery, trying to focus on the vibrations in my throat rather than the thoughts whirling around in my brain. I had definitely revealed too much. And Steve was very perceptive. He must have already figured out that I was a loser who had made drowning in self-pity her favorite hobby. I felt frustration and dread rise in my stomach but forced it back down. Get a grip. I drained the water and dried my hands before turning to take in the living room. Built-in bookshelves lining the fire place, bursting with enough reading material to fill my time for weeks on end. An inviting arm chair and matching sofa. An old piano tucked into the corner. My heart skipped a beat. How had I not noticed this yet? Drawn to it like a magnet I walked over and opened the lid. My fingers ran over the worn keys, then played a couple of notes. Slightly out of tune but wonderfully rich in sound. I settled down on the stool and started playing a few scales to get a feel for the instrument. It reminded me of the second-hand piano we’d had at home growing up. Where I had learned my first Mozart and Beethoven pieces. Where my mother had looked at me with more pride than ever before. Suddenly my hand produced a chord, more on instinct than will, and just as instinctively I began to sing. “Guess we all are born with parts to play. Some of us are stars, and some are just in the way. I know I was meant for glory, but that's never what my story brings. And yet I keep on waiting. When you have the passion and the drive you expect your moment center stage to arrive. I show up with heart a-blazing, ready to achieve amazing things, but I'm left waiting in the wings.” My voice cracked slightly as my eyes started burning. “I hear my cue and yet I'm kept there waiting, know what to do and still I stand there waiting. It's always someone else who sings while I'm left waiting in the wings. And so I keep on keeping on, my chances come and then I blink and they're gone. Always overlooked unfairly, while pretending that it barely stings. But it stings, yes it stings—“ I snapped the lid shut and pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to keep the tears from falling. My breath came heavy and uneven as my fingers gripped the polished wood. “You’re very talented.” The stool crashed to the floor as I jumped up and whirled around to face Steve. He stood by the door, his features unreadable. “There’s no such thing as talent,” I pressed through gritted teeth while leaning down to pick up the chair and furiously wipe at my eyes. “There’s only hard work and dedication and not fucking up at every opportunity.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ “I don’t want to talk about it.” The words came out sharply, but my anger crumbled when I caught his rueful gaze. “Please.” I rushed over to the shelves to pick out a random book, then curled up in the arm chair, glad to turn my back on Steve. He didn’t move for a long moment. I pretended to focus on the page as he finally made his way over, soft-footed as always. He sank down onto the couch. “I’m sorry to have upset you,” he said quietly. “But for what it’s worth, I believe in talent. And you’re certainly blessed with it.” “Blessed, huh?” I sneered. “You barely know me.” “Tell me about you then.” “We’ve talked plenty about me. I doubt you need any more personal info to protect me.” “No, I just think you’re an interesting person.” Heat bloomed on my cheeks. I cleared my throat as I let my eyes drop back to the book in my lap. “Well, like I said, I don’t want to do this right now. My life is… complicated.” “Okay.” I chewed on my lip for a moment, my stomach in knots at the tension in the room. Eventually I closed the book and snuggled deeper into the cushions, pretending to relax as I took in Steve’s face. “What about you? How long have you been a marshal?” “About three years. I used to be a cop, then got a degree in law enforcement and went through the program right after.” “Are you mostly in witness protection?” “We have various duties. Transporting prisoners, arresting fugitives… But yes, I prefer to work in protection.” “Why?” His gaze fell to the ground. “It’s complicated.” “Okay.” We smiled carefully at each other. Then he rose from the couch. “Come on, I’ll show you how to contact Natasha. You can tell her what kinds of tea you like.” My heart clenched briefly at his thoughtfulness. I wondered how these little details we learned about each other would add up. Whether I would ever really know him. And whether I wanted him to really know me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 4

Taglist:  @before-we-get-started​

MASTERLIST

[allthingskakashi]

• Bells and Balls •

[ Kakashi x Reader ]

Tags : NSFW, Smut

Words : 4.8k

A/n: I wrote over 4k words just to get some dick.

Okay sbsbajash idk I'd been working on this for like a whole week and i couldn't concentrate on anything unless i finished this lmao so here it is whatever, I can't drag this around anymore. Uhhh hope you like it I'm still not very good at writing smut im sorry. This takes place in the post Anbu and pre team 7 era and Kakashi’s a bit of an asshole but you know you still love him. This is also a little similar to my other fic ‘Yearning’ but here you get the s e x and i’m sorry if the characterization is bad, i put more focus on making it hot i guess ok ill shut up now i hope you like it

You give the sheet of paper in your hand one final glance, and look around the room. There’s a long line behind you and you’re surrounded by your fellow jounins, each here to submit their respective lists.

You were extremely happy with the performance of your team and didn’t have to think twice before passing them. You had no doubt that they would make wonderful shinobi. You looked forward to teaching and guiding them, and judging by the chatter around you, most other jounins had passed their teams too.

The trouble, however, remains with Kakashi Hatake.

A few weeks ago, you had all been named squad leaders and put in charge of a squad, and today was your very first day with your assigned teams. As instructed, each of you conducted a test for the genin and depending upon whether they passed or failed, the final list would be announced.

No one till date had ever passed Kakashi Hatake's infamous test, and everyone was sure that no one would this year either. Most genin trembled in fear of him, being aware of his strict methods.

And as it happens, at this moment, this infamous man is right in front you, standing with his back hunched forward as he hands his paper in to the woman behind the desk.

You wait for your turn, your eyes fixating on the red symbol on his vest as you wonder, ruefully, about the fate of the students he must have failed this time.

You take a step forward as he turns around, having submitted his paper, and the line moves up behind you.

Kakashi peeks briefly at your paper as he passes, letting out an audible scoff at the list in your hand before walking on ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You’re momentarily confused by this sudden act, but something is already starting to boil up inside you. You aren’t exactly known for being placid, nor for sitting by and allowing people to give you crap. Your eyebrows furrow as you hastily thrust your sheet onto the desk, before making your way to follow after him.

“Do you have a problem?” you call to his back as a few heads turn towards you.

He stops, taking his time turning back to look at you, half lidded eyes looking as indifferent as always.

His demeanour pushes you further to the edge and you take a few steps closer, craning your neck to meet his eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

He peers down at you unfazed, completely oblivious to the audience around you, as if they are not even there.

“You’re too soft”, he shrugs. “You don’t know how the shinobi world works” he says bluntly, piercing you with his unwavering gaze.

You glare back at him, your mouth twitching with the sled of retorts forming at the back of your tongue.

“Who gave you the right to—"

But he’s already turning away from you, your eyes meeting with the red symbol of his vest once again.

