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With Neighbors Like These
Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)
Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader
Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)
TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present
Word Count: 2k
The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.
Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different.
The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.
He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”
You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.
“Feeling lonely, already?”
“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”
“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.
He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.
Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing.
“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.
“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed.
“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”
“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?”
“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.
“... so you’re a bad influence.”
The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly.
You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”
His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.
“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.
You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”
Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs.
Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again.
“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”
Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.
He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear.
“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”
You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.
You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.
“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit.
“Are you trying to make me lose control?”
You nodded in confirmation and he growled.
He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.
“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance.
“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”
His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”
You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff.
He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open.
“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.
“Better?!”
He whined again. “Not exactly.”
You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”
The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.
It was torture but he was damn good at it.
When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.
Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood.
He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.
When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.
With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.
“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.
He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs.
“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.
He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”
“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”
He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”
“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.
“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”
He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”
You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”
“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile.
“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”
NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner smut#post season 12 aaron hotchner#criminalminds#criminalminds fanfic#criminalminds fic#criminalminds smut#smut#mdni#minors do not interact#not beta read#my gifs#hotch is a dilf#also i hate the title but who cares we're here for the smut#milla writes n*s*f*w*#or rather... milla doesn't know why she's writing hotch stuff#i have a strong suspect someone is brainwashing me with all that talk about him#not naming names you know who you are
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-----MASTERLIST-----
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY
updated July 2023 // primarily writing for stranger things
Please heed all content warnings on each individual story before reading. I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere.
writing tag
blog nav
dividers by @firefly-graphics
The Boys Next Door - 1 / 2 / 3 / boys pov
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | Your cat decides to adopt the boys that live next door, which would be fine if they weren’t so damn pretty.
Of Wolf and Man - 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 /
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | You have a secret, one that’s a little more wolfish in nature.
Get In Line - 1 / 2 /
Billy Hargrove x Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | Your words come back to haunt you and now Billy, Eddie and Steve are making it their personal mission in life to ruin you.
All That And More - 1 / 2 /
M!Werewolf x GN!Human!Reader | Everything changed with a buzz of your intercom, a lawyer and a dead relative.
Sea of Flames - 1 / 2 /
Demon x F!Human!Reader | “if anyone here knows a group of evil insane cultists looking for a cute girl to give as a slave to a huge scary insatiable sexual demon in sacrifice during their ritual in exchange for riches and eternal life please let me know, you can give them my number"
Higher and Higher
Billy Hargrove x Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | Steve and Eddie want Billy’s girl, it’s a good thing Billy knows how to share.
It's Better with Three
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | You get high with Eddie and Steve, only, your plan for a relaxing night doesn’t quiet go to plan.
Love Me Deep
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | smut
Steve has a Bad Day
Eddie Munson x GN!Reader x Steve Harrington | Steve has had the worst day, you and Eddie help him relax.
Fever
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | Eddie and Steve are out late, you decide to entertain yourself while you wait for them to come home.
Wanted U
Eddie Munson x F!Reader x Steve Harrington | A night out on the town ended in the arms of two handsome strangers.
Pretty Girl
Eddie Munson x F!Reader | An encounter at a bar leads to a one night stand, that leads to a spending the weekend, which just may lead to more.
Kiss the Stars/Kiss my Scars
Eddie Munson x F!Reader | angst
And I fell, I fell
Eddie Munson x F!Reader | You interview Eddie and fall in love.
First Class
Steve Harrington x F!Reader | Steve fucks you in his car.
He's with the Band
Steve Harrington x F!Reader | You intimidate Steve a little but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you.
Keep me Close
Billy Hargrove x F!Reader | You get to see a side of Billy that no one else has.
You and Me
Billy Hargrove x F!Reader | request fill soft!billy following around r wherever she goes.
(If this ain't love) Why Does it Feel so Good?
Billy Hargrove x F!Reader | You get fed up and put Billy in his place.
Gimme Love
Jim Hopper x F!Reader | You’re fed up with being ignored so you decide to make Hopper notice you.
The Hunt
M!Werewolf x F!Reader | Running barefoot through the forest was probably a bad idea, but the adrenaline coursing through your body didn’t give you time to regret your choice.
The Summoning
M!Demon x M!Reader | A scholar attempts to change history by summoning a demon, only it doesn’t go as planned.
Bite
F!Vampire x F!Reader | A moment between a Vampire and her human lover.
Captured
Hellhound + Captured
Billy Hargrove
sub!billy being loved on
Eddie Munson | gen
playing with Eddie's hair Eddie's habit of poking his tongue out defending Eddie against bullies playing d&d with Eddie rockstar with fanboy Eddie Eddie falling in love with a badass waking up with Eddie eddie taking care of you massaging eddie nervous eddie talking about your plans
Steve Harrington | gen
waking up with Steve Steve not wanting you to get involved
Billy + Eddie + Steve | gen
confessing to wanting all of them your asshole parents confront you
Eddie + Steve | gen
being sandwiched between them they take care of you when sick doing Eddie's makeup Eddie and Reader choosing chaos realizing they all love each other reader decking someone in front of them labyrinth au
#masterlist#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x you#i:my writing
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How did your foot fetish come to fruition?
