"I Notice I Start Getting Nauseous In The Morning And My Period Is A Week Late"

"I notice i start getting nauseous in the morning and my period is a week late"

Girl i need to fantasies with a hot man that i don't have a chance on, not with a baby,please kill that thing

Strawberry Mentos

pairing: itadori yuuji x sweet tooth!reader

c/w: song prompt, based on this post, early relationship, petnames (yuuji and reader call each other baby, reader calls yuuji sweet boy), gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

~°•*~

You chew on those little fuckers all the time. Between meal breaks at work or while out running errands, you're more likely than not macking away at one of the chewy circles from the sweet roll of mints. Either that or you're out buying a whole new roll because you burned through the last one so fast.

You snack on other things, sure. You generally have a penchant for eating a wide variety of sugary sweets, much to the amusement of your boyfriend. Yet there's no doubt about which particular brand and flavor is your go-to.

Today, however, is one of those rare instances where you don't have a pack on you. Different snacks befit tonight's planned events.

It's movie night. Yuuji has invited you over to his place to introduce you to his favorite movie series. He's been gushing about it all week, very clearly and unashamedly excited. While you are as well, you're also anticipant about being at your boyfriend's place with him, alone, for the very first time. You're antsy and giddy the whole time Yuuji is preparing your bowls of popcorn while you sit on the couch, remote in hand.

"Chocolate bunches in yours, right?" Yuuji asks as he places his plain popcorn on the coffee table.

"Yes, please!" you respond. You smile up at him and he can't help but grab at your chin and shake your head affectionately.

"Coming right up, baby." He grins like a lovelorn loser.

You feel warmth bubble up in your cheeks, so you push Yuuji towards the kitchen. "Hurry up already! I wanna press play soon!"

Yuuji laughs as he pretends to run away scared. "Alright, alright! Not my fault you insist on adding candy to your popcorn! I'll be right back."

You rest your chin on your hands, which are covered by the oversized sleeves of Yuuji's hoodie. You hide your face in them and let out a deep exhale.

God, he makes you feel so soft. You know your insides are mushy, but this is ridiculous.

You do your best to compose yourself before your boyfriend comes out holding your popcorn bowl, already chewing before you've gotten the chance to have some.

You gasp. "You better not be eating my popcorn while I've been waiting patiently for you to start the movie."

Yuuji circles the couch, chuckling. "Of course not, wouldn't dream of it."

No sooner does he hand you the bowl that you playfully snatch it away and inspect its contents. It seems untouched and has the same amount of popcorn as his bowl, not including your added topping.

You narrow your eyes at him in scrutiny. He sits smiling and sitting crisscross on the couch like a puppy. The poster child of innocence. You narrow your eyes further. "Alright, I'm satisfied. Thank you, baby."

You lean over and pucker your lips at him, and he meets you halfway in a kiss. "Anytime, baby."

Yuuji grabs his bowl from the table and leans back, relaxedly placing an arm on the back of the couch. He faces the screen, waiting.

And nothing happens.

He turns to the remote in your hand. "You gonna put play, baby?"

He failed to realize that you'd been sitting staring at him unblinkingly. His kiss had given you pause.

You rub your lips together in thought. You put your popcorn bowl to the side. You then lean forward and place the remote next to his thigh, catching his lips in another kiss.

Now it's his turn to be taken aback. He's wide-eyed as you pull away. "Woah, what was that for?"

You furrow your brow lean forward again, taking his jaw into one of your hands and deepening the kiss. There's tongue now. Why is there tongue now? Not that Yuuji is complaining, but he's so lost.

You separate for the last time and you both give each other perplexed expressions. You speak at the same time.

"Baby, I'm so confused--""Why do you taste like strawberries?"

"Huh?"

You lick your lips a little to make sure. You breathe out a laugh. "Yuuji, you definitely taste like strawberries. The artificial flavor kind, anyway. Is that what you were chewing on?"

Yuuji suddenly blushes a deeper shade of red. "M-maybe..."

You let out a laugh at the state of him. "I'm sorry if I caught you off guard, you just don't usually eat this kind of stuff. I was surprised."

"Well..." He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know you really like this candy. It's your favorite. And I just thought... I dunno, that you'd like it... for when I kiss you."

You blink at that.

Your favorite candy.

You couldn't tell him.

You couldn't possibly tell him that the reason you loved this particular candy so much, the reason you even picked them out in the first place, was because of how much those little pink pieces of sugar reminded you of him.

After you and Yuuji's very first date, when the inklings of real, true feelings were first beginning to blossom in your chest and in the pit of your stomach, you started to see him in everything.

In the glow of the blushing sky when the sun was setting.

In the rosé of sakura petals falling along sidewalks.

In convenience store candy flavors the very next day after he'd first held your hand.

