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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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“your hair is really soft” – jjk ver!

ft. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna, & inumaki toge

ITADORI YUUJI – you’re in the room with Yuuji, who is busy watching the movies gojo-sensei had given him. He holds the cursed corpse in his other side, careful not to let him hit you, while your head lies on his shoulder, eyes drooping close from your long day. Yuuji turns the volume down and brings you closer to him until you’re practically sitting on his lap, his lips making brief contact at the crown of your head while he mumbles sweet nothings, too engrossed in the movie.

You smile at his sweet gesture, gently fisting the front of his jacket while you return the affection, kissing the edges of his jaw softly to not distract him too much. Yuuji’s lips tilt at the soft press of your lips on his warm skin. Soon, your hands rake up to his hair where your nails rake his scalp. Immediately, Yuuji deflates like a balloon as he purrs at the movement, making you chuckle in your sleepy daze.

“Your hair is really soft,” you note, and his eyes practically sparkle. Yuuji was a huge fan of hair gels and hair products, that his desk was filled with different brands all so he could keep his hair perfectly styled – in that somewhat natural, messy appeal. You love it on him and he melts at the fact you’ve noticed his efforts into taking care of himself. Most of all, the feeling of the smooth tendrils running past your fingertips like caressing a field of flowers lulls both you and him to a serene state.

GOJO SATORU – Like Yuuji, Gojo takes his time in styling his hair. You brush your teeth beside Gojo, who scowls as he struggles to keep his hair up the way he likes before he puts on his blindfold. The lanky man groans and adds more product, flattening the strands of his hair between his palms before swooping it up. When it falls down, Gojo whines, leaning forward on the sink counter.

You chuckle to yourself; he could be so dramatic sometimes. Bumping your hip with his, you gesture at him to move, and the big baby pouts before placing his chin on your shoulder as he watches you gargle. “Babe,” he sniffles, arms wrapping around your middle before his nose nuzzles into your skin. You giggle and push him away; the little bastard knew you were ticklish there. “My hair won’t stick up the way I want it to. Now I don’t look so cool anymore. What would my students say? That Gojo-Sensei stopped being attractive?”

That earns him an eye roll and a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow!” Gojo rubs his shoulder with another pout, although both of you know nothing ever really hurts the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re just fishing for compliments.”

When Gojo hides his smirk behind his palm, you know you’ve hit the nail right on the head. Gojo was probably the most self-assured and overconfident man you’ve ever met – the day he thought lowly of himself and worried about anything concerning him that would ruin his “image” would be the day pigs could fly. Nevertheless, you give in with a sigh, extending your palm towards him.

“Give me the gel. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

“You’re a lifesaver, babe!” Obediently, Gojo crouches down so you could reach his hair, but not before muttering “shorty” under his breath. You tug at his hair harshly than you intended as payback, and Gojo only lets out a loud, fake moan before doubling over.

Your laughter and his bubble and echo through the cramped room, but both of you don’t mind. It’s moments like these you cherish with your whole heart even though it’s not extremely sweet or anything over the top. Dating a jujutsu sorcerer, the strongest one at that, wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns. You worry for him all the time and stay up awake all night, only ever finding peace in your sleep when he comes home safely – which he always does.

Still, you don’t stop worrying for him. It’s only natural, after all, and the way Gojo’s eyes soften as you slightly massage his scalp and style his hair for him lets you know he loves small moments like this too when both of you are completely alone in your own worlds, just enjoying each other’s presence and not having to think about anything else.

“Your hair is really soft,” you muse, unaware of the way Gojo’s closed his eyes as he lets your hand do the magic. When the familiar scent of vanilla and flowers wafts into your senses, you lean down closer to him to sniff his hair, stopping in your movements. “That’s odd. You smell like shampoo, but I haven’t bought that scent in a week.”

“Well, I may or not be the one who emptied it the last time,” he sheepishly chuckles.

“Gojo! That shampoo was really expensive!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to smell like you,” he coos, gently peeling your arms off him so he could hug you. Because of the height difference, you face plant into his bare chest where his skin is still warm from the shower. You keep feigning your irritation, but really, you squish your cheek above his heart, and Gojo’s chest rumbles as he laughs – he knows you can’t resist him. “Sorry about it babe, let’s go grocery shopping tonight when I come home, yeah?”

“You better buy your own shampoo,” you grumble, but Gojo only laughs.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – Megumi is hunched over his desk, eyebrows pinched together while his hands move at an extreme speed. He’s studying while you scroll through memes on your phone, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Megumi is studious as ever, and it’s not that you aren’t, but you’re definitely a lot more relaxed than he is.

You often tease him that you’ve got amazing memory by tapping your forehead whenever he tells you to study with him, which only makes him huff, but in reality, you refuse to study with him because he’s so distracting.

The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrated on something has your stomach erupting with butterflies, and it doesn’t help when his dark blue eyes pierce through the pages like the poor textbook committed a crime he couldn’t forgive.

All in all, Megumi’s beauty tripled tenfold when he was dedicated to something, and it was this fact that had you keeping your distance from him while he studies, because the last thing he needs is to have you jump him when he’s got an exam to prepare for. Unbeknownst to him, you’re angling your phone upwards until his beautiful side profile comes to view – and it’s so unfair his lashes are longer and thicker than yours – and you take a silent snap.

You take a few more pictures with a silent giggle, making sure to set it as your lock screen later. Nothing better than waking up to Megumi’s face every time your alarm went off, but your daydreaming is halted when Megumi drops his pen with a loud sigh.

“I know you’re taking pictures of me,” he side-eyes you with a glare. You squeak before hiding your phone behind you, knowing that it’s not out of the picture for Megumi to steal them and delete his precious photos. It didn’t help he knows your password either (duh, it’s his birthdate) so you take the extra mile by offering him a sickeningly sweet smile, an apology ready to leave your lips when – “If you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind taking a break or something.”

Although he sounds annoyed, the way he avoids your gaze to hide his reddened cheeks and ears say otherwise. Megumi’s back faces you as you wait patiently on his bed. You don’t want to bother him – you really don’t – so you stay put, and Megumi sighs for the hundredth time that night before spinning on his chair, arms stretched out wide open. “Come. Want hugs.”

He keeps his gaze on his lap to swallow the embarrassment of using baby-like words, which was a huge contrast from his quiet and cold persona. You don’t mind though. Deep down, Megumi is like everyone else who wants constant affection, so you leap out of his bed and jump into his arms. Megumi relaxes with your weight on top of him before he squishes his cheeks against your boobs – one of his quirks that you found endearing – a sign that he just wanted to relax for a little while.

Megumi isn’t really that huge on touch, so moments like this where he allows himself to be physically intimate with you has you floating on cloud nine. You hear him sigh between you, and you hide your grin by pushing his hair back to reveal those pretty eyes of his, beckoning him to look you in the eye.

As expected, his cheeks flush a beet red at the intensity of your gaze, but what really catches your attention is how his eyes just brighten even though they’re lined with dark circles.

This precious boy means everything to you, and you cup his face until your noses are rubbing. “Love you, Gumi,” you whisper, the boy’s breath hitching when your eyelashes flutter against his skin. Megumi tsks, a faux scowl on his face because both of you are painfully aware that he just melts around you.

“Stop teasing me. You know I don’t like that.”

“I’m not teasing you,” you lie, brushing his hair back in a soothing manner to help him relieve the headache he gets when he studies too much. “You know, your hair is really soft. Can I keep doing this?”

Megumi hates it when people touch his hair, so you expect him to say no – and you’ll gladly respect it – but instead, he pushes you closer and murmurs, “Don’t stop doing that.”

You smile so wide you fear your face would break.

NANAMI KENTO – You’ve always been fascinated with your co-worker. You don’t know what it is about the sharp-faced and stoic Nanami Kento that somehow makes him stand out from the rest. It’s not like he was smarter or better than anyone, although you do admit Nanami overworks most of the time.

It’s kind of pathetic you’ve been crushing on him ever since your first day of work. Maybe it’s because he worked with virtue and wishes to actually be honest instead of just sucking the money out of others. Maybe it’s because seeing him visit a bakery every after work makes him seem softer and a lot more human than his seemingly unapproachable nature. Whatever it was, you can’t explain why you’re so enamoured with the blond, or why you have the audacity to suddenly card your fingers through his hair at his desk that time.

You were told by your boss to give him this folder – quick, easy, and simple. But Nanami has this effect on you that he makes your brain go brr every time you go closer to him. You blame it on the fact both of you are alone at the office right now for OT, but when Nanami freezes under your touch, you realize the grave consequences of your actions.

As if you’ve touched something boiling hot – and he kind of is – you retract your arm and bow so deep you feel a vertebrae popping air. “I’m so sorry!” you begin to blabber, bowing repeatedly to the point your hair has become a mess. You can’t even look him in the eye – what were you thinking?! “I didn’t mean to, it’s just your hair looked really nice and soft and I couldn’t help myself! If you want to tell the higher-ups about this harassment and get me fired, I promise I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll take this to my grave and even offer my firstborn child as an apology—”

“Y/N.”

“because I’ve done something so horrendous and oh my gosh, I was just eating donuts and I probably got crumbs in your pretty hair—”

“Y/N,”

“And that’s really so low of me. Uh, actually, I may or may not have spent last month’s salary to buy my niece a huge ass dollhouse, but I’d gladly schedule a hair appointment for you—” you stop your words when you feel huge, calloused hands squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered out like a fish. Nanami stands before you, looking as handsome as ever, and that thought only has you panicking more and withdrawing. “I’m so sorry.”

Nanami sighs, pulling away to give you some space. You try to fight back the whine because not only did you look ridiculous under him, but also because you actually missed his touch.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” he takes the folder from you, pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “You think my hair is soft?”

“Uhm,” you blink rapidly, “Y-yes. Your hair is really pretty too. In fact, everything about you is pretty, like your hands when you type in paperwork but – I’m talking too much aren’t I?” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Nanami doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“Yeah,” you confess, switching your weight from one foot to another. At this point, you’ve given up on asking him out for coffee this weekend because you’re sure he’s labelled you as an idiot now. Not that it’s surprising though; not only does Nanami keep to himself out of social aversion, but you’re also pretty loud and awkward, a huge contrast to someone as well-put as him. “Anyways, uh,” you clear your throat, gesturing to your cubicle. “Now that you’ve got the file, I’m gonna go do my part. See you later, I guess. Or not. You can go home first you want. I’ve got quite a lot on my plate.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Sorry?”

Nanami organizes his desk one last time before following you to your desk. “I’m done with my part and it’s late. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll wait for you until you’re done and walk you back home. That way, I don’t have to worry about your safety tonight,” he plops down on the empty seat next to yours, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Take all the time you need. Just wake me up when you’re done.”

Just like that, Nanami dozes off, exhausted from a long day of hard work. You, on the other hand, are more energized than ever as you suddenly find a strong wave of motivation you’ve never had before.

Maybe you don’t mess up everything, after all.

RYOUMEN SUKUNA – He groans when you giggle at him, using your small, dainty hands to brush it through his hair. Sukuna liked to sleep in and it was only seven in the morning, meaning he’s supposed to be still lost in dreamland with thoughts about you and your cute little face. But because you’re an annoying brat who’s an early bird and way too cheerful as a morning person, you’re wide awake when the sun shone through the windows, and you’re gently coaxing him awake by rotating your fingers through his hair.

“Your hair is really soft.”

“Stop that,” he complains, but doesn’t really do anything to push you away. “It’s too early. Go back to bed.”

“But I’m already awake,” you tease, proving your point by taking off his covers and patting his chest. “Come on, let me make you breakfast. Maybe we can go out today and go see a movie, what do you think? It’s my day off so we better make use of it!”

“Exactly, it’s a day off,” he growls the last part, surprising you when his strong hands grip your thigh and drag you beside him. Soon enough, Sukuna has you trapped in his muscular arms until you can’t move anymore. “Let’s just stay the whole day in bed. Plus, I’m the one making breakfast. There’s no way you’re still cooking for me on your day off.”

“But I love cooking for you.”

“I know, but it’s my turn now,” he huffs through your hair. Sukuna’s grip loosens around you a bit to give you room to breathe, but he’s taken aback when you only snuggle closer to him to the point your legs and tangled and your body is warm from his heat. You don’t have to say it out loud to tell him you’ve conceded to his wishes.

As always, Sukuna is right. It feels much better to just let go of time and enjoy this moment. And he smells so good, feels so warm, that you’re unable to stop yourself from burrowing closer onto his body until you’re sure you’re about to start smelling like him later.

Of course, Sukuna likes the thought of that, so he sweeps one arm behind to tug the covers back over your bodies. He kisses your temple, and with a low, husky voice, grumbles, “Let’s go back to sleep, then we’ll do everything you want later, okay? I just want to stay in bed with you a little longer.”

For a guy who was considered heartless and barbaric, he sure turned into putty in your hands.

INUMAKI TOGE – The platinum haired boy lays on your lap, the wire of headphones dangling beside you both. You’re thankful Inumaki has his eyes closed, because the last thing you want him to see is how embarrassed and giddy you are at that moment.

You and Inumaki have been friends for years, meaning you’ve been hiding your crush on him for a painfully long time. He’s recently made a Spotify playlist with an innocent text of, “I made you a playlist of all the songs that reminds me of you,” which leads you both to your current predicament. It’s a rather lazy weekend and Gojo-sensei isn’t around to bother any of you, so you’re in Inumaki’s room, careful not to bounce your legs out of habit to not give the poor boy a headache.

