#yeah most of this is... worrisome | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrychilli · 1 year ago

Text

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

2K notes · View notes

hxrsheykisses · 4 months ago

Note

Howdy hey again! I was just wondering if you would write something with the ETC boys with a reader that’s rich? Like, reader hangs out with them on occasion because they think the boys are funny and will occasionally lend them huge amounts of money or will buy something for the boys because they’re just being nice in general :p - 😈❤️

Awe this is a cute one!!! Thank you so much for requesting!!!💋♥️♥️♥️♥️

Why do I feel like they’d definitely take advantage of you. Like deadass I feel like they’d lowkey only let you around just because you’re rich…

Cause let’s analyze this, these boys aren’t some harmless nerds who don’t really have it all financially. No, these are HARMFUL boys who would lowkey steal their parents money or try to sell off their parents shit in order to have some money to spend on countless of things. So imagine them with a rich friend who will give them money no questions asked.

They’ll need money ALL THE TIME. Like they’d hunt you down immediately if they are low on some fucking limited edition figure that they really want. They are so worrisome like honestly. They may even only talk to you for fucking money…like they don’t give a shit about anything else, all they know is that your rich and you have a shit ton of money.

You on the other hand? Could careless. You don’t care if they only hang around you for money cause when you have a ton of money, you can buy whatever shit you want. But after you already bought the shit you want, now you just kinda have money left over—TOO much money left over. So what do you do? Act like a grandma who constantly gives her grandchildren all the money they want.

You like hanging around with them too, they are funny to hang out with and they have some pretty cool interests. So, on most days you’d get yourself tied with whatever they’re doing that day and after that’s all said and done, you’ll treat them to a fucking shopping spree. It’s really fun for all of you! You love seeing how happy they are with all the stuff they’ve gotten and it just warms your heart. You love it so much that every Friday, you and the boys would head to Joe’s comic shop and spend, spend, spend!

Then some days, you all would go out to eat and get so fucking fat because you could buy everything off the menu.

If yall read the comic, you’d know how I think they all stayed up to watch the Twilight Zone(???) and before that they got all of these drinks and snacks and shit??? Well, let’s just say that you were up in that too. They took you along and you paid for everything before heading to Josh’s house.

Now, let’s say they do something that pisses you off and you put them on fucking punishment. You tell them to not appear on your fucking doorstep and ask for money until they act right…let’s lay out some boundaries cause what?

If this ever happens, after like a fucking day they’d appear at your house and immediately butter you up. Do they actually say the words “Sorry”?? no. But it’s enough to show that they had time to rethink their decisions…

“You’re looking good today on this fine morning!” “…” “Yeah! Did you get a new haircut? Damn it looks good!” “…Okay fine let me get my wallet…” “LETS GO‼️”

Your basically like their fucking Sugar Mama/Daddy LMFAOOOO

#eltingville bill #eltingville jerry #eltingville josh #eltingville pete #the eltingville club #jerry stokes #josh levy #pete dinunzio #welcome to eltingville #bill dickey #pete dinunzio x reader #josh levy x reader #jerry stokes x reader #bill dickey x reader

372 notes · View notes

viasdreams · 30 days ago

Text

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ after route: immortality

"oh you might cum during it, so wear underwear you're ok with getting messy." jisung's voice blarred through your phone's speakers.

"thanks ji, but i think that was only a you thing."

"maybe, but for your sake, i hope it wasn't because that was the best orgasm of my life." jisung punctuated his sentence with a small sigh, reliving the memory.

this conversation was going in a strange direction, as most conversations with jisung do, so you decided to cut it off here.

"um well, thank you so much for the advice ji, i'll definitely keep it in mind. i'm almost home, so i have to go. i'll talk to you later, okay?"

jisung whined on the other end of the phone, "aw okay. you have to come over soon though, chenle and i made some blood popsicles and i saved you some."

"i'll stop by, i promise. for real, i have to go ji."

"okay okay, good luck tonight, i love you. please tell hyuck to call mark if anything goes wrong," his tone becoming worrisome.

"don't worry ji, hyuck has had multiple conversations with mark, jaemin, and renjun about tonight." you did your best to reassure him despite your own worries.

"what the fuck does renjun know about turning someone into a vampire?"

"nothing really, he was kinda just there to threaten hyuck. apparently he has a silver stake on standby if anything happens to me."

renjun had shown you the stake one time, it was massive. you begged him to return it, but he was adamant that he kept it "in case hyuck showed his true colors". jeno was currently in the process of finding it's hiding place so he could dispose of it for you.

"wait that's so sweet of him," jisung said.

"yeah i guess you could call it that," you sarcastically replied, "okay im at my front door, i actually have to go, love you bye!" you hung up, not waiting for a reply.

now standing in front of your apartment, you prepared for what awaited you inside.

after three years of dating and many conversations with your loved ones, you had decided to become a vampire. leaving your mortality behind finally felt like the right thing for you.

when you first told hyuck, you could tell he felt very conflicted about your choice. on one hand, he was over the moon at the thought of spending the rest of forever with you. but on the other hand, he was terrified of hurting you when it came time to actually turn you.

"chenle said i might nick your carotid artery, and you'll die. what if that actually happens?" hyuck asked you a few weeks ago.

"babe why are you listening to chenle? you know he's just trying to freak you out."

"i know, and it's working. he said he's seen it happen," hyuck whined, running his hands through his hair.

"well it's not going to happen to us, so stop stressing about it okay?"

hyuck nodded but was clearly still thinking about chenle's words.

eventually, after numerous talks with mark and jaemin, a lot of research, and one vampire deer (hyuck claimed he needed practical turning experience), hyuck felt confident enough to turn you.

you tried to be calm and optimistic while he was preparing so as to not psych him out any further, but you were probably more scared than he was. you weren't scared about hyuck messing up, you trusted him with your life (clearly). your fear stemmed more from the idea that this wasn't the right decision. you spent many sleepless nights thinking about what your life would be like as a vampire, and it all seemed wonderful. however, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were just making up all this greatness and that the reality of it all was going to crush you.

you had been visibly stressed all day, so hyuck suggested you go on a walk to clear your head. on that walk is when jisung called you, which was a nice, albeit lengthy, distraction.

now back home, you took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. the door opened about two inches and stopped. hyuck had latched the deadbolt.

"hyuck?", you called into your dark apartment, "can you come unlock the door, please?"

you heard the not-so-soft patter of footsteps coming to the door, and suddenly, hyuck's face was peaking through the crack.

“hi babe,” you laughed, “can you open the door?”

“no.” he shut the door in your face.

“girl if you don’t open this door right now, i swear to-”

the door swung open, revealing your grinning boyfriend.

“oh, thanks,” you walked in and he enveloped you in a tight hug.

you leaned into the hug, inhaling deeply. instead of his usual vanilla scent, he reeked of roses. the whole apartment did.

you pulled away, “why does it smell like flowers in here?”

hyuck looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i'll show you.”

he laced his fingers with yours and took you to your shared bedroom. the room was gorgeously lit via candlelight, and a path of rose petals led to the bed.

you stared, awestruck by the romantic gesture. “you had this all planned?”

“yep, i sent you on that walk to get you out of the house, and had jisung call you to buy me some extra time. i locked the door in case you managed to shut him up quicker than usual.” hyuck’s pride was palpable. it was well earned, the room looked beautiful.

“i thought this would calm both of us down a bit." he said, squeezing your hand.

"thank you hyuckie, this is the perfect." you kissed his cheek.

"i know i've asked you a million times already, but are you sure about this? it's okay if you're not, i'll love you no matter what," he asked, looking intently into your eyes.

instead of answering, you walked over and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to you. hyuck quickly followed, grabbing your hand again as he sat.

"do you remember back before we actually started dating, when i was freaking out about my mortality and we met up to talk at the park?" you asked.

"oh you mean when you tried to end our relationship?" hyuck exaggeratedly raised his eyebrows.

"yeah exactly."

hyuck shook his head, "nah don't remember it."

you lightly smacked his arm for ruining the sweet moment you were trying to create with his sarcasm.

"yeah okay, wiseass, do you remember what you said to me?"

he sat for a second, thinking back. "that i missed getting drunk really bad?"

you giggled, "well yeah that, but i was talking about what you said about my mortality dilemma and our relationship."

recognition crossed his face, "i said that we'll figure it out together."

you nodded, "and that mentality has gotten us this far, so while i am nervous about this change, i know it'll be okay. i have you after all." you rested your head on his shoulder.

"yeah, and i have you," hyuck rested his head on yours, "we'll figure it out."

before you and hyuck lost confidence, you sat back up. "now bite me boy!" you demanded, pulling your shirt over your head, exposing your neck.

"yes ma'am," he saluted, "go lie on the pillow, please."

you gave him a quizical look, "are you trying to turn me or fuck me?"

he looked around all guilty like, "well i'm not going to lie, i did have some plans for after we finished, but this is just so you don't hurt yourself when you pass out."

"aw that's so thoughtful," you plopped down on the pillow, "and i had the same plan."

hyuck crawled over to you, straddling your waist and bending down to kiss your jaw. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," you said, both your breath and voice shaky.

"good to know then," he kissed your lips softly, "i love you yn."

you cupped his cheeks and your brought your gaze up to meet his, "i love you too hyuck."

you exchanged a few more kisses, hyuck's lips slowly trailing to your neck.

"i'm really sorry if this hurts you," he mumbled when he found the spot he was looking for.

before you could respond, his fangs were puncturing your skin. the sensation was vaguely familiar, almost nostalgic. you could feel your consciousness slip, but this time, the unknown wasn't quite as frightening.

this time, you wouldn't wake up confused or alone.

this time, you would wake up to start the rest of your life with your soulmate.

masterlist ~ route one: mortality

a/n: thank you for waiting and thank you for reading. i love you <3

taglist (open): @miyawwn @nanaxwi @mystverse @mmoonlee @dudekiss3r @honeynanamin @haefelt @nneteyamss @iamsimplyasimp @roseangelxfuma @haechsworld @hyuck-me @catpjimin @toyoongg @sthwaaberry @kim-seungmins-gf @sunghoonsgfreal @sunflowerhae @galacticnct @slayhaechan @multifandomania @jasluvsjae @injunnie-lemon @swanyvess @hahaechans @aerivrs @kirbrary @akunoeyebrows @snowyseungs @keeryverse @alethea-moon @flaminghotyourmom @elsbunny @introvertatitsfinest @ypoom151999 @1starqi @emptynote @wonswondrland @smilefordongil @onlyforyoukook @gomdoleemyson @jaehyunandonly @kukkurookkoo @lampcults @nightcat101 @hyuckna25 @yanagisprettygf

176 notes · View notes

hiraethwrote · 9 months ago

Text

there's a lightness in him

summary: finally, the day has come where you get the chance to meet gojo. but megumi doesn't handle it as well as you had hoped

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, modern au, f!reader, fluff, gojo cameo, some angst, aged up characters, no use of y/n

word count: 2.9k

You really wanted to meet Gojo.

For reasons unknown to you, Megumi became even more quiet than usual whenever he was brought up — nearly blatantly refusing to talk about him at all.

Your curiosity was obviously peaked — who was this mysterious individual, who through unfortunate circumstances had ended up basically raising what had turned out to be your perfect boyfriend? Was this where Megumi had gotten his closed off demeanour from? Were shared dinners around the dining table spent in utter silence?

The few things you had gathered about Gojo: he was NOT Megumi’s dad. That was the most important thing you’d learned. Because how dumb were you when you simply assumed the adult man he lived with was his father?

You had also learned that there was a new level to Megumi’s frown that always grew deeper whenever he talked to Gojo on the phone. Granted, he was never happy whenever he was on the phone, but it was something entirely different when he talked to his… guardian?

“What do you mean you haven’t met his family?!” Kasumi exclaimed in pure disbelief once you told her, head tilting up from her doomscrolling.

“As far as I understand, there isn’t much family to meet. It’s mostly just this Gojo figure.”

“And that’s his dad?”

“God no, he’ll bite your head off if you assume so, but whoever he is, he’s the closest thing he has to a parental figure.”

