#comfortober

[angelgalchicha]

Day One of Comfortober: Safe

[michiviv]

comfortember, prompt: leaves changing, books

pairing: timeskip! akaashi keiji x gn! reader

sypnosis: akaashi falls in love with the owner of the bookstore along the season.

warning: akaashi calls reader pretty, idk if anything else

notes: slow burn is a joke

word count: 1148

When you officially take over the story the leaves were still green. They framed the shop so perfectly it seemed quaint, homey even. The leaves were still green when you met him for the first time.

By him, I mean the man you'd be silently admiring for months, exchanging few words here and there. He was just so pretty… although he always wore a slightly-exasperated expression as he skimmed through the rows of books. He always made an effort to go through the entire store (it wasn’t much, but he still did), however he always remained near the manga section. Skimming through manga, mostly shonen.

Was he a shonen fan? Did he only read shonen or did he branch out?

Sometimes, when you were tending the counter, he would buy himself a volume and order himself some coffee before sitting on one of the tables facing the counter. The steam from the coffee often fogging up his glasses, which made you giggle as he wiped them. It was a slightly endearing sight. If it wasn't manga, it was a sports magazine, however you would only catch him reading the MSBY section.

You honestly felt like a creep, picking up on his habits. He only came once a week yet somehow you knew all of his reading habits but not his name.

Akaashi was the same too however. He knew your habits, always greeting him with a smile. You always drew animals as your latte art, you drew him a swan once. On your breaks you read romance novels, he saw you pick up a manga once but he didn’t know what you were reading.

Did you read obscure mangas? Like maybe Kiss of the Rose Princess? He didn’t catch anything he personally edited so he assumed you didn’t read much shonen. He had attempted to talk to you, maybe suggest one he had edited but every time he had tried someone wanted coffee. It was his curse.

slowly, overtime the leaves started to grow yellow and the weather slightly chiller. You stared off, outside the window. Thinking of anything you possibly could’ve. Books, rent, taxes, the pretty boy…

“What stage is your favorite?” A voice spoke, it was calm and kind of monotonous. You turned to look at the source and there he was- the man you were just thinking about. maybe you summoned him into exists, “of the leaves, i mean.”

“hm, i don’t think i have one.” you murmured, turning to look at the leaves. you imagined the shift from green to yellow to red to brown. “do you have one…” you trailed off, hoping he’d give you his name.

“akaashi, akaashi keiji.” he introduced himself with a small nod, “i think i like them when they’re green. it’s normal but it’s nice… it’s just right.”

finally you knew his name and it was just perfect. such a pretty name for a pretty boy, you made sure you would **never** forget it. you began to write down notes on his cup, silly little words of encouragement and drawings. one day it’s a cat and the next it’s a pig, he’d never know.

some nights when he came near closing, you’d stay hours just talking with him and learning about each other.

“what were you like in high school?l” you asked him, scrubbing the expresso machine.

“me?” he asked, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he smiled a little bit to himself. gods, you’d kill for that smile. “i was vice and eventually captain of the volleyball team.”

you gasped a little, listening to his revelation. he didn’t seem like the type to be one of those jock volleyball players, “really? you’re joking.”

akaashi chuckled and shook his head, “dead serious. we competed in the tokyo nationals and my best friend is now a member of the black jackals.”

“that’s amazing, akaashi! show me, who is it?” you asked him, eager to know about his past.

akaashi sought out a sports magazine and brought up a team picture of the team, and started pointing out all of the players he knew and/or played with. in total he had previously met 4 people, bokuto, atsumu, hinata and sakusa. when he pointed out that bokuto was his best friend i could help but let out a ‘damn!’ that guy was ripped!

“you’re telling me— the buff guy is your best friend?” you asked him, sort of in disbelief.

“yes,” he replied, amused, “what? don’t believe me?”

“no, yes… i mean- you two are quite distinct. i can’t imagine you two talking in high school.”

“he was something..” he said with a dramatic sigh, causing both of you to laugh.

as the leaves continued to change, he began coming more often, and maybe his comments became flirtier. you two held contact for a while, began walking around the block together ‘accidentally’ brushing hands. neither of you backed off, yet neither of you took action. which was starting to piss you off.

why couldn’t you just do it. why couldn’t you just hold his hand or ask him out on a date. not that you haven’t tried, the words just get stuck on your throat and you end up asking him to have a walk with you or you offer him a cup of coffee for the cooling weather.

as you berates yourself while decompressing the coffee machine, akaashi walked in. he sauntered over with his hands behind his back. you looked up at him and smiled, “hey, akaashi. how was work?”

akaashi hummed as he pondered a response, “it was alright. work is work.” he started, pausing. he took enough time pondering his response that you had stopped what you were doing and completely turned to look at him; giving him your undivided attention.