You snap back to life when Inumaki squeezes your thigh, and you’re met with azure eyes looking back up at you. “Mustard leaf?” he points to your face, which has been previously constricted and heated from his close proximity. It isn’t the first time you and Toge have cuddled, but it’s been too long and you’re standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff with the desire to tell him you like him.

Inumaki must’ve thought you’re uncomfortable with his weight on you because he begins to sit up. “Oh, no, no!” you coax him back down despite his questioning eyes, a wide grin replacing your flustered state to conceal it. “Its’s fine, really. I was just vibing with the songs.”

He hums, not completely believing it, but he doesn’t want to push either. Soon, he settles into your lap again and makes you lose your mind when his breath starts to tickle your kneepads now that he’s facing behind you.

Your heart just about combusts, and before you know it, Inumaki has fallen asleep while the theme of Howl’s Moving Castle plays. Once his breathing regulated into a steady rhythm, you reach out to brush his hair back and lightly add some pressure for better sleep. You know Inumaki lies that, and you smile to yourself when he leans into your touch even in his slumber.

“Your hair is so soft,” you say mostly to yourself, leaning down to kiss his the crown of his head, making Inumaki sigh contentedly. Gosh, you love him so much.

Now isn’t the time but...hopefully, one day you could tell him how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you hope you could still be friends even after that awkward encounter –

You freeze as the next song comes on. I.F.L.Y by Bazzi comes on, and just as you cover your mouth to silence your gasps, you hear the faintest snickers coming from Inumaki before he goes back to “snoring.”

“Toge! Were you awake the whole time?!”

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 4 years ago

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Flirting with the intern (1)

Series masterlist

Word count: 1263

Genre: idk, probably a mix of angst of fluff

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: None (let me know if I need to add any)

Summary: You’re Tony’s new intern and Natasha seems to take an interest in you when you’re bartending at a party.

A/n: Hi so this wasn't a request but a lot of you seemed to like this blurb I wrote and I was bored and had writer's block so I came up with this series, hopefully you like it! I will try to update fairly often but no promises (I also have no idea where I’m going with this so feel free to give me ideas). Also if you aren’t on my regular taglist but would like to be tagged in this series, or you are on my regular taglist but wouldn’t like to be tagged in this series let me know, I will not be offended. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

She gets bored of the conversation, eyes wandering around the huge room until she spots you serving drinks to some of the older gentlemen over by the bar. You’re pretty and she admires the dress you’re wearing, noticing with disdain that the men at the bar are doing the same, not at all subtle in the way they leer. You look uncomfortable but handle the situation gracefully, handing over their drinks before walking away, rolling your eyes.

She doesn’t recognize you which is odd. She makes a point to be able to match everybody’s face to their name, a habit formed by years of not trusting others, and there’s no way she missed anyone, much less a cute girl.

“Who’s that?” she asks Steve suddenly, only noticing after she speaks that she interrupted his conversation with Bruce. Oh well, she muses, it’s not like talking about the differences of desserts now and when Steve was born is a particularly important topic over conversation.

Steve doesn’t frown but his forehead wrinkles a little. “I don’t know. You should ask Tony, he probably knows.” Steve pauses, thinking a second. “Or he has absolutely no clue. Either way you should ask him.”

Natasha nods and looks around the room to find Tony. Luckily he seems sober and is pretty close by, talking to Pepper and Rhodney.

“Hey,” she greets as she walks up.

“Hi red,” Tony responds and Natasha gives him a slight glare at the unwanted nickname, being slightly more lenient than usual because she needs something from him.

“Who is the girl working at the bar?” she asks, getting straight to the point.

Tony waggles his eyebrows. “Why? Do you think she’s cute?”

“No,” Natasha half lies (she does but that’s not the only reason she’s asking), “I like to know the names of everybody so if something goes wrong I know exactly who did it. She is obviously an employee of yours but I’ve never seen her before so I would like to know who she is.”

“Spies,” Tony mutters under his breath before speaking louder. “Her name is Y/n and she’s my new intern.”

“What happened to Sarah?” Natasha asks. Sarah wasn’t extraordinary in any sense but she worked hard and Natasha could admire that.

“Couldn’t handle the pressure and started crying in the labs a few days ago saying it was too hard and she wanted to quit, so I told her she no longer had an internship.” Tony explains.

“Which is why you are going to be more understanding and less hard on Y/n.” Pepper interjects, giving Tony a look. “This is your fourth intern in three months. It doesn’t look good for the press if none of your interns like the program or pass it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves his hand around. Natasha has no doubt that if he is unsatisfied with your work he’ll take away your internship as well, without considering Pepper’s words.

“Well thank you for your help Tony, I’m going to go talk to her and see what I can find out now,” she tells him, starting to walk away.

“Spies,” Tony mutters again, shaking his head fondly as he watches her go.

---

“I’ll take a shot of vodka, neat,” a sultry voice says and you spin around to find yourself face to face with the feared assassin and possibly most beautiful woman to ever exist, Natasha Romanoff.

“I-um, er-” She lifts an eyebrow delicately and you fall silent.

“You do know how to do that right?” she asks sarcastically.

“Of course,” you tell her, more confident after taking a breath. You busy yourself with making the drink which doesn’t take long at all.

“Here you go, um-” you flounder, unsure of what to address her as.

“Agent Romanoff,” she says, sticking out her hand for you to shake.

You lean over the counter and shake it. “Y/n.”

She hums thoughtfully. The view as you leaned over the counter was not bad and she wonders if you were showing off on purpose before brushing that idea out of your head. You seemed nervous early and your body language didn’t suggest anything flirty. Still, she couldn’t help but try her luck.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you,” she says and you feel heat rise in your cheeks and turn your head away so she can’t see your reaction. It’s useless of course and barely hides you at all but she finds it adorable that you tried and also adorable how flustered you get at one generic pick up line.

“Um, thank you,” you tell her, trying not to stutter. She bites back a smile. Just when she thought you couldn't get any more adorable you do, all cute and shy.

She winks. “Just the truth sweetheart.”

You nearly choke on your own spit when you hear her words. If you didn’t know any better you’d think she was flirting with you. But that is impossible because she is so much better than you that the thought alone is completely ridiculous.

“So how are you finding Stark industries so far?” she asks, switching the subject. As much fun as it’s been flirting with you she can tell she needs to tone it down a little if she doesn’t want you to combust.

You blink a few times at the sudden change before speaking. “It’s been quite an experience so far even though I’ve only been here a few days. Tony is definitely as brilliant and eccentric as everyone says and I think I’ve learned a lot and I’m excited to learn more.”

She laughs, a sound that makes you want to hear more. “Tony definitely is eccentric, but as long as you go along with it he’ll love you. And if you get on Pepper’s good side Tony will be scared to fire you.”

“Thanks for the tips,” you say surprised, “Pepper is definitely scarier than Tony.”

“Oh for sure,” Natasha- Agent Romanoff agrees, “but don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Don’t let who let you say what?” Tony asks, standing beside Natasha and throwing his arm around her. She immediately steps away, brushing him off.

“I was just warning your intern about how utterly stupid you can be sometimes,” she tells him, “I want to prepare her properly so she doesn’t leave or get fired like the others.”

She walks off and you watch her go, not noticing how entranced you are until Tony clears his throat.

“So Natasha huh?” he asks and you look at him wide eyed.

“I’m sorry Mister Stark, I don’t know what you mean.” you play dumb.

He shakes his head. “You’re not the first and you definitely won’t be the last, I can’t say I don’t blame you.”

“Mister Stark?”

He sighs. “Just be careful around her kid, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You nod as he leaves the bar as well. The rest of the night you think about the weird exchanges you had with both Tony and Natasha. Everything you had heard about the Black Widow was that she was cold and unfriendly but she seemed pretty nice to you, especially with the weird almost flirting thing she was doing. You know it wasn’t real, you watch as she makes the rounds of the room and has everyone practically falling over her feet, but it felt real and when she smiles in your direction from across the room and makes eye contact you know that you are way too close from catching feelings, which is always a bad idea.

---

next part >>>

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel fanfiction #x reader

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mistressemmedi · 3 years ago

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Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #i'm off to drink some wine lol

146 notes · View notes

ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!”

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.”

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.)

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #kuroo tetsurou imagines #haikyuu!!

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot #uhhh idk what else to tag this #enjoy!!

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

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amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

“i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!” you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi scenarios #akaashi imagines #akaashi smau #akaashi fluff

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waveypedia · 3 years ago

Text

New Days

Rymin Week Day 4: Off the Train

1 2 5 6 7

Ao3

Contrary to popular belief (his parents), Min-Gi is not a morning person.

He’d trained himself into getting up and going to bed early, first at his parents’ insistence, then as a necessary skill for all the classes he was taking in high school (Gotta make that college application shine!). Yet given the choice, he would happily stay up all night and wake up extremely late.

On the train, all of Min’s obligations and restrictions suddenly vanished. Although his schedule was primarily dictated by not dying, which led him to sleep and wake up at odd hours (and telling time on the train is a complicated task anyways), he started sleeping in later and later. Now that he’s off the train, and most of his days consist of driving, songwriting, and practicing, he’s free to wake up as late as he wishes.

It’s why he finds himself slowly slipping into the world of wakefulness one unassuming Thursday morning. The van is already moving, as per usual - Ryan doesn’t mind the quiet mornings as Min sleeps away. Golden rays of sunlight peak through the van’s windows.

In the driver’s seat, Ryan is spotlighted in one. The sun’s brilliant hues turn his brown hair into shades of tree bark and make his soft skin glow. He’s beautiful.

Ryan is a morning person, in contrast to Min, but he would very much like to be a night person. They’ve spent ages lamenting the fateful injustice. Unlike Min, who used to force himself to go to bed early even if it meant lying awake in the dark for hours, Ryan chooses to just run on little sleep. He’d go out and party and/or perform all night, crash for a few hours, and wake up at his usual time.

He’s been getting better, though. Just like Min, they’ve both been making bounds of progress now that they’re off the train and free from restrictions. Every time Ryan goes to bed at a decent hour, it eases the worry in Min’s heart.

They’re both doing so much better now. Min never thought he’d be grateful for getting spontaneously kidnapped by a magical death train, but he and Ryan are so much happier now than they’d ever thought they’d be.

Ryan glances over, smiling fondly. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

It’s a running joke between them, one that started way back on the train with Kez, but Min’s heart never fails to make a little jump whenever Ryan calls him beauty.

“Morning,” Min replies, stretching. He digs around in a bag at his feet. “Did you move the songbook?”

“Yeah, I was working on it earlier,” Ryan says. He jerks a thumb behind him without taking his eyes off the road. “I left some new lyrics and chords for you to look over.”

Min smiles. “Thanks.” Following Ryan’s directions, he grabs the songbook, a blue pencil, and his coveted mini-synth. Items in hand, he carefully slips into the passenger’s seat and buckles up.

Ryan shoots him a quick grin and turns his music off so Min can write.

For the next few hours, they stay as they are - Ryan keeps them on track to their next gig, while Min tackles the lines Ryan wrote earlier. It was a bit of a learning curve, figuring out how to write songs together, when they first started out. Ryan only knew chords and tablature, while Min only knew notated music from his viola days. Now, though, a couple months into their journey, they’ve worked out a good system. Whoever comes up with lyrics or a melody first (usually lyrics, and usually Ryan) will pen it along with any chords or notes they can think of. The other will look it over, edit it, and add the missing element. It usually makes for a solid first draft.

Min twirls the pencil in his hand. Blue. His favorite color. Ryan usually writes in a red pencil, from a set of colored pencils he stole from his younger brother before leaving. It makes contributions easy to distinguish when writing and editing.

Every so often, while Min looks over Ryan’s ideas, he’ll pull out his mini-synth and tap out a melody. Both of them find it easier to create melodies with an instrument in hand. Min may not play his mini-synth on stage like Ryan plays his guitar, but it still makes him happy to play it regularly. Not as a toy, not as something he has to hide from his boss and his parents, but as a genuine instrument.

As he writes and plays, Ryan listens. He keeps his attention on the road and map, but chimes in every so often with little affirmations and suggestions.

“Is that a D?” Ryan muses. “Under a G?”

Min thumbs the corner of the page. “Yeah, I think it sounds cool. Thoughts?”

Ryan graces him with a patented Ryan Akagi grin, all teeth. “I like it! I’ll look it over when you drive.” Ryan squeezes his fists on the steering wheel. “I’m really glad we’re working together, Min. This is way better than anything I’ve written solo.”

Min ducks his head, cheeks flushing. “Oh- Uh- I like writing with you too,” he replies. “

In the afternoon, they pull over and Min takes the wheel. Sometimes at this time they stop for food - they’ve made it their mission to catalogue all the small restaurants across Canada and America on the way to New York for future reference. But today Ryan got a late start on driving because he was songwriting (“Inspiration strikes when it strikes, Min! Who am I to deny my muses?” Never mind that Ryan is uncharacteristically close-lipped about what/who said muses even are), so they eat separately in the car. They step out to stretch for a minute, and Min hands over the songbook and food. Then they’re off again.

Ryan makes a few more edits with his red pencil, but they always collaborate on the second pass. At both of their insistence, they have to wait until one of them isn’t driving to truly discuss it. Min thought he might have to put his foot down on this, but Ryan was insistent - he’s an experienced driver and knows far to well just how dangerous and difficult driving is.

