#i love you soso much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riaki · 7 months

Text

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

1K notes · View notes

perpetuallyboo · 19 days

Text

The posts ive seen about "I really hope the bad kids dont hurt the rat grinders :(" is giving the same energy as the hangman to fabian going "we should be nice to her cause if we just keep being nice to her then she'll stop being so mean!!"

591 notes · View notes

cobrostarship · 2 years

Text

My beautiful wife she is only 3 pixels

#I love you soso much

0 notes

arttuff · 2 months

Text

j'onn j'onnzz chocos sponsorship when?

#dc comics #dc #j'onn j'onzz #martian manhunter #jli #justice league international #justice league #jla #j'onn i love you soso much #inviting him over for milk and chocos

261 notes · View notes

crow-raven-crow · 2 months

Note

Heyyy, love your writing!

It’s a bit specific but I was wondering if you could do a Larissa x reader fic where reader takes antidepressants but stopped taking them for whatever reasons then decided to start taking them again and gets really bad serotonin syndrome as her body gets used to the meds again? And Larissa is just concerned. Like just a cute fluff kinda type vibe???

Much love and take care x

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~1.8k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF, serotonin syndrome (symptoms and definition below), numbness, emptiness, ungrounded feelings, restlessness, crying, soft love, literally so soft i melted writing this i love larissa

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see ask above

𝐦��𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Serotonin Syndrome - a potentially fatal drug-induced condition caused by too much serotonin in the synapses in the brain. This is caused by a medication or mix of them building up high levels of serotonin.

Signs and symptoms include: restlessness, insomnia, confusion, rapid heart rate, high blood pressure, dilated pupils, loss of muscle coordination, twitching muscles, muscle rigidity, nervousness, sweating, nausea, blurred vision, feeling like you're in a dream like state

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The covers gave you no comfort tonight - fabrics and scents you usually melted into only stuck to your skin like static. The darkness of the room was casted away by the welcomed silver light of the moon, but the clouds at the edges of your vision only fed restlessness and frustration to you by the spoonful as you turned over for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Your body felt stiff, stuck, tired as you continued to beg it for some rest.

You were back on your antidepressants after long days of contemplation. You didn't think it would be this hard, things never seemed this hard.. The blankness, the dullness that compressed your mind being oh so silent yet all too loud at the same time - the overwhelming presence and lack of your thoughts that stood stationary at the front of your mind pressed on with no will to stop. Your body felt heavy, your bones carrying an ache you wished to forget.

You moved to her side of the bed, bringing your knees close to your chest as you inhaled small pieces of her perfume. For how exhausted you were, the rapid hammering of your heart only served as a reminder of how much longer you could be awake tonight. The pounding in your ears didn't settle no matter how hard you tried to calm your breaths, and the constant inhale and exhale was taking much more out of you than you'd like to admit. You moved the covers off of your body, upset at the layer of sweat that covered your skin, and forced the cool air of the night to shock your system.

As waves of goosebumps appeared across your skin and shivers ran through you, your eyes wandered over to the golden light seeping in from underneath the bedroom door. Your lover sat beyond those walls, a goddess of comfort, a source of haven that you were so grateful to have. You longed to forget this heavy feeling. Running your hands over your legs, you thought of the comforting warmth that sat just past those doors, the gentle kisses, the softest touches, the sanctuary that was just feet away.

You breathed in through your nose, feeling the air swirl in through you until you felt your lungs max out, hoping that the action alone would calm the newfound pit growing in your stomach, and stood as you pushed the air out of your mouth. The long night had slowly turned into a dream to you, the chill you felt under the moonlight only adding to the pull that the golden glow gave to you. You felt weightless as your feet sunk into the rug underneath you, yet the weight in your chest was ever present the closer you got to holding your hand out towards the handle.

Wood, dark and ancient and carved and worn - the only thing that separated you from something you wanted so badly, from someone you wished to melt into. The doorknob shocked your fingertips as you took hold of it, the small spark of light being enough to cause your heart to rage on again. Your lips formed into a thin line, your mind blanking as the sudden thought of going back to the bed faded from your mind - you pushed forward.

The heavy door creaked as it moved, showing its age as your wish to walk into her presence quietly slipped away from you. Your mind acknowledged the fact that you had entered the space completely, but you couldn't help but feel disconnected from yourself - knowing that you had entered a new room, touching the cold planks under your feet, feeling the heat from the roaring flames greeting your side, yet not knowing if you were truly awake.