Thinking about it, I’ve always had a fascination with men’s feet. I can remember a boarder of my grandmother that used to walk around barefoot and I couldn’t stop staring at his bare feet. He was a Mormon on his mission and around 18. I was probably 7 or 8.
Flash forward to 16, my cousin’s ex-husband owned a karate studio and obviously he was barefoot all the time. I took his classes and there was a time I got a serious leg cramp and he massaged my leg and jokingly sniffed my bare sole. When I got home I must have jacked off 50 times thinking about him sniffing my feet. That’s when I knew that this was my thing. I kept it secret for the longest time but now…I don’t give a fuck. Absolutely nothing wrong with having a foot fetish. 🦶🏻😋
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i am so happy i became a massage therapist. I love it.
i don't think i'd have been able to recover from autistic burnout otherwise. I also didn't even know I was autistic until a year and a half into the field, massage as a career actually helped me figure it out cause it helped me calm down and be able to take care of my needs.
like this job was basically made for autistic people who are touch friendly:
have dim lights constantly
soothing music- I can also choose my own music in the room I work in
everyone is quiet and talking is soft (usually)
I can wear whatever I want to work, but the more comfy the better. Generally I wear tshirts and nice lounge pants. Some of my coworkers wear yoga pants, or bright hippie-like pants.
I have to talk to at most 2 clients in an hour, at best 1 every 2 hours
I work half as much as other people (I work 20 hours a week, up to 29 if I need extra money, but I have to do that sparsely or else my body hurts too much)
I make 60% of the massage cost + tip so I can afford to work that 20hrs a week and still pay bills and buy some things that I want. The cost is the amount of time plus 10. so $70 for an hour, I earn $42, people usually tip between $10-20 so I make $52-62 an hour.
15 minutes between each massage where I am able to be alone and just clean the room I was using. I am able to calm down any sensory issues in this time. (I am not paid for this time, as I earn commission from the massages so I get about 16 actual paid hours per week)
tactile work where my hands are constantly busy and my sensory sensitivity actually comes in handy
pattern recognition helps me figure out how to help specific pain patterns
able to stand or sit whenever I need to. I can even kneel while I work. some massage techniques you do just from sitting and kneeling on the floor, such as Thai massage
the people that do talk to me during the massage generally tend to be neurodivergent. I get a lot of infodumps about interesting things and it can be pretty fun
the people I work with tend to be neurodivergent as well, usually undiagnosed older neurodivergent people, but one of my coworkers is just a year older than me and has autism and adhd too. We just kinda flock to the career cause it's comfy.
if I feel uncomfortable with someone I can reject them as a client. it's about safety and comfort for the therapist and the client. so if someone says anything homophobic or transphobic I can walk out and reject them immediately or I can stay quiet, get money for the work I have done and then reject them for future appointments.
I can also reject people who don't respect my time, such as people who don't show up for appointments or people who constantly show up 10+ minutes late and expect to get their full time. This can make me have a meltdown, and so I cut them out of my schedule if they want to walk all over it.
There are clear boundaries and rules that are outlined for the field. we have to take ethics classes every 2 years while in the field so everyone is on the same page about these rules.
school was 7 months for full time and could be done in a year and a half for a part time student. It was short enough that even as a college dropout, it wasn't daunting. And grades kinda mattered, but not to a point where I stressed myself out about things like I did with college. and a lot of grades were just based on participation and how well we could follow a physical massage routine that we learned.
and one of the best things:
I can work barefoot and no one cares.
#autism#autistic#massage#massage therapy#lmt#licensed massage therapist#my post#mine#personal#autistic jobs
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Exotic Escapes: Unveiling the Best Mauritius Resorts
Discovering Untouched Beauty: Hidden Gems in Maldives and Mauritius Resorts
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Mauritius vs Maldives: Which Destination to Choose
When it comes to planning a tropical getaway, two destinations that often come to mind are Mauritius and Maldives. Both offer breathtaking natural beauty, luxurious resorts, and an array of activities for visitors to enjoy. But which destination should you choose? Let's take a closer look.
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Activities: Abundant vs Relaxed
When it comes to activities, both Maldives and Mauritius offer a unique blend of options. In the Maldives, adventure seekers will find an abundance of thrilling water sports such as snorkeling, scuba diving, and jet skiing. The crystal-clear waters are teeming with vibrant marine life, making every underwater exploration a memorable experience.
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Beaches: Mauritius vs Maldives
When it comes to beaches, both Mauritius and Maldives boast stunning coastlines that will leave you in awe. However, they each offer a unique beach experience.
In Mauritius, you'll find pristine white sandy beaches dotted with palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. The crystal-clear turquoise waters are perfect for swimming and snorkeling, allowing you to explore the vibrant marine life just off the shore. Whether you prefer sunbathing on the soft sand or taking long walks along the shoreline, Mauritius has something for everyone.