The afternoon passes without much fanfare. Min keeps his eyes on the road while Ryan edits and eventually breaks out his guitar. The highway is long, flat, and unassuming. Few other cars pass them.

It’s for that exact reason Ryan gets an idea that is both brilliant and stupid.

“Min. Min. Minminminminminmi-”

“What.” A feeling of dread washes over Min before the words are even out of Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan grins toothily at him. “I’m gonna stick my head out the window.”

Min chokes on air., surprised. “Wh- Ryan. Why would you want to do that? Didn’t you have enough thrills on the death train?”

“Eh,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but i couldn’t exactly do it while driving when I was touring alone. Besides, my parents would never let me.”

“For good reason,” Min grumbles, but in his gut he knows Ryan’s already won.

Ryan frowns at him. “Look, I’m not stupid. I’ll be careful. I won’t lean so far out of the car that I’ll fall. I’ll come back in if there are more cars or it looks like I might hit something.”

“Or if we start turning,” Min warns.

Ryan’s replying smile is blinding. “Does that mean it’s a yes from you?”

Min rolls his eyes. “Just try not to die. If I show up to the venue with only half the band, the manager won’t be happy with me.”

“Yes!” Ryan punches his fist in the air and dances triumphantly - or, he dances as much as one can while sitting in the seat of a moving van.

Ryan rolls down the window and sticks his head out. He’s crouching on the seat, half-standing, in order to fully fit through the window. His upper body is out of the car. His arms wave and flail, making his jacket sleeves flutter even more violently in the wind.

Min starts to shout a warning, to yell about safety precautions, to give into the panic in his heart and yell get down, but the words die in his throat the minute he lays eyes on Ryan’s face.

Ryan is joyful. Euphoric. Happy. He has always been a smiley person, but times where he is truly, unadulteredly happy are rarer than you’d think. Here, riding half-outside of the van while they drive to their fame and dreams, he seems truly free.

Min smiles. God, he loves that man.

Ryan glances back, the light reflecting off his glasses, and flashes Min an adrenaline-fueled grin and a shaky thumbs up. His ankles wobble a bit. Before Min realizes what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs Ryan for support.

Ryan’s mouth drops open in a small ‘o’. Min moves to take his hand back, but before he can, Ryan twists and reaches back inside the car to grab Min’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Min freezes.

Ryan is smiling, more bashful and careful now than before. He’s still happy, but… nervous? Anxious?

Min’s heart flutters. He manages to smile back.

“I got you,” he says, although it comes out as a whisper.

“O-oh,” Ryan whispers. His eyes are wide and soft. “I… thank you, Min.”

Min ducks his head awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. It’s not awkward, but it’s not as comfortable and natural as it usually would be.

Something has changed.

Min grips the wheel tighter and stares down the road, for a lack of real target. If looks could kill, the road would be up in flames.

It’s… confusing. He’s not sure why a change in their dynamic is so upsetting and off-putting. He and Ryan have gone through so many changes over the years, and they’ve always been able to come back to themselves in the end.

Besides, it’s not like they had an argument. Or even a misunderstanding. All they did was hold onto each other to keep balance. Why does this feel so monumental?

Min chances a glance away from the road to look at Ryan. He’s curled up in the passenger seat (because Ryan seems incapable of sitting normally when he’s not driving) with his guitar. The songbook, flipped open to their latest draft, is balanced precariously on Ryan’s knee. He’s bent over to read it accurately, which must be difficult, especially in the dim light. But he seems to be managing. He’s humming softly to himself, almost too quiet for Min to catch it. As he’s focused on the road (no matter how much he wants to listen to Ryan’s ethereal yet natural and homey singing) the melody floats in and out of focus. Ryan is also plucking at his guitar, playing mostly individual notes instead of chords. It’s calming and comforting, not to mention beautiful. If Min weren’t driving, he might just fall right asleep. Even though he’s the one playing, Ryan seems drowsy as well, judging by the way he’s leaning against the back of the seat.

As they draw closer to their destination, Ryan seems to consciously shake himself into wakefulness. He sits up and puts the songbook away to focus fully on his guitar. As Min pulls off the highway and navigates the city streets, Ryan tunes his guitar and warms up.

They run through a couple vocal exercises together, practicing harmonies and lyrics as well as warm-ups. Min is a bit shaky since he’s focused on the road, but he and Ryan know their songs by heart, and the warm-up does the job. He’s still a bit jittery as he pulls into the venue parking lot, but that’s normal. He hasn’t quite shaken his stage fright yet, but as long as he has Ryan at his side, he’s able to perform. More than that, he has fun performing.

Besides, Ryan confided in him a while back, before their first real show. “You’re not the only one with stage fright, Min,” he’d confessed. “Yeah, I love it, and the adrenaline basically cancels out the fear, but it’s still there. You just have to go for it.”

Min had felt comforted enough to perform with that, with the admission that even the seemingly-fearless Ryan Akagi, who’d always seemed more at home on a stage than at his actual home got stage fright. But then Ryan had hesitated, glanced down, and taken Min’s hand. Min’s heart had nearly stuttered to a stop in his chest. He almost missed what Ryan said next.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if you get stage fright or not,” Ryan had said cheerfully, too cheerfully, although Min barely noticed. “All that really matters is if you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s more admirable to conquer your fear in order to chase your dreams than to not have fear.”

Min had smiled back, shaky but euphoric. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, not unlike how he felt onstage. “That’s very profound.”

Ryan had laughed and squeezed his hand. “Eh, I have a lot of experience. Listen to me, I’m the master!”

The mood subtly shifted with the joke, and suddenly they were laughing and Ryan let go of his hand and they were pushing the synthesizer on stage and it was all a blur from there until the curtain went down and Ryan was squealing and hugging him and picking him up and screaming We did it! You did it!

What a first show.

Min shakes himself back to reality and pulls into the venue parking lot. Ryan jumps out of the van before Min is fully parked, despite Min’s loud protests. He rolls his eyes and lets Ryan run ahead anyway.

While Ryan gets checked in with the manager, Min parks and unloads Barold and the rest of their equipment (which is pretty much just Barold now, since Ryan took his guitar with him in his haste). He heads inside, he and Ryan set up, and then they’re standing onstage behind a lowered curtain, waiting in darkness and silence for their cue.

Suddenly, Ryan turns around and flashes Min a thumbs-up and a bright smile. It’s more jerky and jittery than usual, probably because of the nerves and adrenaline. He seems a little more on edge today, though.

“We’re gonna do great!” Ryan promises, grinning.

Min smiles back. “We’re gonna do rad,” he replies. The tension between them dissipates, and the curtain goes up. Ryan turns toward the crowd, beaming his particular I’m-on-stage-but-I’m-really-enjoying-myself smile, and greets them. The crowd goes wild.

Energy floods Min’s body, and he grins back at the crowd. Ryan counts them off, and they burst into their opening number with the power and passion it requires. The crowd screams, but Min can barely hear them over the music and Ryan’s voice.

He’s living. Far more than he ever was before.

They both are.

After the show is a blur of chatting with audience members, grabbing something to eat, and scheduling another show. By the time they head to the hotel, Min’s exhausted. But he dutifully puts all the equipment in their hotel room and locks up the van before he collapses into bed.

Ryan is already in their room when Min comes in. He’s sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, with his hands on his lap. Most striking is the absence of his guitar. Ryan may have been playing all day, but it’s rare for him to be without his instrument and yet so still like this.

Ryan, to his core, is always moving. Even when he’s not physically moving, he’s always singing, humming, thinking. Yet now, he sits in absolute stillness.

“Ryan?” Min whispers. His voice is quieter than he intended, but Ryan jumps at it all the same.

When he turns, he’s smiling disarmingly, but it’s too wide and shaky to be natural. Ryan may have convinced someone else with that expression, but Min knows him too well to be fooled.

Min strides into the room with three short steps, locking the door behind him. He stops in front of Ryan, so close their knees are almost brushing. Ryan blushes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I- Nothing.” Ryan won’t meet his gaze.

Min scowls. “Come on, Ryan. Aren’t we past this? Didn’t the train teach us not to do all this not-talking crap?”

Ryan flinches. “I- Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Min finally moves, stepping around Ryan to sit on the bed beside him. He takes care to keep his voice soft and gentle. He doesn’t want to scare Ryan again. Whatever’s going on seems to have him skittish all of a sudden.

Ryan bites his lip. “Min, I… you know I care about you, right?”

Min blinks, surprised. “Of course I do.” Hesitantly, he reaches out to take Ryan’s hand, running his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. “I care about you too.”

Ryan blushes. His cheeks are nearly scarlet right now. Min’s a bit too tired to unpack that all on his own right now, but he knows it means something. It spurs him on, gives him a burst of courage and energy in the adrenaline crash phase after a show. “I’m glad we’re-” He’s about to say friends, but the word dies on his lips. Suddenly, it feels all wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Slowly, Ryan turns to face him. His eyes are wide and anxious, his lips slightly parted, but there’s a set determination in him that shows in his face. He reaches out to take Min’s other hand, and… leans in closer.

Min finds himself leaning in simultaneously. Soon they’re close enough Min can feel Ryan’s breath on his lips. It’s hot in more ways than one.

Oh. Oh.

So that’s why today, Ryan’s hand on his wrist, the trusting and yet shocked expression of his, felt so weird and so right at the same time.

Their eyes meet. A silent exchange passes between them.

Do you want to do this?

Yes. Do you?

Yes.

If asked after, Min couldn’t say if he initiated it or if Ryan did.

All he knows is the gap between them is now nonexistent, and Ryan’s lips are on his, and suddenly it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is slow. Hesitant. Exploring new territory, figuring out boundaries. But it’s not awkward.

No, they are Ryan and Min, Min and Ryan, Chicken Choice Judy, and they have come much too far to be awkward. They’ve been building towards this moment since they first met, even if they didn’t know it.

It feels like a found puzzle piece of himself Min didn’t even realize he was missing. Now, he is complete. Now, they are complete.

Now, they are both truly living their lives to the fullest.

this fic is just: *headcanon* *headcanon* *headcanon* *hea-

oh man i almost didn't finish this one in time. it's still the 12th here, though (by a couple hours!), so i'm good! it's hard to write a full one-shot every day, but i've already come farther than i thought i would! i told myself i would finish this today, and i did! i also told myself i would finish the week and my remaining prompts, and i will. :)

title is from new days by dreamcatcher. that's the second time i've used it as a title but the last one was for a zine fic so i can get away with using it here, lol. i really love that song, so that's why. the lyrics translation are absolutely nothing like this, but for some reason it gives off road trip vibes (at least to me), so it works really well for this particular piece!

okay confession time: i think this is the first kiss scene i've ever written lol. i was writing it and i was like "hey wait a minute i have no clue what i'm doing have i done this before??? i don't think so???" it didn't help that i didn't intend to write a kiss scene, but i got to the place where i'd intended to end it and it felt like the natural progression. i'm gonna go research good kiss writing after this. i would've done it while i was writing, but i didn't want to post this any later than i had to

i have a bunch of infinity train snippets and wips i wrote right after book 4 aired and my interest in the show peaked, and i really thought i had something that would fit well for off the train but i guess i didn't?? maybe i just daydreamed it and never actually penned it skfhksl. so i was kind of flying by the seat of my pants for this one. i think it's my favorite of rymin week so far though! it was also the most fun to write. i really love introspective pieces. ryan and min off the train, after their relationship is repaired, when they're in a much better place and truly happy with each other, is also my favorite time in their lives to explore. they're so much happier and healthier, and they can truly start to explore themselves and realize their dreams.

if you have a piano or something on hand you should play the d and g notes together. they sound heavenly. in choir two years ago we had that chord and i have never forgotten it because i love it so much.

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

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telli1206 · 3 years ago

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Well, since you mentioned it, I can't unthink it so... Jal + 18. A pool at night… with alligators ;)

😁 ok, finally fleshed out the full idea for this@hersilentlanguage

-----

"You call this...a pool?"

Mal toes her boot along the ledge, scrunching her nose as she watches the mud squish along the sole. She pulls back, casting an irritated sideways glance when she hears Jay's chuckle.

"Not a pool for us, Miss Priss," he teases, swatting at Mal's tongue when she leans forward to stick it out in his face. "Get that thing away! I swear I brought you here for a reason, ok? And it's not for swimming. Just chill out and let me show you."

"Show me what," Mal groans, slumping onto a tiny patch of grass. She draws her knees up close and tips forward, her eyes searching the black, murky waters in the massive...swimming hole? Just in front of them. A putrid rotten egg smell wafts through her nostrils and Mal can't fight back a grimace.

Poor Jay must be losing it if he thinks a place like this could be fun.

Jay tuts and shakes his head, as if he can sense her skepticism. "Stop fucking doubting me, just watch."

He grabs a rock and rolls it between his fingers as he peers intensely at the water. Mal almost snorts at his concentrated face, with just the tiniest bit of tongue jutting out between his lips. But before she can say a word he chucks the rock pointedly at the water. It flies through the air quietly, arcing just before it makes contact with the surface.

SNAP

Mal nearly shrieks when a massive set of teeth clap sharply at the rock, the form of a massive, muddy gator breaking the surface for just a second before sinking back down now that the potential attack seems to be gone.

"Fuck! That's insane!" She yelps, and Jay cackles at her wide-eyed expression, clapping happily.

"Told ya, little shit. Maybe you should trust me sometimes."