The door to your shared quarters shut with a click, and your eyes slowly made their way to the concerned figure presented at the desk. Her hair was pure white as the moonlight guided though each strand, but the flames that burned in front of her painted her features in a caramel hue. Her eyes, capsules that carried the ocean in their blues, wandered over your tired figure in growing worry - gliding over your wrinkled, oversized shirt, to the fidgeting of your hands, to the small heaves of your chest. She took in every ounce that you offered her, and damn did she read it all like a book.

"Darling.. Is everything alright..?" Her voice cut through the air like a hot knife to butter, her accent coursing through the room and wrapping you in its safe hold, the love, the worry dripping from it completely unhidden from your soul. It was hard to focus, your eyes moving in slow, blurred circles around the room that made the cloudy edges of your vision ever more present.

"U-Um.." You didn't mean for your voice to crack, didn't mean for it to break and weaken and fade out and run from you since you never wanted anyone to worry, since you never wanted her to worry… But you were hers.. and she was yours, so she knew the truth without asking.. So of course at the first sound of your voice escaping your lips in such a small way she was already up to her feet.

The soft pads of her heels stepping onto the large rug beneath her desk soon faded into heavy clicks against the dark wood floor, growing louder until they stopped in front of you. Her fingertips, gentle and soft with their touch, traced over the curves of each of your wrists. They circled around and traced their way up your arms, the touch grounding you and bringing you back to her.

Your eyes slowly focused on hers as one of her hands came to rest on the curve of your waist, the other moving to cup your cheek. It was easy to melt into her touch, to melt into the present when you were with her. Her thumb traced back and forth against your cheek as her eyes jumped from every little bit of your features, scanning your face with a quiet worry.

It was like your body allowed everything to crumble as you stood there in front of your love, the adoration and true care that radiated from her being all it took to let your true exhaustion show. A shaky sigh left you as your body felt heavy again, and your eyes, now glossy, finally opened again to meet hers.

"Darling..?" You didn't know if it was the way her thumb stopped moving against your cheek as she saw the true emotion in your eyes, or the way that her other hand sprawled out to touch more of your skin, or the way her voice got evermore quieter as she looked at your fragile being, but a choked sob broke through you with no restriction.. then another.. and another.. and suddenly you found the stream near impossible to stop.

"Oh, my love.. Come here, darling - I've got you, I promise.." Her voice lifted you into her trance, safe and warm, as she pulled you into her arms. She pressed small kisses against your hairline, her hands tracing patterns along your back as you pressed into her. Your hands were quick to grab onto the fabric of her dress, holding on as though your life depended on it, to find some sense of reality again. Your crying was quiet, yet wrecked your body with a release it needed as your tears soaked into her grey dress.

You listened as her rapidly beating heart came to a slow, the rise and fall of her chest becoming an easier task to follow as she asked you to breathe with her. Soon, the lightness that you were missing, that you seemed to be begging for, rose to your chest, your breaths matching and mixing together as the fire crackled on next to you, as the moon grew evermore present in the sky.

You felt her pull away, but before you could move, her rose painted lips were pressed against your forehead. It was gentle, full of adoration, full of pride… A blush was quick to grow on your cheeks as you watched the goddess pull away to meet your gaze, the smallest of smiles coming up to curl her lips. She understood every part of you, and seeing her acknowledge something so small yet so hard for you only made love settle in your chest.

"Why don't we get to bed, hmm?" You knew it wasn't a question, especially when she saw the exhaustion in your eyes, the heaviness in your stance, especially when the release you had just overcome started to present the toll it really took on you.

She was an easy woman to follow, a better one to try to please, so when her hand glided over to the small of your back with a small push towards the bedroom, it was as though your legs moved on their own. The haze that was over you was different than the one you had felt when you left the room, and you were so grateful that she was able to help you change that with just her company alone.

Your body sunk into the mattress, the foam latching onto your limbs and pulling you into it's welcoming hold. The covers were cold as she pulled them over you, something you appreciated when your head met the pillow. Your eyes were quick to close, the weight of your lids making itself known, but you still tuned into the rustling you heard throughout the room.

Just as the small sounds became white noise to you, they stopped completely and nearly prompted you to open your eyes, but the opportunity was taken away when you felt the mattress dip on the other side of you, replacing a hope with a lovely fact. Arms, hushed and secure, were quick to wrap themselves around you after you felt her body settle. You turned in her hold, your own arms coming to rest on her waist as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, your fingers lightly tracing the expanse of her porcelain skin.