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Fijian Deep Tissue Barefoot Massage CE Class Training with The Barefoot Masters® at the FSMTA Massage Therapy Convention in Orlando, FL. We teach licensed massage therapists how to utilize their entire body instead of just their hands. Contact us for more information about workshops and seminars near you.
#barefoot massage#massage#barefoot massage training#barefoot massage classes#massage therapist#massage therapy#massage CE#massage CEU#florida massage#fsmta#licensed massage therapist#lmts#massage classes#massage workshops#massage seminars#health#health & fitness
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assuming they were normal citizens of the world, what kind of ig users do you think svt would be? like who would post stores about you all the time, who would soft launch you, who would only post during anniversaries, who would post cheesy ass things, who wouldn’t post you until y’all are engaged, etc lol. thank you! 😍
i feel like some of these still have an air of fame to them… like some of this shit fans would eat up/they have a feeling of being shared with an audience of strangers
seungcheol: he posts adorable videos of you that make everyone swoon. the most recent is you barefoot at his cousin’s wedding reception dancing in the grass with a glass of champagne in hand. you look heavenly, and his captured ooos and laughter are heart melting. in the corner of every video posted is a little *i have consent to share* because in some clips, it’s clear that you have no idea he’s filming, and that makes them even sweeter
jeonghan: you’re a complete weirdo, and he’s so amused. he doesn’t document all the wacky shit you do, but some of the best moments make it to his instagram
joshua: the only time you’re on his social media is when you’re driving and singing pocketful of sunshine. it’s basically your version of sunday morning
jun: he has a highlight dedicated to everything you bake, and he does wholesome zoom ins with the perfect background music
soonyoung: he’s documenting his life on social media but is respectful of your disinterest in being perceived, so your face is rarely shown. captured conversations are always amusing because the camera is focused on his expressions, and he always :] when you ask if he’s recording
wonwoo: he has a story dedicated to the summary screen when you’re gaming together, keeping track of wins, and adding cute emojis whenever you beat him atta girl
jihoon: he has an anime highlight where you share ratings and recommendations. you’ve probably started an anime commentary podcast together
seokmin: he’s dating a musician (cello player) and has a highlight dedicated to your recitals. every evening of a show brings the same trio of pictures: a flower bouquet held in his hand + i hope she’ll like it, you on stage, and one of him hugging you afterward backstage. so fucking adorable and the captions are so wholesome: “i’m the proudest boyfriend” “🥺🥺😭😭❤️❤️😘🖤🤧😍🫠” “everyone stared at me when i whistled from the first row, but i don’t even care”
mingyu: almost every picture he posts was taken by you, and he makes hearts melt with captions like “taken by my love” or “she did good, huh?” someone stop him
minghao: he met you at a yoga studio because you’re an instructor, and classes at dawn end as the sun rises. he always shares that moment on a monday as vibrant colors consume the sky, starting off his week right, and sends good vibes to followers
seungkwan: he posts pictures of you flipping him off at the dining room table—it’s an ongoing saga—because you haven’t had your coffee yet. we’re two peas in a pod. you film videos of him running, calling out encouraging words, and promising to give him a massage afterward even though he’ll want a donut instead
hansol: he alludes to having a significant other but is never forthcoming. the pieces come together quite easily because of his flirty replies to your comments, and any time he travels the location is the same because you’re long distance. the reveal comes when you’re graduating from grad school, and he posts candids fixing your cap, kissing your cheek, and beaming as he embraces you.
chan: even as a normal citizen, there’s no way this man wouldn’t be dancing, and you always bring meals to the studio, so he posts pictures of the impressive spread before eating. he’s quite public about his relationship. also posts pictures of you strolling through the farmers market, along with posts of you wearing matching bunny headbands featuring green face masks
#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#seventeen blurbs#seventeen fluff#seungcheol scenarios#jeonghan scenarios#joshua scenarios#jun scenarios#soonyoung scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#jihoon scenarios#seokmin scenarios#mingyu scenarios#minghao scenarios#seungkwan scenarios#hansol scenarios#chan scenarios
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Prompts and quotes, Robin edition <3
Hey! So this is another list of prompts and quotes for people who might want to request! Just pick something from the list and send it in
Some of these might be a little ooc for the aww factor <333
WIPS! (In order of when they'll be out)
Robin x gn!reader incorrect quotes
Finney x gn!reader
Finney x m!reader
Robin lightly kissing Y/N on top of a freshly formed bruise.
Robin catches artist!Y/N sketching him during class
Robin watches as Y/N traces one of his scars from an old fight with their finger, asking Robin about it.
Robin wandering barefoot, sleepy, into Y/N's bed
Y/N and Robin cooking something together.
Y/N is suffering in the summer heat, and Robin is left desperately trying to cool them down.
Robin absolutely loves the taste of the chap stick/lip balm Y/N uses, so he keeps stealing kisses from Y/N.
Robin is on a field trip to the museum, but doesn't really want to be there. He's staring at an exhibit, bored out of his mind, when Y/N walks up to him and starts talking about it excitedly. Robin is so enraptured by Y/N's excitement, he ends up following Y/N around the rest of the trip.