Mal glares at him, grumbling quietly as she picks up a rock of her own.

"Well maybe if you had ideas like this more often, I would," she retorts, grinning slightly before launching her rock at the water. She giggles at the satisfying snap that follows, the new gator jumping so high out of the water that it slams down onto Jay's and is forced to roll itself off while the other tries to buck him away.

"Not bad Mals," Jay admires with an approving click of his tongue. "I guess you don't really need any practice before we start, huh?"

"Start what?" She tosses another rock into the pool, laughing gleefully when a third gator's back slams into the rolling one.

Jay laughs and throws in a rock too, prompting another gator to jump over the first. "The game. Come on M, do you even know me?? It's time to make this interesting!"

"Oh yeah? So, what? Whoever gets the most gator snaps wins??"

"Exactly." Jay grins widely, raising a brow. "And now, we add the stakes."

"Ohhhh I like how you think!" Mal jumps upright and leans closer. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I had a thought," Jay muses. But he suddenly makes a fist and punches it at Mal after he hears her muttering something about smelling something burning.

"Fine, FINE! Share already!" She snaps, turning her head away to avoid flinching at his swing.

Jay purses his lips, curling them into a small smile. "The loser...has to pants the Gastons tomorrow. When-" he adds, poking two fingers at Mal's chest "they start harassing Blueberry and Brainiac for their homework. Like they do every morning," he hisses, annoyance flashing across his features.

"What, are you sick of just using them as punching bags?" Mal snickers, her eyes trained in the dirt as she starts to grab for more rocks.

"It gets boring," he agrees with a casual shrug. "And it’s fun to fuck with them. Can you imagine Third all pissed and trying to chase us with his pants around his ankles??"

Jay look at Mal, mouth clenched shut. They keep eye contact for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“You’re on,” Mal quips.

Jay pumps his fist sharply. “Yes! C and E are gonna love us.”

He scrambles on all fours to start scooping up the rocks around him, gathering up a pile on the ground and fisting rocks into his palms. Mal does the same, shuffling close to Jay at one point to bump his shoulder and cause the rocks in his hand to tumble out. He snorts and drops what he has onto his pile on the ground before shoving Mal backwards by the shoulders and letting her topple over.

Mal huffs and kicks at the dirt when she hits lands on the ground, knocking over his pile of rocks in the process. She scrambles away quickly before he can grab for her, backing herself up against a nearbly tree and plucking a rock from her fingers. She raises it high, poised to throw it, before she stops.

Jay tilts his head and watches Mal. She’s chewing on her lip now, unmoving, staring out along the water. She lets her hand fall, still clutching the rock, and Jay gives her a confused look.

“What?? Are the gators freaking you out all of a sudden? My...fear-full leader?” Jay teases, looking all-too pleased with himself.

Mal glowers at him, then holds up the rock in her hand to focus on it instead.

“No,” she answers casually, still looking at the rock. “I was just...thinking. You know how Evie always tells us she wishes we didn’t have to fight?”

“Yeah,” Jay agrees, smiling a little. “C does, too. Actually, he just looks like he’s trying not cry when he sees us fight,” he adds with a chuckle.

Mal laughs quietly, rolling the rock over in her fingers. “I bet they’d love if we just did something crazy like that. Dropping pants and just...make the Gastons fall over. They’ll look like idiots. I bet they just run off all embarassed and then we won’t have to throw a single punch.”

“Eves would LOVE that,” Jay admits. “You’d make her so fucking happy. And C.”

“They might even thank us. Or something.”

Jay shakes his head. “Nah, probably just give us a hug. Or...”

He glances at Mal and she quirks a smile at him. They sit in silence for a few moments, sharing occassional looks at each other as they carefully gather more rocks into their laps, slowly picking up speed with every passing second until their piles are spilling over and Jay leaps to his feet.

“Ok, winner gets to pants the Gastons instead. And...go!”

“Fuck you, Jay!” Mal shrieks, darting up and hurling rocks as she goes. “I’ll kick your ass!”

Settings To Imagine Your OTP Prompts

#platonic!jal #malvie #jaylos #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #jay son of jafar #Carlos De Vil #descendants #drabble prompt #otp prompts #my writing

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sundance201 · 3 years ago

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Would you take a Sifki prompt that's pretty smutty? Because I loved the prompt from your list “Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them" and it made me recall a smutty scenario where Loki uses his illusions to mimic Sif to get to know her body more intimately. Maybe he thinks he's alone, but Sif walks in and doesn't mind at all – maybe even joins in to help him/her finish.

This was FUN. I've never written anything like this, so at first I wasn't too sure about this prompt, but the more I wrote, the more I was into it. :P Thank you, dear anonymous!

You can read on, or you can read on Ao3. Please be warned that it is absolutely not safe for work.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As a lover, Loki had never gotten complaints before. He had earned his Silvertongue moniker in more than one way, after all. And it wasn’t as if Sif was shy in her desires – he almost always knew what she was thinking, even when she tried to keep it to herself. Which was why it was so disquieting that she’d seemed distant as of late.

He’d tried to get her to sneak away with him the last few nights and she’d smiled weakly at him and declined, saying that she hadn’t been feeling well or that she was exhausted from training.

And it wasn’t that Loki didn’t have his pick of bedfellows, it was just…Sif was his favorite. So often his partners could stimulate his body, or they could stimulate his mind, but not both. But any sort of physical and verbal sparring with Sif, whether in the training rings, in bed, or lounging in front of the fireplace, was always a good time.

There was also the fact that Loki had been in love with Sif for hundreds of years now.

So there were many reasons why the thought of Sif losing interest in their little clandestine affair sent Loki’s stomach plummeting to the ground. This was hardly a problem that he could go to Thor or his mother about. So instead he chose to do a little research on his own.

Magical research obviously.

Which is how he came to be admiring his figure, which was now Sif’s figure, in the mirror. He’d spent enough time cataloguing her body, he was fairly certain that his magical copy was nearly identical. But he wasn’t sure if the body would react as Sif’s actual body, or if he would be reacting as himself in Sif’s body.

His hands trailed over Sif’s breasts (his breasts?) and down the flat planes of his stomach, shivering as he watched himself in the mirror. He watched as Sif’s familiar fingertips trailed over her thighs and then palmed herself between her legs. He gasped as he felt the wetness there, familiar yet foreign at the same time.

His other hand kneaded his breast and plucked at his nipple, gasping at the action. His nipples were usually quite sensitive, but he knew Sif enjoyed a rougher touch, so he pinched his nipple again and then twisted. He shuddered and let out a soft moan at the touch – definitely rougher than he usually enjoyed, but he seemed to be enjoying the sensation in Sif’s body quite a lot.

Before he could contemplate that further and try to decide if that meant that this would be how Sif’s body would react and then continue on with his little experiment, his door quickly opened and shut. He spun around, mortified and wondering how he would possibly explain this to her. The intruder’s jaw dropped as she took in the sight before her.

“Loki?” Sif whispered, looking bewildered at the sight of her naked body standing in front of the mirror. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Sif, it’s not what you think,” Loki said and both of them found it strange that his illusion only went as far as his body, but not his voice. Loki’s voice coming out of Sif’s body was a strange thing indeed. “It’s not for some trick or cruel prank. I…I just wanted to know if there was something I could be doing better, to please you more…”

Sif’s eyes were still wide, but she took a step forward, towards him. “So you…magicked yourself into my body?”

“Not actually your body, since you’re standing here. Just a facsimile of your body. I wasn’t sure if I’d respond like you or like me and I was just testing-”

Sif stepped forward again, within touching distance now, a strange look in her eyes. She reached out and trailed her fingertips down Loki’s arm, but it looked like her arm. “My skin is that soft?”

Loki swallowed and watched as Sif’s fingers continued to touch his skin. He thought about changing back, but Sif seemed oddly entranced. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t conjured doubles of his own and had a similar reaction, but he hadn’t imagined Sif reacting with the same sort of curiosity. “Yes, Sif. Your skin is that soft.” He stepped back from her touch and did a slow 360 degree turn, his arms out to the side. “Did I do well?”

Sif bit her bottom lip and Loki mimicked her. “You did this for me? Because you thought you weren’t pleasing me?”

“I wanted to know if I could please you better…if there was something I could do…if I knew how it felt…” he trailed off as he looked helplessly at her. Sif smiled, seemingly taking pity on him as she stepped forward again.

“You’re incredible, Loki,” she murmured, cupping his cheek and drawing him forward for a kiss.

It didn’t feel differently to him, not really, other than being the exact same height when he was usually taller, but he could tell she felt strange. Her kisses were gentler than they usually were, more hesitant as she cupped her own cheek and kissed her own lips.

Loki moaned as Sif’s tongue flicked into his mouth and his hands went to her hips, creeping under her tunic to stroke at the skin right above her leggings. They broke apart and Sif smiled wickedly at him. “Do you want to see how I touch myself?”

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding absently as Sif turned him back to the mirror and slipped behind him.

She giggled slightly and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “This is so strange,” she said, running her hands down his torso, before cupping his breasts and taking his nipples in either hand, pinching harshly. Loki’s breath stuttered and he sighed, opening his eyes to take in the sight before him.

It was strange to see two Sifs in the mirror, with the real Sif standing behind him, her tunic scratching at his back as he leaned against her. Her fingers twisted his nipples again and Loki gasped, the action sending a bolt of lust straight to his core. He could feel his thighs getting sticky with wetness and he tried to catalogue the uncanny sensation.

“I usually am picturing your fingers when I touch myself,” Sif whispered to him, one hand continuing to pinch and grope his breast and the other drifting down his side, over his hip, until her hand was resting between his thighs, much like the position that she had caught him in initially. “I’m sure you can appreciate the irony here, my prince,” she murmured as her fingers teasingly stroked at the wetness between Loki’s thighs, before pressing her fingers in deeper in order to gently circle his clit.

Loki gasped and arched against her. “Do you like your own touch as much as mine?” he asked her.

She hummed contemplatively as she stroked her fingers through his silky wetness, trapping his clit between her pointer and middle finger and rubbing up and down. Loki made a note of how good it felt and resolved to add the move to his arsenal. “I don’t know if I can rank it. I enjoy my own touch because I know my own body so well. But your touch…there are things that your body can do to me that I cannot do to myself.” At that declaration, she slipped two fingers inside him and Loki moaned, his head lolling back against Sif’s shoulder. “My fingers are not nearly as long as yours, for instance,” she whispered teasingly.

“They feel perfectly fine to me,” he replied, his voice weak and breathy. Sif chuckled in his ear and continued to finger him.

“If I make you come like this and then you change back into your own body, do you think your cock will still be hard?” she mused, tweaking his nipple for good measure.

He laughed and shook his head, feeling the long dark hair brush against Sif’s body. “I don’t know, Sif. But you were just extolling the virtues of my fingers, were you not? And you usually can find enjoyment in my tongue as well.”

Sif crooked her fingers just right at that moment and Loki’s knees nearly gave out. Her hand left his breast and wrapped around his middle, helping support him. “I love your fingers, Loki, and your tongue,” she murmured. “But right now I want your cock.” She removed her fingers and then nuzzled against his neck.

“Well the whole point of this exercise was to better please you, my lady,” he said. With one last look in the mirror at the alluring sight of Sif holding her double, he waved his hand and a flash of green wove around his body, returning it to his own body, and no longer the form of the Lady Sif.

Sif grinned at him in the mirror, her hands rubbing at his stomach, before dropping down to his cock. Her hand gripped him and Loki groaned as Sif teasingly stroked him. “Ah yes, something I’ve never managed to quite replicate. Even with the false phalluses I have in my possession, nothing compares to this.”

Loki’s eyes widened and he spun around to look Sif in the eye. “You have false phalluses?”

A wicked grin spread across her face. “I do. Any interest in using them with me, Odinson?”

“You are perfect, my lady,” he murmured feverishly, grabbing her hips and all but tearing off her clothing.

They barely made it to the bed before Loki was inside of her. Sif moaned beneath him, arching her back and hooking her arms behind his neck. “You feel so good, Loki,” she murmured, pulling him down for a kiss.

“You do too, Sif. But you already knew that,” he teased. She laughed, which turned quickly into a gasp as Loki slid his fingers to where they were joined and placed his fingers on either side of her clit, just as she had done to him.

“Mmm, you’re such a quick study,” Sif praised him, as his fingers slid up and down the length of her clit. “I love that about you.” Her eyes popped open at her confession, but Loki was too focused on his movements to see the slight panic in her eyes.

“It helped to have a good teacher,” he said, looking up at her, but she’d managed to soften her expression, so he saw nothing out of the ordinary on her face. “Will you come for me, Sif? I want to feel you clench around me. I want your release.”

She bit her lip and nodded, closing her eyes tightly and throwing her head back as she felt her body clench him in her release. “Loki!” she cried out, knowing that he’d set a sound-silencing charm around her chambers a long time ago. She could call out for him all night long with no one being the wiser and had done so multiple times throughout the past few years.

Loki’s release wasn’t far behind, as he moaned her name desperately to the air, before collapsing on top of her, his face buried in her neck.

Normally he was quick to roll off her, never wanting her to feel trapped, but this time she wrapped her arms around his back, ensuring he’d stay put, and pressed a kiss to his neck. “So I will assume I pleased you?” he panted against her shoulder.

She laughed and he raised his head enough to see her smile at him. “Of course you did. You always do.”

“Then why did you rebuff my past few offers?” he asked. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but after what she’d walked in on, he figured he had little to lose.