The lingering smell of her perfume filled your lungs, and the soft hum of her heartbeat was something easy for you to sink into. Her hand pushed underneath your shirt, smoothing over the skin of your back and traced mindless patterns there. With another sweet kiss to your head, her voice, low yet soft, rang out in the new lightness of the room, "Sleep well, you sweet thing.. I promise, I've got you.."

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: CRYING SOBBING BANGING THE WALLL

I LOVE WRITING LARISSA FLUFF COME ONNN

this one was very healing for me to write. i've been feeling a lot of emotions lately as i've forced myself to work through things and being able to have something like this was really helpful.

larissa is a comfort character to a lot of us, and i am so honored that someone trusted me to write something that can be so personal sometimes. we all need a person like larissa sometimes

im so sorry ive been mia LMAO so much is going on. im officially a double major (yippie lol) and im looking for a house with some friends and its midterm season andddd i increased my hours at work aaannnnddd ya know life LOL

BUT

im glad you all are so understanding <3 it warms my heart when you all still think of me or mention me because this is a really nice part of my life that i am soooo grateful for :)

here you go anon :) sorry it took so long - thank you so much for your patience <33 i hope you liked it!

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added :)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

215 notes · View notes

applestruda · 1 year

Text

I constantly think about how s9 could be a dnd campaign

#you can tell tango is about to ask scar how much hp he has left #but yeah #soso many people went fantasy esc themed this season and i love it #ALSO WHAT I WOULD GIVE FOR HERMIT DND #Waa id listen to that so quickly #goodtimeswithscar #tangotek #grian #impulsesv #geminitay #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #hermitcraft s9 #cw eye strain #my art

2K notes · View notes

aidansloth · 5 months

Text

Coffee and Chamomile

Summary: Hitoshi can’t sleep (again) so he decides to get up and make himself some good-ass coffee ‘cause he’s smart. When he reaches the common room, he realizes he’s not the only one who wanted a hot beverage.

Warnings/Things to keep in mind: slight hurt/comfort, swearing, suggested low self-esteem on Shinsou’s side and some dirty jokes because they’re teens. And adorably cute. Reader is referred to as they/them or ‘you’, this takes place in the dorms and Shinsou is part of Class 1-A (or 2-A, whatever you want). Also I don’t remember perfectly the layout of the dorms so pretend. I’m not up to date with the episodes (stuck on season 4) so please no spoilers! Last disclaimer: this is KIND OF self-indulgent and I’m autistic so if you think the reader is acting weird, that’s why.

Words: 2.3k

Posted this on AO3 too! You can find it here.

2:38am

Hitoshi turned in his sheets, covers uncomfortably sticking to his form as he sank his face into the scrunched-up pillow.

3:04am

An exasperated groan escaped his lips, half suffocated by the cushion; his arms wide around the mattress and his breathing deep and empty.

3:29am

That’s it. He’s getting up and making himself some damn coffee or whatever the others left in that poor kitchen. His sheets are hurled carelessly as his feet instinctively find their place in his cat-shaped slippers. Trying not to make too much noise (an act he had mastered by now) he opened the door and made his way to the common room. His phone, used as a make-shift torch guided him across the corridors; as he got closer and closer he noticed light becoming brighter, when he finally reached his destination the realization dawned on him. Someone else was up.

He quickly turned his phone-torch off before turning the corner, to find one of his new classmates dancing (or whatever that was) with their back turned to him, hands busy with what looked like a cup of tea.

It wasn’t long since he joined the Hero Course but he was starting to remember some names and whatever faces he didn't remember from the Sports Festival. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that good with names. No one talks to him anyways, why should he care?

While he did recognize you from behind he did not remember your name. You were nice to him, he thought. Nicer than the rest at least. That Denki guy seemed nice too- a bit too intense though. You lent him a pencil- or was it a tissue? No mind that, what was he gonna do now? Leave? No, you’ll turn around and notice him and think he was spying on you. Did you even want company? You seemed pretty busy. On the other hand it’s his common room too- but has he been there long enough to intrude on your private moment like that? He might not be here to make friends or be nice but that doesn’t mean he has to be an ass.

That’s when he realized you hadn’t noticed him yet. Ah. So aware of their surroundings for a hero.

He decided that grunting awkwardly was the best course of action. Bummer, you were wearing earphones. He tried a louder cough, but you only noticed him once you found yourself face to face with him. A loud curse left your lips and your hands instantly slammed against them as instinct. Hitoshi’s eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together to suppress a chuckle. Good thing you placed your tea down earlier. Their eyes were now staring straight into his.