Y/N falling asleep in Robin's lap. Robin holds Y/N close and doesn't move from his spot for hours.
Robin and Y/N meet for the first time on Valentine's Day
Y/N giving Robin a back massage when he flops on the couch or bed
Finney finds Robin and Y/N slow dancing with no music, arms wrapped tightly around each other, breaths mingling.
Robin finds Y/N being chased by bullies
Robin and Y/N at a theme park or carnival, and walking towards one of the many games to win a large stuffed animal. Robin is sure that he can win the game, but after many attempts (and a lot of cash down the drain) Robin gives up. Y/N, however, tries and succeeds on their first go.
Robin using Y/N's lap as a pillow.
Y/N and Robin use a time machine to go to the future, and they meet a kid that immediately recognizes them as their parents. Cue the awkwardness coming soon!
Robin hogs all the blankets and Y/N gets cold so they cling tightly to Robin for warmth.
Y/N mumbling Robin's name and reaching out for him.
Robin holding Y/N very close, close enough to smell their hair. He whispers into Y/N's ear: 'I don't like your new shampoo'
Robin helping Y/N put on or take off their shoes
#the black phone#the grabber#ethan hawke#albert shaw#finney blake#mason thames#vance hopper#robin arellano#bruce yamada#finney shaw#Incorrect black phone quotes#Incorrect black phone quote#the black phone (2022)#black phone#finney#finneyblackphone#robin x reader#robin arellano x reader#gwen blake
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Heey! May I ask for some LoveSquare forehead kisses headcanons?^^
Of couuuurseeee 🥺👀
Post reveal pre relationship, Adrien gives Marinette a forehead kiss in lieu of greetings in the morning instead of doing the customary 'la bise'. It leaves her extra flustered everytime
Pre reveal, one day Ladybug cried her eyes out as she was crushed under the weigh of responsibilities and not knowing what the best decisions were to make, and she was holding onto Chat Noir for dear life who in turn was whispering to her sweet-nothings and kissing her forehead to comfort her and running claws in her hair to massage her scalp to sooth her
Pre reveal, Ladybug gave Chat Noir a forehead kiss while calling him a "good kitty" and praising him for his good job after a rough battle. He did not shut up about it to Plagg for an entire week after that
Pre reveal, Adrien and Marinette bumped into each other and knocked heads. To apologise and help the pain go away, Adrien kissed Marinette's forehead repeatedly while saying "sorry" at least ten times. Marinette did not shut up about it for at least two weeks to Alya and Tikki and the kids she babysits and the kwamis she babysits after that.
Pre reveal, Chat Noir stumbled upon a sick Marinette who called out to him (like a cat, that's canon) from her balcony to ask him to distract her as she was getting bored of having to stay inside. When he had to leave, since he couldn't give her "la bise" as she was sick, he kissed her forehead instead as a goodbye
Pre reveal, after Adrien found out his father was Hawkmoth, he went to Ladybug as himself to let her know about it. As he cried his eyes out, she held him tight and and kept on giving long kisses to his forehead in an attempt to sooth him and let him know she was there and that he was loved
The day after the reveal, Marinette accidentally sent her pen flying in class right on Adrien's head. Panicked (because she was already panicking about his identity so accidentally hurting him was on top of her 'disaster list'), she rushed to him and asked if she hurt him, and despite him saying it was fine she grabbed his face and gave him three forehead kisses as a 'sorry' before realising what she was doing. They looked at each other with wide eyes and blushing faces, and she hurried to go back to her place and burry her head in her arms. She avoided him all day after that while he was floating on a cloud like a lovesick dumbass
Pre reveal, one day on patrol Ladybug stumbled upon a passed out Adrien on a bench during a photoshoot break. He looked so tired that she just bent down to give him a forehead kiss before swinging away, not noticing his eyes fluttering half opened at the contact. The energy boost he got for the photoshoot after that was unseen according to the photographer.
Pre reveal, one day on patrol Chat Noir fell asleep in Ladybug's laps. As she combed his hair and ran her fingers through them, Ladybug sometimes bent down to kiss his forehead. Chat Noir Always gave a contented sigh when she did and it left a satisfied soft smile on her lips everytime
Pre reveal, one night right after an akuma attack, Chat Noir stumbled upon Marinette barefoot in her pyjamas, seemingly distraught (yeah, she had run out of cookies ok). Not questioning what she was doing like this at this time, he offered to drop her off, but she zoned out during the trip to her home. As he tucked her in bed, he dropped a kiss on her forehead before leaving through the window. He didn't see her smile nor her hugging her pillow tighter after that
Post reveal pre relationship, Marinette brought Adrien chouquette on patrol as she knew he had had a busy day and would likely be exhausted. He was so happy and excited to get them that he jumped all around, and said he was so grateful he could kiss her. Which he did, he grabbed her face and kissed her forehead with a loud "mwah" and went back to bounce around as he grabbed a chouquette to eat. Marinette was...not responding.