She tried to blink away the worst of her surprise. “But you’ve been together since high school.” It seemed like she wanted the statement to be a question, but it definitely came out more as a judgemental remark.

“Look, his family situation isn’t ideal,” you trailed off, thinking about the few things he had actually opened up to you about — both his sister and his absent father, and you had quickly understood family was a fragile topic for him. So whenever you dared approach the situation about Gojo, you just wanted to be cautious in case there was anything serious he just did not want to talk about.

However, lately, the idea of anything seriously worrisome being the issue had slowly ceased to exist. Megumi genuinely only seemed to be annoyed with whatever it was Gojo said or did — nothing graver than that.

“Does that mean you’ve never been to his house?” Yet another shocked question fired at you.

“No, I’ve been to his house plenty of times,” you chuckled. “It just so happens that Gojo is never home. He’s apparently sent out of town a lot for work.”

She quirked an eyebrow, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her phone. “Your boyfriend is kind of a weirdo, not gonna lie.”

A small, smitten smile automatically grew on your lips. “Yeah, I guess he is,” you said, probably mostly to yourself.

“I have to go now.”

“What, already?” You whined, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout as Megumi got up from his seat beside you. He met your pleading gaze, leaning forward to capture your lips in a tender kiss to ease his departure.

“It’s probably gonna take a while today,” he sighed, walking over to the door. Before his hand had even managed to clasp around the handle, you were already at his side, staring at him with doe eyes while your arms were tucked behind your back — like you always did when you wanted something.

“Then why don’t I come along?” batting your eyelashes at him.

Whatever your ulterior motive was, he was weak for the look you gave him — sucking in his cheeks to smother the smirk you were slowly pulling from him.

“You wanna come along?”

“I wanna be with you as much as possible!”

“You gonna help with errands, too?”

Your innocent smile was pushed into pursed lips instead. “I can watch?”

He instantly let out a taunting scoff. “Cute,” he sighed, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and opening the door to leave. Before he got too far, you already grabbed ahold of his wrist.

“So, you’re going home for these errands, right?”

And once you said ‘home’, Megumi immediately understood why you had suddenly decided to be so persistent in tagging along for his duties, when you always preferred he just get it over with so he could return to you once he was done.

And his body slowly started to tense up, because unlike you, Megumi really did not want you to meet Gojo.

Why? Well, Megumi could list hundreds of reasons why he wanted to shield you from the menace he had lived with most his life. But he knew those reasons were all superficial, and he never really dared put into words what really plagued him about the situation.

“Megumi,” you spoke his name softly, slowly letting go of his wrist. “I want to meet your family.”

There it was again, your genuine interest in him — somehow always catching him off guard despite you proving it to him from the very first moment. He just didn’t feel deserving of it.

It was written all over your features just how important this was to you — guilt striking him as he couldn’t understand why he had been so selfish as to deprive you of meeting his family, when he had no real reason to.

But what wasn’t he willing to do for you? With a clear of his throat, he tried to set aside his ever present anxiety about the situation, grumbling a low “fine” as he pulled out his phone to send a quick heads up to Gojo.

“Wait, really?” The fragile sentiment in your voice was replaced by an airy relief, not quite expecting him to surrender so easily — especially considering how long you’d bothered him about it all.

“Has to happen eventually, right? Might as well get it over with.”

The nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and the look in his eyes was all it took for you to feel your stomach tickle with butterflies — you saw he was trying to power through his stubbornness for you. He wasn't going to let his own struggles triumph how important this was for you.

“You’re just so-“ endless giddiness spilling over in your expression, unable to finish your sentence. You cupped his face and placed the sweetest kiss on his cheek, before you rather abruptly interrupted your own actions by yanking him after you towards his car.

For the entirety of the ride, you held a mostly one sided conversation, hoping your casual talk would calm him down — but it didn’t stop his knuckles from slowly turning paler when his fingers gnawed at the steering wheel, hoping you didn’t catch how his teeth were grinding against each other.

But he wanted to try — for you.

Pulling into the driveway, surrounded by the familiar scenery of the neighbourhood he grew up in, none of his nerves seemed to disintegrate. Even when he opened the door for you (like he always did) and you laced your fingers with his, the nerves remained knotted inside him.

“If you really don’t want to do this-“

“No, ‘s fine,” he interrupted you softly, reactively squeezing your hand to ground himself. “Let’s just get-“

A blaring voice shouting your name cut through the sad tension, both you and Megumi jumping at the sudden outburst.

Capturing your wide eyed glare, you were met with a freakishly tall man staring directly at you with the most intense blue-eyed stare one could imagine and untamed hair of the purest white — and lastly, a somewhat off putting grin that was overflowing with outgoing charm.

This was Gojo? The Gojo? The very same who had raised your stoic and quiet boyfriend? The one who seemed to have too much pent up energy in his body, despite the size of it? This was not at all what you had expected.

You were about to take a polite bow to introduce yourself, but Gojo simply waved his hand. “No need for formalities. Feel like I know you already.” His smile never wavered, even when he took a step back to let you in.

Megumi was already grumbling to himself, unable to stop how his fingers clenched harder on your hand as a reaction to Gojo’s first appearance — and heat was rising up his neck, slowly colouring the tips of his ears red with embarrassment.

“So glad you finally managed to convince him,” Gojo nearly sung, leading all three of you into the kitchen. “I’ve tried desperately since that day he first visited you. But Megumi never listens to me.”

He was so far from the character you had created in your mind, taking some time let the new impression replace the old one. He leaned so casually against the kitchen counter, while Megumi acted on instinct and pulled out the stool for you, taking a seat next to you.

“I couldn’t quite believe my eyes when he came back home that evening, and he smiled. You know how hard I try to make him smile?”

“Oh, it’s not so hard,” you laughed along, turning to look at your boyfriend only to see he was looking at Gojo with chronically furrowed eyebrows. The lump in your stomach formed immediately, hating just how displeased Megumi appeared to be — reaching out to grab his hand under the table, head turning to look at you, smoothing the crinkles on his forehead. You started to believe he wasn’t even aware of the way he was looking at Gojo, because all evidence of annoyance was gone when he shifted his eyes towards you. “He smiles plenty.”

“Hmpf,” Gojo pouted, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “Well, maybe you just share the same bad sense of humor.” The comment caught you a little by surprise before the genuine laugh slipped past your lips, while Megumi went back to shooting him an ugly scowl.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you too for a while.”

“Is that so?” His tone sounded accusatory as he met Megumi’s eyes. It didn’t take a genius to understand the subtext that Megumi had served him excuse after excuse on why he’d never introduced you.

“Yes, but my schedule is crazy busy,” the lie rolling of your tongue so easily, Megumi almost believing it himself. “Something always came up whenever we tried to make it happen.” It was a small gesture, yet Megumi’s heart fluttered lightly at how you tried to make this as comfortable as possible for him.

“I’m very pleased you finally got the time,” he beamed, seemingly buying into the lie.

And then the conversation flowed as smoothly as butter. He asked questions about your studies and your family, showing a real interest in your life. And he was funny — the clutching-your-stomach type of funny. You didn’t even notice when Kuro and Shiro walked into the kitchen, Shiro lightly nudging your hand for pets before both of the dogs laid down by Megumi’s feet.

But the conversation consisted mostly of your and Gojo’s voice, Megumi only contributing with a weak “hm” or “sure” whenever fitting, which definitely put a thorn in the atmosphere of the company.

“How about we get around to those errands?” You suggested, bringing an end to the constant rambling you knew Megumi had probably prayed would stop.

“Yeah, we probably should,” he mumbled lowly, quickly jumping out of the seat he had been glued to since you arrived. “I just have to get something upstairs-“

“Just go,” you giggled, knowing he was about to ask if you were alright with being left alone for a second.

Megumi hurried away, leaving you and Gojo alone. It didn’t take long before he broke the silence again.

“He’s not usually this cold towards me.” His tone had completely changed, now full of sentiment, one you could only assume came from genuine love for Megumi. “It doesn’t look like it, but I’m sure he secretly likes me. The death glares are at least kept to a minimum when it’s just the two of us.”

“He has a tendency to be a little cranky.” He smiled then, a small and almost shy smile.

“I’m going to make this quick, because he’ll be back down any second,” he took a deep breath as he straightened his posture. “After you came along… I’ve never seen him like this.” Your breath hitched in your throat at the slightly ominous statement. “There’s a lightness in him I’ve never seen before. You clearly mean a lot to him, which is why he exaggerates his frown. He’s just being protective.”

With further clarification, your shoulders found rest, starting to shuffle towards the front door, Gojo close behind. “Believe it or not, he brings me lightness too.”

“No, I believe it,” he smiled as Megumi came down the stairs, both of his dogs following him. “I see it in you too.”

“Ready to go?” Megumi asked in a monotone voice, already having put on his shoes and opened the door.

“It was nice meeting you, Gojo,” you bowed.

“Looking forward to the next time.” Megumi didn’t manage to fully conceal the quiet groan that escaped him, both you and Gojo deciding to not pay it any attention.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Megumi sighed, already halfway down the pathway, simply waving goodbye over his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you!” Gojo yelled dramatically after him, your boyfriend never sparing him a second glance. While he opened the car door for you, you decided to pay Gojo the decency of a smile and a tiny wave.

Megumi did not hesitate to start the engine, his childhood home quickly disappearing behind you.

Then silence hit — thick silence, nearly suffocating on all the thoughts you could so clearly tell was swarming Megumi’s mind.

“I like him,” you breathed, leaning back on the headrest.

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

“You don’t sound glad.”

“Sorry.”

His eyes were glued ahead, as if there was nothing more interesting than the boring scenery and the asphalt going straight ahead.

“Megumi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you want me to meet Gojo?”

He didn’t answer — he only let out a deep breath through his nose which you suspected had been trapped in his lungs since the moment you first pulled up in his driveway. Then he pulled over, the car slowly rolling to a halt.

Your pulse quickened, eyeing how his hands had left the steering wheel only for him to pick at the skin around his nails — a nervous tick you only saw him do when he was extremely anxious.

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

His confession was quiet, and had it not been for the fact that there was not a sound in the car or any distractions outside, you would not have been able to hear it.

“Meeting family… it brings expectations. And if I am to mess this up-“

“Don’t say that, you’re not going to mess this up!” You cut him off, hands cutting through the air to intertwine your fingers with his, stopping his bad habit.

“You don’t know that.” His voice still came out low, eyes directed at your hands. “After last time-“

“Stop it,” you interrupted again, bringing one hand to his face to force him to look at you, breaking your heart when his eyes had turned glossy. “We’re past that now, okay?”

“I know we are, it’s just-“ he took another deep breath, “for some reason, I just felt like that if I kept you from meeting him, I could contain the damage and disappointment if I were to screw it up.”

“I didn’t know you felt this way,” you sniffled quietly, fighting not to let the tears take over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he averted his gaze again, back to fixating on his lap. “Scared, I suppose.”

“You’re not in this alone. You can always talk to me about these things, okay?”

“Mhmm,” the weak sound was barely heard.

Once again you cupped his face, wanting his eyes on you when you said “I’m on your team, Megumi.” His nostrils flared, not wanting the tears to spill. “Please just let me be on your team!”

Yet again he took another deep breath to steady himself, slowly beginning to nod along before leaning into your touch. “Okay,” he whispered.

He didn’t say it, but you could sense how he had actively reached within himself to fint sparks of confidence to give himself over to your request.

Megumi was just used to doing things on his own, never depending on anyone but himself. And up until he met you, that had worked perfectly fine. But faced with a relationship, he had found himself between a rock and a hard place, where exposing himself emotionally to another human being was necessary for it to work — and you were worth every ounce of dedication. Every other aspect of his life had turned miniscule in comparison to you.

He hadn’t exactly made it easy for you to cooperate when it came to his feelings. But that stopped now, fully surrendering to the fragility one could not avoid in a relationship. He knew you’d be there.

“You want me to drive?”

“No, it’s fine,” he sighed, the evidence of tears gone as he sat back up in his seat. He removed your hand from his face to place a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re not still going to run errands, are you?” Your pulse finally started to calm down when you spotted a small smirk lurking at the corner of his lips.