“listen, i…” he took another deep breath before looking at you seriously. although his face was serious you could see the uncertainty and nervousness shift in his eyes, “i’ve been interested in you for a while. you’re pretty, you’re smart, you make me feel so happy and alive— basically, what i want to say is that I want to take you out on a date.” he finally confessed, pulling his hand from his back and revealing a bouquet of flowers.

your face had flushed red long before he finished his confession, slowly you took the bouquet of flowers, the grin that slowly grew on your face practically cementing itself there. “akaashi, i-“

“only if you’ll have me.”

“right,” you chuckled, “well, i would love to. these flowers are beautiful.”

“how about tomorrow night… at 7?” he asked, you could see the tips of his ears turning pink as he fidgeted with his fingers, “i’ll pick you up.”

“that sounds perfect.” you reassured him, leaning over the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek.

finally, the leaves had turned red… and they were your favorite.

[broken-clover]

16- Halfway There

Not sure why I put this prompt in here, it was hard! Hence why this took me so long. Here I tried to focus a lot on sensations, despite not having been to a concert in a while the post-show high still sticks with me. I thought it'd be fun to combine some of that with Sol and Axl since they seem the type to be familiar with it.

-

“How much longer ‘s it gonna be, chief?”

The motor beneath them rumbled, muffling out any actual grumbling that may have been happening elsewhere. “Five minutes after the last time you asked.”

“Which was…?”

He sighed in frustration, loud enough that it was audible over the vehicle itself and the wind whipping by. “We’re ‘bout halfway, give or take. Another hour and a half, probably.”

“Huh. Damn. Didn’t seem that far on the way out.”

“Going to that show was your idea, y’know.”

“Hey, show was good!” Axl shrugged innocently. “Commute’s shit, but the show was good.”

Sol gripped the Firewheel’s handlebars tighter in a desperate attempt to avoid smashing his passenger’s head in. Even if he really deserved it. He heard the man yawn, and, despite not being tired himself, copied the gesture.

“...Guess it was a decent show.” Despite being a music guy, it had been a long time since he’d gone to a live show. Post-apocalyptic bands didn’t hold a candle to the classics, but Sol would admit he missed the simple act of rocking out in a crowd to ear-bursting guitar and drinking a shitton of crappy beer something fierce. Plus, Axl had paid for the tickets, so it wasn’t like it had been a waste of his own money.

A cool spot of wind filled his lungs as he breathed in, and he paused to toss his head back to loosen any stray hair pinned against his collar. The trailing ends of his limiter and the long strands of his ponytail flapped behind like a thin flag. Driving in the dark on a quiet stretch; he’d missed that too.

He momentarily checked the sidecar. Axl had made himself more than comfortable, slouching back into the seat until his knees were almost higher than his head. One arm hung over the edge, fingers spread to feel the air go by.

“Just make sure you’re belted in. Don’t wanna hit a bump in the road and have you go flying out at 80 miles an hour on the highway.”

Axl yawned again. “Dunno ‘bout you Yanks and your weird measurements, but tha’ sounds pretty fast.”

“Yeah. It is. So don’t do it, unless you’re excited to burn most of your skin off on the asphalt.”

“Ew. Nah, pass.” He scooted up until he could prop his chin atop his arms draped along the edge of the car. “Man, it’s kinda nice out.”

“‘s fine if you wanna sleep the rest of the way.”

“Y’don’t mind?”

“Nah. Still a ways to go.” Sol shot him a dirty half-smirk. “Saves me from having to listen to you talk, too.”

Axl gave his sleeve a playful smack. “Piss off, mate, you’re a century old and ya still need driving tips!”

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who drives on the wrong side of the road.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Imperial Measuring System. B’sides, we still have better tea.”

“Tea is shit,” Sol shrugged. “Why d’ya think we chucked it in the harbor?”

“Ugh, like five hundred years and you’re still on that?” Replied Axl, rolling his eyes. “...Look, gonna be honest, I did get stranded around there one time. Didn’t realize what I was doing until after the fact. Actually kinda fun. Like trashin’ a hotel room, ‘cept it smelled nicer.”

The driver gave him an odd look. “Bullshit. You’re drunk.”

“Prolly.” Yawning again, he burrowed into the warm bend of his arms. “We almost there, chief?”