Heeeere I hope you liked these silly headcanons anon 😄♥️
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Dark!Lazlo inspecting your pregnant body 👀 He’d spent months keeping you locked up and bred so he could get you to your current state.
He runs a few tests on just how much your body had changed. To you it’s a form of humiliation. A sign of defeat. To him however, it’s a sign of victory. He had finally succeeded. His seed had finally been taken.
Seeing you swollen with his child(ren) only feeds into his ego. He could get used to you like this. Barefoot and vulnerable. To rely solely on him and him alone.
*sigh* as many things with dr. kreizler, he would approach it initially with (what seems to be) total professionalism. he says it’s to study the female body, because, as you surely know, there aren’t a lot of studies done on the female body. he convinces you that you’d be a pioneer of medicine and that you’d be revered in the field as a figurehead, as someone who was dedicated to research that you put your own body on the line for it. you’d have to say yes.
but, as he’s massaging your breasts and pushing his fingers into you, you slowly come to understand what his real motivation was. you should have known from the very beginning: he had fucked you. he didn’t artificially inseminate you, like he said he would. he got you on that exam table and fucked you until he came inside you, and then sat down and took meticulous notes on your body’s initial response to his “injection” (as he calls it).
now, you can’t even go out in public without hearing whispers about how you’re just “that alienist’s experiment”. once, you even heard captain conner call you “kreizler’s bitch”. but now that you have this reputation with the new york upper class, there’s nothing for you to do but run back into laszlo’s arms.
when you finally give birth, laszlo says that the study failed to show conclusive results. you don’t understand how, and he says that he couldn’t possibly explain it to you. a lot of moving parts, he says. it’s complicated, and you need rest. maybe he’ll tell you tomorrow. but tomorrow never comes. he never explains why the first trial failed, not even when he’s prepping for the second trial. and it slowly dawns on you that you’ll never know what would make the trial yield successful results, because there is no trial. there is no study or experiment. it was all a ploy so that laszlo would be guaranteed to be a father.
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September
Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, going over and over his syllabus with more care than was strictly necessary. He was certainly no stranger to drafting lesson plans and syllabi and course objectives, never had a problem doing it in the past. But this year was so different than other years had been, and he felt a pang of something he didn’t quite recognize as he thought about reclaiming his place at the front of a classroom.
He sighed, gaze shifting to stare out the window. Their home on the outskirts of the city was surrounded by trees and bushes, shrouded in leaves that were tinged with orange to signal autumn’s approach. It was a quiet, comfortable little house that attracted few visitors and seemed to evade scrutiny from the caped crusader and his cohort. If someone had asked him even a few years ago, Jonathan would have never suspected that he’d ever be a professor again, much less a homemaker. But here he was, unbothered by the law, playing house, and sitting at a kitchen table editing a syllabus like the past twenty years had never happened.
A hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched, head whipping around to see Edward standing beside him. He had clearly just woken up, copper hair mussed and sticking up in all directions. Jonathan noticed one of his old university sweatshirts hanging off the man’s small frame, so oversized that he was nearly swallowed by the grey fabric. His glasses were perched on his pointed nose, an unusual sight given the man’s obsession with showing off his wide green eyes. All natural, he would brag if anyone made the mistake of commenting on them. It was not a claim he could make about many of his other features.
“Been up long?” Edward asked through a yawn, hand traveling up the side of Jonathan’s neck to twist into his hair.
“Few hours.”
“Coffee?”
“There’s a bit left in the pot,” he mumbled, gesturing absently toward the kitchen counter as his focus returned to his laptop. “It’s probably burnt to hell, though.”
“No,” he said. “You. Do you want coffee?”
Jonathan paused. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
“No trouble,” Edward replied lightly. He massaged Jonathan’s scalp for a moment longer before disentangling his fingers from his hair and padding, barefoot, toward the coffeepot. “It’s your big day, after all.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Nervous?” he asked, fitting a paper filter into the coffee maker and spooning coffee grounds into it.
“Not really.”
“Do you know anything about your students yet?”
Jonathan shrugged, scrolling up and down through the document as if doing so would show him something he hadn’t already seen a hundred times. “Just their names.”
Edward poured water into the pot before closing the lid and plugging it in. “And you’re teaching… six sections?”
“Correct.”
“So that’s, what, a hundred and thirty kids?”
“Something like that.”
He whistled, turning to lean against the edge of the counter. “Lot of people.”
“Are you trying to make me nervous?” Jonathan asked, more sharply than he had intended.
“Not at all. Sounds like it’s working, though.”
“I’m not nervous,” he insisted. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I know how to teach.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Edward’s lips. “It has been a while, though,” he pointed out. “And you have a very different reputation these days.”
Jonathan’s jaw tensed. He did not appreciate all these little reminders from his partner on his so-called “big day”. “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. “I’m shocked they even hired me with my record, let alone put me in charge of upwards of a hundred impressionable young people. It’s absolutely psychotic. But here we are, and I have to be in a classroom in three hours. So will you shut the fuck up and let me finish getting things ready?”