Sif was quiet for a moment and then she sighed, pushing at him. He rolled to the side, and then fully onto his back, tucking a hand beneath his head in an affected nonchalance that he hoped was convincing. She turned on her side and propped herself up with one arm, looking down at him seriously. “I can’t hide it anymore. Not from you. That’s why I burst into your room without warning tonight.”

“Can’t hide what, Sif?” he asked softly, afraid of what her answer might be. Her face looked so grave, so stricken, that it must have been something serious.

“My…my feelings for you, Loki. I didn’t think you returned them, but then I catch you turning yourself into me just to see what pleases me…in a strange way it made me hope…” She trailed off and sighed in frustration.

She sat up fully, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. She couldn’t seem to look down at him and Loki felt that old fear creep in again. What could possibly have her so upset?

He reached out to her, brushing his fingers across her bare hip. “Sif, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I love you,” she blurted out. “I’m in love with you, Loki. And I love what we have, but I want more. I don’t want to just sneak around or just share kisses in dark hallways outside of feasts. I want to hold your hand as we walk in your mother’s gardens; I want to be on your arm when we attend balls. I want to be able to punch Lorelei in her stupid face when she flirts with you.” She blew out a breath and finally glanced down at him. “I want to kiss you where everyone can see us and declare that you are mine, Loki,” she said gravely, as serious as she had been when she’d taken her warrior’s oath.

Loki was completely gobsmacked. All this time he’d thought she was losing interest, but instead she loved him? He pinched the crook of his elbow with his nails letting out a yelp of pain when it hurt. Sif looked at him in confusion and he chuckled as he sat up. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

She smiled softly at his confession and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked down at her lap, clearly nervous to hear his response.

“Sif, my lovely Sif,” Loki murmured, hooking his fingers under her chin and making her meet his gaze. “I’ve loved you since we were young, Sif. I never imagined that you would actually reciprocate my feelings.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m not Thor.” Sif scoffed and Loki shook his head, grabbing her hands as he explained. “He’s the first choice for everything. He’s everything a prince of the realm should be and I’m…his opposite in every way.”

“You are my Loki,” Sif whispered. “You are my prince and the one who warms my bed and the one who makes me laugh and the one who I love.”

“Well, I’m glad that we’re on the same page,” he teased, leaning in for a kiss. When they broke apart, Loki couldn’t help but grin at her. “I believe that there is a ball next week to welcome a delegation from Vanaheim. Would you be interested in accompanying me, Sif?”

She grinned brightly and nodded. “I’d be delighted, Loki.”

#sifki #sif x loki #prompt fill #warfrost #let's try actually putting the text in the answer #since the last time i just linked in the answer #the post got zero notes #who knows why #i reset my password for this just so i could post from my laptop #this is dedication people #fanfic #brown chicken brown cow

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jawllines · 4 years ago

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Reminder to post werewolf 🤠

YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! HERE IS A WEREWOLF HARRY CHECK-IN CUTIE POTS

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?”

It was chilly out; October brought in a wind that kissed goosebumps onto her skin when she made her trek through to the woods after class. There weren’t many animals scurrying around in the colder months apart from a squirrel or two she might see, and there are seldom other humans roaming around out here considering there was no trail (and everyone, apparently, had always been put off by the woods here. . .something felt off to them, and Y/N knew exactly what it was). Nights came quicker, so if Y/N wanted to make it to the grounds before the moon rose and cast thin streams of light through the thick branches, she needed to leave just as soon as she’s gotten out of class (and she knew that Niall would come to get her if it really got too dark, but she still felt too guilty to make him come all the way for her, so she rarely asked him to).

And there was just something about the cold air, that made Harry the snuggliest little thing. Y/N doesn’t know if it’s because this is around the time they found one another and bonded two years ago, or if werewolves are warmblooded and prefer balmy summers as opposed to the glacial temperatures that they may be shown here. She’d never thought to ask because she didn’t necessarily need a reason for it. How cuddly Harry gets is nice, and how most days -- if time permitted it -- he would just saddle up beside her and they would warm one another. There are times that he suggests eating lunch outside when it’s fairly cold and Y/N thinks it’s only his elaborate ploy to have her cuddled against him. She thinks that part of him secretly likes when she’s cold because it means she seeks him out for warmth and Harry’s always up for warming her up.

(Once, while Harry was busy and Y/N had entered the grounds with Grandpa after a particularly snowy, frigid day, Niall was who she had gone to, to warm her -- he put his arm around her and sat her by the fire in one of the sitting rooms they had. They had been speaking idly about a new movie they were both interested in seeing when the door had just about been thrown from its hinges and Harry appeared, pouting, “Okay, thank you, Niall, I will warm her now.” Was his pleasant but rushed way of putting it, as he’d dropped to his knees, his brown curls flopped in his face before he flattened his stomach to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping his nose into her tummy. Y/N and Niall both shared a chuckle as her fingers found his hair and carded through it gently, as Niall scooted over so Harry could curl his body inward while they continued speaking about the movie.)

Niall had once told her that Harry had never been this cozy with anyone before, even his first mate. The others would fill Niall in on bits and pieces that he had missed out on since he joined them a bit late, so they had told him how a few had always been skeptical on whether or not he and his prior mate were truly meant to be. When a werewolf mates and bonds with another, it is more than normal for them to be all over each other all the time, and not particularly in a sexual sense. They thrive off touch. . .off being with their person, and on their person, and cuddled, snuggled cozily with their person. Sure, he had been cuddly with his mate prior but nowhere near the amount that anyone had expected from him, especially considering how he was when he was younger, clinging to the people that he held precious to him. He would have his arm around her, give her kisses, but the PDA was often lacking.

With Y/N though, she’s sure if Harry could be a second skin to hers then he would be. Every moment of every minute that it was appropriate, Harry was wrapped around her, or had her wrapped around him; this is when he was most content. This is when Niall would ask for things (like for Harry to branch out and order them more TVs, specifically one for his room) and receive prompt results, or this might be when the pups are most willing to come and parade around his room even though they really aren’t meant to. He was in such a pleasant mood if he was in any way interlaced with her body.

She had only just recently convinced Harry not to usher Grandpa to the foot of the bed if Y/N was holding onto him in her sleep.

So she’s more than use to his cuddles, and she’s more than used to his pup like behavior, though he was particularly clingy today. It had been three days since she’d seen him last because she always made sure to distance herself some when she would be studying for an exam. Sometimes she let Harry come by her flat to help her go through flashcards, but he could be awfully distracting when he wanted to be and was still confused why she would continue working and going to school when she could simply live on the grounds with him and everything would be taken care of. Each answer to the flashcard was accompanied by an array of kisses peppered to her face, whether right or wrong, which just turned into a deepened kiss to the mouth, and more times than not, they would end up in her bed.

Which is why she took a few days to prepare for the exam and satiated him with video calls as she was getting ready for bed, where he pouted and whined about how he missed her but commended her for doing well in her studies. Though he did make her swear that she would give him extra amounts of attention when she saw him -- they pinky swore, which she had taught him how to do.

(She also knows that Niall had told him Y/N would spoil him in cuddles when he was pouty because Niall had gone out to see her so he could bring her a hot chocolate and pumpkin muffins, but he wouldn’t let Harry come as well.)

The unconditional love is something she revels in -- to have someone still so wholly love her as much as she loves them, had never been something Y/N was very privy to. It’s why she’s just as excited as Harry is after she’s finished her exam, and why her heart nearly jumps from her chest when she walks out of her lecture and Harry had greeted her outside with her favorite pastry from the cafe on campus. Y/N throws her arms around his neck and hugs him close, and Harry spins her around as theatrically as he could like it’d been months since they saw each other last. He peppers kisses upon kisses all over her cold cheeks, “I missed you, Darling,” he murmured, one of his kisses placed over her eye, “How did your test go? Was it well?”

“Yeah, I feel pretty good about it,” she smiles at him, “I’m glad you came to get me! I can show you the spot where the autumn flowers are growing now.”

Harry allowed her this little joy, despite how uncomfortable he sometimes felt around other humans. The tensions have eased the longer that he’s been with her, but Y/N can see how he squints his eyes and becomes the utmost disgruntled if anyone approaches them. He isn’t as short as he once was though and works to be much less domineering, but he still attempts to carry an air around him that suggests those who do decide to approach them have a good reason for it.

He muses with her about the flowers, even takes a picture with her in front of them with their cheeks smashed together. His face is rosy from the cold, which only spurs her to kiss his cheeks and the tip of his nose before she murmurs, “C’mon, let’s get you home and warmed up, hm?”

“You’re going to spoil me with cuddles, right? This was promised to me so that I leave you to your studies.”

“Yes, I’m going to spoil you rotten.”

Once they made it to the grounds, Harry surprised her with a picnic basket and an accompanied gingham blanket -- it was always a touch warmer within their little bubble than it was in the outside world, so it wasn’t too cold to have one. Especially with the sun beating down from the sky, the rays give kisses of warmth that make it bearable, and he packs an extra blanket for her, he tells her, so that if she gets cold he could swaddle her.

“Like a baby?”

“No, human babies frighten me, they scream. You do not frighten me.”

He sets it up for them, fanning out the first blanket which was large enough to have quite a few people sit on it. After he lowered to his knees, he placed the basket in the center and began to unearth what he’d packed for lunch. He makes sure to let her know that the chef let him run amuck in the kitchen to prepare it himself, with minimal help from the kitchen staff. Honey turkey wraps, warm loaves of freshly baked bread with strawberry marmalade to slather on each slice, pita chips with hummus (he had help making that, he admitted), the juiciest looking grapes and strawberries she thinks she’s ever seen, and three slices of blackberry ginger pie (he brought the third in case she wanted seconds).

It all looked delicious, and he made sure to set it out in a way aesthetically pleasing to the eye, “This way you can share pretty pictures as you do online. Make sure to add that I am the best mate in the world and I treat you so well.”

They ate until they were stuffed full, Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever been so completely and entirely pleased and full with a meal in her life. Both she and Harry lean into one another, but at the first sign of a shiver he is wrapping the second blanket around her and cuddling her close to his side, “Did you like it?” He asked her and Y/N sighed happily, nosing her way into his chest

“I loved it. Thank you so much, Puppy.”

All of it had started out so innocently; the way she caressed his skin, how he told her about his day, how they cuddled into each other closer. Maybe it was Y/N’s fault -- it probably was, actually, because she loved Harry’s full tummy even more than she loved being full herself. He was softer, more receptive to her touch if she lulled soft circles on his stomach with her palm and if she were lucky, he would fall asleep by it. Not that she didn’t want to spend time with him, but she loved the soft cooed snores that leave his mouth, and how peaceful he looks as he swims in whatever dream he’d found his footing in.

The innocence behind these rubs was recognized, but his prick had begun a noticeable bulge in his trousers that he appeared keen on ignoring. How they were arranged, Y/N had her legs open enough for him to fit comfortably between them with his head resting on her thigh. She skated soft caresses at first just over his shirt, but then to his bare skin once his shirt began to crinkle up and show the soft terrain beneath it. No matter how clearly his cock was hard, his eyes had fluttered shut and he hadn’t uttered a peep about it.

But Y/N was curious as she always is to get beneath his belt. No matter the number of times she’d seen it, she could never stifle the want to withdraw the zip of his trousers and reveal it to herself again. That’s why each little design she drew into his skin had gotten lower and lower, closer to the waistband of his pants until she was practically skimming the tips of her fingers just beneath it. Goosebumps riddle up in her wake and Harry shuffles slightly, his eyes fluttered like butterfly wings before he looked up at her, “I am sorry,” he murmured, his cheeks still a little rosy from the cold air, “I was trying very hard not to become aroused, but it proves to be difficult when you’re touching all over me, and you smell so good. . .and it’s been. . .it’s been so long, I --” he hisses in a breath when she dances her fingers lightly across the bump, “Oh, Darling.”

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?” Y/N teases him, letting her delicate touches move back toward his belly, “You want cuddles and kisses and for me to play with your cock, hm?”

Harry shudders, somehow wriggling even closer to her than he already managed to be, “I want everything,” he murmurs, “I just want you in any way I’m allowed.”

It was always interesting, seeing the big, bad alpha turn to putty in her palms. She never took it for granted, nor did she take advantage of him in this state. No, Y/N took extra good care of him and made sure he was happy and his desires satiated, just as he would do for her in whatever needy state she might find herself within. That’s why she’s so quick to carefully unbuckle the belt of his pants, the metal pieces clinking together as she pulls the straps undone. Once the pressure is relieved from around his waist, a soft little moan leaves his pink lip and it sends sparkles pirouetting through her body.

The button of his jeans is easy enough to slip from the buttonhole, and as she pulls the zip down and over his bulge, Harry holds onto her tighter. Y/N is just enamored with the blissed-out face he already holds before she had a chance to do much of anything -- she’s only releasing him from the confines of his trousers, and he looks like he could cum in mere seconds. His stamina was always impeccable, and if he really wanted to get hard multiple times in a night he could, which always made it a bit more fun. It also meant that if she wanted him to cum quickly, then the night wasn’t over, and that was just delightful.

And sometimes she wanted him to cum quickly. Sometimes she wanted to know that she just made him feel so good, he was so desperate that it was hard to stave off. It always brought a smile to her mouth, if they’d only been going at it a little while -- if she had him in her mouth or in her hand, and he moaned his warning of, “I’ll cum if we continue like this, Sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum so soon,” If anything, she never stopped -- she only doubled her efforts in order to make him burst.