“Hey don’t you fucking walk away from me!” you yell, going forward to stop him, but he saunters on ahead without turning back; his scent lingering in the air as you stand there, watching his figure disappear slowly along the hallway, your fury seething inside you.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

--------------------------------------------------

 “Thank you! This is just what I needed.” you chime, digging into the hot bowl of ramen in front of you, your mouth salivating just at the look of it.

You take a big mouthful, revelling in the immediate burst of flavours on your tongue.

“Mmmm.” You moan, “You’ve outdone yourself, Ayame!”

The young girl smiles at you in delight, proceeding to serve you another helping.

You take another blissful bite, closing your eyes to relish the moment.

The streets are quiet around you except for the faint chirp of crickets, as is expected at this hour of the night. It must be past midnight by now, you’re not exactly sure.

You had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason, the encounter with Kakashi from earlier today had you feeling bitter and edgy. You hated that he was in your head, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you to be this bothered by some mindless comments from someone. You’d had altercations before, worse ones, but they were never enough to steal away your night’s sleep.

And yet, this time…

You had to do something to take the edge off, ideally punch him in the face, but since that was not the plausible choice, you settled for the next best thing. Going for a run and treating yourself to your favourite comfort food later.  

So here you are now, out at night all by yourself. The Ichiraku shop was still open, bless the lords.

You slurp some of the soup from the bowl and let out a loud smack of your lips.

You can feel your spirits lifting, and you’re glad for it. He wasn’t in your head after all, you were just having a bad day, that’s all.

You shift your focus back to the bowl in front of you, moaning and slurping as you go.

“Whoa there, Get a room.”

The sudden interruption of the familiar voice makes you stop cold.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look up from your bowl, turning your head around to see none other than Kakashi Hatake, standing smug in all his glory.

The strange pang of bitterness is back in the depths of your stomach and you resist the urge to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, if it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the all-knowing wisenheimer.” you say, your tone snide. “Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some genin to fail?”

He comes around to take a seat on the stool beside you, a smirk evident through his mask, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“I’ve already failed them” he smiles sweetly at you. “Worked up quite an appetite too.” He says, looking away from you to place his order.

You notice as Ayame notes his order down, the distinct shade of pink that tinges her cheeks as does, before turning away and disappearing into the supplies room at the back of the shop.

Ugh. What is with this guy? Why is it so….

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he looks back at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. You supress your startlement at being caught, pretending as if you’d meant to be glaring at him.

“What the hell are you even doing out here so late?” you spurt, trying to sound irritated but it comes out sounding almost…concerned?

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. “I could ask you the same.”

You look away, unwilling to answer. You were out here to get him out of your head, and now here you are, sitting beside him in a ramen shop while the entire village sleeps.

It almost feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The feeling makes something churn inside your stomach.

You dab your mouth with your napkin, before swivelling on the stool to face him. You look at him intently, studying his features. He stares back at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Why?” you ask, catching him off guard with it.

“Why what?”

“Why does no one pass your test? What’s so difficult about it?” you ask, gaze fixated on him. You expect him to look uncomfortable but he just shrugs.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious” you reply truthfully, watching him smirk at your answer.  

You hate it when he smirks, how his face looks when he’s being cocky.

Ugh.

He swivels in his chair now, turning his body towards you. “Is that so?”, he says through the smirk, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning in.

You don’t know why, but something about his tone and the way he leans in makes it difficult for you to breathe all of a sudden.

But you’re not one to be fazed.

“Yes” you reply, refusing to let yourself crumple under his gaze. Your voice comes out sounding hoarse, and you clear your throat.

He smirks wider at your reply and stretches the next words out.

“If you’re so curious…Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Your heart thuds like clapper clanging against a bell. You resist the urge to gulp.

Was it this hot when I left the house?

You clear your throat again. “I don’t have the time to take part in your stupid games”

The smirk is adamant on his lips, his gaze unnerving.

He breathes, “Do you not have the time…or do you not have the balls?”

His tone is challenging. Or inviting. Or both, you’re not really sure, you’re not thinking straight anymore.

Your jacket is too hot against your skin, you writhe beneath the thick material.

Sliding off the stool, you walk slowly towards him, erasing the space in between you bit by bit with each step, until your bodies are a few inches away from touching. Your eyes bore into each other’s as if in silent battle. It’s your turn to smirk now.

“Training Grounds in 20 mins” you whisper. Despite the hitch in your breath, your voice is clear. “Don’t be late.”

You walk past him without breaking your gaze, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you walk by, perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving Kakashi to stare after you.

--------------------------------------------------

You sit on the damp grass with your back against a tree, waiting. Your jacket lies in a puddle beside you.

You count the weapons in your bag, you hadn’t exactly come out prepared for a fight tonight. Two kunai knives, that’s all.

Would that be enough to take down the copy ninja? You hope so. There’s no way you’re letting him win. It’s time someone taught him a lesson and you would love to be that someone. The nerve of him…to actually challenge you.

He really needs to get a life. But then, here you are too…

Why am I here? What am I even doing?

You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the hard bark, your eyebrows furrowing the way they always do when you’re deep in thought.

Back at the shop… the way he spoke…the look in his eyes— God, Stop. Stop it.

Who the fuck cares about the look in his eyes?

Not me.

It’s okay. I’m good.

We’re here to teach this asshole a lesson. An asshole, that’s what he is. Insufferable and stupid and smug and ridiculously ho— horrible. Ridiculously horrible.

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes and standing up so fast that it makes your head dizzy for a brief second. You start walking around, jerking your arms and legs, stretching your neck, even slapping yourself a few times on the face to make yourself focus.

Yes, I need to focus. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

You crouch down to tighten your shoelaces, before getting up and starting some stretching exercises. Gotta loosen the muscles, make sure you have full flexibility. After all, taking on Kakashi Hatake all by yourself is probably not going to be a piece of cake.

You look down to check your attire: running shorts and a tank top, not fully ideal but it’ll do.

You’re bent over, in the midst of doing rotating toe touches when your eyes fall upon a silhouette far ahead, nearing closer and closer. You pause, standing up straight with your hands on your hips as the figure walks slowly towards you, a faint jingling noise ringing through the air, as Kakashi finally comes near enough for you to make out his face in the dim light.

“Late as always” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kakashi stands a few feet away from you, holding something in one hand, other hand inside his pocket. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore either, you observe.

“Sorry, had to go get this” he says, holding up what looks like two small bells with strings attached.

You squint at it, coming closer to get a better look. “What the hell is that?”

“Bells”, he smiles. “That’s the test. You have to get these bells from me. You can use any attack you want but… since you’re not a genin, I’ll raise the stakes a little higher for you. You cannot use ninjutsu or genjustu. It has to be purely physical attacks. You have till dawn.”

This little fucker. He knows taijutsu is not my strong point.

But fine. If that’s how he wants to play this, so be it. I’m taking him down one way or another.