Edward was silent for a few moments as Jonathan glared at his computer screen, clicking aimlessly between tabs and windows. He tried to angle the screen away from Edward so he couldn’t see that he was doing absolutely nothing of import.
Jonathan wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he felt one of his hands being moved away from the keyboard, followed by the warmth of a mug pressed into his palm. Edward’s hand lingered on his, soft fingertips grazing his skin ever so slightly. Jonathan tightened his grip on the cup, pulling away to raise it to his lips. “Thank you,” he muttered, remembering his manners before taking a sip.
“Of course. I want to be the perfect housewife,” he said proudly, sitting down across from Jonathan at the table. “You know, make your coffee, fix your tie, and send you off to work like they do in the movies,” he continued with a broad grin.
“We are not married.”
“Being a housewife is a state of mind,” Edward replied dismissively. “And don’t expect it to last. My domesticity does have its limits.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to even begin,” he said dryly. “So I don’t imagine I will be too bothered when your generosity goes the way of your hairline and begins to recede.”
Jonathan felt something solid smack into his forehead and Edward’s glasses fell with a clatter onto his keyboard, having been folded and used as a projectile. “You’re very irresponsible with your belongings,” he remarked, making no moves to return the item.
“And you’re very rude to your dutiful housewife,” he retorted.
“Yes dear,” he muttered mockingly.
Another blessed moment of silence. Jonathan exhaled a tense sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Normally, he would be enjoying a morning like this. The transition out of the suffocating heat of summer and into the cool, crisp autumn weather was reinvigorating, even enjoyable under normal circumstances. It signaled a return to comfortable clothes and hot drinks and the skeletal arms of trees who had shed their golden leaves for the season. And he wasn’t able to enjoy any of it because he had some annoying brat in his ear reminding him that he had to go back to fucking school. When he had been a professor before, the end of summer usually consisted of a few weeks of sobriety detoxing from all the opiates he used to fill his time during those unbearable months, followed by an intense stimulant bender around the second week of the semester. And, though he knew he was better off without the haze of withdrawal hanging over his head, he couldn’t help but wonder how he would endure a whole school year without the extra bump.
“I was thinking,” Edward said, interrupting his train of thought, “that I could come down around lunchtime. See you between classes.”
“Hm.”
“Would you like that?” he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I could bring you another coffee. Or lunch. Or just keep you company if you’re bored. But if you’re too busy—”
“I think that would be nice,” Jonathan said softly, putting a stop to the other man’s rambling. “I have a break from eleven ten to twelve forty.”
Edward beamed, skin crinkling around his eyes as he smiled. “It’s a date, then.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
#thank u ditty for the suggestion :)#scriddler#scarecrow#riddler#jonathan crane#edward nygma#batman#dc#fic#my fic#writing#my writing
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Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)
Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476
Read on AO3
A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
nah.
Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.
Ha.
Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.
There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass.
Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.
“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.
Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper.
There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.
She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.
It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape.
She can’t keep making mistakes.
Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.
Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks.
Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.
Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.
What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery?
When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.
Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing.
She opens the curtain.
Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.
“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.
“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”
“How is that possible?”
“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”
“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.
There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”
“Get out of here.”
His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind.
Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate.
Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.
Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face.
“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches.
“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.
When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”
“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.
“You’re a liar.”
Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”
“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”
Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this.
“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.
“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”
“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”
Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”
Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”
Ven rolls his eyes.
“In the communal shower.”
He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”
Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.
“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”
Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.
Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.”
At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time?
Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack.
“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.
Kiss.
A word as loud as a volcano erupting.
Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.
Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.
Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.
Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.
“It’s just a sock, Terra.”
Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.
“Call me stubborn.”
“You’re stubborn.”
She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.
Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.
Shit.
Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.
He opens his mouth to say something.
Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”
“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap.
Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?
“It was an accident, Terra.”
He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”
“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake.
That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it.
Shit.
Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.
“Terra?”
He hesitates. “Yeah?”
Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.
“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”
Her cheeks burn harder.
“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.”
The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.
“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”
All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.”
“So the mud—?”
“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”
“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.
Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”
“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.
The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”
Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal.
When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes.
Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.
“What was that?” he whispers.
Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.”
“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.
“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.
“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”
Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”
Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”
“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”
“No.”
Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too.
“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”
“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”
“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter.
“What were you doing?”
“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.
“Typical Aqua.”
At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.
There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.
They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.
“Stay here, I’ll be back.”
“No, wait, I’m helping you—”
“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”
“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”
“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.
“Okay.” She crosses her arms.
“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away.
Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.
Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.
She gets tapped on the head.
“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.
Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.
And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.
Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand.
Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”
Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”
They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”
“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”
Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him.
Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world.
It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.
Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.
Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.
“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”
They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.
#terraqua#aqua#terra#ventus#kingdom hearts fanfiction#lmao omg#this cute little one is finally out#i hope you like it!#my fic
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En Pointe
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches
No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.
Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark
TW: Broken Bones, Blood
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.
“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”
Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”
Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”
“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.
“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”
“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.
She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.
He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.
Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.
“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.
“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”
He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”
“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.
“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.
“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.
“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.
“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”
“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.
“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.
“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.
“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.
“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.
“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.
“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”
“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”
Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.