“Only been five minutes since the last time you asked. Which was five minutes before the time before that.”

He waited for a response. He didn’t get one. When he could spare a look away from the road, Axl had already conked out, long hair trailing behind in the breeze like a comet-tail.

“...Figures,” he grunted, pressing harder against the gas. “Was actually havin’ fun for a second.”

[faroreskiss]

If there is Whumptober... is there also Comfortober? Sincerely asking?? And if not, why not? Let's start one?!??

[dinogoose]

so, baby, can we dance?

“Dance with me.” A hand outstretched, palm facing up, inviting Buck to dance. He hesitates.

“Eddie- we can’t just dance.” He says, having no better argument.

The soft smile on Eddie’s face goes nowhere, in fact it grows even more fond. He nudges his hand forward again.

(or, buck and eddie dance.)

“Dance with me.” A hand outstretched, palm facing up, inviting Buck to dance. He hesitates.

“Eddie- we can’t just dance.” He says, having no better argument.

The soft smile on Eddie’s face goes nowhere, in fact it grows even more fond. He nudges his hand forward again.

“Come on! It’ll be fun. You may be uncoordinated but I’m sure you can keep up.” The brunet teases, causing Buck to scoff.

Eddie’s house is dark, the sun having set long ago. The crescent moon offers zero illumination, their only source of light coming from the TV.

On screen the credits roll steadily, a soft love song playing through Eddie’s speakers. Eddie had turned to Buck when the song began playing, saying, ‘My sisters taught me how to dance with this song.’

The imagery of that made Buck’s head feel fuzzy and warm, his heart gushing with feelings he’s no longer pushing down.

Then the older man sprang up, just as the chorus played, reaching out to bring Buck to his feet with him.

“Fine.” He takes Eddie’s hand, allowing him to help him up. Even once he stands, Eddie doesn’t let go, instead holding tighter.

His hand is warm and callused. Rough edges, and scars connected to safety and comfort. Hands of someone who has fought, and struggled his way through life. Buck wants to study Eddie’s hands. He wants to study every part of him.

“I’ve got two left feet, so you may break a toe or three.” Buck tells him, Eddie laughs, bright, the noise a gorgeous melody to Buck’s ears. Eddie places his other hand on the blonde’s waist.

Warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, burning Buck. He has half a mind to check and see if Eddie’s hands are actually on fire.

“It will have been worth it.” Eddie’s eyes crinkle up happily, and Buck feels himself flush.

Buck raises a stiff arm, resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Their hands are clasped together, lifted into the air to get into formation.

“Relax. It’s just us.” The older man breathes out, close enough that Buck can feel his breath, warm on his face.

He’s right, it’s just them, Buck and Eddie. He’s being stupid. If he’s with Eddie then he’s fine.

Sighing, he melts under Eddie’s touch, finally allowing himself to enjoy this.

The song repeats the chorus once more, and Eddie begins swaying them back and forth. A gentle rocking. Buck finds himself following him, just as he does everyday, in everything.

They are partners in every sense of the word and Buck would do anything so long as Eddie was there with him.

“Follow my steps.” Eddie instructs, before slowly stepping.

Eddie’s left foot moves forward, his right one going diagonally. Then he brings his left foot to his right, before stepping back with his right. His left foot goes behind him to the side. Finally his right foot joins his left, in the same spot he began.

“Simple enough right?” Buck’s head is spinning, but he nods anyway. Like, come on he’s a big strong firefighter how hard could dancing be-

“Oh fuck! I’m sorry.” He steps right on Eddie’s foot. Buck cringes as Eddie just shakes his head. He moves again, Buck watching attentively.

Eventually Buck gets it down, moving gracefully with the man he loves, even as the movie ends, the only sound in the room being their breathing.

His heart no longer aches with love- now it sings, harmonizing with his soul, giving his entire being to the man before him.

Despite being the taller of the two, Buck leans down so he can rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. The other man strokes his sides up and down in a soothing motion.

“This is nice.” He whispers, muffled by Eddie’s sweater. Eddie hums in agreement.

“The song’s over.” Eddie says after a moment, he doesn’t stop swaying however. Buck just nods, aware of the quiet, aware of the only light in the room being the oven light.

A kiss is planted on his hair, lips lingering just a beat too long, but also not long enough.

“I’m pretty sure you’re falling asleep on me.” The brunet tells him the words close to Buck's ear.

“You’re the one who wanted to dance this late.” Buck scolds, his voice too happy for it to work.