“Ehm- hi.” You licked your lips, saliva suddenly missing.

“Hi.” He managed to grunt out. Now this was awkward. He watched your eyes dart back and forward before settling back on him. He really wanted to say something, anything to get this uncomfortable feeling out but that little voice at the back of his head held him back.

“You here to make yourself some tea too?”

His mouth opened slightly, the careless innocence of the question taking him aback. Still, no words came out. He nodded. He actually wanted coffee but he didn’t think himself able to explain that through words now.

“Cool. I boiled extra water accidentally. What kind of tea did you want?” Your smile looked so genuine and again, careless. Like you didn’t think he was dangerous. Out of habit he was about to nod again but stopped in time to force some words out.

“Is there carcade?”

“Yep!” You were definitely too chipper for this hour in the morning. He tried not to think too much about the fact that you answered his question with no hesitation. He watched as you moved your hands swiftly along the mugs and tea bags, your movements rhythmic, like you do this a lot. In no time your teas were ready, so you placed yours in front of your stool and in front of his. Not that he sat down yet, no. His eyes were too busy watching you. The tea caught his attention quickly enough. Sitting down his hands snaked around the mug, his hoodie sleeves just a bit too long.

A string of silence hung.

“I guess we’re both awake for the same reason.” Hitoshi was glad his voice was back, though the ever-lingering anxiety stayed. He actually didn’t know why they were up but he thought this was a decent conversation starter. His gaze was too occupied marveling at the tea to notice your tilted head and dog-like expression.

“You’re writing fanfiction too?”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“Ehm- no- no I’m not.” Suddenly he felt weird and sorry he wasn’t writing fanfiction. His classmate nodded understandingly while taking another sip off their mug. Looking back at the kitchen island he felt particularly stupid for not noticing the laptop with an open Google Document page open. There was a small beat of awkward silence before the next sentence.

“Then why are you up?”

Ah. There it is. What was he supposed to respond now? Oh yeah, basically I have insomnia, meaning I get no hours of sleep and I do manage to miraculously fall asleep I’m awoken by nightmares and now, as our new guest of honor, the gracious sounds of the guys’ snoring which breaks the laws of time and space by getting across all those walls!

“Just- stuff.”

He thanked every god in the universe that they didn’t ask anything surrounding his very weird and suspicious answer but opted for a simple nod and a ‘cool’. Clinging his fingertips against the mug he realized he should try to keep the conversation going as well; you probably thought he didn’t want to talk to you with all his dry answers. His grip tightened and his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“What- what is the fanfiction about?” He swore he never saw someone’s eyes light up faster, their lips immediately stretched into a painfully wide smile.

“Basically, you know ‘Lord of the Rings’, right? The fantasy book? There are these two characters, a dwarf and an elf. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, these two races have a really tough history which led to prejudice and hate on both sides. But for this certain world-saving quest they have to interact with each other, trust each other, you know? For the first quarter, maybe, of the quest they don’t get along very well. I mean, not trying to kill each other or anything, but petty threats and jokes are thrown around. At a certain point in their journey they have to take a break in this elven kingdom and by the end of it they are the best of friends! Now, I ship these two characters together, so, I’m writing a specific fanfic that takes place during their pause there and since Tolkien didn’t really go into detail with what they were doing during that time I have lots of creative freedom,”

Hitoshi’s lips pressed together as he watched them gesticulate their way through what could only be defined as a speech; his half-open eyes never left theirs while his chin rested on his hand. His eyes lingered from one feature of their face to another, still listening of course: he was good at that. Though his eyes may have lingered a moment too long on their lips.

“-not even mentioning their relationship later on at the end of ‘The Return of the King’, commenting on Minas Tirith’s architecture like a bunch of housewives! Really, in the middle of a war ‘This place needs more trees!’-” Their face dropped and Hitoshi’s heart with it. Did they notice him staring too much? He did that, didn’t he? Fuck. He made them uncomfortable-

“I’m sorry. I’m boring you.” They say huffing out a half-regretful chuckle. It nearly tricks him.

He stared just a little bit longer before talking.

“You’re not.”

He watched as their lips turned into an awkward smile, like they thought he only said it to be nice. The silence slowly crawled back. Hitoshi didn’t know what sudden urge slapped him in the face enough to have the courage to speak, but he did.

“Your voice is relaxing.” Good job asshole, now they think you’re a creep. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from your surprised one, which quickly turned into one of joy. And now he was blushing. Might as well dig my own grave with that one. Fingers tapped on mugs. Their mouths opened once, closed and then opened again.