“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.
The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.
Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.
The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.
Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.
“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.
“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”
Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”
“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”
She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.
Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”
“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.
Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.
He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.
Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.
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Things that are good for most anybody I think: drinking green tea without anything else in it, massages, putting bugs outside, completing a PICRA for the first time, walking on the beach, catching a fish and then cleaning and filleting it to eat that night, cooking with really fancy olive oil, drinking out of class bottles, baths where you’re essentially the meat to a broth, making candles, swimming in a natural body of water and feeling a fish touch you, getting bit by a spider, petting an animal or at least making eye contact with one from afar and nodding at it, telling a joke that makes a child cry from either laughter or being upset, pottery, taking rhumba lessons, being barefoot in a clean kitchen and wearing an apron, listening to plantasia with your plants, finishing a book you’ve always owned but never touched, writing in a journal with a pen so that the pen has a cushion of a few pages and feels really smooth, drawing a naked woman with chalk pastels and briefly wondering if you could cut it as a starving artist in 1960s NYC before quickly coming to the conclusion you’d probably commit suicide within a few months and only then would anyone want your oil or charcoal nudes, blowing the dust off something, ripping up a poloroid, having exact change, getting attacked by a bird for playing chicken with them, giving a service person a 200% tip if you can afford it, brewing coffee and announcing to people that the pot is done and having them follow you inside like ducklings behind a mother duck, giving a crumb to an ant and watching it carry it off towards its hill, giving a hitchhiker a ride and some food and surviving the encounter, filing your taxes knowing you’re going to be getting a nice fat return, changing your oil without spilling shit everywhere, seeing your arrived at the exact time your gps said you would, giving yourself a awful haircut, giving a friend an awful haircut, successfully lancing a blister without hurting yourself and applying all the antiseptic only to find that it’s completely healed overnight, buying some kids fanzine and actually enjoying it, singing when you vaccuum thinking no one can hear you but only you can’t hear yourself, doing yoga correctly for the first time and realizing the reason you thought you were bad at it and meditation is because you mistakenly tried hot house yoga instead of yin, thinking about wayfinding, sleeping in a hammock, flossing, learning to drive stick shift, understanding that crisco has its place in gay culture and learning to accept this fact, wearing a leisure suit or one of its many derivatives on a hot day and thinking ‘wow I finally get why these exists’, making a cocktail out of a shaker, remembering to take all your stupid pills and supplements, watching kids play with their parents in a park, noticing when the fireflies come up and when they start to wain in the season, seeing lightening off shore and feeling safe and dry, exercising your core and feeling the fabled o come on, learning about aboriginal art, letting people in front of you while driving, napping on fine fescue grass and waking up to horrible sunburn, eating at a Chinese buffet in Tijuana and not getting ill, getting drunk and going swimming (AND LIVING), falling asleep to the SpongeBob ending song on loop, smoking a cigar dipped in honey, befriending a crow, watching sea documentaries, accepting your fate of getting soaked and walking in the rain, paying someone’s meter, and finally, telling a close friend you’re not romantically interested in them but admitting you’ve thought about it and then they get really excited and admit they have too and you shake hands and never speak about it again
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just found this blog and the way you write is so cute! i was wondering if i could request for a scenario where the reader wakes up early before suga and tries to make breakfast for him but ends up making a mess? thank you love!
BABY IM SO SOWRRY IF IT TOOK SO LONG OMG ARGGGGG I HATE MYSELF FOR MAKING YOU WAIT LIKE A MONTH 😭😭😖 Basically I had so many ideas but actually didn’t know how to write them down lol i know im a clown. BUT HERE IT IS, thanks for your request, I hope you like it 💘.
-L
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・*
Delicate.
Sugawara Koushi x reader.
synopsis: just morning after care with Suga, while your parents are away and you try to emulate Gordon Ramsay.
word count: 1.3 K
tags: fluff, very slightly slightly nsfw (maybe? i dunno? send help)
~~~
The sun filters through the window while you lazily open your eyes. You move your eyes through the room, looking to the boy next to you: he breathes slowly without making any noise, just like an angel.
A lock of hair slips over his eyes and you move it behind his ear, while the memories of the last night make room in your mind. A slight blush appears on your cheeks as you slowly relive the past emotions you felt just the night before with your boyfriend. You still remember the delicacy with which he brushed your skin and the sweet words and prayers whispered in your ear.
You approach slowly and leave a kiss on the tip of his nose, getting up soon after while you try not to wake him up. You grab his previously abandoned shirt from your desk and wear it, enjoying the trail of perfume that’s still on the fabric. Barefoot, you leave your room and quietly walk into the kitchen, determined to prepare breakfast for both. It’s your turn to be the romantic one.
You move through your kitchen while taking the ingredients to cook simple pancakes. Cooking is not something you do well, everyone knows that: most of the times your parents don’t even let you come near the cookers due to all the times you burnt food (water included, you still don’t know how), but you are sure that this time nothing serious will happen. You've practiced so many times with your mother to make pancakes that you’re sure you can do everything perfectly, you mean, what could go wrong?