“Mmm. Sorry, next time I’ll remember that you’re old now. Can’t have you staying up past your bedtime.” Buck scoffs, kicking Eddie in the shin. Eddie laughs, biting his lip to keep from being too loud.

Buck pulls back to look at him, to stare at this ridiculous man who wanted to dance ‘just cause’.

In this peaceful house that has become Buck’s home over the years, Buck feels brave. He wants to spill his heart, his brain out, for Eddie.

Wants to tell him that he began falling in love after the earthquake, never admitting it to himself, until Eddie was trapped in a well, leaving Buck to desperately claw through the ground to him.

He wants to tell him how he feels incomplete without him. A person missing a fundamental part of themself.

He wants to tell Eddie everything, but for now, he will start simple.

“I love you.” The words a confession, a fact, the truth. Always the truth.

“I know.” Eddie says, his teeth poking out. Buck pokes him in the ribs.

“I love you too. Although I’d love you more if you stopped stepping on my toes, and went to bed with me.” Buck stares, admiring Eddie in the darkness. Even though he can’t see much, Eddie is still the most beautiful person Buck has ever met.

“I warned you!” Buck whisper-yells, Eddie just huffs out a laugh shaking his head. Unspoken words are communicated through looks. They know one another, they know what’s coming next. Even if it’s terrifying, and difficult, they will always have each other.

Eddie drags them both to his bedroom. His hand never leaving Buck's.

(the song they’re dancing to is the readers choice :] )

[autobot2001]

Day 4: Safe With Me

Angstober; "I want to believe you." Whumpober; shock AI-lesstober; betrayal, lying OC-tober; Waking up from a nightmare. Flufftober; have your charecters share the last table at a café Comfortober; warmth ( this is fitting for Autobot Mirage being a spy, but I don't have an OC in mind yet, so using person A & B. Some details will be changed when I get to writing the story, but it'll be mostly the same).

Person A walks into a café they like to visit. They made it in time as there was only one table available. They order their usual, hoping to enjoy a little break. Everything is fine for ten minutes until someone else walks into the café. Now, there are no empty tables. They're carrying a laptop bag. Person A believes this person came to do with while eating their lunch. "Excuse me," person A calls out, "you can sit with me." The person accepts the offer and goes to the counter to order.

"Thank you," the person says as they sit at the table, "I have much work to do. It's too noisy at home, and I'd rather avoid my boss until this is done. My name is person B." "Person A." Person A is happy that person B went right to working rather than talking about their work, which would end with asking person A what they do. Person A stays for a half-hour before leaving.

The two thought they'd never see each other, but they ended up simultaneously at the cafe. Every time the café is packed, the two share a table. Friday is a bit different. Person B doesn't have work to do. Person A isn't bothered that person B planned to come to talk to them. It's strange in the world of making friends on social media, but the two welcome the old-fashioned approach. They talk about everything but their jobs. Which person A is relieved about. Hoping person B never asks what their job is.

The two plan their lunch breaks the best they can to meet at the café and talk. This continues for a month before Person A asks if Person B wants to go out for dinner. They say it's a change of scenery but add this will be after they return from a work trip that they can't talk about.

Person B is curious as to what person A does for work. They discover person A has a lot of late nights and they have unexpected business trips, but this isn't a big issue.

Even months later, the two confess their love for each other. Person B knows most would call it a major red flag, not knowing what their partner does for work. They do question why person A won't say anything. Even if they're allowed to know where person A lives. "I've been thinking," person A begins as the two sit on the couch, "maybe you should know what I do for work, but I'm worried that I'm putting you in danger," this concerns person B, "I'm a spy. If my targets find out, we're together… you know, but I can't take not telling you." "It's ok," person B assures them and hugs person B, "I love you and will have to accept things are a little different. Like how you go on sudden business trips a lot." The two have their first kiss. "Stay the night with me?" Person A asks, "I mean to sleep unless you're ready to have some fun." "No, I'm not ready for that, but six months is long enough to stay the night with you and, yes, in the same bed. "I can respect that." The night is like any other in-home date night until it's time for bed.

Peron B wakes up, chained to the wall. They don't remember what happened before they were knocked out or who'd do this. They can't believe their eyes as they see person A approach them. "You are so easy to trick. You have been my target all along," Person A explains, "but instead of turning you in to the FBI, I've been paid to kill you. First, a little torture." Person B sees all the torture tools Person A has.