“Not a chance.”

“My place and order in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

tags (taglist is open)

@sad-darksoul @nyahctrl @ssetsuka @aceakariii @chxlexauriana

@ps-forgetmenot @thejujvtsupost @acowboykisser @rixo-19

@aestheticallyvini @iheartlinds @rory-cakes @tiffanyandrson

a/n okay idk what's happening but i'm not quite vibing with my writing lately... words aren't wording iykwim... however, did yall catch me teasing some angst in here tihi?? look forward to that

#— ଓ my creative corner #loner megumi x popular reader #dividers by cafekitsune #jjk #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro oneshot #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi #fushiguro #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi

779 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

Text

More pjo things that I’ve thought about. More or less things/ behaviours they only have towards you.

Percy would hate going back to an empty cabin, so he just drags you along with him instead.

He doesn’t like how void of life and laughter it is that sometimes he’d sneak himself into your cabin to join you if he couldn’t wait until the next day to see you.

Percy just hates being alone with his thoughts and stuff that he’s more then often doing anything in his power to not be on his own for longer then a hour, it typically never ends well and so he just tries to fill time by doing whatever he could with you in order to have his mind fixated on the new memories, and not the ones he’s still not ready to confront just yet.

Thoughts such as whether Luke was right (he was)

So yeah impromptu sleepovers at cabin 3 are a thing you do.

The gods ask far too much out of him, so when he has time with you, all he wants to do is either nothing at all or mundane things that reminded him that he was someone outside of being a demigod. So baking foods and dying them blue was a favoured pass time for you both before it quickly dissolved into a fight that ends with a really cute kiss.

You guys are sickeningly sweet to everyone but they can’t look away either because if they want to know what a healthy relationship looked like, they’d just look at you and Percy as he’s splashing you with water, meanwhile you can’t do shit because he can’t get wet unless he will himself to. You call him a cheater for this but find that you can’t stay mad at your water boy for very long when he’s giving you sea puppy dog eyes and a cute pout.

He’s even attempted to make you something out of the seashells he’s found amongst other things he’s found at the bottom of the lake, with some help of course, and would beam brightly when he sees that you’ve kept them in good use afterwards that he didn’t mind if a shell or two fell off because as long as you were using what he gifted you Percy didn’t care.

With Percy to be loved is to be a comforting thought, a guiding light in the bleaker moments and a tether to one’s own humanity.

Leo utilises his talents to make something for you that you end up having scattered across your bedside table.

He’s the kind to say ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ but the moment you do give him a kiss, whether it’s his lip, cheek, forehead or even his nose, he’s silent as a mouse and is looking at you as though he was seeing you for the first time.

This dude is a living furnace and a sassy bastard, so if you’ve got a lot to get off of your chest please let this man be the first to know and he’s more then willing to cradle you in his arms as you both chat shit on those that you don’t like.

Leo doesn’t even need to hear the whole story to know whose side he’s on because it’s yours and only yours! He’s in your corner no matter what, hell he’d even support your wrongdoings if you wanted him to and needles to say he’s the man who boosts your self confidence more than anyone else. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Also by the end of the rants your more then likely to be fast asleep as this man runs hotter then most and Leo will shamelessly admire you as you slept against him before feeling left out and joining you in your dreams. He’s a sweetheart and wherever you went, Leo will always follow.

With Leo to be loved is to be seen, thought about and cherished as though you were a treasure only found once in a lifetime.

Nico would tolerate you more than others.

He keeps to himself but he can be often found within your company as though he were your second shadow.

He’s weary of the people who’d come your way, but that’s mainly due to the fact that he’s been through so much and had much taken away from him unfairly, he’s naturally going to want to keep a tight grasp on what he still has while he could.

So needless to say he forms somewhat an attachment to you that Chiron and Mr D considered borderline worrisome considering the hod whom Nico was the forbidden child of. Yet they knew that there wasn’t much that can be done to undo what had already been done.

So when your on quests, Nico is more then likely to follow afterwards if he can get away with it.

If he can’t then he’s most likely to stay near your cabin -the only thing that he had of you- and waits for you to come back on your bed, the longer your gone the more likely you’ll find him fast asleep in your bed, making you smile at how sweet he could be underneath his hardened persona.

You knew the sweet boy Nico use to be was still in there, and he knew it too, so don’t be surprised when he comes back from travelling through the shadows to bring you something that would make you feel a little less shittier. He acts like it doesn’t matter but he just wants you to be okay and doesn’t like the idea of being in able to help you when you’ve been nothing but accommodating to him and his needs after everything.

With Nico to be loved is to be at peace with the silence and welcome it, for words tends to loose meaning when overused to the point it losses meaning. For nothing every proclamation of love has to be said aloud, when it can be said in a whisper also.

Luke is overly more affectionate to you compared to the rest of camp and it shows.

There’s an arm being tossed over your shoulder here, and a nudge against your side with his elbow here, with a sprinkle of his head resting against your shoulder for added effect.

It was as if it came natural to the son of Hermes to always be touching you somehow, as though he couldn’t go a minute without having a hand on you to guide you away from other campers when he wanted to show you something he was keen you’d like.

While sitting at tables that weren’t your own was a camp rule not to be broken, Luke would either save you a seat at his table or even joins you at yours on the odd occasion, much to the curiosity of the rest of camp.

So you knew for certain this was going to be talked about for a good while as he only smiles mischievously at those who wanted to know what was going through his mind when doing such a thing, all despite knowing that he’ll end up with extra chores to do because of it.

He’s very intuitive towards you and poetically knows you better then you know yourself on most days, so it’s not surprising when he’s taking you out of a situation that you find stressful and somewhere less crowded for you both, only to find that he’s set up a lovely little picnic for you as well as you both overlooked the lake in comfortable silence as you just enjoy the others company.

With Luke to be loved is to be known deeper then any ocean, revered with respect and to be valued more then surface level.

380 notes · View notes

just1cefor4ll · 6 months ago

Text

— Healing

Aiden Clark x touch starved!reader

genre: sligh angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of a slightly emotionally unavailable family, not proof read

You didn’t exactly grow up in a very affectionate family. Yes, you grew up in a very caring family but they weren’t really present when it came to comfort or the already said affection. You got hugged as a kid, but it was more on birthdays than on normal days where you had to ask to get that bit of warmth you so longed for. But even then it wasn’t enough to fill that hole that you thought would never ever be full.

Maybe it was fate that you met with the most amazing boy who always had his hands on you—in a non sexual way of course. But it all felt so foreign that you didn’t have a clue of how to reciprocate those actions.

Aiden was a very.. energetic boy to put it lightly. It really was a shocker to all of your friends that you— a very isolated and awkward person got together with the social butterfly that never kept his hands to himself when it came to you. Whether it was him having a hand around your waist, shoulder or holding hands, having a hand on your thigh.. he gave you his all. It overwhelmed you and you had no idea why since you did get affection as a kid but if you ever described that affection to someone they’d probably give you a big reality check. You couldn’t blame your parents though. They grew up with little to no affection at all just like you, their parents or your grandparents being very busy people during their younger years and weren’t so present like they were in your life, so you had to be grateful for the effort they put in when raising you.

You were going over to Aidens house, walking to the front door of the large looking house when the blonde boy swung the door open and pulled you into a hug. You kind of just stood there, your body stiff. You patted him awkwardly on the back and Aiden pulled away. “Come on let’s go upstairs, yeah?” Before you could reply you were off the ground and holding onto Aiden for dear life, your legs wrapped around his face while your hands were around his neck. He sat down on his bed with you now sitting in his lap with an uncomfortable expression. His smile dimmed at this, cupping your cheek and looked into your eyes. “Whats wrong baby, you feeling okay?” He asked in a worrisome tone and traced circles on your lower back.

He was left with only a simple shrug as an answer, your tongue frozen and your voice unable to be heard. You squirmed at his touch, the touch foreign and confusing which was nothing you haven’t thought before but you couldn’t help to always have that single statement lingering in your mind.

He pulled you off his lap and sat in front of you on the floor, his warm hands holding your own. “Is this okay?” He asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how to comfort people in situations like these— his usual humorous solutions to things unable to come out when it came to you being upset. He wanted to take all of this seriously, he tried his hardest to be there for you and understand what you were feeling when he couldn’t understand his own feelings most of the time. You nodded, tracing circles on his hands like he would; were you allowed to do this?

“We don’t have to talk, you know? We can just sit here in silence until you feel like doing something else, hm?” He asks with a soft smile. “Yeah that would- that would be great.” You say; barely above a whisper. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for being so difficult.” Aiden furrowed his brows, looking at you with a sympathetic look; “No, no you don’t need to apologise, especially for being uncomfortable. We can always talk about this.. you know, boundaries?” He suggests and you nod with a more truthful smile.

“You don’t ever need to earn my affection, nor do you ever need to ask for it. Whenever you feel like wanting a hug just come up to me and hug me. I’d be more then happy to have you in my arms.” Your cheeks felt hotter then usual, the words hitting a certain spot in your heart that has never been touched before in your life. It felt so amazing to have a boy so caring and understanding as him, but you just didn’t know how you deserved someone like him. “I.. could use a hug right now.” He smirked, his playful personality switching on again as if someome pressed a button in his brain that automatically alterered the way he was. “You’re blushing? How adorable.” He whispered and pulled you close, burying his face into your neck and held you by the waist.

Never have you felt so loved and heard before then at that moment— in his arms, safe and forever warm with the gentle sound of TWO SOULS COMBINED.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

#aiden clark x reader #aiden clark x y/n #aiden sbg x reader #sbg aiden clark #aiden clark sbg #sbg aiden #school bus graveyard aiden #aiden clark #aiden sbg #school bus graveyard x y/n #school bus graveyard fanfiction #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard x reader #sbg #sbg fanfic #sbg (webtoon)#sbg x reader

226 notes · View notes

maikissed · 6 months ago

Text

the day I saw your eyes, I stayed

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: none, just a tad of sexual tension, yeah

note: there is going to be part 2! I planned to write the whole story in one shot but I gotta go to sleep now and was too excited about this rubbish (jk, I love it tbh). And he scored today, whoop sorry for any mistakes!!!!

Rose got herself a new boyfriend. The name brought up in presence of your girlfriends caused much of a fuss. It was a grand revelation and as much as it surprised you as well, you did not share the enthusiasm as every other girl in the room. Not because you felt envious, jealousy was never your thing, you rather grew worrisome. The excitation over the fact that Rose secured herself a football player of such range – famous, a hot topic, high quality player, one of the most valuable characters in the England national team, highly payed, and to add to that: uncommonly gorgeous - absolutely knocked your friends of their feet, but to you… To you it was a sign of massive trouble. People like him belonged to a world where individuals had their impeccable ways to draw from their fame, money and phenomenon as much as they could, despite the morality or ethics. Rose always mingled among various groups of people, there were musicians, actors, even politicians. She was a lovely girl, very pretty, her modelling career developed quickly, spectacularly. But she still haven’t made her name the way she aimed to. You suspected the boys she chose were always an occasion, a special addition to make her reach for more, to be seen, to feel special and unique. She was determined, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the fact how many times she has suffered and burned herself even almost to the point of absolute destruction. It felt awful to even reminisce it. But that’s how it’s been so far, it was the path she has chosen. Although this time this whole situation felt much different, there was a spark in her eyes that could tell you many things. But you would define it this way: she intended to hold onto him, she wanted to keep him. He seemed like the greatest prize. But who would have thought that the massive trouble you feared from the very start would be your burden to deal with?

Jude Bellingham.

Girls were over the moon when the time has come and Rose invited you all to join them in a private lounge in one of the most exclusive clubs in London. You scoffed when you heard the name of the place, you remembered the time when you and Lucia tried to sneak in there, but the bodyguard was too smart to fall for your theatrics. Only precisely selected people could party there. It was one of those grand and fancy places. So you found yourself invited, at last. Yet you weren’t very thrilled about the way you were about to spend your Saturday night. It turned out you would be the only single person there.

