#the white cat with the bowls on the seat with him was so hard to get pictures of

[amatres]

a collection of my Creatures over the years

[thehighladywrites]

— “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: You adopt a stray kitten, naming it after someone close to your heart

☀︎ — warnings: fatally cute

☀︎ — amara’s note: Help i got this request earlier today and i just had to write it. This is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. I adore writing for bimbo reader, she’s so cute!!! | based on this request

series masterlist

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing on earth?” you squeal in delight as you spot a tiny black kitten outside the grocery store.

Bending down, you plop yourself on the edge of the pavement and scoop up the kitten, cradling it gently in your arms.

“Meow,” it mewls, its big round eyes looking at you with an innocent gaze. It has shaggy, fluffy black fur and beautiful hazel eyes, reminding you of someone very dear to you.

“You don’t seem to have an owner, do you? Hm, I see no collar and no one is around. Tell me, kitty, ya hungry?” you coo at it, tilting your head inquisitively, and the kitten mimics the movement in a cute, almost cartoonish way.

Realizing the kitten might not respond to you, you nod your head in determination.

“Don’t worry, kitty cat, you can come home with me. I��ll just get you some food first.”

You glance into your grocery bags and then back at the kitten sheepishly.

“I guess you can’t eat ice cream and sushi, can you?” you say with a giggle, realizing your mistake.

Looking around to make sure no one is watching, you carefully pick up the kitten and gently tuck it into your tote bag. With a nonchalant demeanor, you stroll into the store, doing your best not to attract attention to your feline stowaway.

“Hello, Ms. L/N! Back for some more?” Vanessa, the cashier asks as she notices your quick return.

You freeze, subconsciously clutching your bag as you look around. “Hey, V! I just forgot a little something. I’ll be in and out,” you say nervously, just as your bag meows. You both look at each other in surprise.

“D-Did your bag just meow?” Vanessa asks, raising an eyebrow.

“N-no, um, that was me! I was just bored. Okay, bye V, see ya,” you stammer, trying to play it off as a joke before hurrying further into the store.

You can’t help yourself from getting every single cat toy on the planet, along with every type of food you think the kitten might like. Now, the trunk of your car is filled with toys as you strap the kitten into the passenger seat of your rose Porsche Taycan.

“Okay, kitty. I’ll put on some music. And I don’t know what kind of music you dig, so you’ll just have to listen to Frank Ocean. He’s a really good artist!” you chirp cheerfully, adjusting the volume knob as you drove, hoping the kitten will enjoy Pink+White playing.

Driving into your garage, you park your car and bring your newest housemate inside.

There, you play with him, squealing in happiness at the way he jumps cutely. You praise him and clap your hands whenever he does a cool trick. He even liked the mini bat wings you got for him. The kitten looked so stinkin’ cute in them you just had to take a million photos!

After a while, you get his bowls, fill one with food and the other with water as you sit down next to him, eating your sushi.

“I have to name you something, kitty. I mean, ‘kitty cat’ is adorable, but you need a new name. But just what?” You pout and furrowed your brows, thinking really hard as you lay on the plushy fluffy carpet, the kitten resting on your chest, tired after hours of playing.

As you pat his fur, you wonder what name would suit him. He has black fur and hazel eyes, is calm and collected, just like… Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you gasp.

“Oh my gods, Azzie! Your name is totally Azzie!”

Excitedly jumping up from the carpet, you practically skip over to your laptop, eager to make your new housemate’s name official. After a quick search, you find the perfect pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that says “Azzie.” Without a second thought, you click “Add to Cart” and eagerly wait for it to arrive. After all, Azzie deserved nothing but the best!

—

The next time Azriel comes over, he is greeted by a furry surprise.

As he steps into your home, his eyes widen in astonishment as he spots a tiny kitten sitting on the plush carpet, its hazel eyes mirroring his own.

For a moment, they both freeze in their tracks, assessing each other with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Slowly, Azriel puts down the math books on the counter before he approaches the kitten, his gaze never leaving its adorable face. Kneeling down, he extends his hand tentatively, unsure of how the little creature will react.

To his amazement, the kitten responds by rubbing its nose against his hand, nuzzling into his palm with a happy purr. Azriel can't help but smile, his heart melting at the sight of the affectionate gesture from his miniature doppelganger.

As the cat jumps into his lap, the jingle of its collar catches Azriel's attention. He glances down and notices the pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that read "Azzie" in delicate letters.

A surprised chuckle escape his lips as he gently pets the kitten, realizing that it has been named after him. The gesture warms his heart, and he can’t help but feel a newfound fondness for the furry little companion.

You walk into the room and are met with the heartwarming sight of Azriel playing with your kitten. A smile spreads across your face as you join in, the three of you engaging in a playful game of chase and pounce. Laughter fills the air as you watch Azriel's eyes light up with joy, his usual stoic demeanor melting away in the presence of the adorable feline.