“Do you mind if I- we move to the couch? I hate stools.”

“Sure- yeah.”

And moved to the couch they did. Fanfiction-writing long forgotten, they placed their teas on the small table in front of them; Hitoshi was surprised when they got blankets for the both of them and instinctively covered him too but he wasn’t about to complain about it. For a little while they sat in comfortable silence, only sounds of breathing and sips were heard. Just for a little while though. Until he noticed they kept yawning and their head dropping a bit every couple of seconds. His eyebrows scrunched up.

“You tired?”

“Meh, just a bit.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you up? I mean, we’re not that busy right now with school, you could write during the day and not in the middle of the night. Unless you can’t sleep but it doesn’t look like you can’t.”

“Well-” They huffed out a smile. “-it’s not exactly about having time. It’s a bit more complicated. Like-” They exhaled again, squeezing their eyes shut and then reopening them. “There aren’t enough hours during the day to- to be. The whole day feels like a dread and the only thing I look forward to is those hours in the night where I can do anything I want without that senseless guilt. The night is the only time I feel free to be.”

Hitoshi stayed silent for a moment, elaborating every word meticulously.

“That’s- that’s-”

“Sad? Pathetic? Depressing?”

He chuckled. “I mean- a bit.” Their soft laughter mixed together. “What I meant to say was, that’s- relatable.” A simple shared look was enough to fill the silence between them.

“So, why are you up?” Before Hitoshi could excuse himself again they stopped him.

“Don’t you dare say ‘just stuff’ again to me, I just gave you a tear-ripping, punch-to-the-face, gut-wrenching speech.” With their index finger pointing at him he let out a soft laugh, though his eyes lost a bit of their shine for a second when he started speaking.

“I have insomnia.”

“Ah. So you got up to make yourself chamomile or something?”

“Well, I wanted to make myself some coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“And you let me make you tea, why?”

Hitoshi adjusted himself quickly and cleared his throat. “You looked happy.” He felt their eyes stare through his soul, he felt naked.

“Is this helping?” God thank you for changing the subject.

“Is what helping?”

“Talking.” He thought for a moment.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Don’t usually talk to people.”

They smiled. “I noticed.” He grinned.

“Are you going to go back to sleep then? Well, not sleep- you get it.”

“Don’t know. This couch is very comfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” You said, raising your eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. A wide grin grew on his face and he let out a laugh.

“Yeah.” You nodded again.

“You know, I won’t get offended if you want to go back to sleep- or to your fanfiction.” He said.

You shook their head. “I’m fine here.”

He gulped, praying that the low light won’t show his blushing cheeks. Their conversation went on for another half an hour at least, Hitoshi couldn’t tell honestly. Their teas finished and mugs cold, they got up (mostly because they realized the time). Cups in the sink, they began talking again once Hitoshi yawned.

You chuckled. “Is my voice that relaxing?”

“Incredibly so.” He grinned seeing them laugh again. He cleared his throat.

“So, you going to sleep?” Hitoshi watched them as their shoulders dropped.

“Yeah- yeah, is that okay? I don’t mean to leave you alone but-”

“Yes- yes it’s fine don’t worry about me, I won’t die,” he grinned, his hands in his pockets “sleep, you need it.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“No, I’m like Batman.”

“Are you implying he doesn’t sleep because he calls himself Batman?- He’s not even- He doesn’t have super powers like that, you are aware-” Their soon-to-be ramble was interrupted by his laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not mocking, promise.” He bit his inside cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists in nervousness. “I just- like how passionate you are.”

“About Batman?”

“About Batman.” They looked at each other for a second before you nodded.

“Alright… Well, I’m off to bed. Nice slippers by the way.” Hitoshi grinned like a lovesick boy at your comment.

He nodded smiling and moved away a bit from the entrance of the corridor to let you pass. They smiled and wished each other a good night. It only took a few steps before you stopped and whipped around.

“Wait!” You ran and before he knew it they had plunged into him, his torso wrapped nicely within their arms. His body froze at first but quickly came back and wrapped his own arms around their frame. Hitoshi could feel his muscles relax. It wasn’t long before they moved away leaving an empty feeling in both of them.

“Goodnight!” They said and Hitoshi swore that was the sweetest smile he had ever had the luck of witnessing.

“Good- goodnight.”

As if he was able to sleep after that.

Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism/advice is welcomed.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #i love him soso much #first time writing for hitoshi #hope you like it!#wrote this instead of sleeping #hitoshi shinso x reader

222 notes · View notes