And him? The man, the hot topic himself? He was taller than you envisioned, maybe the hair added to that? His smile truly was bright, he was well built, broad shoulders, but not too muscular, well, he was an athlete. The Brummie dialect annoyed you at the start, but the itch seemed to cease as you payed attention to the tone of his voice, there was nothing particular about it, it was just right, good, not screechy, not too deep just… pleasant. He was an amiable guy, you thought to yourself, polite and friendly at the first contact. You realised you were a careful observer until he turned to you to greet. Now you were very much noticed, now you had to act as a part of the events, not a shadow and analyser. And situation very much changed. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, you found yourself in the strangest state of unconsciousness, like a scene in a movie where the background blurs and any noise is muted, when the spectator is deprived of any other senses despite the sight to notice those specific details that are supposed to made him feel the sublimity of a given moment. And the source of it was in his eyes, you realised, and the way he smiled softly as he extended his hand to you. It was strange and disturbing, his eyes seemed to be the darkest ones you’ve ever seen, but you most definitely had seen eyes like his before, no doubt about it. You took a breath, blinked, fought to not fall into this depth that almost sucked you in. He was smiling, now something slightly impudent about it, and you realised he truly was stunningly gorgeous. Strangely, insanely attractive. Just a simple look into his eyes made you stumble into a realisation that there was something different about this man. And it frightened you.

You did say your name back, did you?

As the night went by you decided to stay in your attentive observer state. You felt safer there, although decency inquired you to engage in few conversations with your friends. Tonight you felt tense, carefully sipping the wine, you tried with all your might to relax and stop examining so intensely the boy seated opposite you. Few new conclusions you came into in the last hour was the fact that he was a great interlocutor, he listened as well, and his smile was one of the most pleasurable things you’ve experienced in your lifetime. You just couldn’t take your eyes off. And another conclusion was that him and Rose was nothing of exclusive. No lingering stares, no secret touches. After all, they met quite recently. She wondered if she bagged him already. And if so, would they all be there if she did? He did not seem like the kind to make such effort to get himself a girl he was not seriously interested in. Rose was not the type to act restrained and unavailable. She crawled into many beds the first night she met someone. You kept yourself far from casual hook-ups and one night stands, just a simple thought of it made you uncomfortable. But for her it was a common thing, if you could use such words. So, was he really interested?

After a while all of your friends decided to use the night to the fullest as the alcohol finally kicked in, rushing to the dancefloor and you truly couldn’t find the spur to join them. You were seriously thinking about taking a French leave. And you almost succeeded.

“You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?” a well known voice reached you from behind and you turned your head in its direction.

Something in your gut jumped as you spotted Jude. He took a seat beside you. You smiled as his scent reached you, fresh, citrus with addition of something stronger and… alluring.

“I’ve had a long day. Tired, I guess” a safe and simple answer.

His full attention was on you, no one here to accompany you. It begun to feel overwhelming because you did not expected his gaze to be so intense.

“I know the feeling. Find myself in a constant state of weariness lately, cannot get rid of it” he played with his glass, the liquid looked like orange juice.

“Well, you live quite the fast and exciting life” you noted, observing as the corner of his mouth rose a little at your comment.

“Where are you from?” he asked, not continuing the subject you just raised.

“Here, London, born and raised” you smiled again before lowering your gaze, finding the glass of wine interesting “Became as gloomy and morose as this city”

“I wouldn’t describe you with such words” his voice was soft when he said it, something itched in you to ask what words would he use to describe you, but raising the glass of wine up to your lips saved you from that. You hoped you didn’t blush.

“My grandmother always says that I’m an old soul. Emphasizes it like it’s a virtue” you continued.

“That’s a very interesting thing to say about someone. Mine says that I’m a lovely companion although I use way too foul language and it’s scandalous” he frowned funnily and you laughed at the information, he quickly accompanied you.

“Well, I haven’t yet got the occasion to hear some of that tonight”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman” he murmured “It would be improper to throw fucks around in presence of a pretty girl” a lively glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

Now you definitely blushed.

The conversation flowed from there, and you realised you grew more comfortable with each passing minute. He truly was a great listener, and a good companion. He made you laugh many times and suddenly you stopped regretting leaving your apartment for this night out. He was not daft or arrogant as you might have presumed before you met him, being smothered by all this money he had and a name he’s gotten himself at such young age. The complexity of his persona could be spotted in his eyes as you payed closer attention, but it was his words and the way he picked on any subject you brought, that expressed his maturity and wide perception. You haven’t met a guy like him in a long time.

“What are you guys doing here? Come on down, join us!” it was Charlotte’s comment as she came to the longue after a while.

You haven’t even realised how much time has passed and how much alcohol you have already poured into yourself. You only picked on that as you stood up, dizziness hit you like lighting but you composed yourself, agreeing on Charlotte’s and then Jude’s proposition. As soon as you joined the dancefloor, Rose spotted you both, throwing her hands around Jude, guiding him deeper, keeping him closer. He kept his eyes on you as she did it and a strange feeling stroked you as you kept his gaze. Charlotte grabbed you by your hands, singing the words out loud, the song was energetic and lively, you laughed at your friend. Others from your pack nowhere to be seen. So you loosened up and tried to keep up with your drunk companion. The dancefloor became quite chaotic, people jumping around, your eyes landing on Jude from time to time and to your surprise he was looking your way as well. There was a lean and tall guy that jumped in front of Jude, almost stumbling over him and you laugh at that, seeing that Jude laughed as well, his attention still on you. You wanted to share this fun with him directly, but it was forbidden since the realest fact of this night was that he was not yours to have.

“I need to pee!” Rose shouted near you and you turned, watching as she grabbed Charlotte with her, leaving the dancefloor.

You stopped and decided to follow your friends but felt someone’s presence behind your back before you made any move.

“Now I can tell you’re enjoying your night!” Jude called next to your ear, this way you could hear him well despite the thumping music.

When you turned around you noticed how close he stood, you had to raise your head to look at his face, his big and dark eyes gazing down at you, full lips twisted into an amused smile. You returned the smile.

“You are a terrible dancer” you shouted back to him, your voice filled with laughter.

“That’s a fact” he nodded “But you’re quite good, show me more” he reached for your hips to draw you deeper into the dancefloor and you laughed out, throwing your head back as he lead you with him.

You have not payed much attention to the closeness of your bodies as long as the songs were quick and your movements kept rapidly changing with the rhythm. Still, you haven’t realised the sound slowing, a more sensuous song sounded from the loudspeaker, you knew this one. If the reason could break through the basses that reached your ears, you would finish your dance right this moment. But the fact was that it did not. So you continued, with your hands placed at his shoulders you begun to move your hips. Your eyes closed as you turned around, your back to him, he was not touching you, not directly. He took your hands in his and you started to raise it up in the air, you smiled when you felt his breath on your ear. Your joined hands stayed up longer, his on the other hand slowly trailed lower and lower, down your forearms, then your shoulders, then down your body. His touch sure yet lenient and soft at the same time electrified you. Carefully and attentively, making sure to not touch your breasts on the way, he rested them on your hips, feeling the rhythm you kept on. You were not sure if it was him that pressed on you or was it purely your movement, but your back met with his front fully, and a sharp intake of breath stuck in your throat at the realisation. His hands still rested on your hips, making your body move with no pause. You were close, too close, you could already feel too much. But you found it difficult to part with him, to stop it and call it improper. Your eyes wide open but blind. You only focused on the sense of touch, feeling him moving with you. Your hands fell down to reach his head and then levelled on his nape and you kept them there. Feeling something growing inside of you, along with a rough shot of adrenaline that made your heart beat strongly against ribs. Once more his breath landed on your ear, close, closer. A strange sensation squeezed your throat and you realised you swallowed back a moan. It was like a rough strike, you turned around to face him, with intention to take a step back, but he held you closer, pressing his palm against your back. You sighed and met his eyes. Dark, darker. You wanted to run.

“Thank you for the dance” you said innocently and he watched the movement of your lips as you spoke.

A daring smirk appeared on his mouth and you shuddered. Were you trapped now?

You had to run. So you did.

#football imagine #football fics #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic

181 notes · View notes

felassan · 11 months ago

Text

Game Informer:

"Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show by Alex Van Aken on Jun 27, 2024 at 01:57 PM In this week's episode of The Game Informer Show, the crew discusses our recent trip to Bioware for our Dragon Age: The Veilguard cover story, our Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree review, PS5-bound multiplayer shooter, Concord, a new battle royale from former League of Legends developers, atmospheric horror title Still Wakes the Deep, Dustborn, Luigi's Mansion 2 HD and even more! It's a packed show, y'all. Watch the Video Version: [embedded link to Game Informer video titled 'Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show']"

(On YouTube, the description box for this video looked like this:)

[Article continues] "Follow us on social media: Alex Van Aken (@itsVanAken), Kyle Hilliard (@KyleMHilliard), Marcus Stewart (@MarcusStewart7), Wesley LeBlanc (@LeBlancWes) The Game Informer Show is a weekly gaming podcast covering the latest video game news, industry topics, exclusive reveals, and reviews. Join us every Thursday to chat about your favorite games – past and present – with Game Informer staff, developers, and special guests from around the industry. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. Matt Storm, the freelance audio editor for The Game Informer Show, edited this episode. Matt is an experienced podcast host and producer who's been speaking into a microphone for over a decade. You should listen to Matt's shows like the "Fun" And Games Podcast and Reignite, a BioWare-focused podcast."

"The Game Informer Show – Podcast Timestamps: 00:00:00 - Intro 00:02:42 - Cover Story: Dragon Age: The Veilguard 00:21:48 - Elden Ring Shadow of the Erdtree Review 00:42:20 - Concord Preview 00:59:04 - Supervive Preview 01:11:59 - The Plucky Squire 01:24:37 - Magic: The Gathering – Assassin's Creed 01:35:01 - Still Wakes the Deep 01:45:52 - Dustborn Preview 01:55:06 - Luigi's Mansion 2 HD Review 01:58:26 - Housekeeping"

"The GI Show podcast is a weekly recap of exciting releases, exclusive details on upcoming games, and in-depth interviews with developers. Watch or listen to a new episode every Thursday!"

[source]

----

Felassan's notes section of this post -

In this episode of the Game Informer show, Game Informer talk some more about their trip to BioWare's studio for the DA:TV cover story, when BioWare showed them hours of DA:TV content while playing it live.

Some notes from this and from what they said:

Wesley LeBlanc wasn't a huge DA fan and he went in with no expectations. The job to go to BW for this just landed on his plate due to other peoples' schedules. After seeing the game, it's probably his most anticipated game for the rest of the year and the one he's most looking forwards to

The game really wowed him and stuck with him, he said he is thrilled about it and is engrossed in the fantasy it's bringing

The visuals and world finally feel like what BioWare has maybe always wanted to make

This is the game where the team said, yeah, we feel fully in command of the Frostbite engine, and it shows

The world is more like Fable-type whimsy than prior DA games. It has a high fantasy feel

BW want new people to play the game. They're very aware that it's been 10 years since the last game and the game does a good job of catching people up

Rook as the PC really has no idea what's going on with Solas and all the other lore-specific stuff that's happening in the game, so they kind of act as the stand-in for newer players or people who have not caught up on the lore

But it's not just a game for newcomers, there is still a lot to chew on in the game for hardcore DA fans. BioWare were saying that they know their community, what it wants and what it's looking for out of these characters

Wesley enjoyed the music, visual design, and voice acting

Nothing that they saw about the game stood out as worrisome to him

Wesley has quite a lot of further stories to add to Game Informer's DA:TV hub

Wesley: "On the topic of the [Dragon Age] fanbase, I just wanna give a shoutout to that community, because, wow, I did not, I knew people would be stoked about this cover, but people are really stoked about this cover. And it’s really funny, the day that we announced it, I got like hundreds of new followers. Anytime, if I tweet about Erdtree or Destiny 2, I get like my normal amount of likes, like, a dozen maybe, y’know, whatever. If I tweet about Dragon Age, it’s like. Today I tweeted, ‘my next feature is coming at 3pm’ and it’s at 1000 likes, it’s so funny, like, this community is like rabid for information, which makes sense if you haven’t gotten a game in 10 years. But yeah, so like, shoutout to y’all, I’m loving you guys reading the articles and telling me what you wanna hear about. So if you have any questions or anything, get at me on Twitter for sure, and I will see what I can cook up with some writing for you. But yeah, shoutout to the BioWare community, y’all crazy.”