“Dawn?” you chuckle, fixing him with your gaze. “I don’t need till dawn” you sneer, coming forward with a kick aimed to his head. He blocks it just as you’re about to make contact, grasping your ankle in his strong hold.

“I didn’t say start yet” he says through a smirk, letting go of your foot.

You take a few steps backwards, glowering at him as he ties the bells to a loop on his trousers. They hang over his thighs with a jingle, silver metal glimmering in the moonlight.

He looks back up at you, eyes twinkling with an unusual sparkle.

There’s that look again…

“Go” he commands, his body tensing up into a defensive stance immediately, ready for you.

You fix your gaze on the shiny metal of your goal and hurl yourself forward, your arms meeting each other’s in blows and defences. You throw a few kicks to his stomach, making him tumble but not enough to knock him out.

You shift your stance, before directing another punch to his face; he deflects it, sniggering.

Okay okay okay, I’m not focusing. I need to focus.

You take a deep breath.

Kakashi stands waiting, his features emanating pure amusement.

You feel a restlessness brewing within you, a strange energy buzzing through your veins. You’d been itching to punch him in the face and now’s your chance.

You watch him, mentally calculating all your options. His silver hair shines like moonbeams in the dark.

FOCUS.

Drawing a kunai from your bag, you lunge forward, distracting him with a kick to the head as your kunai slashes through the air, just about to cut across the strings when— your hand is caught in his grasp, a ‘slap!’ cutting through the air as his palm clasps around your wrist.

He bores into you, your wrist held firmly in his hand as he turns you around swiftly, gripping both your wrists at the back.

You feel the muscles of his chest against your body as he comes closer, the metal bells hanging over his leg brushing against your fingertips behind you.

You wriggle your hands, trying to break free but it’s in vain. His grip is firm, slender fingers digging into your skin as he leans into your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Not so fast” he whispers, his lips almost brushing the top of your ears.

The words send a shudder through your spine. You feel the black sky closing in on you, there’s a hum springing through your veins.

He loosens his grip as your hands fall, the kunai held limply in your hand. You turn around, your heart skipping a beat at how close he is to you. You feel your resolve weakening.

No.

No.

Stop.

Your hand flies to the collar of his shirt, the other hand holding the kunai to his throat as you push him backwards with your body, your eyes blazing into his.  

Keeping the kunai at his throat, you lower your other hand slowly, brushing it down his chest, his muscles taut under your hand. You trail your hand down along the line of his sternum, down the firmness of his stomach and further down, your fingers lightly caressing the bulge of his trousers before they almost make contact with the bells alongside, right there, just a flick away—

so close—

Before your wrist is caught in a sudden, fast clutch again.

His grip is much stronger this time, unyielding, hungry. Your bones ache beneath his hold.  

You watch something ignite in his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm to your heaves. You suddenly realise how out of breath you are.

In the flash of a moment, Kakashi grips your kunai holding hand, holding it away from his throat as he pushes you, the weight of his body pressing onto yours as your feet scrape along the ground, stumbling backwards till your back slams against a tree, the force making your body jolt. The kunai slips from your hand.

His arms pin you defenceless against the tree, his gaze holding you hostage, burning through your skin.

The touch of his skin against yours feels alien. When was the last time you felt the warmth of someone’s skin? You cannot recall.

He’s so close to you, you cannot see anything beyond him.

In the dark, under the moonlight, the edges of his face look softened.

A wind passes by, the sound of rustling leaves filling through the silence. A volcano erupts within you.

Now.

You gulp. Up this close, you can make out the outline of his mouth.

Now.

Your lips press into Kakashi’s in a desperate lurch, your neck straining to meet him as far as his grip on you allows. Your heart explodes like firecrackers inside your chest as your tongue pushes against the cloth of his mask, demanding to be let in.

You feel his grip loosen around your wrists as the mask is off and he reciprocates, his lips on yours, his hand gripping your chin up as his tongue moves in fervent swirls inside your mouth.

A thousand questions swarm inside your head, buzzing but you’re not being controlled by your head anymore. You can feel the thud of his chest against your own.

He trails his hand down to your throat, holding you in place, other hand exploring every edge and curve of your body before it snakes down the waistband of your shorts, down the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp, arching your back as you feel the touch of his long fingers down there, moaning helplessly into his mouth as he rubs along your wet entrance in rapid strokes.

Your head is a dizzy mess of jumbled emotions as yearning overpowers your senses, your previous resolve weakening into a mushy puddle with every stroke and thrum of his fingers inside you.

He pulls away from your mouth to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, his tongue painting patterns along your skin as you catch a glimpse of his face and you see it— his face, glowing under the moonlight. And you realise.

He’s…beautiful.

An overwhelming ache breaks through your senses, creating a frenzied whirlwind of passion and agony in your mind. Your detestation for him crumbles into pieces underneath the weight of your desire, as you realise…

You don’t hate him.

You never did.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You pull his face up to meet your lips again, planting urgent kisses on his mouth as your hands tease the hem of his shirt. His fingers slip out of you and you can feel the wetness of your panties, soaked through with arousal.

“Kakashi…” you whisper in pleasure as he looms over you, your foreheads touching, out of breath and heaving with exhilaration. His eyes burn with the same passion that you feel inside.

“We can’t…shouldn’t…here…people...” you mutter in struggled breaths, as he plants another kiss to your lips, the sparks from it fogging your mind

“Since when do you care about people?” he whispers against your ear, his raspy voice enough to strip you off of all your remaining sense and judgement.

You pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground beside as he follows, taking off your shirt and then unhooking your bra, tossing both away as his hands reach for you in hungry clutches.

His hands caress your breasts, pressing them and pulling on your hardened nipples, his mouth following soon after. His lips lock around them, sucking hard as you bury your face into his broad shoulders, biting lightly to keep yourself from screaming.

You sink your fingers into his hair, tugging softly as his mouth moves in a wet trail further down your body, strands of his hair tickling your stomach as he goes, his hands tugging your panties, sliding them down the curves of your hips.

Your heart thuds in your ears as Kakashi sits crouching in front of you, parting your legs. He looks up at you, as if asking for your permission, and you give it to him by pulling the back of his head closer between your legs.

He puts your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you for him, his other hand clutching the back of your left thigh as his mouth teases you down there.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your entrance, before it finds your weakest spot, and you feel your body shuddering, barely able to keep your balance.

You tug at his hair harder as his tongue moves skilfully inside you, fingers rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously. You feel every nerve ending in your body come alive as you moan out his name “K-Kakashi…” through trembling lips.

Your insides shudder and a deep moan forms at the back of your throat, threatening to escape as Kakashi puts his hand over your mouth, before pulling you down on top of him with a sudden tug.  

You come down with a thud on his thighs, your body jolting with the force as you watch him in front of you, the copy ninja… bare bodied and heaving in front of your eyes.