You only ever reached for your very first roll of Strawberry Mentos because all you'd had on your mind--and all you'd suddenly had an intense craving for--was pink, and pink, and pink, and pink...

"Oh, my sweet, sweet boy." You grab him by both sides of his face and plant a big ol' smooch on his lips. "If you were any sweeter, you'd give me cavities."

He pinches your cheek and grins. "The amount of sweets you eat will do that way before I can."

You pout as he laughs at your expense. You grumble half-heartedly as you snuggle deeper into him, facing the screen. "Just play the movie."

He chest continues to shake in giggles as he wraps his arm around you. He grabs the remote and the movie starts playing. You reach for your bowl of popcorn again and settle in.

He's so kind. He's so stupid. Grabbing a pack of mentos just so you would taste it when he kisses you. Who does that?

You're glad he can't see the way your face heats up while you conjure up the image in your mind. Of him noticing how much you like to snack on strawberry mentos in particular. Of him looking for the pack while he's out shopping. Of him chewing on a few before he sat down to watch a movie with you just for the chance that you'd notice the flavor when your lips met.

So stupid...

...

"Hey, Yuuji?"

"Hm?"

"What's your favorite candy?"

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

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stalecheetoh

10 months ago

reader who wears a fake engagement ring so men don’t approach you, but character doesn’t notice it. not like it matters, since the two of you get into a semi heated argument at the bar + he suggests, half as a joke, why don’t yall just fuck it out and come to an agreement. you hold up your hand and say “im married!!!” and without a missing a beat, he tells you, “your husband must not love you if that’s the ring he got you.”

turns out, character is as rich as he is annoying (which is to say, very very very very much so) & it’s just your luck that your work forces you to be in close proximity to him. if he sees you lifting anything heavy, he’ll ask you with mock sympathy “does your husband know they have you doing manual labor?” (but even more annoying… he’ll carry the stuff for you 🤭)

and then one day you lose the ring and he notices immediately and you would have thought christmas came early. “trouble in paradise?” he’ll ask you, hoping to hear abt ur divorce.

“getting the ring cleaned.” you lie, and you can smell the disappointment coming off of him. he’ll ask the people close to you “so anyway what does her husband even do?” and one of your slow on the uptake coworkers/friends goes “[name]? she doesn’t have a husband……”

oh. well now character is going to have a blast next time he sees you.

14K notes View Post

stalecheetoh

3 years ago

He wants to be your Valentine 🖤

Imagine: Bucky wants to be your valentine 💝

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Written on my phone.

Warnings: Fluff

Bucky met you a few weeks ago at an all night diner, the kind with cheap greasy food prepared by a grizzled chef, who's been around longer than you been alive, putting out meals that tastes better than any so called five star restaurant could ever make.

It had been raining that first night, the pattering on the glass window by your booth was mesmerizing, soothing.

You didn't notice him then but he noticed you.

You were tapping a French fry on your lips, eyes focused on the sheets of raining falling so hard they bounced on the ground.

He noticed your 'not quite a smile'-twist of your lips you gave to the man across from you. How you withdrew your hand when he touched you. He noticed how you slouched in the seat, deflating when he spoke to you. How the life seemed to drain from your eyes when you looked away from the window.

He came back the next night. You were back in the same booth wearing ceil blue scrubs, the man across from you in jeans and a hoodie. Your eyes landed on Bucky, catching him mid stare. Bucky felt embarrassed until you smiled at him. You stared back as if you were trying to place him, unable to break away until jackass across from you snapped his fingers in your face.

He listened to argument that followed, silently agreeing with everything you said. While he hates that you're upset and is more than willing to shove jackass through the window, you're holding your own, snapping off fiery retorts.

He likes that.

He likes you.

Two more nights pass, and he finds himself back at the diner, giving a not so nonchalant shrug when the waitress, Martha, according to her cracked name tag, gives him a knowing look and a " the food ain't that good, son."

He sits one booth closer. You're alone tonight, an open book beside your plate. More fries, more lip tapping. You must be at a good part in your book because you've been biting into that fry for five minutes now.

It's cute. He likes that too.

When Martha sets his food down a little too hard you look up at the clatter. He's staring again, he should work on that. He was the world's best assassin for 70 some years yet he keeps getting caught by you.

He kinda likes that. Cant say why.

The idea of you getting one up on him is intriguing.

You give him a shy smile, ducking your head before he can respond. He turns back to his food. You pick up your book.

Martha groans.

A few weeks pass, you stop by every night, sometimes in scrubs, other times in jeans or legging. He doesn't care. You're pretty in everything.

Every so often, he sits one booth closer. Each time, you look over the top of your book and stare. Waiting for something, the same thing he's waiting for. You both know yet it ends the same each time. He reads the menu for the hundredth time and you find a new fry to tap against your lips.