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #solas #long post #longpost

299 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

Text

having many thoughts about bakugou comforting you on your period.

self-indulgent n mentions of pregnancy, fem!reader.

“how many times do i have to tell you, quit tryna tough things out.”

bakugou’s lips twitch up into a snarl as he speaks. teeth bared, pink gums peaking out and nose upturned. but his voice is gentle, washes over your frenzied mind like waves on a soft sand shoreline. he’s chiding you, ever so worrisome, and you can tell by the crease that forms between his dark, thick eyebrows along with the concern that swims in the red of his eyes.

“don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” you say, a childish air about your voice as you lift your chin, peaking your head out from the masses of blankets you’ve swaddled yourself in. “dad.”

bakugou rolls his eyes, peeling back a layer of your comfort fort. “you know i don’t care about that shit, sweetness.” he crawls up the bed, hands planted either side of your head and knees either side of your hips so that he can kneel over you. “open that pretty mouth of yours for me.”

the blonde taps your lips once with single finger and you scowl up at him.

“don’t tell me what to do.”

“so fuckin’ grumpy.”

“says you, mister grumpy pants!” you fire back, narrowing your eyes at him this time. “i’m allowed to be, Mother Nature is cursing me because you didn’t get me pregnant.”

“thought we weren’t havin’ kids yet—” bakugou’s words taper off into your favourite sound, his raspy laughter, after you unsheath a pillow from your fortress and lob it in his direction. he catches it (of course, damn pro hero reflexes) and chucks the weapon room across the room before leaning down to kiss you slow. “i gotcha meds and a snack, since you insist on not takin’ ‘em until you’re whiny ‘n miserable.”

you love him, truly, and the hormonal imbalance your period has unleashed upon you might make you tear up at the thought. “‘m not miserable,” you try to deny, letting katsuki pepper your face with smooches so light you have to tug him a little closer — to feel more than just the ghost of his lips on your skin. “what snack did’ya bring me?”

“your favourite, ‘n i got more in the pantry.” reaching into the back pocket of his sweats katsuki pulls out your favourite snack and unwraps it for you — pushing it towards your sealed lips. “now will ya open up?” you do and he hums in content watching you lean forward and take a bite. “good girl.”

you nearly choke. “fuck you.”

“love you.” he responds quickly, sitting back on his haunches to guide you into sitting up. with a rough palm on your back, katsuki reaches over to your night stand for your water. “chew, swallow. meds, drink.”

“bossy.”

“obedient.”

after helping you lay on your back once more, bakugou shuffles down your body and pushes up your pyjama shirt — pressing a kiss to your lower tummy. “you okay with this, sweets?” he coos to you, ruby eyes swimming with love as bakugou glances up at you from between your thighs.

“yeah, s’good,” he’s good to you, smoothing over where your cramps hurt the most. you think you love him a little more like this. soft hair tickling your legs, his lips on your stomach and the twinge of heat from his powerfully destructive hands easing your pain. katsuki bakugou is perfect, lovely. you love him when he’s soft and when he’s not. you love him a lot right now. you hope he loves you too.

bakugou keeps his hands warm, letting the heat tremor through you like a seismic wave to soothe the pain that tears through you uncomfortably. you fingers card through his hair, prickly to look at but soft to the touch as you both bask in the quietness of the moment.

“you gotta start takin’ meds when you’re in pain, no more pretendin’ to be a tough guy, kay?” He tells you, working his hot thumbs just over where the source of your discomfort may be. “i know you don’t like ‘em but even if they help a little…”

he nags at you with love, hands slipping down your sides to encircle your waist — rubbing warmly at your back. “i don’t need meds when i have you.” relief washes over you as you sigh out.

“corny fucker.”

“you love me.”

“oh unfortunately i do.”

katsuki holds you close and intimately, kissing your stomach once more and looks up happily — noticing how visibly relaxed you are.

“don’t be mean to me, you’ll make me miserable,” you tease, the meds finally doing their thing and kicking in. between that and bakugou’s massage you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. “come up here, plant one on me.”

the blonde shifts to loom over you, lips meeting yours tenderly in a ghost trace of a kiss. “can’t have that. miserable, pouty baby. eh?” he feeds you the words with his mouth on yours but pulls away before it gets too steamy. “my baby.”

you squirm in place. “yours.”

“lemme take care of you, baby,” bakugou reiterates, going back to massaging away your cramps. “go to sleep, i gotcha. we’ll have a snack ‘n some more meds when you wake up. kay?”

“‘mkay, love you.”

“love you most, sweetness.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagines #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugo drabble #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #mha fluff #mha x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

2K notes · View notes

literaila · 1 year ago

Note

how do u think satoru would react to reader in a depressive episode, especially what do u think the kids would do

obviously, they’ve all noticed.

the past couple of weeks have not been lived through ignorantly. and you have not been acting normal.

the differences are just that, at first. tiny inconsistencies in your otherwise normal personality, your routine.

and then it becomes more than just a… change.

it starts off simple; megumi’s brows furrowing when you ask him a question—something about his teacher, or what kind of drink he wants in his lunch that day—and then forget what you’ve just said as soon as he answers.

tsumiki watching, smiling along idly, as you rub your temples, sighing with every other sentence and squeezing your eyes tight like you’ll be able to wake up if you try hard enough.

and satoru noticing when you linger in your room a bit longer, as the days pass. staring when you freeze looking at the wall in the morning, zoning out so hard that he has to shake you back to life.

just an accumulation of things that might indicate that something is up.

but as these moments—moments when you’re lost in your head, trying to conceal your entire being from all of them, and pretending that it’s all normal—increase, the three of them learn a little something about observing.

and lying to themselves, of course.

eventually, though, when megumi or tsumiki inevitably say something—usually when you’re not in the room, off hiding somewhere—satoru just shrugs.

(he’s going to lie his way through this, just like everything else, thank you).

“it’s a bad day,” he’ll say, like the two children will comprehend that. like they don’t know what a bad day means. “she’s just tired.”

he could make a million excuses for you. oh, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. oh, you’ve only had one cup of coffee today. oh, the world is a truly terrible place and it’s only natural that it runs you down.

but he leaves them with the simplest of explanations, instead. maybe it’s his subtle way of denying that there’s anything wrong. that you could be upset about something. it doesn’t matter, anyway.

and tsumiki, ever so trusting of all of you, listens to him. if satoru says that you’re okay, then so does she. she’ll draw you a picture at school or try to help you make their lunches in the morning, but you’re fine. her questions end with an answer.

megumi, on the other hand, has never believed a word that satoru has said.

so when the older man swears that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, megumi only begins to worry harder.

he sees that look on your face when you walk in the room, and megumi knows. maybe it’s because he’s the most attuned to you, out of everyone, in particular. maybe it’s because he’s observant, or too worrisome for his age (as you tell him).

but he knows.

and if satoru says one thing, megumi’s going to believe the other.

(plus the two of you have always had a symbiotic relationship. you worry about him, and he worries about you. you laugh at him, and he gives a little lip twitch in return).

so satoru is not surprised when megumi brings it up for the fourth time in a week.

“you want me to what, exactly?”

“you can talk to them, can’t you?” he repeats, giving satoru a bland look. something like ‘are you serious.’ “they know you.”

satoru snorts. “i don’t think my bosses will appreciate me telling them what they can or can’t do.”

megumi gives him another look.

and yeah, so satoru already does that. they still don’t appreciate it.

he sighs, smiling at the boy. anything to mess with him, really. he ruffles megumi’s hair. “kid, she’s fine. i can’t just tell them to give her a couple of weeks off. there has to be a reason. and,” he adds, cheerfully. “i’ve been told it’s impolite to speak on someone’s behalf without their input.”

“you don’t care about being polite,” megumi argues, crossing his arms.

satoru groans internally. he’s really not going to let this go.

it’s not that satoru necessarily disagrees, but anything he does to help you is going to be refuted with a “butt out,” or “leave me alone, satoru.”

“true,” he says, grinning as he mocks the boys stance. “but i do care about being yelled at. particularly by your mother.”

“she needs a break.”

satoru rolls his eyes. “she’s getting one. the next couple of days are free, and she’s taking a nap right now.”

megumi frowns, even deeper than usual, and stares satoru down until he breaks.

“megumi,” the man groans, childishly, pushing the boy out of the room. “you don’t need to worry about her. chill out. just go back to reading about rocks or whatever you were doing.”

“it’s geology.”

satoru waves a hand, indifferent.

(secretly trying to come up with a way to get you to talk to him. he can’t ask because you’ll just ignore him. he can’t force it out of you because that would get the two of you nowhere.

what other options are left, really? you’ve put satoru in a terrible position).

“then can we get something, instead?” megumi asks, almost pleading. “flowers, or… whatever girls like.”

“y/n already has flowers. i bought them.”

“buy something else.”

“who taught you to be this stubborn?”

megumi only scowls at him.

satoru sighs, scratching his head. he knows he should do something—but he’s so used to sitting around and waiting for you to fix everything.

yes, he does recognize that it’s a terrible habit, and completely unfair. he also recognizes that he is the worst person in the world.

eventually he sighs. “okay. how about i order dinner?” he asks, almost wincing. it’s the most natural response—everything can be fixed with food, in satoru’s sophisticated opinion. “that’ll be easy. want to go ask mom what she wants?”

megumi practically runs to your room, leaving satoru with no time to remind him that you’re probably asleep, knocking just briefly—from what satoru can hear—before going in.

he tip-toes up to the door, also wanting to check in.

satoru is nothing if not nosy.

and he might as well let megumi do all of the dirty work.

“um, i don’t care,” he hears you saying. “whatever you guys want.”

“it’s for you.”

there’s a pause. then, “really, megs, i’m not very hungry, so…”

megumi is frowning down at you when satoru steps in.

“good nap?” he asks, smiling and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“you don’t need to get dinner. it’s my turn.”

he waves a hand. “i feel like takeout.”

you frown, about to argue when megumi speaks up, glancing between the two of you with an almost furious expression.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft but mad. like usual. satoru realizes that he’s been tricked into contributing to this.

“what?”

“why are you upset?”

“upset?” you repeat, eyes widening. “i’m not upset, megu—“

“are you sick?”

“no,” you say, immediately. “i’m just a little tired but it’s—“

“megumi,” satoru interrupts, trying to ignore the almost hurt look on your face—the glance you send his way, pleading and worried. he knows you hate this the most. “let’s let mom sleep some more, okay? tsumiki and you can decide what you want—“

“no.”

and neither of you can argue, or console the confused boy, before he’s climbing into your bed with a determined look on his face.

satoru tried to grab on to him, but megumi is having none of that, shaking him off before he can get a good grip. you’re looking at satoru anxiously, and this is the worst.

if satoru knows anything about you, it’s that you don’t want to be coddled. you don’t want to accept any help, even if it’s from your sweet, concerned son.

“megumi—“ you say, though, satoru notes, don’t make any attempts to move him when he struggles to get under the covers with you, or when he just sits by your side, barely touching you.

“i’m staying here.”

“really, bud, i’m okay. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“you’re sad.”

“i’m not.”

megumi looks at you, and satoru watches as you both share a glance. an internal conversation he’ll never get to be apart of.

for once in his life he’s not even jealous about it.

“it’s…” you say, but the two boys watch as your shoulders slack and your face drops. all at once, you lose color, life, and just sit there. “it’s fine.”

you say it to them, but it sounds more like a reminder to yourself.

satoru’s face falls. he has no idea what to say, what to do to help you—he’s spent so much time denying that there was anything wrong, that he could do anything to help, and now he’s got no answers.

he feels like an idiot, sitting there. megumi shouldn’t be taking more initiative, he should be the one worrying about you, the one to go to—

megumi doesn’t say anything though. he only moves closer to you, not complaining when your arm wraps around his shoulder and you hold him to you.

like a life vest. a support in all of the vastness.

he doesn’t need to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘i’m here for you,’ for the words to ring out across the the air.

and, satoru realizes, quickly, he’s only doing what you do for them. what you do best.

climbing in beside them and making sure they know that they’re not alone. being that support, no matter how unwanted.

megumi’s learned from the best.