Who would have thought…

You straddle him, admiring his unclad torso, before pushing his shoulders down with your hands, making him lie back on the grass as you stoop over him. His eyes are fixated on you, pure pleasure making itself known on his face.

He really is beautiful.

You bend forward, your mouth exploring the smoothness of the skin on his chest, as a strange cold feeling down there distracts you.

You look down, squinting in the dark to find yourself sitting on two glimmering metal balls placed over his thigh.

The bells.

A thrill runs through your nerves as you smirk, glancing up at him.

He’s noticed it too.

His eyes return the same sparkle of mischief as yours as he lies still, waiting.

You press your hands down on his chest, locking your gaze with his as you position yourself over the bells, tilting your head back as you move back and forth over them.

The cold metal of the bells rubs against you, sending tremors through your entire body.

Your gaze at Kakashi again, watching him squirm at the sight of you, his hands twitching to feel your skin.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide down slightly on his thigh, tugging his trousers down as you go. Your hands find the base of his cock as you allow yourself to admire his throbbing length.

He leans his head back on the grass and you feel him getting harder in your hands.

Forming your hand into a fist around him, you move it up and down along his shaft in slow steady strokes, leaning down to bring your mouth closer to his tip, before swirling your tongue in circles around his skin.

His hips tremble as he clutches onto the grass, writhing.

Your lips clasp around his cock, mouth slurping up and down his length, taking your time sliding down to the base and back up, your hands following suit.

You tease him, switching between the tip of your tongue and your whole mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

He quivers and you sit back up, bending forward over his face and pressing your lips on his. A groan from his mouth erupts inside yours as he clutches your hips.

His hands guide your hips back and forth over his length, your lips trembling as he slips into you, his cock finally inside you, pushing into you, filling you as deep as you can be filled.

A new rush of pleasure burns through your senses, your insides stretching as you move your hips around him, back and forth and then in circles.

“A-a-ah...mm…yeah…”, your muffled moans cut through the depths of the forest in the silence of the night.

Kakashi breathes your name, the eruption of your name from his lips enough to send you to a frenzy, filling your heart with drunken fervour.

You moan his name back in reply, hopping up and down on him as his arm snakes behind your waist and he flips you over in a sudden, swift movement, the weight of his body falling over you now.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, unwilling to break away even for a second.

You want him so, so bad.

The pointy peaks of grass underneath poke your skin, your nails digging into his back as he nibbles on your neck, thrusting deep, deep into you.

You feel the familiar shudder from earlier again, your mind getting clouded with waves of pleasure coursing through you. Kakashi’s grunts quaver in your ear as you feel his hips jerk in tune to yours.

There’s a tantalizing jolt of ecstasy through your body as you scream out, your quivering voice matching his grunts as you both put a hand over the other’s mouth, your muffled moans melting into each other’s skin. He quivers inside you for a final time before you feel him slipping out of you, as hot wet cum trickles along the insides of your thighs, dripping into the dewy grass beneath.

Droplets of sweat from his hair drips down on you, tasting salty in your mouth. You heave together in exhaustion as he plops down on you, before rolling to the side.

You lie on your back panting, your entire body damp with sweat.

Languor threatens to take over you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, looking up into the night sky.

You see a firefly glowing above your head. You lift a lazy hand to reach it, but it flies away far above, becoming one with the twinkling stars in the sky.

Soft sounds of Kakashi’s breath echo beside you, his foot still touching yours lightly as the both of you lie heaving under the stars.

He turns his head to look at you and you can feel his eyes on you as you try, with all the fibres in your body, to not look back at him.

You know you won’t be able to hold yourself together any longer if you do.

He extends a hand towards you. “That was…”

“Sshhh… Shut up” you say in a slumberous whisper, moving closer into his arm, putting your own around him, your head buried into chest as you feel your eyes getting heavy…not able to stay awake anymore. You feel Kakashi envelope you in his arms, the warmth from his skin against the cold air lulling you to sleep, your mind becoming foggy as you close your eyes, slowly drifting off somewhere far, far away…

--------------------------------------------------

Your eyes open to the chirping of birds perched on the branches above, rays of morning light casting a rosy glow in the horizon.

You watch the half light in the distance, rubbing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The night had taken with it the black clouds of denial fogging your mind, your heart is as clear as day now.

You turn your head just in time to see Kakashi opening his eyes, his eyes puffy, imprints of grass marking his soft cheek.

You smile at him as he looks at you, lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Good morning” he yawns, tapping over his mouth with his palm.

“I won.”

“Hmm?” he asks groggily, eyes still adjusting to the light.

You hold up the two small bells in front of him, they jingle over his face.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. It’s past dawn”

“I took them off before. I won.”

He laughs again, his face lighting up in a way you’d never seen before. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

“In all fairness y/n, there are no losers here.”

You laugh along with him now, reaching across and smoothening the imprints on his cheek, keeping your hand there, cupping his cheek.

“So, I passed?” you ask, looking at him, inching closer.

He looks back at you, with the same look from earlier in his eyes.

But you’re not turning yourself blind to it anymore.

“Top of the class” he laughs, pulling you closer, nuzzling your nose with his before pressing his lips into yours.

Notes :-

Did I quote 10 Things I Hate About You on a Kakashi Smut?

Yes, yes i did.

[bcdwhcre]

“Lies & Affairs,” Pt 3 Levi x Reader

Since it’s been requested so many timesssss

Summary: After Levi found out Petra (his gf) cheated on him, he sleeps with you and you overthinking he’ll run back to Petra— you go to support him while he confronts her.

Warnings: confrontation that turns into smut oop

PART ONE

PART TWO

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After the shower, Levi had decided to go back to his own place considering he had no change of clothes and Petra was sitting in there like she owned the place and that had made him a little more pissed off than usual.

He asked you to tag along and at first you didn’t want to, who would want to go confront Levi’s girlfriend after just sleeping with him. But he had convinced you that he needed some support and you gave in.

The way your hands started to get shaky as you both walked into his place, looking around at the clean area and Levi had laughed at the fact that the clothing that was scattered before was now gone like nothing ever happened.

“Levi is that you?” Petra had walked out of the kitchen, stopping when she saw Levi then you standing behind him.

“What happened? You didn’t come home, I was worried.” She put on the sweet little act and that had made him tense up a bit, another laugh leaving his lips.

“We need to sit down and talk first.” He gestures towards the kitchen table, leading you to it and you sat beside him.

You did not want to be here right now, you felt completely awkward at the fact you were a third wheel.. kinda like a side chick while he yells at his girlfriend for cheating. It wasn’t the most romantic situation.

“About what?” She spoke, her eyes had moved to look at you and she was genuinely confused as to why you were even here.

“Kinda over playing dumb, Petra. Who did you sleep with last night?” He abruptly said, making your eyes go wide and you tried to look at anything other than them two.

“Wait.. what?”