“Budge up a bit,” she orders tentatively, and he raises his hips, helping her wiggle them down just a bit. They were far enough away from the grounds that nobody would disturb them, and Harry’s nose could spot someone’s scent from meters and meters away, so she felt no worry when his prick was uncovered. Stiff as glass, his tip ruddy and leaking down the side of the head, like it might be weeping for her attention. Y/N holds her palm out in front of his hand, “Get it wet.”

Harry flattens his tongue and licks fat stripes up her palm, slicking it with spit, pulling her fingers into his mouth salaciously sucking until she pushed the pad of her thumb to his chin and slid her fingers away from him, “Christ,” she murmured, giggling as she lowered her hand back to his cock, “You’re so good at that.”

He opens his mouth to respond but whatever he plans to say is lost around a moan -- low, guttural, and drawn as his knees bend; her fingers looped delicately around his prick and she squeezed gently. The weight of him in her hand always made glitter dance in her lower belly, stoking the flames of a fire that left her panties drenched through. And she knew he knew, by the way, his bottom lip is hidden between his teeth as she slipped her hands up and down the length of him. Her palm slides easily, with little friction as it glides against the smooth skin. He moans again, this time much louder as she focuses her hand in circular motions over the swollen head. It’s the kind of moan that gives her the best kind of goosebumps, that makes her pulsate and flush with heat all over.

But she likes to tease him, so she tuts her tongue and introduces the fingers that aren’t working him over to his mouth, “Shh, you’re loud,’ she murmured, stroking against his lips until they parted and she dipped her fingers back into his mouth, “Does it feel that good? That you can’t be quiet?”

“Mhm,” he whines pitifully, nodding, looking up to her from her lap with his eyes bright and green, reflecting off the sun that they bathed beneath. He strokes his tongue along her fingers as his hips buck helplessly into her hand, but Y/N fixes her grip at the bottom of the shaft.

“You wanna do the work?” She chides him gently, “If you wanna do the work then I’ll just hold my hand still and you can fuck into it all you like.”

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he murmurs, “No, no, please, want you too --”

“Okay, okay,” she starts back up again, thumbing at his slit and watching as more drips down his prick -- he always leaks so much, “Sweet little thing, I’ll take care of you.”

She can feel him throb in her hand, his fingers bury in the fabric of her shirt at her sides as he continues to groan and whimper. His brows furrow as his back arches, and when Y/N does withdraw her fingers from his mouth again, she lowers it to his balls. They’re tight, swollen and full, and the sound that Harry makes -- Y/N hadn’t thought she could be anymore worked up than at that moment, but she was wrong. He was shameless when he felt good, and she couldn’t even keep up the act that she wanted him to be quiet. Not when he sounded like that. . .not when he was so incredibly desperate, and hard, and. . .”I will not last much longer,” he told her breathlessly, swallowing thickly, “I feel it -- I’m going to cum. . .I’m going to cum so hard.”

“Yeah?” She carefully kneads his balls in one palm, slipping her hand up and down his prick at a fast pace, and she can feel him stiffening in her lap, “You’re g’na make my hand a mess?”

Another whimpered moan makes her giggle, and soon after Harry throbs again in her palm, only this time it’s followed by thick ropes of cum that spurt from the tip. Some shoots up and falls against the blanket, some dribbled warm over her knuckles, and he trembles in her arms as she works him through it. He’s loud in his groans of her name, only muffled when he tilts his head against her thigh. As he comes down, his breathing bated and his cock softening in her hand, “You,” he began, huffing a breath, “You are too good to me.”

“Did I spoil you well enough?”

Harry takes one of the napkins that he had packed and holds her hand delicately in his own, cleaning her of his cum first and then takes care of his own mess, “I’ve been thoroughly spoiled, but I do wish for you to cuddle me quite a bit more.”

Y/N laughs brightly, shaking her head before bending down and he meets her by raising his forehead the rest of the way so her lips could meet his skin.

“Of course, Puppy.”

#blurb #or #BLURBS #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #Anonymous

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dokidokey · 4 years ago

Text

when you drag sakusa out to a very early morning / very late night meteor shower watching, he thinks how it would end up if he confessed the feelings he’s been harboring for a long time now.

pairings: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

prompt: “you woke me up at 3 am for this?”

genre: fluff

warnings: platonic relationship, pining

word count: 1,700

notes: my 2nd hqhq server collab yay! THIS is the masterlist consisting of other writers who participated, check it out!

Apart from Sakusa’s love for cleaning products, especially green apple-flavored sanitizers, he also loves his sleep. He cherishes it as much as he does his hand sanitizers. So when he hears his phone ring in the middle of the night, he’s already thinking about how he’s going to make you pay for disturbing his sleep.

You aren’t calling though. It’s an alarm he knows he never set up. 2:50 AM glares right back at him from his phone screen, and much to his dismay, he hears his bedroom door open and in walks you, in all your grinning glory.

“Hi!” You greet him, giving a little wave of your hand before you tuck it back behind you. “So. . . you’re awake.”

“You think?”

A sheepish smile graces your face as you rock back and forth on your heels. Sakusa trusts you enough to let you inside his room, being that you’re his roommate and, dare he say it, best friend. He takes it as an achievement that his cleanliness rubbed off on you. Whenever Bokuto or anyone from his team would come over, he didn’t have to stress himself over how much of their germs would get transferred inside his things and yours because you do it for him. Sometimes he thinks you’re more extreme than he ever was.

“I told you I was going to wake you up but you didn’t say anything? So I just set up an alarm for you, just in case,” you shrug nonchalantly. Then you add, “besides, I don’t do this often so don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” he asks, pushing his comforter off him and sliding on his slippers.

“That look!” You accuse, pointing a finger at his face. You follow Sakusa as he makes his way to his bathroom, leaning on the doorway and watching him as he opens the faucet. “Like you’re so bored.”

Kiyoomi meets your gaze on your reflection in the mirror. “Maybe I am.”

You groan, crossing your arms and frowning at him. Sakusa ducks his head down as he gathers a handful of water on his palms and splashes it onto his face. Honestly speaking, he really doesn’t mind that you woke him up at this hour. Bokuto has long bled his ears off about his obvious crush on you and it came off as a surprise to Sakusa that it was Bokuto that noticed first. The rest of MSBY knew it some time after when they overheard Bo blackmailing him to attend one of their parties.

The only person that still doesn’t know is you.

And he prefers it this way. This way, where he doesn’t have to tiptoe around you. You’ve been friends for a long, long time now and Kiyoomi knows you like the back of his hand. He can tell anyone that asks that he knows how you use your handkerchiefs in a color-coordinated way － starting from red to black, like a rainbow of some sorts. Kiyoomi knows that you wake up at 6:15 in the morning. That is after you snooze your other alarms that have a 5-minute interval.

He’s fine like this, with you frowning at him from the doorway of his bathroom at this ungodly hour in the morning rather than getting rejected. Because if you liked him back, you would pay attention to him, right? You’d notice things the way he notices things about you. You’d see him in another light than everybody else. You’d be hyperaware because that’s how Kiyoomi is with you.

But you aren’t, so he turns around and reaches over to grab his face towel to dry his skin. “What do you want, anyway?”

“You really weren’t paying attention to me!” You cry, throwing your hands in the air as you step away and plops yourself on his bed, facedown.

Now that he thinks about it, Sakusa has no recollection of you telling him about waking up this early, so it must have been one of those rare instances he was preoccupied with something else. “So?” He prods as he steps out of the bathroom and grabs his phone, “what?”

“I’m not telling you,” you shout but it’s muffled against the covers of the bed. You stand up, grab his wrist, and push his door open. He says nothing as you lead him out of your shared apartment and inside the elevator, pushing the button to the highest floor. Once you reach the top, you both trudge up the metal stairs that leads to the rooftop.

The air is biting as it touches Kiyoomi’s skin, sweeping his hair back like a black veil. The city below is alive with the constant honks of the cars and the lights that almost rival the stars, giving the horizon a yellow haze.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, walking closer to the edge but not touching the railing.

“We wait,” he hears you reply.

“So you woke me up at 3 AM for this?” Sakusa is confused. “For real?”

You hum enthusiastically, head bobbing up and down as you smile at him. Your eyes form crescents, contrasting the real one that’s hanging quite full above. You turn away from him, giving him the chance to study your side profile. You really are beautiful. A light chuckle escapes his lips when he notices the slight bump on the bridge of your nose. Sakusa has woken up to countless mornings of you complaining about how much you don’t like it.

“It’s cold out here,” he mumbles, pocketing his hands to keep them warm. He wonders how you can stand the cold breeze in a tank top, a part of your chest and your arms exposed.

You huff and roll your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I know but who cares?”

“I do.”

You huff again, crossing your arms and leaning slightly on him. Sakusa is aware of the way your hair bites against his skin, of the feel of your arms against his. It feels warm, enough so that a shiver crawls up his spine.

“Oh, there they are!”

His thoughts are disrupted with a pointed finger aimed at the sky. He squints as he looks to where you’re pointing and there it goes, streaks of white painting the darkness. He watches as they fall collectively, highly aware of your grip on his arms now. An arm is wrapped around his bicep, both palms laid flat on his skin. It burns and it hurts to have you close like this, dangling at the very ends of his fingertips without any chance of having you fully.

Your giddiness is adorable though. You’re practically bouncing on the tips of your toes, eyes wide and alert for more coming comets as they rain down the atmosphere. A small squeak of surprise and wonder alike would fall from your lips every time, and comes with it is the gentle feeling of your grip on him getting a little tighter.

“Oh, that one’s so bright, Omi!” You gasp. Sakusa follows your finger to a bright falling meteor, streaking the sky brightly. You both watch as it falls and gradually gets swallowed by the dark.

“Do you know Halley’s comet?” You inquire suddenly. Your eyes are the brightest of all the lights and stars tonight as you look at him with a pout. “Do you?” You softly prod.

Kiyoomi shakes his head with a hum. He lied. He does know what it was. How could he forget when it was the very first topic you talked to him about when you got partnered for a science project way back in high school.

“It’s like the most famous comet of all, how can you not know?” You look at him dramatically, face scrunched up. “It shows up around every. . . sixty eight. . . ? No, around seventy five years, I think. God, I’d be so damn old. I don’t even know if I’ll live long enough to see that,” you exasperate. Kiyoomi barely absorbs the words you’re enthusiastically discussing. He knows he should be paying attention to your words but how can he when you’re right there? You’re distracting enough and the fact that you’re now latched onto his arm is making his head spin.

You sigh as you put a foot forward, toeing the concrete. “People who can see it twice are so lucky. Yeah, sure, I’d see it but I’m so old then? I don’t even know if my eyes can still see clearly when that happens.”

Sakusa flicks your forehead. “You talk like you aren’t always squinting today,” he says. “I told you many times to get your eye checked.”

“My eyes are totally fine!”

“You can’t even read the text on the menu last week! I don’t even know how you saw those meteors.”

A pinch is delivered to the skin above Sakusa’s wrist and he flinches. He pinches you right back and contemplates the thoughts that are running through his head right this moment. Tonight is a great opportunity to confess his feelings or ruin your friendship. If it goes well, then good for him. If it doesn’t, at least it ended quite decently. Right?

His mouth is moving before he fully processes the words he’s saying.

“I could wait for that comet with you,” he says and he almost throws up. It sounded so disgusting and cheesy and so unlike him that he is sure Atsumu would never let him live that down if he heard.

“Omi.” You choke out a laugh, patting the back of his hand, “Atsumu is never going to let you live that down.

Sakusa groans internally, his jaw clenching as his stance goes rigid. Is that your way of rejecting him?

“But sure,” you muse and his heart rate picks up, “I just hope you won’t drop me when I’m old and wrinkly.”

And there goes his unplanned attempt at confession that went by way smoother than he expected, excluding the fact that he lowkey got rejected. It’s pretty evident you don’t return his feelings. He’s more stressed now about how he will break this news to Bokuto tomorrow at practice.

“As long as you’re clean,” Kiyoomi replies, “I think we’ll go a long way.”

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #sakusa scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu headcanons #this didn’t end up the way i wanted #lol bc if i went w my original plan omi would be VERYYYYYY ooc #hqhq #hqhq server collab

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minty-chocco · 4 years ago

Note

ayla!! your blog looks v cute so far 🥺 best wishes for you and your blog 😚✨ is it okay if i request a scenario for mr rook hunt where he and his gn!s/o are baking cupcakes but rook, in all his curious wonder, wants to throw in some potions thus s/o tries to stop him while keeping an eye on the batch already in the oven? thanks a bunch and here, have a pudding! 🍮💞

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 🧁

Pairing: Rook Hunt x GN!Reader

Warning(s): None.

Word Count: 1.4k words

Extra Note: aaaaaaa you’re so sweet anon thank you! 🥺💞 Sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind. Rook has an intersting way of speaking and I hope I managed to capture his personality well! I’m open to contructive criticisms~ Anyways, here’s a cupcake in exchange for the pudding! 🧁

“Here you go, little demon!” Sam placed the ingredients that you requested on the counter.

You checked each one of the ingredients seeing if he got each one right. After confirming, you gave the shop owner your payment. Sam’s eyes lightened up at the sight of madol.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man and picked up the items to put it in your bag.

“Come back again~” He waved his hand before you exited the shop.