“sorry,” you mutter to him. “i know im gross.”

megumi shakes his head and settles into you even further. and the boy doesn’t cuddle—or, at least, without being forced—but your face softens as he leans against you, allowing this kind of intimacy.

and, maybe, satoru thinks, that’s the problem with all of you.

no one knows quite what to say. what to do to help someone with something that they can’t understand. neither he or megumi is sure how to dig you out of this hole.

none of you are very good with words.

but, at least, satoru knows how to be good at this.

he sets his glasses on your bedside table, and he moves you both over with ease, smiling when you both grunt at his intrusion.

and then you’re a tower of people, all leaning against one another. building blocks stacked on top of each other.

you relax into satoru almost instantly and he kisses the top of your head, feeling some sort of pride—just at the fact that you’ll let him be here, with you.

maybe that’s the thing with families, he thinks. no one needs to say anything for it to be okay.

and the uneasiness sits there with all of you. the past couple of weeks—the distancing and disassociating—linger there.

there’s nothing he can say to make everything all better. he could destroy the entire world right now, save for your house, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

but this is nice. a hug might not fix everything, but it won’t make anything worse

and after a minute or two, you say: “where’s tsumiki?”

and she peeks her head out from your door, smiling at all three of you. it takes her three seconds to jump on the bed, having been waiting there the whole time, the final piece to your messed up puzzle.

#not sure what any of this means but 🤫#a typical family #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

415 notes · View notes

bloom-into-blue · 3 months ago

Text

ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕

Summary: a chance meeting, a lucky run in, whatever you wanna call it. There's a gorgeous lady before you and... Thinking is hard. Just feel? Easier said than done.

Contents: just Garofano meeting the reader in her tailor shop! Reader is referred to with feminine gendered terms.

Word count: 1.6k

Author's note: I wanted to put something out as i mentioned before, and honestly, Garofano is one of my favorite ladies... First sfw fic of the blog. Can you believe it? Wild. Anyway, it is currently minutes before Valentine's so this makes sense to my timezone.

To say life has been kind would be a generous statement.

When you wake up, the sky is barely turning into a pale shade of orange and blue hues, though you can barely even notice it when one of your pillows is inexplicably covering half your face. Your neck aches, sore from whatever shitty position you assumed during your sleep. The worst part is that you know you can't linger on this too much, not when there's your university assignments looming in the back of your mind, ever present and ever the pain in the ass.

…Then, as you take your phone to check exactly how long you have until your suffering begins, you realize it.

It's a day before Valentine's.

Your body is so used to the stress of university that it forgot you're currently still on vacation.

It's hard to avoid a small chuckle to yourself, when your worries shift from impossible professor standards to instead focusing on what you'll wear for the party your friends are planning for two weeks from now. Maybe life isn't so unkind, actually, even if the specific look you want is something you can only achieve by commissioning a tailor. The details aren't too worrisome, not when you've saved up enough for it.

Then, your memory jogs again, making your nerves freeze before you’re bolting out of your messy bed, hair equally tousled up.

You've already scheduled a meeting with a seamtress.

It's taking place in two hours.

—-

The first thing that hits you is the smell of carnations, potent as it envelops you the moment you step into the tailor shop.

Then there's the bell that rings above you, which prompts a woman older than you to glance up from her spot at the front desk, eyes kind and a sweet smile ready at a moment's notice. The first thing you can think of is how utterly gorgeous she is. “Welcome, dear,” she greets with ease brought by experience, most likely; even her voice is gorgeous, damn it. “What brings you to my shop?”

You honestly got lost in the sound of her voice, deep and rich, enough so that you forget English is a language you can – and should – speak right about now. “Uh… I came by the other day. ‘Nother lady, like… helped me book an appointment,” you manage to mumble as you take in the woman doing her best to attend to you. You remember the last time you dropped by, when a woman with straight, black hair told you the seamstress in charge wasn't available at the moment, but would be sometime soon, so booking an appointment would be a most excellent choice.

Now, standing in front of a goddess with curly, violet hair, it seems as though you can finally meet the seamstress you've heard so many positive comments about.

The lady before you chuckles as she covers her mouth with her hand, refined as a noble. Christ, how are you going to survive this. “You must be the girl Sumire talked about, then. Come on then; we wouldn't want to take your measurements when the glass outside doesn't shield you,” she prompts kindly, stepping closer and going as far as to set a gentle hand on your back as she guides you to a section of the shop that isn't visible from the outside.

“Y-yeah, thank you, miss…” you trail off, unsure of what to call her.

“Garofano, dear,” she fills the blank with a smooth wave of her hand and a charming smile. You have no idea if she's aware of the effect she's having on your heart or not, she doesn't let on even a little bit! The warmth on your cheeks is probably a dead giveaway to your current state though…

When you arrive at a more secluded area of Garofano’s shop, she doesn't waste a second before grabbing whatever she needs, though… you're not proud to admit the way your eyes take in her figure. For a brief moment, you think you catch her looking at you from the corner of her eye, but as quick as it happens the moment passes, leaving you flustered and trying to tear your gaze away.

Once Garofano finds the measuring tape she was looking for, she turns to you with a smile wide enough that the crow's feet around her eyes are noticeable. God, she's so beautiful– focus. She just spoke.

After waiting for a moment, she seems amused by your puzzled reaction if her velvety chuckle is anything to go by. “I said, take off your coat, dear. I can't measure you well enough if you're all covered up,” she teases softly. Oh god, Garofano's aware and she's fucking with you.

You comply with her instructions in a hurry, left now with just the tight-fitting clothes you were recommended for this appointment. It feels… like you're more vulnerable than before, even though you're still clothed. Perhaps it has something to do with the violet eyes taking in your figure.

Garofano reaches for your hand and guides you gently towards a small podium in the middle of the room, measuring tape in hand and glasses you hadn't seen before atop her head. “Please, tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I would loathe to make a lady as beautiful as you uneasy,” she murmurs against your ear before carefully unrolling the tape and beginning her work properly. Thank god she moved away, otherwise she would've felt how your ears are almost burning up with how flustered you are.

If nothing else, at least you're going to remember this throughout all of Valentine's day. Her hands feel so gentle… You chastise yourself internally; she's a professional and you're making this weird! You have to stop thinking about how hot the older lady is! When she kneels behind you with a quiet grunt, her hands are ever careful as the tape brushes against your covered leg… No, stop, you're thinking too much!

She probably noticed how tense you are. Garofano's voice is far gentler when she tries to break the ice. “So… I was told you wanted a suit that fit you as comfortably as could be, while also making sure it looked good on you. May I know the occasion, dear?”

At least you can answer that. “Uh… My friends and I are throwing a party? It's supposed to be casual, but some of us insisted on formal wear, and… Well, here you have me,” you explain before ending it with a sheepish chuckle. “Can't really find suits that fit me well enough, y'know?”

Garofano hums quietly, her hands around your waist making you let out the tiniest little breath. “I do know that particular struggle. At least I can help you in this case,” she replies, her hands gently moving to wrap the tape around your waistline. She's behind you, but you can feel the little pauses she takes to jot numbers down, and by god, you wish you could see the way her glasses look atop her nose. When she starts measuring you up again, you could swear she's taking longer than before for whatever reason…

You hope to god you're not making all the tension up.

—-

The measuring is over in about half an hour, and you're sure those thirty minutes of your lifespan evaporated alongside a few years thanks to the intensity of this gay panic.

“It should be ready in about a week, miss. Please, don't hesitate to come to me in case of any concerns you have,” Garofano said with a soft smile, taking off her glasses as she walks you to the front of the shop once more. You were right, the sight was as beautiful as you thought it would be while it lasted.

You realize… maybe you do have one concern.

“Look, you can tell me off if I'm weird about this, please make sure to turn me down if I'm, like, completely off-base here or if I'm being creepy or whatever, I would absolutely understand if you thought I was being too forward, like way too forward actually–”

“Sweetheart,” she cuts you off with a worried frown instead of that lovely smile. “Breathe, please. In… out.”You're out of breath when she calls you out, so with a quiet whine you nod and do as requested, feeling some semblance of composure arrive, so it brings a smile to your face when her lips quirk up in response. “Now, you're welcome to ask whatever it is that's on your mind.”

The reassurance isn't enough by a small margin, but whatever courage you manage to have is slightly emboldened by taking another deep breath. “Ma'am, you're stunning. I… Forgive me if I'm overstepping any lines, I just think– Um… If it's no bother, how would you feel about going out with me?”

You barely have time to process you wouldn't even be able to take her to the fancy sort of restaurant she deserves for a date, not with the shitty pay you get at your job.

It's… it's better to be upfront about that, so you steel your nerves before Garofano can answer, though you do find her surprised expression more than a little adorable, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She's as gorgeous as she's cute– focus!

“I can't really take you to some five star restaurant… I know it's honestly a pretty bad offer, you should just forget I brought this up.”

Before your spirits can somehow deflate any more, Garofano takes a step forward and the sound of her heels shuts your train of thought down immediately. “Darling,” she begins with a gentle tone and a smile that is equally as sweet, “I don't think of myself as a woman who needs the highest luxuries. You're a beautiful prospect, I will gladly give you that.” The chuckle she gives in response to your flabbergasted expression is worth any sort of embarrassment you could've felt this entire morning. “Perhaps tomorrow could be a good time for our… date?”

The widest smile rises to your lips at the generous offer.

Maybe Valentine's day won't be so boring for a change.

#ptn x reader #ptn women x reader #path to nowhere #garofano x reader #ptn garofano #path to nowhere garofano

84 notes · View notes

signedkoko · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi! I want to request a gn reader who is the closest thing Alastor has to a best friend, right hand man type feel. Like Reader is a sinner and had to make a deal with Al for their soul, but Reader is so honest when they talk and act that Al is all "they aren't so bad." Alastor calls on the Reader first almost everytime and Reader is like, "This is the least worst situation. Let's not screw it up" as they throw their all into whatever Al needed them to do. So when Alastor tells them to get a job with Vox to spy on him, there's a groan, then a fine.

Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, I had a thought and ran with it. Also, could I be 🗑anon

Alastor X Reader [Platonic]

In which you are the only person Alastor might consider a best friend. Reader is genderneutral.

While you'd sold your soul to the demon a long time ago, you certainly had perks that most others under his control did not

In fact, you didn't even act as if Alastor 'owned' you; you did your own thing and respected his wishes as best you could, and Alastor just never seemed to mind

Perhaps that was a front; no one was certain; all they could tell was that Alastor certainly favoured you

Anytime an issue arose and he was busy, he would leave you in his place, and by god, you never did disappoint

Actually, most people prefer it when it's you; you are far less worrisome to be around and a lot less mysterious about things

The only thing you didn't talk about was yours and Alastors history

Whether that was part of some binding agreement or you were just scary good at diverting the topic whenever it came to what you did in the past

Typically, Alastor's duties for you include watching over his other souls, going to the tailors, or doing 'whatever Charlie asks of you!'

Otherwise, you'd be at his side, usually the two of you watching the rest and making bantering commentary about the hopelessness of the people in the hotel

Unfortunately, being so close meant that Alastor really trusted you with difficult tasks

Were you capable? Absolutely!

But did you want to? No.