“I said I’m over playing dumb, who the fuck was in my bed with you last night?” He asked again, leaning towards the table as he rested his arms on it, the look of amusement on his face.

“Nobody? I was here alone.”

“Yeah, right and I wasn’t deep in Y/N’s guts just an hour ago either huh?”

The way your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, glaring over at Levi and Petra had glared at you. Suddenly the tension grew thicker and you were very close to getting up and walking out of here. You didn’t sign up for this mess.

“I came here last night, clothes everywhere and noises coming from the room. You’re telling me that was just you?” He laughed at the stupid excuse, her eyes looking at him and suddenly the realization had hit her.

“Oh.” She simply said, her eyes now full of sadness but he didn’t feel sorry for her- he felt nothing.

“I want you and your shit out of here, unless you want to be here while I rail her a third time.” He gestured to you beside him and you slapped his arm.

“Levi,” You warned but he was having fun with this, fun humiliating her and watching her put on this guilty act as if she regretted what she did.

“I’m sorry- just please, hear me out.”

“I’m sick of hearing you out, our relationship has been dead for months and now I want you gone, Petra. It’s over, done, never happening again. Get the fuck out of here with the bullshit apologies and tears and go to that guys doorstep you were just fucking in my bed!” His blood boiled at the sight of her tears, she wasn’t sorry, she didn’t feel bad while she was laid up with someone else and he wasn’t sorry for being harsh to her or sleeping with you.

Petra had finally shut her mouth, her eyes looking over at you and you tried not to meet her gaze as she gave you a nasty look, like she was blaming you for everything that is happening right now.

“Well, I’ll get my things.”

“Good, you have twenty minutes to get it and leave.”

Levi crossed his arms over his chest, watching her rise from the table and leave the room to go in the bedroom they once shared together but he just felt sick. He didn’t even want to sleep in that bed again, it was sickening to even think that another man had slept in his spot.

His eyes moved to yours, the look of embarrassment on your face and he sighed as he reached over to caress your cheek.

“Thank you for being here.”

“Yeah, thanks for putting our sex on blast.” You mumbled, making him laugh again and he shook his head while rubbing your cheek.

“Sorry, slipped out.” He said teasingly but you knew he brought it up on purpose, he wasn’t phased by it.

As twenty minutes went by in a heartbeat, Levi had called out for Petra to leave his place. He didn’t care if she wasn’t finished packing, he wanted her gone and she continued to cry as she walked towards the door.

“Levi,” He raised his hand to cut her off, another sarcastic laugh coming out of his mouth.

“Just please leave, I’m not in love with you and I don’t want you.” He said coldly, making her heart break into pieces but she understood, she betrayed him.

She finally walked out of the house while dragging her things. Levi shut the door, his eyes moving to yours as you stood up from the table and cleared your throat at the awkward tension.

He cupped your cheeks, instantly peppering soft kisses on your lips and around your face which made your nose scrunch your as you tried to pull away.

“Now that she’s gone,” He mumbled, his lips landing on top of yours and your face started to heat up.

“We can continue where we left off in the shower.”

“Levi, you’re so humiliating.” You laughed against his mouth, making him pull back and give you a cute genuine smile.

“So? You seem to like it.” He brushed your hair back, leaning down to pick you up with ease and force your legs to wrap around his torso.

You rolled your eyes, leaning down to press your lips back on his and you couldn’t explain why you were like this around Levi. The fact not even five minutes ago his ex lover had left his house in tears and now you were here kissing him endlessly.

He had sat you down on the edge of the kitchen table, his lips dancing with yours and in no time his tongue was inside of your mouth before he had pulled back to fully look at you again.

His fingers combing through your hair, giving you a small smile and he had tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your face closer to pepper a few kisses around your face.

“I hope you know that you’re mine now.” He had mumbled quietly, making your eyes move down to his while hooking your arms loosely around his neck.

“Oh yeah? Since when.”

“Since today.”

“Are you trying to ask me out in a special Levi way?”

“Yes,” He said almost breathless, his eyes sparkled and stared deep into yours like he was trying to read your thoughts.

The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. Did he say something wrong? Were you going to say no?

You laughed as his face got all flustered, making his eyebrows furrow and give you a playful dirty look, you were teasing him.

“Is that a yes then?” He asked again, leaning forward between your legs as you sat there watching him lick his lips, waiting for your answer.

“Yes, Levi.” You mumbled, bringing your small hand up to his face and cupped one of his cheeks.

Your heart had swelled up, full of love and happiness and the way he smiled at you in a way he’s never done before- it made you believe he felt the exact same way.

Soon his lips were back on yours, this time he was a bit more rough with it but it still had a lot of passion behind it, making your body almost rock backwards onto the table but you held onto his body to keep you up.

Levi wasted no time to pepper kisses down your neck, not bothering to leave anymore love bites considering you had enough from yesterday underneath your shirt. He smirked to himself just by the thought of it as he placed a hand on your chest and pushed you down on the table.

“This one is about you, baby.” He said in a low tone, his hands grabbing onto your pants and yanked them down your legs in an instant.

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies as he stared down at your half naked body with admiration, it made your cheeks heat up the more he was staring down at you.

The soft touches of his hands had tickled your skin as he trailed them down to your thighs, spreading them apart in front of him and he chewed down on his lower lip, trying to hold himself back from completely devouring you instantly.

His fingertips hooked underneath the waistband of your underwear, teasingly dragging it down your legs and tossed it behind him in one swift movemnt, his eyes meeting your gaze and the lustful look he had given you made your core throb.

Just by sleeping with him twice, he already knew what turned you on in seconds and what edged you on more. It wasn’t hard for him to find your soft spots or pleasure you continuously, it was like he was an expert on your body already.

As your eyes stayed on him, he dipped his head down and placed gentle kisses on your inner thighs, even playfully biting down on your skin hard enough to leave a mark but also send a breathless gasp to leave your lips.

Levi laughed to himself, bringing his two fingers up and ran them through your slick folds, the coldness of his fingers made you shiver slightly and gave you the urge to close your legs but he kept them spread with his other hand, his eyes burning into you as he watched your pleasured facial expressions.

He finally took it upon him to latch his mouth where you needed him most, not hesitating to roam his tongue around all while his two fingers had teased at your entrance, making you throw your head back on the table and grabbed a hold of his hair.

His tongue had worked on your clit, flicking at it and wrapping his mouth around it to softly suck on the bundle of nerves, making you almost squirm uncontrollably underneath him.

The way you gripped his hair tightly had made him continue his fast movements, thrusting his fingers inside of you and pumping them in and out at a even pace.

“Levi,” His name had slipped out of your mouth in a long moan, your legs clinging around his head while your eyes fluttered shut.

He had pulled his mouth back, feeling the salvia mixed with your juices dripping down his chin as he licked his lips. He continued thrusting his fingers, using his other hard to rub circular motions on your clit.