Your house is in complete silence, the only noises come from your garden. Your parents went away, leaving you at home all alone for a couple of days to visit your grandparents. You would have gladly come with them but unfortunately this is your senior year and you have preparatory classes for college. You plan to leave Miyagi and move to Tokyo next year and your parents know it well, as much as you know how high is the level of preparation required to access: breaks from studying are not that much, but as long as it guarantees you a happy entry into the world of your dreams, you’re ready to come to compromises.
You put the batter in the fridge, just as long as the pan heats up, while you take two oranges and squeeze them to make some juice.
You get distracted for a moment thinking about what will happen to you and Koushi, if you’ll continue to be a couple or if you’ll break up. Maybe you’ll still be friends and after sole years you’ll meet again and-
You hear a thud coming from your room followed by a painful grunt and scared you immediately head towards the noise.
You lean out at the entrance of your room and all you see is a simple volleyball player wrapped in your blankets sitting on the floor, while massaging his sore head. An hearty laugh leaves your lips as you watch your boyfriend get up badly and look at you crookedly.
"There's nothing to laugh about." Suga gives you a sweet pout and you approach him smiling, carrying your arms around his back.
"You're so cute when you pout, you know?" the boy gives you a smile and hugs you back, you feel as you could melt in his arms. How can someone be so handsome in the morning as soon as he wakes up? So unfair.
"First you steal my heart and then my lines too?" he asks you and you giggle a bit.
"So cheesy!" a grin immediately appears on his face and after a few seconds you find yourself lying on the bed while Suga straddles you and begins to tickle you on your hips.
You squirm under his calloused fingers, cursing yourself for revealing your secret weeks ago while heading back home together after his practices. Despite your constant begging, Suga is determined to continue his torture, tickling your hips without giving you a break; he enjoys your laugh while you almost have tears in your eyes. You stretch your arm in an attempt to grab a pillow and pull it in his face, but he's quicker than you and he immediately understands what’s your intention: he takes your wrists and locks them behind your head.
The atmosphere becomes much hotter and your bodies feel it. Sugawara slowly comes closer to your face, almost touching your lips, his breath is blowing on your already red cheeks.
"I've had the best night of my life." He whispers in your ear. He begins leaving kisses all over your neck, stroking his nose to your already hot skin. You look him in the eyes and give him one of your best smiles, one of those that drives him crazy every time.
"I can't complain about mine too." You answer him calmly while you enjoy the sight of your hot boyfriend.
"You're so beautiful, y/n. It's a shame I didn't wake up with you still by my side." And that's exactly when you remember the pan left on the cookers.
A strange smell comes up to your room and bells start ringing in your head, while Suga raises his confused head, feeling a strange smell in the room too.
"Do you feel thi-"
You don’t give him enough time to finish the line, you immediately get up from him by dropping him to the ground once again and then run into the kitchen, turning off the gas. You open the windows, trying to get out the gas that has accumulated in your kitchen, while you wave a towel with one hand and cover your mouth with the other trying not to inhale anything. Suga comes soon after, he helps you open all the windows in the house and the door that gives onto your backyard, dragging you away from all the gas that’s in your kitchen.
"Tell me you didn't really tried to cook y/n." he looks at you with a soft smile on his face.
You know he's not angry and he's probably not going to stop teasing you for the rest of the day, but you can't help but be sad. You're not one to cry easily, but this time you can't hold back the tears and immediately your eyes get watery. You worked so hard to make just simple pancakes and you still ruined everything.
Koushi sees the tears on the sides of your eyes, there’s no need to say anything, he comes to hug you, knowing to well what’s going on.
"Hey, it's okay, it's just a little bit of gas, it happens to everyone. You don't have to act like this." He whispers to you by stroking your head and kissing your forehead, while you wrap your arms around his naked back.
"I know, but I really wanted to surprise you and show you I improved since last time." If only you hadn't been distracted...
"You don't have show me anything, I already know how perfect you are.” He whispers to you, holding you even tighter.
"And how do I make you accept sharing an apartment with me in Tokyo?" you say slowly, raising your head, as you blush once again while Suga looks at you surprised. Well, good job, now you're probably looking like the needy one. You hide your face in your boyfriend's arms once again.
"Actually, I've been thinking about it for a while... I'm glad we had the same idea." You lift your face up and look at him in amazement as he bends over you and kisses your nose tip, making you giggle.
“Even if I burn water?” he gives you another cute laugh, you feel so lucky to have him by your side.
“As long as I’m the one cooking we’ll be safe and none of us will starve. Now, would you rather sit or make breakfast with me?" he asks you softly.
"I'm helping you." You get on your tips to kiss his lips, while Suga takes your hand and drags you into the kitchen once again, this time making sure to not burn anything.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#hq#haiky?!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#karasuno#karasuno sugawara#karasuno x reader#sugawara koushi x reader#sugawara x reader#haikyuu sugawara#sugawara koushi#sugawara#sugawara scenario#suga scenarios#hq sugawara
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DIY Portable Ashiatsu Barefoot Massage Training How To.
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