Because he tells you so much, he probably goes to great lengths to make sure you aren't accidentally 'letting things out'

Which means no technology when working with him

You found that out the hard way

" Oh yes! Do you have a phone I could borrow? "

" Uhh - yeah, sure. Here. "

He crushes the device instantly

" What the fuck. "

The one thing about you is that you prefer the easy way out, and as Alastor puts it, you have hidden talent that you are 'too lazy to use', but you couldn't care less

You'd do anything he asks, both because he is your friend and because you technically have to, according to your soul binding

But you will be grumpy about it the entire time

Being so close with Alastor means you also hate Vox by proxy, so any mission involving him is just miserable

Fortunately, Vox doesn't know you, though, so you really were Alastor's best bet when he wants a spy on the inside

" Do I have to? "

" Of course you do, deary! Now pick up that smile and get marching! "

Author's Note - He is such a menace to his friends, I love writing for platonic Alastor. Thank you so much for requesting, and welcome to the blog, bin anon!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader

706 notes · View notes

maraudersilver · 1 month ago

Text

DOE EYES (Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader) Chapter 3

Masterlist Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual abuse (Finnick), mentions of death. A/N: Here's another chapter! Let me know what you think :) We get to know a little more about reader! Wc: +5k

The fake, safe haven back at District 6 was blown to ashes when the envelope for the annual ‘After Games Party’ arrived. Every year, nostalgics of the Hunger Games organized parties where they ambled victors to satiate the thirst of blood in the Capitol. Especially because the new victor couldn’t be paraded around until the Victor’s Tour was finished.

You had hoped to be dismissed that year, that the Careers could take over with it, that maybe your presence had been insignificant enough to not be considered essential on the Capitol anymore. But one could only dream.

“You have to leave again?” your father asked from the couch at the living room, where everyone had gathered to play some board games a Capitol ‘client’ had sent a few years back. You hadn’t mentioned the price you had to pay to get them, you knew your family would never play if they were aware of your predicament back then.

“Yes, aita,” you mumbled softly, a sad smile edging on your lips. “But it won’t be long! Just a couple days. I’ll be back in a jiffy, you’ll see.”

“Just be careful,” he sighed, placing the board on the table with his beaten hands, which had worked endlessly on the rails before your win ended the unnecessary load of work, while Miles and Rail fought over the same figure to play in the game. A twenty-seven year old fighting a twenty year old, yet it looked like they hadn’t left their teenage years behind at all. How envious that made you.

“You know I always am.”

You had only counted with a full week of relaxation back at your house before the invite. Hell, you didn’t even have time to write to Finnick and Annie. Maybe they had been invited, too. Finnick, not Annie, though. Sometimes you wished you could fake a mental illness so heavy you would be discarded from the Capitol plans.

The next day, your siblings and your parents bid you goodbye at the train station, your mother shedding tears. You sometimes had the feeling that she somehow knew what happened to you in the Capitol the first few years. But she never confirmed it, just taking care of you when you needed it the most.

“I’ll be back soon, probably in a couple of days. A week, at most.”

“Fucking hell, how much do their parties last?” Miles wondered out loud, side hugging you. “See you in a week, sis.”

“Yeah, and bring something, okay? A souvenir, maybe some foo- Ouch!”

“Rail! I can’t bring anything from the Capitol. You should know better by now,” you sighed. You hand feeling funny after slapping your younger brother’s nape.

“You just be careful and write if you need anything.” Your father hugged you next, cradling your head as he used to do when you were a kid.

“Exactly! And put a jacket on, girl, you’ll end up catching something up!” your mother said, placing the same knitted pink jacket from a week before over your shoulders. “Have a safe trip.”

“Don’t worry, it’s routine by now. I’ll be fine.” You smiled reassuringly, climbing the stairs to the compartment. “Agur.”

“Agur,” the four of them augured in unisom, their faces a mix of worrisome and desperation. It wasn’t fair you had to condemn your life to the Capitol just because you won their torturous games you didn’t even choose to play.

However, they knew better than to challenge the Capitol. For both your safety and theirs. So you just stared at their faces until the train pulled out and their forms disappeared once you left the train station.

White lilies welcomed you at your hotel room once the Peacekeepers dropped you by. It was similar to the Tribute Centre’s apartments; more than one room, a couple bathrooms and a dining room. Even a couch with a TV. Too much space for just one person, in your opinion, yet you weren’t going to complain, either.

The hotel was near Plutarch’s mansion, where the party was being held. You wondered if Finnick was already there, not questioning if he was invited at all because your doubt could be answered by itself. The Capitol never had their darlings too far from their picking room.

You changed into something more ‘Capitol fashioned’, as the stylist working for you whenever you visited always said. A prep team had been ready, too, because out of nowhere they appeared to do your makeup and hair. You had learned not to break your mind too much about how all these people hid in the confines of your room, used to it happening since you were reaped.

Once you were deemed ready, you were pushed in a van, where you sat in darkness for a few minutes, and then the doors opened before Plutarch’s mansion. It was huge, beautiful, and had some classical air to it that you couldn’t quite place. For some reason, many of the things taught in school to your grandparents and parents stopped being mandatory in your time. It was embarrassing to admit how uneducated you were, but it happened in all Districts, if the experiences narrated by the other victors were to be trusted.

Plutarch was at the entrance, near the stairs, greeting cordially and enthusiastically to anyone who passed by. You barely knew him, only exchanging a couple words with him in events where you had no option but to interact. Something about him set you off.

“District 6 I see!” the man said once you made it to the top of the stairs, trying to not show how breathless you were. He mumbled your name, your eyes focusing on him once more. “Welcome to the party. I hope we can catch up sometime over the night, yeah?”

You just nodded, a polite smile painting your features. Catch up on what? You weren’t even remotely close. However, he was the host, and a Capitol noble to put it someway, it was not as if you had the choice to retort.

In the hall there were already too many people for your liking, all dressed and modified in unhuman ways that put your hairs on edge. One even had Donkey ears, and the name ‘Midas’ came to your mind. What was that myth again? Difficult to remember, as you had only read it once.

No victors were in sight yet, making you the show monkey. “Say it again! Say it again!”

“Kaixo,” you mumbled, dying on the inside while your facade was as polite as the situation could allow. You never understood the obsession of the Capitol people with your language. Sometimes you regret what you let slip in your Games, you exposed too much to people who could never appreciate it.

A round of applause and hollows followed, the circle around you roaring in cheers. “How… rudimental! Exquisite, isn’t that right, Marius?” A woman with a lion mane asked her husband, who was just whistling.

“Absolutely marvelous!” “Do it again!” “Say something else!” “Do your people also communicate?”

It was always like that. You had learned the Capitol accent to prevent these types of situations, but when Tyler and Ruby died back at the previous Hunger Games, your accent had slipped in sadness. How you hated having exposed the little roots of your people that were left, now targeted even more by the Capitol government than ever.

“Sorry, ladies, gentlemen. But I have to bring her with me for the moment.”

His voice was a relief to hear. Both because he was saving you from another wave of humiliation, and because it meant he was free from sex slavery. At least until you saw his semi-nude body, shirt off and abs bathed in oil. If you were given a weapon and the reassurance that your family wouldn’t suffer the consequences of your actions, you would end them all there and then.

“Finnick! Oh, dear, you can take whatever you need.” Another woman, one of the vultures, you recognized, fanned over your friend with a hungry stare, hands almost touching his chest. She would have to do so over your dead body.

With quick steps, you placed yourself in front of Finnick, smiling up at him with fake, innocent eyes. “Hey, there! I was wondering where you were.”

If he was also relieved, he didn’t show, only smirking at your greeting. “Already missing me, hotstuff? Only been a week, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, performing the show required for the Capitol dimwits. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Odair.”

“He can be, though!” A man with colourful feathers along his neck exclaimed, his tone as eager as the rest of the blood sucking idiots.

Finnick gave him a crooked smile, one beautiful enough to even blind you for a second, and everyone around sighed in delight. Wanting to get you both out of there as soon as you could, you grabbed your friend’s hand and tugged at it. “We have to go now, but we’ll be here for the rest of the party!” you assured the not-that-happy-anymore citizens. Turning towards Finnick, you asked him: “Should we go find Johanna?”

“Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Both of you left the crowd behind, looking for a more secluded room where you could hide from the greedy nosferatus trying to suck you both dry in different ways. After roaming the hall for a couple minutes, you found a small door made of the same material of the wall, almost invisible to the eye.

“Should we?” you asked, biting your lip in conflict.

“Nothing’s stopping us.” Finnick shrugged, taking the handle and opening the door. “Oh.”

“What?” you said, curiosity getting the best of you and jumping to try and see over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s a broom closet.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Perfect, though!” Finnick grinned and, without warning, took your wrist before dragging you inside.

It was exactly what Finnick said. Brooms and cleaning supplies covered the whole space of the closet except for a tiny square, where you both stood pressed to each other, his oily stomach drenching and staining your dress. If it were any person other than him, you would be blushing furiously, yet it was Finnick, and with Finnick things were never weird.

“It reeks of bleach,” he complained, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Could be worse. Could smell to someone’s breath,” you said, and Finnick huffed a laugh, Snow’s breath being an occasional joke between you two and Johanna. Johanna! “Weren’t we going for Johanna?”

“She’s not here, already searched for her.” Finnick leaned on the closest wall, hissing when a broomstick stabbed his shoulder blade. “Then I saw the crowd and found you just in time.” He grinned, content with his act of heroism.

You rolled your eyes, although you were grateful to him. Always would be. “And how’s it she isn’t here?

“No idea. Maybe she’ll come later.”

You caught up on your week. Apparently, Finnick went to a little cabin down the beach near his Victor’s Village with Annie, and they enjoyed a very well deserved vacation swimming and spending time with each other. Until his envelope arrived, much like yours.

While Finnick recalled his adventures by the sea, your mind drifted to another victor. Was Haymitch invited? He had to be for the official ceremonies and events, but you weren’t sure if the Capitol citizens were that fond of him anymore to have him in extra parties. Maybe he was the lucky one, in his house at District 12 drinking away the day without any more worries than what he’d have for dinner that night.

Oh, how you wished to be sat on a coach, playing some music in the background with something to drink. But you couldn’t. Let alone drink anything with alcohol. Did Haymitch think you were weird for that? In the few times you encountered him at the bar he never mentioned or mocked you for not drinking an alcoholic beverage. He probably didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t care.

“We should get out.” Finnick’s voice pulled you out of your stupor, coming back to the land of the living. Your thoughts about a calm, domestic Haymitch turning small in your irises.

“What? Why?”

“They’ll start wondering where we are and, sweetheart, I don’t feel like giving explanations to the big boss.”

Had you been that long inside that closet? It didn’t feel like it. But you trusted Finnick’s senses and experience, even if he just won a year before you. So you nodded, smiling up at him before exiting the closet together. Finnick once told you to let the crowd imagine what they wanted; if they thought you had shagged in there, that was up to them.

“Seems like a great place to hang up in,” a deep voice said, startling both your friend and you. However, when turning to them, you found Beetee smiling slightly at you both, hands clasped together and glasses a bit askew. “Care for a companion?”

“Not at all.” Finnick smirked. “Anything you want to share?”

“Not much, just the weather talk, as people here say.” He looked around, eyes setting on Plutarch, who was now entertaining a couple. “There will be a storm soon, or that’s what I’ve heard.”

“A storm?” You furrowed your brows, eyes narrowed. “It’ll be sunny for the rest of the week.”

“Give it time.”

Beetee confused you to no end since the moment you met him, yet you didn’t dislike him, either. He was weird, but nice. However, you were wondering if maybe he had taken too many bolts at once recently.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a stumbling blond figure dressed in a dove coloured suit. Haymitch was talking to a few Capitol citizens, drink in hand and very deep in conversation. What surprised you the most was how attentive they were to everything he was saying, not missing a beat of his speech. Was he always that eloquent or were these people too easy to content?

“I thought for a storm to take place a thunder should strike first.” Finnick’s statement forced you to look away from the District 12 drunken man, who had just sipped from his glass almost elegantly. You furrowed your brows, chills running down your spine, both for the stupidity and for your lack of appreciation for thunder.

“That’s not how it works,” you scoffed, both men now lifting their brows in mock attention. “And who said anything about a storm, Beetee? There was no cloud in sight today.”

“Just thought I should let you know.” Beetee shrugged his shoulders before making a beeline to Wiress, who was speaking to a silent and smiling Mags.

“The hell was that about?” Finnick just snorted, shaking his head at you. Deep down, you felt something was being kept from you.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, until his amused expression shifted to an uncomfortable grin. “I think that’s my call to leave, sweetheart.”

“What?”