While heading back to your respected dormitory to bake, you felt a pair of eyes on you.

You immediately knew who it was, of course.

“Rook.” You called out to him glancing at the sides trying to locate him.

You hear the rustling of bush and turned to see a certain hunter at the distance. “Mon amour.” He mused.

He walked towards you, footsteps were silent as he stopped in front of you and lifted his hat as a sign of greeting.

“I was preoccupied on admiring you from afar.” He flashed you a smile. “Although, seeing your beauty up close is far better.”

You waved at him. “Won’t it make any difference though? You have a pretty good eyesight after all.”

“Non! I would be able to hold you if you’re close.” He replied.

You smiled shaking your head lightly quite used to this man’s antics. At first, he always caught you off guard on his sudden appearances because the next thing you know he’s right next to you.

Of course, after some time you manage to adjust to this hunter’s nature. You would soon notice his presence whenever he’s near you just by feelings his gaze.

“Anyways, Rook, what brings you here?” You asked him while taking a step towards the hunter and dusted off the leaves left on his uniform.

“Why? To assist you in baking of course!” You flinched at his words. The cupcakes were supposed to be a surprise to him and your friends in NRC.

You’re about to question him but stopped. It’s Rook after all. He probably saw you buying ingredients in Sam’s mystery shop.

“If you’d like, I guess.” You chuckled. “Let’s head back to my dorm.”

Upon arriving at your destination, you opened the door outside of Ramshakle to invite yourself in.

“Pardon the intrusion~” Rook soon entered behind you.

You two strolled around the kitchen and Rook placed the ingredients on the table. He offered to carry your things before walking over to your dorm which explains on why he has your things.

“It seems like Monsieur Fuzzball isn’t here.” Rook looked around to double check.

“Nope. He’s with Ace and Deuce.” You took the ingredients out of the bag one by one. “Probably just messing around with them.”

Rook helped you prepare the ingredients and collected the kitchen equipment to be used for baking.

“Let’s mix the dry ingredients first.” You suggested picking up a bowl to put the dry ingredients and searched the room for the measuring cups.

“Très bien!” Rook answered. He seems to take notice of you searching for something being the perspective person he is and opened one of the drawers on where the measuring cups were located to hand it to you. (très bien = very well)

You took the cups and washed it clean thanking the young man. “You know sometimes I think you know my kitchen more than me, Rook.” You admitted which earn a laugh from the vice dorm head.

After some time, you were almost finished with mixing the ingredients together and all that’s left is to put the batter into the baking tray. Although, you two still have to make the icing.

You decided to gift your friends and acquaintances cupcakes each so you separated the batter to give them different flavorings to suit their tastes.

You put the cupcake liners on the baking trey in which you personalized by putting your friends name on it and drawing little doodles that describes them best.

After the two of you put the first batch of batter in the oven, you gathered the remaining ingredients left to make the icing.

“Mon ciel étoile” Rook called out to you while you were busy whipping the cream not sparing him a glance. “You don’t mind if I put a little surprise for the cupcakes, Yes?”

This caused you to turn your head and saw that Rook is holding a little vial on his hands. “Rook no—”

You almost dropped what you were holding in surprise and hurriedly walked over to Rook’s spot to take the glass vial out of his hands before he does anything reckless to your cupcakes.

“No, Rook, you can’t.” You pointed a finger at him like scolding a troublesome child. The hunter could only stare at you quite amused at your reactions.

“But you shouldn’t be limiting yourself about the countless possibilities you could create, Mon coco!” Rook explained.

You frowned your eyebrows upon his statement. Rook is a curious guy, you’re aware of that. He would often try countless of rash methods to feed his curiosity, even offending the infamous Malleus Draconia on purpose, that is.

“But cupcakes are different, Rook. This isn’t an experiment.” You resonated with him.

“Ma belle, aren’t you itching to explore? You never know what this could have in store for us.”

“Rook.” You firmly replied as a warning.

After seeing your reaction, Rook stopped. Although he could be quite persistent, he knows when to stop as a respect to your boundaries. “I do apologize, Mon cœur, I do not take heed to offend you.”

Now you felt guilt for being harsh on him. “I’m sorry but let’s not do that, okay? These cupcakes are supposed to be for us and my friends.”

You heard an alarm in the distance indicating that the cupcakes are now baked which startled you. You walked over to the oven to open it.

Rook offered to be the one who’ll take out the cupcakes so you handed him your kitchen muffins in which you thought looked cute on him.

“You know Rook sometimes I wonder why I even keep up with you.” You randomly blurted out after he place the cupcakes at the counter to cool.

“My, you wound me, trickster!” He placed his hand on his chest.

“Wait let me finish my sentence.” You chuckled at his actions. “But you know what? Even though you can be quite a handful sometimes, I still love you.”

“Oh?” Rook leaned over you, eyeing you intensely. Just like how a hunter would look at its prey before attacking. “Such flattering words from you.”

Rook leaned more closer to you which made you panic by the sudden movement and grabbed the cupcake beside you in impulse to shove it on his mouth.

The Pomefiore vice dorm leader looked at you bewildered. Congrats, you manage to caught this hunter off guard. He tasted the cupcake that was rudely shoved on his mouth.

“Merci! This cupcake is marvelous. The exquisite taste that prolong on your mouth is truly spectacular.” You awkwardly shifted away quite embarrassed from his compliments. “Desserts like this are surely meant to be shared with your beloved.”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “Then, let me try too.”

You took a cupcake from the tray and took a bite out of it. The scent of the freshly baked goods filling the room. “Mhm. This tastes okay. We still need the frosting though.”

Rook was about to say something but you interrupted him. “No. We’re not gonna add any funny ingredients there.”

“But I wasn’t about to tell you that, mon chéri .” You looked at him confused then you suddenly felt his lips on yours, giving it a little peck. He used his hat as a cover for the two of you even though there wasn’t anyone at the room but you two, for effect I guess. “This hunter is glad to be called your lover.”

You blushed at his words. Surely, this young man never fails to make your heart flutter by his sweet yet sincere words. Even though this is a common occurrence for the two of you, it still makes you feel flustered every time.

“You didn’t think I would easily let you go, did you?” Rook chuckled, placing his gloved hands on your chin to make you look at him, his eyes glowing lightly. “A hunter doesn’t let their prey off so easily.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. What would you do, reader?

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 🌙

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst rook #rook hunt #pomefiore #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #twst rook x reader #pomefiore x reader #freshly baked cupcakes

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specialagentsergio · 4 years ago

Text

sweater weather

summary: The weekend before Halloween finds the BAU at a local farm, and there’s a bet on who’s going to solve the corn maze first.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: none

a/n: happy halloween! this is just something nice and fluffy for the fall season. i ended up researching corn mazes in virginia for this. (liberty mills is an actual farm in the area)

word count: 2.1k

song: sweater weather by the neighbourhood

masterlist

There’s three things every agent who starts working at the FBI’s Quantico office quickly learns about the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

First, the unit has the best case solve rate in the Bureau. Second, yes, they really do have their own jet. And third, everyone in it has a mean competitive streak. There’s no such thing as a casual bet with any of them.

You’re no exception. You don’t make it onto one of the FBI’s most elite units by keeping your head down.

And it’s that competitive nature you all possess that finds you wandering through a corn maze on a chilly October afternoon with Spencer at your side.

It’s safe to say it gets away from you sometimes.

---

It started off innocently enough. Ten minutes before the end of work on Friday, JJ approaches Spencer with a question.

“Are you and (Y/N) busy this weekend?”

“Um, I didn’t have any plans,” he replies, then turns to you. “Honey?”

“Not unless sleep counts as a plan,” you say with a shrug. The team had returned from a case yesterday that had taken nearly a week to solve. You’d slept well cuddled up with Spencer last night, but still had plenty to make up for. “What’s up, JJ?”

“Well, it’s the last weekend before Halloween, and Henry’s been dying to go pick out a pumpkin,” she says. “So Will and I said we’d take him to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow to pick one out from their patch. But, he wanted me to ask Uncle Spencer if he’d come, too, to help him pick out one that’s perfect.”

Spencer’s face lights up immediately. “I’d love to.”

JJ smiles right back. “Great! He’ll be so happy.”

“You know, Liberty Mills farm has the largest corn maze in the United States this year,” he says. “On average, it takes thirty minutes to an hour for the first and second trails, and two to three hours for the third level.”

Morgan joins the conversation. “And let me guess, pretty boy: you think you can solve it faster than that.”

“I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t ever gone through a corn maze.”

You look at him incredulously. “Really? You, of all people, haven’t done a corn maze?”

Spencer frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You love this time of year. Corn mazes are just such a fall thing that it surprises me that you haven’t done one before,” you explain.

“I don’t love fall,” Spencer corrects. “I love Halloween.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bold words from a man who’s ordered a pumpkin spice latte every morning for the last three weeks.”

You take a moment to enjoy the blush that paints his cheeks at your words, then speak to JJ. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“We’re aiming for around nine,” she says. “It takes about an hour to get there. We can give you a ride, of course, but I’m guessing the two of you don’t want to be crammed into the backseat of our car for that long.”

Truthfully, it wouldn’t bother you much. You know Spencer would take the middle seat so he could sit next to Henry, leaving you with the better one. But the man is made of legs, and he’d get uncomfortable quickly with them squeezed into a tight space. The last thing you want is for his knee injury to flare up and leave him in pain for the rest of the day.

“Yeah, we should drive up separately,” you say. “We can just meet there.”

“Now, hang on,” Morgan says. “Is this an open invitation for anyone? Because I’ve done corn mazes before and I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to beat Reid at something.”

“Oh, I’ll take up that bet,” Emily says. “Twenty bucks says Morgan and I get through it faster than Reid.”

Spencer frowns. “Two against one? That’s not fair.”

“Well, obviously, you’re going through it with me,” you point out, lightly swatting his arm with the back of your hand. “You’re on, Emily.”

Rossi, briefcase in one hand, jacket hooked over his shoulder, comes into the fray. “What are we betting on?”

“Whether Derek and Emily or Spence and (Y/N) can solve a corn maze faster,” JJ says. She does a good job of acting exasperated, but you know she’s just as invested as the rest of you. If it wasn’t for her desire to spend time with her son, she’d probably enter herself.

“Oh, I’ll put fifty down on the kid, easy,” Rossi says.

Hotch, descending the stairs into the bullpen, overhears this and sighs. “What have I said about office bets?”

“Technically it’s not an office bet,” Emily points out quickly. “It’s something we’re doing over the weekend on our own time.”

“Yeah, this isn’t pool,” Spencer agrees. “Twenty-five on (Y/N) and I.”

“What’s this over?” Hotch asks.

“Corn maze,” Morgan explains. “I’ll add twenty-five as well on me and Emily.”

You tear a piece of paper out of one of the notebooks on your desk and start writing. “I’m putting in thirty,” you say as you write it down. Spencer may have never been in a corn maze before, but you have, and you’re pretty great at them. “Everyone write down their bets on here.”

“What about you, Aaron?” Rossi asks as the paper makes it way through the group.

Hotch shakes his head. “I’m not getting into this.”

“You should still come,” JJ says, scribbling down her wager. “There’s a pumpkin patch you can take Jack to.”

“I did promise him we’d carve a pumpkin this weekend,” he muses.

Penelope toddles in on her high heels with her bag over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” She frowns. “Am I being left out of something?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl,” Derek says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “We’re having a family outing to some farm tomorrow—”

“Liberty Mills farm,” Spencer interjects.

Morgan rolls his eyes. “We’re going to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow. You in?”

Penelope’s face breaks into her bright, radiant smile, warming up the room just like she always does. “Of course! JJ, please tell me my beautiful little godson is coming, too.”

“You can even help him pick out a pumpkin,” JJ replies and Penelope squeals.

“This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait!”

---

A breeze ripples the cornstalks as you navigate the maze with your boyfriend. You’re on the fourth trail, the mystery maze portion. Derek had insisted on that after learning that Spencer saw a picture of the main maze over your shoulder while you were looking up the directions online. You’d agreed that it was only fair to do the mystery section; his eidetic memory would make it too easy to get through the main portion now.

You shiver at the cold and press yourself against Spencer’s side. It’s around four PM, but the temperature has already started to drop, and it’s especially chilly away from all the people and attractions, isolated in the maze.

Spencer lets go of your hand and you open your mouth to protest, but he speaks before you can. “Hang on, I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the flap of his satchel and pulls out a blanket that really shouldn’t have been able to fit in there. He drapes it around your shoulders and punctuates the action with a kiss on your forehead.

“Have you been carrying this around all day?” you ask incredulously. It’s new; you haven’t seen it before. The fabric is incredibly soft and the design is made up of your favorite colors.

He nods. “You get cold faster than I do, and you get cranky when you’re cold.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” you muse, pulling the blanket around you tighter. “You’re so thin. I feel like you should get cold at least as fast as me.”

“Well, if we look at the laws of thermodynamics,” he begins and you tuck yourself into his side with a small smile. He rambles for a while and you listen patiently, nodding and giving him “uh-huh”’s every so often to affirm your interest (though honestly, a good portion of it goes over your head—most of your studies in college were focused on psychology and sociology).

“I see,” you murmur when he finishes, and it’s not a lie—you think you understand the basics. You briefly stop him from walking to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for the blanket. I love you.”

It’s hardly the first time you’ve said it, but he still blushes. “Love you, too.”

“Now,” you say, taking his hand back into your grip. “Let’s win this bet.”