“Thats right, say my name.” He praised you, making your heart pound in your chest as your breathing got heavy.

His fingers twisted and curved up against your halls, instantly hitting your spot that sent a much louder noise to fall from your lips which fed on his ego, the confidence rising as he watched how much pleasure you were in with just his fingers.

He couldn’t help himself, the way his mouth drooled at the sight of you like this in front of him- he might just cum inside his pants with you like this. It made him crazy.

He latched his mouth back on your dripping core, running his tongue around the hole his fingers were plunging in, the taste of you had made him weak which only made him quicken his pace, wanting your cum on his tongue.

The continuous moans that had slipped out, your legs almost shaking as you felt the familiar knock in your stomach, making you clench around his fingers. He knew just by that you were close, licking up to your clit and spent his time sucking and nibbling down on it gently while his fingers did most of the work.

“I’m gonna-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before the pleasure had washed over you, making your eyes squeeze shut and your back arching off the table.

He moved his fingers just to replace them with his tongue, tasting every drop of you and collecting it as he savored the taste and hummed against you which made you shudder under him.

He pulled back, wiping his mouth with his thumb and licking the remaining cum off that as well before he leaned over you, reaching his fingers towards your mouth and you parted your lips. Levi had put his two fingers in your mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around them as you tasted yourself.

“My good girl.” He mumbled, removing his fingers and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

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Idk about this part but ???? hope it’s okay.

Pls if there’s spelling errors, I’m so sorry I don’t feel like reading it over dhdhdhd

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[c0rpsedemon]

Sorry to bother you, but could you recommend where to start in terms of reading Arthurian myth? I was listening to hnoc for the fiftieth time and remembering my childhood love of “kiddified” versions of the original stories and was wondering if you could help me out. Specific collections or stories? Different versions of the texts? Thanks so much.

omg i was just thinking about how it's been a while since i got this question (bc it's my favorite question)!! so first of all (and sorry if this reads as harsh) you have to get the idea out of your head that arthuriana is a mythology. arthuriana is incredibly similar to a mythology, but most arthurian stories are written novels or poems instead of recorded folklore (although some are but they're the minority), variations based on regions are more bc of individual authors deciding to fuck around and change shit, and also no one believed any of these guys were real. second of all you need to swear to me that you'll never believe any piece of modern arthuriana written in the 1950s or later (but still be careful when it comes to anything beforehand bc god knows tennyson had it out for tristan and isolde like no one before or since), and yes that includes high noon over camelot. basically what happened is in the 50s a book came out by the name of the once and future king by th wh*te, an author bigoted enough to rival lovecraft, and the thing is, this book proceeded to start the biggest wave of modern arthurian lit since the pre-raphaelites were around, and that wave is still the one that's around today. the other big (unfortunately) notable entry to the modern canon is marion zimmer bradley (who's a completely different type of horrible person but due to my reluctance to trigger tag this post i'll just leave it to google with a warning for csa)'s the mists of avalon, which is responsible for the morgan is modred's mother misconception that plagues my every waking moment as well as the girlboss arthuriana subgenre, which is recognizable by its white feminism and fetishistic obsession with some vague idea of celtic paganism with a side of an obsession with contrasting paganism to christianity (which would realistically be medieval catholicism but is consistently portrayed as identical to american protestantism) every 12 seconds.

and as for hnoc's reputability, largely due to the shit the mechs pulled with morgan le fay, the name of the final song, the pendragon polycule itself (arthur was like twice lancelot's age, formerly coworkers with his father while he was a baby, and commonly referred to him as being like a son to him (meanwhile lancelot's feelings on him ranged somewhere from neutral-dislike), and also tried to kill his wife Multiple Times Across Multiple Texts, if you want polyamory may i introduce you to the tristan and isolde tradition, sir palomydes is there and has two swords which is clearly meant to indicate his bisexuality (/j although there are Literally academic papers out there on his bisexuality)), the shit they pulled with gawaine oh my god sweetheart what did they do to you (i blame th wh*te's hatred of the scottish for why they thought that was a viable narrative choice for him but oh my god i'm still reeling), and the fact that last i checked morgan's twitter handle was a quote taken directly from wh*te's work, although he might've changed it by now, as well as other small less-glaring indications, i can safely say that not a single person who worked on it had ever read an actual medieval arthurian text. which sucks bc i like hnoc. but tl;dr don't trust any modern work to get shit right and that's including hnoc.

basic mindset-based things to prevent half the braindead takes that haunt the arthuriana tag aside, i'm going to give you actual recs now.

the byelorussian tristan is a late medieval text belonging to the tristan tradition (tristan and isolde were figures in irish folklore before arthurian writers went 'hey wouldn't it be neat if we added these two' and they've been inextricable from the world of the round table ever since. this has happened with other characters from other nearby folklore and mythology before and will happen again, but due to the fact that tristan and isolde were once their own separate entity, they get a subtradition to themselves), it's notable for not only being the last entry in the tristan canon, but for possibly being the last entry in the arthurian canon as well. honestly it's my favorite book... ever and i'm generally obsessed with it. basically it tells the full story of tristan and isolde with a few unique adventures along the way, but where it really stands out is with the characters, esp since to everyone who isn't already knee-deep into medieval blorbos certain texts can be a bit "and then tristan did this. and then tristan did this. tristan is my self insert so then everyone found him thought. and then tristan was about to do something cool but i decided this story is about sir gawaine now." so it's my go-to starter text recommendation. also it prominently features sir palomydes and i have an agenda to push. my queue tag is a quote of his from this text!

the dutch texts, or more specifically the lancelot compilation, are also a good starting place. they're mostly fairly short, not that dense and have are fairly light-hearted which make them some of the best starter texts out there! also if someone's name is in the title, don't worry, it's really about gawaine. he hijacks things a lot.

culwch and olwen is the best welsh starter text, it's about a relative of king arthur's who's cursed to only ever be able to marry this one girl, who just so happens to be the daughter of a giant with

i'd have to reccomend the lais of marie de france too bc they're fairly short and ough. chevrefoil gets me every time. lanval is one where a guy gets married to a fairy queen, and chevrefoil is a tristan and isolde story. also bisclavret isn't technically arthurian but we (med lit tumblr) love it like it is, and it invented the trope of the werewolf knight that shows up in later arthurian texts.

i highly discourage diving straight into one of the full stories of arthur's reign but if you must (at least go through chevrefoil or lancelot and the hart with the white foot first) go with the vulgate instead of le morte, it's much better written and more cohesive and you'll thank me for it. you can/should skip the history of the holy grail and also the history of merlin though. everyone does it.