You turned around, looking across the many blurry faces scattered throughout the room, until your eyes fixed on a woman in her forties —you would deem, as it was impossible to guess anyone’s ages in the Capitol—, who was waving mischievously in your direction. Your stomach dropped; it was obvious what she wanted and that was right beside you.

“We can pretend we didn’t see her,” you propose, desperate to try something to free Finnick from the next hour and a half. “Or I could go—”

“No.” Finnick was categorical, voice sharp and rough, and you knew there was no arguing or fighting for his freedom. “I’ll find you later, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

His reassuring, beautiful smile did nothing to calm your frustration. “That’s too much to ask for.”

“Well then, worry yourself the rest of the night,” he chuckled, leaning down and kissing your forehead briefly. “See you later, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, later.”

Heart on your sleeve, you watched him march towards the awful woman with implanted cat ears. You wished there was something else you could do, something to get him out of the Capitol and free from the people who were taking advantage of him since he was fourteen. Shit, you could vomit on the rug underneath your feet at any given moment; how sick every single one of them were for putting such a brilliant, kind and sweet man in that position.

They disgusted you. Everything they did, everything they touched, it was harmful and awful and should have been punished by some divine being a very long time ago. The games, gambling on dying kids, prostituting them, benefitting from the starving districts and the deaths of workers in fabrics. And yet, to them the Districts were worse than an illness, when the illness of the body of Panem was precisely its head.

With nothing left to do or anyone to talk to, you swirled around the hall in search of something to keep your mind occupied, not daring to think of Finnick for more than a second if you didn’t want to set the very Capitol on fire. That’s when you heard the ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ coming from the far right corner.

As if herded by a shepherd, multiple people had gathered around a wall and were cheering and howling at it. You sighed. Maybe someone was recreating a death in that year’s Hunger Games. Woulnd’t be the first time and definitely not the last.

Nonetheless, curiosity got the best of you and you made your way to the front of the crowd, wanting to know what the fuss was about. And you wished you had stayed unknowing.

There, painted in the huge, marble wall, the faces of many tributes were hung. You recognized some of them, like Johanna on the lower line, or Finnick in the centre. A young Wiress and an even younger Mags stared at you from their pictures, and you understood. Only the winners had been placed here. What a cruel joke. And all those vultures were priding themselves in recognizing each of you, as if watching kids fight to death every year for the last seventy two years was a flex.

Were you all there? One, two… Thirty seven… Seventy one. Seventy one? One winner was missing off the wall. Maybe they had been placed on another wall by themselves? No, surely you would have seen a huge poster with a tribute picture hanging off another part of the hall. Who was missing?

True it was you didn’t know all the winners, and the Games previous to the first Quarter Quell were barely broadcasted on TV. Beetee, that one guy from District 5 from fifteen years before, Cashmere, Gloss, Seeders, Chaff… Oh. Yourself. You were in such a rush to comprehend what your eyes were witnessing that you had completely missed your own reflection.

You looked so young, so innocent. Back then, your hair was shorter, though you couldn’t remember if it was by choice or if it was your prep team’s idea anymore. The clothes you were wearing belonged to the arena, not even your dignity was left on that picture. And your eyes… Well. They showed the last remains of hope for humanity you had left before it was ripped from you in the Games.

Sixteen. That was your age at the reaping. Sweet sixteen hoax into desperation and horror. Seeing you so childlike in the picture, you can’t help but wish you could hug your younger self. She did all she could, after all.

Thunder rumbled in your brain, and for a moment you thought Beetee had been right about the storm, until the image of a tiny, thirteen year old boy with eyes the colour of the sea materialized on your mind.

Sirius. District 4. Your little ally on your Games after nights of solitude. His district partner had died in the bloodbath, if you recalled correctly, and he looked so small and defenseless that your instincts encouraged you to tuck him under your wing.

But the only thing you could remember now of your tiny, lively boy was the blood running down his mouth to his chin, the death rattle breathing while you sang to him in the only sunny meadow in the whole arena, cradling his body to yours as if to replicate the touch of a mother who would never hold him anymore.

“Sing me a lullaby,” he had pleaded, begged, as his life slipped through his fingers, as his soul left the arena to fly free for the first time in his short existence.

And so you did. There was an old tune sang in funerals by your people who bidded their goodbye with a heartfelt plea. No one remembered when it was composed, or why, but your ancestors had carried it all the way to North America, and now it sat at the edge of your tongue in a sweet venomous melody.

Adiskide bat bazen

Orotan bihotz-bera

Poesiaren hegoek

Sentimentuzko bertsoek

Antzaldatzen zutena

Yes, he was your friend, and he had the heart of gold that many Capitol people would pay thousands to replicate, yet would rot in their hands.

Plazetako kantari

Bakardadez josia

Hitzen lihoa iruten

Bere barnean irauten

Oinazez ikasia

Ikasia

You had been lonely before him, and his small stay at your camp had been enough to carve himself out in your soul forever. If he just didn’t have to suffer to learn the lessons of the cruel world…

Nun hago, zer larretan

Urepeleko artzaina

Mendi hegaletan gora

Oroitzapen den gerora

Ihesetan joan hintzana

By then, his eyes had already faded the little life he had left in him. Sea colour irises losing the liveliness of his perks, now grey in dullness. His cheeks had been adorned with drops, and it took you a while to place them as your tears. Leaning down, you kissed his forehead softly. There rushed what was left of your humanity.

Names in your language had been forbidden, yet not your songs. Until you sang in front of all of Panem to hear in the one language Snow thought to be a threat. Singing in Basque was now a sign of revolution punished with death, and all because of you. Your fault.

However, Sirius died in peace. Your voice lulled him to sleep and your language had brought happiness to a dying child in his last moments on Earth. That was enough to pay the price for.

Returning to the present, your eyes fixed on a young, handsome boy. Grey eyes the depth of a mine, determined and brave, returned your stare. His curly hair also felt familiar, although you couldn’t put a finger on—

“Well if it isn’t the ‘Hall of Fame!” a rough, low voice slurred behind you. The reek of liquor already clue enough, but you still turned around to find Haymitch pointing to the wall. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Even in his inebriated state it was easy to point out the blatant sarcasm pouring out his pores. Your lips lifted slightly against your will, agreeing with him for the first time ever. “Definitely not what I was expecting.”

Haymitch raised his glass as if toasting your words, a sly smirk playing on his features. “Very Capitol fashioned-like.” He tossed his hands over his hair, swapping at it clumsily, his voice high-pitched in a posh accent.

You had to place a hand over your mouth to muffle the snort that left your throat. “Didn’t know you were versed in the art of accents, Haymitch.”

“Oh, Doe Eyes, you could only imagine,” he huffed a laugh, approaching you with unsteady steps. “I have mastered the Capitol one. And that high pitch? Courtesy of Effie.”

A real laugh from the pit of your stomach slipped from your mouth, which you had to cover as a cough under the quizzical gazes of the Capitol guests. You smirked, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had posed you with. “Positive she’s not happy with that impression.”

“Positive I’ll do it more just to rile her up.”

“What a rascal,” you tease, oblivious to the halt in his stance at your words. “So? Which one are you?”

Haymitch startled back, eyes hazy. He had been drinking for a while already, so you blamed it on the alcohol. “Can’t recognize me? I’m that one. There is just one Seam boy in there, Doe Eyes, be for real.”

You followed the direction of the finger he was pointing with, your gaze falling on the boy you had been staring at before Haymitch arrived. If he hadn’t been next to you, you would have allowed your jaw to hang down to the floor. That was Haymitch? He was beautiful back then. What happened? The Games, you assumed, but then again, most victors didn’t change that much physically unless it was age related.

You could feel his eyes penetrating you, waiting for a reply you didn’t have. His eyes, the ones you had been admiring five minutes ago, were now boring holes in your temple. They used to be so alive in contrast to the dull irises that now stared at the world from beside you.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t recognize you,” was all you said, unable to tear your gaze away from his poster. No untrimmed stubble, curls perfectly placed over his forehead, and a teasing smile that, if he had been a few years older in that picture, would have had your knees weak.

“Too changed, uh? Yeah, it also takes me a minute to recognize myself in the mirror.”

“But that happens with age, doesn’t it? ‘m sure Chaff goes through it, too.” You tried to laugh it out, although you both knew his falling out had more to do with his vices than with his age. Hell, he wasn’t even fourty, yet.

“Yeah, probably.”

You both stood in awkward silence, your mind beating itself for something to say, to take Haymitch from such a miserable mindset. Was he even conscious of what he was saying? He was drunk, after all. There was a huge possibility that he was just mumbling whatever his foggy mind was connecting. You wondered if he had pointed to the right guy. But yes, albeit changed, those grey eyes were the same ones of the drunk man next to you.

Then you see yourself again, Sirius' last words replaying in your mind, his face becoming blurrier and blurrier, lost in the mist the more time passes, and you speak before you can catch yourself. “They should’ve hung all the tributes posters here, not just the winners.” Haymitch turns to look at you with a wry face, hand clasped around the drinking glass he’d been tippling from. Something similar to regret settles on the pit of your stomach. “Sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.”

After a long few seconds of silence, Haymitch sighs. “Just for the ones in my games Plutarch would need this whole room. Imagine the space it would take for more than one thousand dead kids. Probably two mansions like this one.”

Haymitch’s eyes are solemn, although distant in the way he was looking past his younger self, as if recalling better times. It seemed like it pained him to remember all the tributes he lost. Was he also thinking about the tributes he went against? You had seen his games in some retransmissions, and he didn’t seem too fond of his own district partners in his interview with Caesar. What did they call him again? A rascal. Yes, Haymitch had the fame of a rascal before he became the local drunken victor. It only made you more curious about how he ended up in that predicament.

However, his words stirred something within you. Yes, twenty-four kids per year —fourty-eight in Haymitch’s— were too many dead kids in the last seventy-two years. Would the Capitol vultures love to see those faces they enjoyed watching life fade from their eyes? Or would they wonder who they were, their memories lost to time? Maybe they didn’t want to acknowledge their own cruelty by watching the faces of kids they sent to slaughter.

You smiled sadly at the man while you said, “I would spend the whole night looking at each one of them. Especially the ones I killed.”

He just hummed, turning his conflicted eyes away from you. “Bold statement, Doe Eyes.” Something beside you caught his attention, and you spinned to see Finnick coming towards you both. Had an hour already gone by? “I’m going to refill my glass. See you, Doe Eyes.” He halted for a second, sniffing the air before lifting his brows. “Smells like lilies.”

By the time Finnick was next to you, Haymitch had already razed the refreshments table, your gaze following his every movement. “Didn’t know you two had become friends,” Finnick teased, a playful smile hiding the tiredness in his voice.

“Acquaintances, I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders, eyes roaming all over his body in search of any wound. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t as bad as other times.”

You flinched, he looked so sore and restless and you didn’t know what to do to comfort him. Depending on the day, he’d even forbid anyone from touching him.

“Want to leave? We can hang out in my room if you want.”

He considered it for a moment, biting his lip in a way that others would consider seductive, but you were used to interpreting it as contemplative, before finally nodding. “I don’t think Plutarch will mind if we leave earlier.”

“Don’t care if he does, to be honest.”

Casting one last look to Haymitch, who was guarding a full bottle of Nepenthe for himself, you noticed it did smell like lilies, just to realize a bouquet of those white flowers had been behind you the whole time.

You grabbed the arm Finnick was offering you. It seemed it wasn’t one of those days. And you both left the mansion in a hurry, fleeing from the hungry and greedy stares of the Capitol. Just as you were climbing down the stairs, a dove feather stuck to your fluffy coat.

Translations:

Aita: dad

Agur: goodbye

Song, Xalbadorren Heriotzean: There was a kind-hearted friend once, to whom the wings of poetry and heartflet verses used to transform. Square singer, filled with loneliness, weaving linen threads in words to remain within oneself, learned through pain. Where are you, in which meadows, shepherd of Urepel. Up the mountain slopes, in the future of memories, you ran away.

Tag list: @beingalive1 @timessa @chivasgozilla @bey0nd-1he-stars @anakhroni3m

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x you #finnick odair #the hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #thg sotr #sotr

80 notes · View notes