Person A wakes up startled by Person B screaming. "Person B, you're safe." "Don't hurt me!" "I'm not going to hurt you." Do they think they can't get away? Person A questions. "You lied to me to arrest me but wanted to torture me." Ok, this is good. They're telling me about their nightmare. Person A thinks. "You work for an IT company. How can I be targeting you?" "I want to believe you…." Even with their confusion, person B accepts Person A's hug. Person A realizes the nightmare was terrifying enough to cause Person B to go into shock. I don't know how likely this is, but there's no other explanation. Person A believes. I need to calm them down. "You're safe; I'm not going to hurt you." Person A hopes they can get person B to calm down. Uncertain if they'll need to call 911 if they can't get person B to calm down.

It's a long few minutes until person B calms down. "There you go. You're safe, I'm not going to hurt you," person A assures person B, "I love you. I know my job is dangerous, but I'll protect you." Person A isn't sure if person B will easily go back to sleep. They carry them bridal style down to the living room with the blanket from the bed.

"We'll chill here," Person A says as they set Person B on the couch and start the electric fire. They sit next to person B, who leans on them, "you know what? Let's lie on the couch." Person B lies on person A, feeling the earth from their body. Though the couch isn't the most comfortable, person A doesn't mind if the two end up falling asleep on the couch. They worry about person B feeling safe being with them. Hoping they never have the nightmare they had again.

[jackal-tabaque]

Comfortober days 7, 9, 12 and 18!)

[useful-story-prompts]

Free Writing Prompt #6

All prompts are free to use word-for-word, in part, or as inspiration. Credit is not necessary, but appreciated. Reblogs help this blog to grow!

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‘When a professional Cuddle Café opened up near your place, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to apply for a job. The 9-to-5 office grind wasn’t your style, and you liked the idea of handing out hugs to pay your bills.

To your surprise, a few days after you applied, they emailed back and asked you for more details about yourself, then a few days later you got the job.

“I’m still in shock,” you admitted on your very first day, laughing with the café owner as she showed you around your new workplace. “I haven’t got any experience for this.”

“Experience isn’t everything, dear,” said the owner, her gentle smile filling you with confidence. She stopped beside a spacious booth filled with blankets, cushions, and stuffed animals, with high walls on three sides and a soft-padded floor. “These are the booths we use for walk-ins and casual pay-by-the-minute visitors. Typically you’ll spend most of your shift here, but you can serve food and drink behind the counter if you want a break from the touchy-feely side of the job.”

She ushered you just further on, to a wall with three doors. Each had a large glass panel, with a drawstring blind for privacy on the inside.

“We use these rooms for visitors who book in advance.” She opened a door to let you see inside. The room beyond felt far cosier than the booths. There was a large, comfortable-looking couch, a stereo, a table and two chairs, and a plush double-bed, piled high with all things soft. “If they’re available, we also encourage you to use these rooms with regular visitors if they seem particularly troubled. They’ll find it easier to relax away from the rest of the café.”

She stepped inside, then pointed to a black button on the wall beside the bed.

“Press that if your visitor wants anything to eat or drink. It’s an intercom, so just order and we’ll bring it over. Got everything so far?”

“Pretty much,” you said, taking in the cosiness of the room. It smelled warm and inviting, like someone had pumped the scent of fresh linen in by the gallon.

“Wonderful. The final thing then,” she said, turning to point at three large, red buttons. One was by the bed, another by the couch, and a third by the stereo.

“Emergency alarms. This place is a Safe For Work environment. We keep the rules strict to protect you, but if someone starts getting inappropriate and you feel uncomfortable, hit any of these and it’ll alert us. We’ll unlock the door from the outside, get you to safety and if needs be, report the visitor to the authorities. This isn’t a brothel, and no one gets away with trying to treat it as such.”

The sudden seriousness of her face made you pause, wondering how often things like that truly happened, but you did feel easier knowing there were measures in place to keep you safe. You would be lying to say you hadn’t wondered about that exact scenario: letches sneaking in under false pretences to cop a feel, or much worse.

Perhaps the worry had slipped onto your face, because the owner patted you on the shoulder with a reassuring expression.

“We’ve only ever had a few instances of that happening, and they were all intercepted before things got out of hand, so please don’t worry. You’re safe. Though if you’re uncomfortable using the backrooms, you don’t have to.”

You felt better knowing you weren’t about to lose your job for staying clear of the private rooms, but you weren’t ready to swear off them yet. They looked nicer, and you did prefer the idea of somewhere more secluded if you were going to cuddle strangers, but you supposed you would have to see how everything went as time went on.

“Any questions?” asked the owner finally, leading you back into the main section of the café. You shook your head, seeing another worker flipping the front door sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

“Nope. I think I’m good to go.” ’