Sixty minutes later, a smile tugs at your lips. Spencer’s corrected you on a few turns, being able to say for certain if you’ve taken a path before, and now you’re close to the end of the maze. You can feel it. You tug on his hand, picking up your pace. “Come on. We’re close.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” You let go of his hand and break into a jog, recalling the hot apple cider stand you saw earlier in the day. You can’t wait to wrap your hands around a cup of it.

“(Y/N)—” he starts, and you look back just in time to see him trip over a root and almost fall face first into the dirt, just barely catching himself on his hands.

You try not the laugh, but a small giggle slips out. “Sorry,” you say, fighting a smile.

He just rolls his eyes as he pushes himself up. “Can you slow down?” he asks. “The cold is making my knee hurt.”

Your expression immediately drops. “Yeah, of course.”

Five minutes later, you’re exiting the maze. Rossi’s waiting at the end and cheers when he sees the two of you. “Ah, yes! I knew it!”

“We’re first?” Spencer asks.

“Of course we are.” You remove one arm from your blanket cocoon and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He hums happily against your lips.

He hugs you from behind as you wait for Derek and Emily, sliding his hands under the blanket and into your sweater’s pockets. They’re ten minutes behind you.

“Ah, come on, man,” Derek laments when he sees you.

“Dammit,” Emily sighs. “You two better be buying dinner tonight.”

“Oh, we’d love to,” you tease.

“How far ahead of us were you?” Morgan asks.

“Twenty minutes,” Spencer replies, and you don’t have to turn around to know the smirk he’s sporting.

You elbow him lightly. “Ten,” you correct.

The five of you meet back up with the others near the entrance of the farm. Penelope had held onto the small pumpkin you’d picked out earlier in the day and hands it to you now. You have paint back home that you’re planning to use to decorate it. Spencer had no desire to get one to carve; he can’t stand touching the pumpkin guts.

“So who won?” she asks.

“Well, going by Spence’s expression, I’m guessing he and (Y/N) did,” JJ says.

Henry lets go of his mother’s hand and approaches Spencer, lifting his arms in a request to be picked up. “We sure did,” Spencer says as he obliges. “Isn’t that right, Henry?”

You grin. “Dinner’s on us.”

---

The team’s seated at your usual table at one of the restaurants you all like to frequent. There’s smiles and laughter all around. Jack is telling his dad, Beth and Morgan about the design he wants to carve into the rather large pumpkin he picked out. Penelope, JJ, and Emily are chattering about Emily’s date tomorrow. (You’ve seen pictures of the woman and she’s gorgeous; Emily also seems completely enamored with her.) Rossi is following up with Will on a recipe he gave him to try. Henry has vacated his seat next to Spencer to sit on his lap instead, and both of you are helping him color in the picture on his placemat.

When JJ takes Henry to wash his hands, you take the opportunity to put your hand on Spencer’s knee. “How’s it feeling?” you ask.

“Better, now that it’s warm.” He pauses, then says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me today. I had a lot of fun. I...” He fiddles with the corner of the placemat. “I never really got to do stuff like this when I was a kid. You know, because...”

You nod; you know what his upbringing was like. “Well, I’m happy to have been a part of it.”

Spencer leans into you, tucking one of his legs behind yours. You squeeze his knee lightly and he lets out a sigh of contentment. He stays like that until Henry returns. The food arrives shortly afterward. Before you take your first bite, you run your eyes across everyone at the table.

It’s a strange, mismatched family you and Spencer have, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

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

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #don't mind me just reposting bc tumblr blocked this from the tags for whatever reason

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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Home is Where You Are pt 2 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 1 Part 3

Of course she had a fiancé. Feyre was talented, sweet, gorgeous, and did this really cool thing with the mud pies where she sprinkled dry dirt on top like cocoa. Okay, that last one was a childhood memory but Rhys hadn't seen her since they were kids. It was a very confusing moment for him.

"Nice to meet you," he said smoothly, extending a hand. He pushed down on the swell of jealousy that rose through him. It was ridiculous really, he hadn't seen the girl in a decade and some part of his animal brain thought it was allowed to be jealous. Surely he was better than that.

"Still live on Velaris street, do you?" Tamlin asked. His had was clammy when he shook Rhys'. "No, I moved out to the city some years ago," Rhys replied. He put his hands in his pockets. "Feyre invited me back."

"Rhys was always over," Feyre explained. She looked at him now, and the affection shining in her eyes made him forget to wonder why she had never told her fiancé about him. "His dad... wasn't great so he practically lived with us. I thought he might want to be here before we sold off the old place. Rhys is my oldest friend."

"Daddy issues, huh?" Tamlin said, in what Rhys had to imagine was an attempt at a sympathetic look. This did nothing for his first impression of the man. Feyre frowned at him, but Rhys just tilted his head to one side. "Do you know," Rhys mused, "I think even as a child Feyre had such a protective side to her, and I think that's why she loved me extra hard."

Tamlin glowered, and Rhys gave him a winning smile. Even as all the while the voice in his head whispered play nice, play nice.

"Why don't we go for lunch?" Feyre suggested. "I'm starving." "You're always starving," Tamlin said, rolling his eyes. "Lunch would be perfect," Rhys said. "We drove in, do you want a lift?" "Sure, thanks."

The three of them climbed into Tamlin's irritatingly red car to a diner not far from the old house. The neighbourhood wasn't bad, actually, it was just Rhys' attached memories that made it seem decrepit. He reminded himself that he had rather liked this diner, that Feyre's family had eaten here often and sometimes brought him with them. Particularly when Feyre's parents noticed he hadn't been eating very much.

A waitress came to take their order, and Rhys ordered a club sandwich. He looked at Feyre through one eye.

"Cheeseburger, no pickles, right?" He remembered this, because he had always been the one that ate said pickles after she picked them off. The sweetest grin started to spread over Feyre's face. But then Tamlin cut in.

"Actually," he said, "we adhere to a strict paleo diet. Well, some of us more strict than others." He nudged Feyre in the ribs, and turned to the waitress.

"We'll have two of the chicken caesar salad, with no dressing, and no cheese. Oh and no croutons."

Rhys stared. Feyre's face seemed to fall a little, but then she smiled at the waitress and handed back her menu.

The food came quickly, and Rhys' sandwich came with a side order of fries. Feyre's and Tamlin's meals looked, unsurprisingly, disappointing. Half way through, Tamlin asked for extra grilled chicken to add to his meal, and didn't offer any to Feyre. Rhys watched Feyre out of the corner of his eye. She had said she was starving.

"Hey," he said to her. "Can you help me with these fries? I'm full and I hate wasting food." "Sure," Feyre said brightly, and he shuffled them onto her plate where she practically inhaled them. "Babe," Tamlin said, aghast. "Come on, you had fries last week." He leaned in and spoke quietly to Feyre- but not so quietly that Rhys couldn't hear him. "Lay off the fried foods for a bit, huh?"

Feyre pushed him off. "Leave me alone, Tamlin," she said. "I'm selling my dead father's house. And I'm hungry."

Rhys concentrated on the remains of his sandwich. Good, he thought. That was more like the Feyre he knew. Had known.

After they were done, Tamlin got up to use the restroom, leaving Feyre and Rhys alone. Rhys couldn't help himself.

"That guy?" he barked with a laugh. "That's your fiancé? What are you doing with him Feyre?" "Hey don't be a dick," Feyre said, surprised. "You only just met him." "Yeah and I already know him. 'You had fries last week'? That sounds familar." Feyre's face twisted in anger. "Tamlin is not your father," she hissed. "He was my personal trainer when we met, I said I wanted to lose a few pounds, he's helping me keep on track." Rhys leaned back in the booth. "Oh so he met you as a professional, started a relationship with a client, and is still commenting on your eating as your partner. Yeah, that's much better."

Feyre opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. "You know what," she said. "It's been a very long time since we were friends." "Best friends. If I recall." "That's a childish term. I am not a child, and I certainly don't need you to come rescue me."

At that moment, Tamlin reappeared. "Are we ready to go?" he said. "Yes," Feyre replied curtly, and slid out from the bench. "You two go ahead," Rhys said, toying with his water glass. "I'll walk. It'll be good to revisit the old neighbourhood." "Fine," Feyre said. "Alright," Tamlin said, "how should we split the bill?" "I've got it," Rhys replied. "Fine," Feyre said again, and towed Tamlin out the door.

When they were gone, Rhys let his head drop back against the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. Idiot, idiot, idiot, he chanted to himself. He stood, paid for the food, and began the walk back to the house.

By the time Rhys reached their old address, he had calmed down enough to feel ashamed. He had not meant to sound so condescending, he had just been shocked that Tamlin was who Feyre had ended up with.

When he walked up to the house, the red car was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door, still unlocked.

"Feyre?" he called. "Here," her voice returned. Rhys walked through the house, gazing around himself as he did. It looked smaller than he remembered- although that was likely because he was taller. The Archerons had left so quickly that they hadn't bothered to take everything with them. The old furniture still remained, under now grey drop sheets.

Feyre was standing in the kitchen, with her hands braced on the island countertop. "Tamlin was called back to town for a work thing," she said. "Ah," Rhys said. "We were supposed to stay a few days and get things checked off before the funeral... but I can do it myself, I guess." She suddenly sounded very tired.

"Hey," Rhys said gently. She looked up at him, with those heart-stopping, stormy eyes. "I'm sorry about earlier." Feyre sighed. "It's okay." "It's not," Rhys said. "You were right. I don't know him, and I don't know you, really. I had no right to come in and make comments about your relationship." "No," Feyre said slowly. "You didn't." "I won't do it again," Rhys said. "And, I would love to get to know you. You know, as adults."

Feyre smiled. "I would like that too." She leaned her elbows against the counter top. "You're forgiven." She flashed a wicked grin. "Prick."

Rhys smiled. She had called him that when they were young- it was one of the first grown-up insults she had learned and took great delight in hurling it at him.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked. "I guess, we go through the house and find out what's in here." She wrinkled her nose. "I almost want a HAZMAT suit." Rhys laughed. "Let's open some windows," he said.

For the rest of the afternoon, they uncovered the Archeron's abandoned belongings. Some things were completely unrecognisable. Many of the things brought back memories, funny or happy or sad, and Rhys was warmed by the realisation that he had just as many memories here as Feyre did. Eventually, the sun started to go down, and of course there was no electricity in the house. They had been drinking water out of a tap in the neighbour's garden.

"Where are you staying?" Rhys asked her. "Well, here I guess." Rhys looked around himself, at ten years of dust and debris. "Is this... liveable?" "Probably not," Feyre said. "I think we might suffocate to death in our sleep. I thought about going back into town, but Tamlin's rushed off with the car. Where are you staying?" "Do you know, I never quite got that far." Rhys gave her a lopsided grin, embarrassed. The truth was, he had been so focused on making his way back to her that he hadn't even considered logistics like where he might sleep that night.

Feyre straightened up, and her eyes twinkled. "I've got an idea," she said.

An hour later, as it got dark in earnest, Rhys stomped down the last tent peg. The had muddled through the garage until they found the old camping gear, in surprisingly good nick.

Feyre lay down, and Rhys squeezed his broad frame in beside her. "Does it horrify you a bit that after ten years, these plastic nylon sleeping bags haven't degraded at all?' Rhys asked. "It does," Feyre agreed, "although I'm also thankful we have the option. That house is not fit for the living." "Well," said Rhys, "tomorrow we can spend the day cleaning. It'll be good as new." "Okay, deal!" Feyre said happily. They lay in silence for a moment.

"Do you know," Rhys said. "I'm pretty sure the last time we saw each other was in this very tent." Feyre laughed a husky, gorgeous laugh. "Oh I'm very aware. We were each others' first kiss."

Rhys rolled onto his side to look at her. "What's happened since then?" he asked. "What have you been doing for the last ten years?"

Feyre gave him an odd look, taken aback a little by the sudden intensity in his voice. Rhys didn't care. He had thought of her so many times through the years, but she had become some sort of distant, nostalgic memory.

Now she was here, he had to know. Everything.

Feyre rolled slowly to face him, and became serious. "What happened is my mom died," she said. "And my dad, he couldn't cope with it. He never recovered, and so I didn't know it at the time but I lost both my parents that day. We moved into some shitty rental, and then something would remind him of her and we moved again. He couldn't hold down a job, couldn't stay in one place. I think I haven't had a real home since I left here."

Her lovely eyes were filled with such sadness, it was all Rhys could do not to reach out and touch her face.

"Me neither," he said quietly. "Next door was never home for me, you know that. And after you guys left... after you were gone..." "Where's your father now?" Feyre asked. "Dead," Rhys said. "I'm sorry." "I'm not."

Feyre didn't respond. Rhys sighed. "I shouldn't say that about him." "He was a bastard," Feyre said. "He was, at that." Rhys said. Feyre rolled back to stare at the ceiling of the tent, and Rhys wanted so much to pull her back. But instead, he rolled over, too. He listened to her breathing in the dark, and for a moment, they could have been thirteen again. For a moment, it was as if no time at all had passed and he had his best friend back and they were home.

Then Feyre spoke.

"At least I've got Tamlin now," she said. “We just rent our apartment right now but in a few years we’ll buy a house, and then I’ll have a home again.”

And with that the moment was over.

****

Mm. This is not quite where I thought this would go, but let's embrace the angst for a hot minute and see where it goes.

Keep reading: Part 3

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acomaf #acosf #mine #angst

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