and uhhh i don't want to come off like i hate modern arthuriana completely so here are my modern suggestions. first there's tennyson's lady of shallot and idylls of the king, but be sure to know that he's wrong about tristan and isolde and also some other stuff i don't remember, and then there's also william morris my beloved who likes palomydes just as much as i do. anyone who says aggravaine killed his mother is a liar btw it completely messes up his character and conflates him with gaheris and i'm saying this bc i know one of them did. also more recently there's this short story with a really long title i'm obslorsed with from an otherwise sucky anthology which is a character study of sir galehaut, who's basically lancelot's husband from the vulgate and also a bit of a medieval gay stereotype.

also there's a substack i'm obligated to plug called nightly knights which has/will have all of these + more and only the good stuff bc. well. i made it.

annnnd that's it for basic starter texts, once you've got one or two of these under your belt med lit becomes. a whole lot easier to get into. after you've read through however many from this list i'd recommend moving to chrétien de troyes (just not erece and enid or cliges bc those are Rough), or sir gawaine and the green knight, just make sure the latter isn't your first gawaine text bc it's the exception not the rule. otherwise, i'd recommend picking a favorite character and reading out from there. if you need any more help or recs for texts that are good but would be Actually Insane to recommend to a beginner (ie. if you like modred i'm Going to point you to an untranslated middle english poem which actually spends time characterizing him), recs for Really Good And Specific Academic Papers, or help finding anything, feel free to ask me or pretty much anyone on med lit tumblr bc god knows we spend to much time on this. hope this helps!!!!

[youbloodymadgenius]

What Could Have Been (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This piece wasn’t requested;  the idea just popped into my mind and I had to write it. I don’t write smut often - I find it very hard in a foreign language - and I know I’m not very good at it. I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

@geekandbooknerd​ - thank you so much for beta reading this for me ♥️

@pomegranates-and-blood​ - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed the last sentence from you. It fit perfectly 😉

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: When Ivar calls for a healer, he does not expect you, his occasional lover, to enter his tent.

Warning: smut.

Words: 2385

"Go and fetch the healer!" Ivar commands, exploding as the guard outside the tent doesn't react quick enough. "YOU GO NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A STICK BEFORE NIGHTFALL!" His roar loud enough to be heard all over the camp, the frightened guard runs away while babbling apologies, his cheeks burning red.

 Sweating and in pain, Ivar enters the tent, heading slowly toward a straw mattress. Grunting, he flops down on the makeshift bed and closes his eyes briefly, trying to keep the agony in his legs at bay. The battle had been harsh on his twisted limbs, leaving him with stiff, aching muscles. 

 "You asked for a healer, Prince Ivar?" Your fresh and youthful voice startles him and he raises his head, furrowing his brow as he looks at you. "I was expecting Una." His dry, annoyed tone doesn't unsettle, nor surprise you. Prince Ivar is not exactly the most easygoing person. And you know he's very secretive when it comes to his pain. He trusts Una, the main healer, who has been taking care of his legs on a daily basis for many years.  

 "I'm sure you were." You just nod, undeterred. "We may have won the battle, Prince Ivar, but the wounded are countless. Una is taking care of Hrafn, whose arm had to be cut off. She's the one who sent me to you. So, sorry if it bothers you, my Prince, but I'm afraid you'll have to do with me. As for myself, rest assured that I know precisely what I must do. " 

The truth is, tending to Ivar's legs is nothing hard, nor complicated. A meadowsweet and nettle infusion to ease the pain, a salve made with a concoction of boiled blackcurrant and ash leaves collected on Midsummer Night to undo the knots in his thighs and calves, that's all you need, and both are in the small leather pouch you wear at your waist at all times. 

In addition, a hot bath of course wouldn't do any harm, but there's no such luxury while fighting a war.  

 Seemingly unconvinced, Ivar scowls and snorts, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs pros and cons, longing for relief but at the same time reluctant because you're not his regular healer. And perhaps also because you're… you.

 Your suspicions are confirmed an instant later, as Ivar wearily rubs his face with a bloody hand. "No other healers were available? Surely there are not just the two of you, right?"

 You shrug, hardly suppressing a grin. He's right, of course. There are many of you here in Wessex, alongside the Great Heathen Army. However, you and Una are the only ones who are not terrified of Ragnar's unpredictable youngest son. Therefore, since Una was busy, you were the only one willing to go and take care of his legs. But telling him that wouldn't be very wise, right? So, you choose another way.

 "My Prince, if I may say so, don't make things harder. I'm already here, and I can tell you're in pain. So, please, let me do what I'm here for." Inhaling deeply, you give him a small smile. "If it's easier for you, let's say that what happened in the past stays in the past. I'm here as a healer, nothing more, I intend to do my job in the most efficient way and I know I can help you."

 Back in Kattegat, when Ivar was still a boy and not yet this bloodthirsty man obsessed with revenge, before Aslaug's and Ragnar's deaths, before all Hel breaks loose, you and he used to fuck from time to time. At first, you agreed to do it because you wanted to help him. Not because you were a healer, but because Hvitserk, your best friend, was worried about his baby brother after his tremendous failure with Margrethe. You taught Ivar how to please a woman and showed him that he was much more whole than he thought. You then kept sleeping with him because sex was great, Ivar a skilled and fast learner. Yet, there was no real bond, no love between the two of you; just some kind of mutual respect, tinged with an undeniable physical attraction. 

 "My Prince?" You ask softly, your hands ghosting over his thighs as you kneel down in front of him. "May I?" Remembering Una's words – this leg is so broken, so twisted, I do not know how the prince can manage walking, but I do know its iron equipment is like a torture device which causes him an unbearable amount of pain – you gesture first toward the metal armor encaging his right leg.

 Ivar barely nods, a long sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes shut. You never did it. Back then, you weren't allowed to. But today is different. Ivar is tired, in pain, and you're not his occasional lover, but a healer. There's no hesitation in your movements; your skillful hands undoing the loops of the brace, you're working fast. Soon, you're able to carefully remove the heavy contraption, and then give your full attention to his left leg. 

 When both his legs are free, you stand up, "Can you take off your pants, my Prince?" and step away, rummaging around the room for a water bucket and a cloth. Actually, you want to give him some privacy. You never really saw his legs and are aware it's a huge matter of concern for him. Once again, you remember what Una told you – I usually work under the furs – and add without turning around, "And please, cover your legs with as many furs as you can, we need to keep them warm." 

 ***

 After making sure his legs are well covered, you grab the cloth Ivar used to clean his hands and face, placing it on a nearby table, next to the water bucket. You then put your supplies in your pouch before turning towards the prince. Eyes closed, his head on a fluffy pillow – the perks of being a prince, you can't help but think, slightly jealous – Ivar seems completely relaxed. You're sure he's not sleeping, though, so you clear your throat while turning toward him. "If you don't need me anymore, my Prince, I'll go back to Una." 