One night he was approaching the diner, he saw you in your spot with the same worn book in your hand. He didn't notice Martha forcing two truck drivers three times her size out of the booth next to yours.

She grabbed his hand before the door shut closed, the little bell still dinging when she pushed him down on to the smooth leather seats. She shoved herself next to him, grabbing the super soldier by the ear, hissing. "I dont have time for this, you go and talk to her tonight, you understand me son."

She's gone before he can respond. Your abrupt giggle is music to his sore ears-one of them very sore. It was a short and low noise but he heard it. He peers over the booth, chin sliding over cracked vinyl. There you are. Your face buried in the book, your cheeks puffed out as you try not laugh, your shoulders shaking. It's cute.

He really likes that. He wishes he could hear more of your laughter.

But he slumps back down. Ignoring the death glares from Martha. The chef, Frank, throwing up his stained apron before stomping back into the kitchen.

He's almost home when it hits him. Jerkface hasn't been back for a while now. Oh, he likes that. He loves that. Maybe. No. But then again, you might like him. No. Maybe. Things were easier in the 40's.

But they didn't make em like you in the 40's

The next night, the diner is the same except for the large tacky pink heart glued to the front door. Happy Valentines Day scrawled on the front in black sharpie.

Valentines Day.

His heart drops, you wouldn't be here tonight, you probably have a date. He turns to leave, searching his pocket for his keys.

"Oh no, you don't son."

Bucky can punch through a car without a second thought. Kick a man 60 feet in the air but he can't stop a chubby 5'1" old woman with arthritic hands from yanking him inside an even older diner.

She shoves him into your booth, startling both of you. Slapping her wrinkled hands on the table, pointing at him. "You talk to her today gahdamn it and that asshole she was dating made her cry." She leans her small chubby face into his, more threatening than anyone he's fought before. "You make her cry, ill kill you". She could, she really could.

Martha points that finger at you and you nearly flinch. "And you, get over that asshole, you were too good for him, good riddance, stop hiding behind this book, you and I both know you're not reading it and talk to him." She ends her rant with another slap on the table, taking your book from your hands.

With matching wide eyes, you both stare as she walks away, shouting, "and don't bother me, I'm not bringing you food until I feel like it."

Bucky turns back to you with a shaky breathy. He's rehearsed meeting you many times in his head, even planning it with Sam. This was not in any of his scenarios. He's trying not to panic. This is scarier than any battle. He drums his fingers on the table. You tap your toes on the edge on the booth, shaking your leg.

"Hey."

He thinks about what old him would say to you. Then again old him is gone and new him, well, he wants you to like new him.

"I'm James but friends call me Bucky"

You smile, a burst of literal sunshine, he can feel his face warming from it or it could be his nerves easing a bit, he really can't tell. Maybe a little of both when you say, "Hi Bucky."

He likes that. His name on your tongue.

He talks and listens, you do the same. A slow hesitant dance, both stumbling and stepping on each other until a rhythm clicks in place. Then you really talk, a conversation building, time nonexistent, secrets spill and he learns more about you than he imagined he would.

Then you laugh, he’s not sure how he did it but damn it he wants try again and see if works.

It does.

He makes you laugh again. And then again. Over a plate burgers that an ecstatic, kinda smug Martha slide in between you two during a debate over why he should upgrade his phone. A flip phone is not new tech, Bucky. What do you mean you only need to call people, that's not what phones are for anymore.

Then the topic winds around to jerkface and you sigh. A watery forlorn shimmer in your eyes, for a second he wonders if you miss him. Then you explain what he did to you with your best friend.

Bucky moves around to your side, putting his arm around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, whispering "some mess I am huh?"

He kissed the top of your head, "nah I think you're fantastic, doll." The endearment slipping out.

You like it.

"You don't know me," you protest as if you're not pushing your face closer to take a deeper whiff of his cologne.

"Then tell me about you," he retorts, "because I already like you,"

By the time, Martha deems you worthy of deserts, a piece of cake and slice of pie, one milkshake with two straws and a rather vulgar wink, you know him and he knows you.

"Happy Valentine's Day." He smiles with a smudge of whip cream across his kissable lips.

He promises to call you tomorrow and before you get home, your phone buzzes. "Good night, doll"

Another buzz by the time you get in bed. "You're right about the phone it took me 20 minutes to send you that text message."

The second date was spent an Apple store. The third at the movies, the forth was a walk in the park, an actual walk in the park-he's bit old-fashioned after all, the fifth was ambushed by his friends much to his indignation and your delight. By the sixth date, you were head over heels for him.

Martha and Frank invited themselves to your wedding before you had the chance to ask them. Actually before he even proposed they planned out the entire thing on an old menu and some napkins.

Each year you spend Valentines Day in your booth. With him. Over a plate of greasy fries and laughter.

3K notes View Post

stalecheetoh

1 year ago