 Ivar exhales slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He just looks at you without uttering a word for a long time, looking a little confused, as if he doesn't exactly remember your presence. He then gives you a small smile – his way of thanking you? – but shakes his head no. Something sparkles in his gaze and Ivar licks his bottom lip. You know him well enough to know that's the exact moment when his mood swings. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out in an attempt to grab your hand, but to no avail. He lets out a frustrated groan, but his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. "Come closer." Yet, you know you don't have a choice. Denying a prince is anything but a wise option; denying Prince Ivar could be life-threatening. 

 Taking two steps forward, you join the bed and place a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "What else can I do for you, my Prince?" 

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ivar pulls you toward him, leaving you no choice but to sit next to him. "Kiss me." He breathes, his blue orbs never leaving your eyes. 

 "Your wish is my command." You whisper while leaning forward to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips find his and Ivar immediately takes charge, a hand behind your neck. His tongue invades your mouth while his free hand slips under your dress, his thick fingers finding the bare skin of your thighs. You let out a gasp, surprised, and delighted. 

 This is new. 

 Back in Kattegat, whenever it was just the two of you, Ivar was always this insecure, tentative boy, eager to learn but clearly grateful that you were willing to take the lead. 

 He's no longer the same. War changed him. The boy has grown into a resolute man, who knows what he wants and who doesn't wait to take it. You won't lie: if you found the boy alluring, this – the warlord look, the confidence, the straight-to-the-point thing – is a whole new level of attractiveness. And a major turn-on.

 When Ivar deepens the kiss, fierce and hungry at once, he pulls you closer, your breasts pressed against his chiseled chest, you cannot help but arch your back as a wave of heat spreads in your belly.

 "Ivar…" You moan and he captures the sound in his mouth, delving deeper again while slipping a rough knuckle against your clit. You nearly choke, almost missing his next words. "Scoot closer." He mumbles, his lips against yours and you don't have to think twice about his demand as you are all too happy to surrender. Straddling him, you push him down onto his back and drive your tongue into his ear. The feeling of his solid, muscular torso between your thighs consumes your senses, a blinding heat coursing from between your legs to fill your entire body. You can't wait any longer. You need him. The craving of being filled up is almost unbearable but when you move your hand downward, your fingers grazing his erected cock, he stops you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I want to taste you first." 

 When he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs after you had moved up to sit on his face, you practically die and clamp your legs around his face, shoving your wet pussy into his mouth. Rewarded with a slap on your ass, you gasp in excitement as he slides a knuckle along your lips. It drives you so wild that you can barely breathe, and Ivar keeps going, his mouth just inches from your clit, drawing shapes around your sensitive skin, teasing you, blowing air into you. Heat is slowly building in your core, burning you inside. You curl your toes and contract your lower belly, panting and moaning, and suddenly, Ivar touches your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You almost lose it. Your whole body is about to break into a thousand pieces and you struggle, sucking in several short breaths. 

 "Gods…" Eyes closed, you shiver as Ivar picks up a rhythm. He knows exactly what he's doing. Barely moving his skilled tongue, he applies a warm pressure, each tiny move bringing you to the edge. It doesn't take long for your stomach to be drenched in sweat, and as much as you want to make this last forever, your entire body is taken over by a wave of spasms and pleasure and you explode in orgasm, biting your lip to keep from screaming. 

 Ivar doesn't give you time to settle down or to come to your senses, lifting his head, a cocky grin playing on his glistening lips. 

 "Ride me." He commands, his voice hoarse and loud as he pulls the cover off his groin. A wild laugh escapes your lips when you scoot downward, still on top of him, kissing his nipples, then his toned stomach; you find his cock hard under your fingers, your other hand massaging his balls. Without a warning, you plunge him into yourself, gasping as you feel his cock slide deep inside you. Leaning forward until your head is just above his, you kiss him hard before grounding your hips against his. You then pull up, all the way to his tip, constricting the muscles in your lower belly, and then push back down as far as you can. It sends a rippling wave along your inside walls and Ivar moans, his hands grabbing your ass. 

 As you pump your hips up and down, Ivar squirms beneath you, meeting each one of your thrusts, pushing his hips up as you speed up the pace. Back and forth, back and forth… You move your hips faster and faster, a drop of sweat trickling down your back. The rhythm is frantic now and you almost black out as you suddenly climax once again, Ivar groaning loudly while spreading his hot seed inside you. 

 You fall heavily onto him, sated and exhausted. "Gods, that was amazing!" You finally say, and Ivar chuckles, a smirk on his face. "It was, indeed." Wrapping his hand around your waist, he then does something surprisingly sweet, kissing your forehead tenderly. With your head resting on his tattooed chest, you just hum, and since your eyelids are getting heavy, you close them, sated and exhausted.

 You're dozing off as Hvitserk's voice outside the tent, startles you awake. "Y/N, you're still in there?"

 Sitting up in bed, you give Ivar a confused look while stretching out your upper body. "Yes." You want to ask why but Hvitserk doesn't give you the time. "Hurry up then! Una is looking for you."

 Sighing, you give Ivar a quick peck on the cheek and stand up hastily. "You heard your brother; I have to go." You give him one last look and are about to get out of the tent when his voice stops you. "Wait, Y/N."

 You turn around, and to your surprise, there's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord in front of you, but a boy, shy and insecure, who bites his bottom lip and lowers his gaze. The new Ivar turns you on, there's no denying it, but this one, the timid one, is absolutely adorable, and your heart flutters. You flash him a reassuring smile. Ivar inhales deeply, blinking a few times. "Will you…" He starts but stops immediately. 

 You raise a brow questioningly, but the moment is gone, his face now expressionless. Ivar just nods at you, his gaze steady as he gestures to his legs. "Thank you."

 You're sure that's not what he was going to tell you; that's not what you could read in his eyes. Will you come back later?

 Stifling a sigh, you straighten your dress as best you can. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. "You're welcome, my Prince." You say softly; and with that, you walk away, your mind filled with regret.

 You would have said yes.

🛡⚔️🛡

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[lovelylunarwriting]

Jaemin Soulmate!AU

Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”

Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly

Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this

Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.

He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”

To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.

That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.

Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them

But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.

Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.

The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”

Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise

Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise

It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.

Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”

Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”

Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”

You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.

It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.

So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.

Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”

One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.

Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.

You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”

To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”

You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.

And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.

When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”

You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”

Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”

You: “... who is Jaemin”

Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”

You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”

You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.

No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.

Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.

And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?

Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.

Or so you think.

“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.

You spin around and look up into the man’s face.

And oh boy is that a nice looking face.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.

Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.

“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.

You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”

He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.

“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”

“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.

“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.

He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:

“What time do you get off work?”

You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.

He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”

He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”

And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”

You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”

Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.

The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.

Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.

And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.

What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.

Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.

“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”

“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”

You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.

“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.

Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.

“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”

“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”

“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.

Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.

Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.

“Your hands are freezing, dude”

“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register

Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”

The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.

Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.

(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”