“Oh, Azzie, you two are so freakin’ cute together, I think I might die,” you gush, clapping your hands in delight.

Azriel looks up, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, I guess he's not so bad,” he replies, his nerdy, shy charm shining through.

You giggle, scooping up the kitten and holding it close. “He's the best! And he's just like you, Azzie. Quiet, calm and sweet like candy!”

Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at the comparison, but he can't hide the fondness in his eyes as he kisses your cheek before he continues to play with the kitten. Together, the three of you get to know each other better, happy with the new addition to your life.

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwlyniii @scooobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch

[whatlovelybones-if]

There’s a severe lack of Sebas asks, my husband deserves so much love 😤 Can you tell us how he met the MC ? What made him so interested ?

i agree, bonnie 😞 our resident wet cat journalist deserves some love and attention too <3 i’ll just give y’all a not-so-little snippet of the scene in which they met. spoiler warning since this will be present in the game:

‘this is the worst fucking day of my career,’ sebastián thought bitterly.

the clouds thunder heavily in the night. rain drops fall in tandem with the unrelenting wind which makes the trees sway surrounding the road. the whole atmosphere was miserably cold and wet.

every single bone in sebas’s body hurt like crazy. he wonders why the hell did he even try to fight off the muggers, they outnumbered him by a lot and he had multiple cuts and bruises to show for it. darkness threatens to encroach his vision but he fought it off. he knew he’d really end up dead if he let his growing fatigue overpower him.

but hope was dwindling inside him. no one was going to come looking for him. it’s not like he had many friends. the only man he even dared to call a friend had gone missing weeks ago. and now sebastian was going to end up joining him too. the only difference was that they never found henry, while they’d find his body on the side of this abandoned road.

his stomach growls and a weary sigh leaves his body. what he wouldn’t give for a warm meal right now. maybe a bowl of his mom’s homemade chicken soup.

“you’ve been working hard again, mijo,” she’d tut while running her fingers through his shaggy dark hair. “díos mio, you worry your poor mother too much.”

a broken sob threatens to leave his throat. sebas knew he made for a pathetic sight. it was his fault he ended up in this situation after all, and he could not change it no matter what.

the stab wound on the side of his stomach stings and almost makes him blackout as he tries, in vain, to keep it from bleeding out. his assailants had made sure that he couldn’t go for help, even if he tried to crawl to the nearest hospital.

this is it. this is where he dies. this is where the short life of sebastián rafael navarro ends. shivering and sobbing on the side of an abandoned road while he dreams of a warm meal and a life unfulfilled.

suddenly, the screech of a pair of tires halt his increasingly pessimistic musing. he vaguely notices the touch of a gloved hand on his neck and wrist, checking for a pulse. sebastián wonders if he’s already dead and is currently being examined by an angel. he questions himself if they can feel how faint his pulse is, how faint he feels.

sebas hears them curse, and he wonders if angels are allowed to do that. struggling to open his eyes against the onslaught of the rain, he manages to catch a glimpse of a white coat and a face which makes his breath catch in his throat. he decides that his angel theory didn’t seem so ridiculous after all.

“it’ll be okay. i’ll take care of you.”

it is the last thing he hears before he feels himself fall unconscious while the ‘angel’ hauls him up with an unnatural strength and places him on a warm leather seat.

[avocado-writing]

I Know That I Should Let Go, But I Can’t (Pt 3)

pt1, pt2.

GN!Reader x Tangerine  

CW: Mentions of animal abuse.

tags:   @honestlywtfisgoingon​ @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly​ @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway​​ @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty​​ @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta​ @rxcently​ @skrrten​ @nightmarefeast​ @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower​  @kalli0pes​ @insanitia​  @tvngerinescoat​ @assmaster37​ @soojinroze​ @oldyellowbricks2​  

Tangerine first sees the inside of your flat with a bullet in his shoulder and blood dripping down his chest. This is, honestly, about how he expected it to go. Par for the course with your relationship so far.

Your penchant for popping up during his jobs hasn’t died down. Though, for the first time, he’s truly thankful for it - if you hadn't arrived in the nick of time to cover him from the gunfire, the bullet might have ended up in a far more dire place.

He’s half slung over you, his good arm wrapped around your shoulder while you awkwardly unlock your front door. Clearly neither of you are ecstatic he’s ending up here, but he's injured and it will have to do.

“Come on, let’s plonk you on the couch,” you say, kicking the door closed behind you and manoeuvring him over to the loveseat. It’s quite old and worn and you’ve thrown some IKEA blankets over to try and hide how knackered it is. Tangerine tries to ignore the fact he’s about to add to the shabby-chic nature by bleeding all over it.

“Fucking hell, easy. I’ve been shot,” he snaps, as you indelicately deposit him onto the seat.

“You sound fine to me,” you reply as you head over to your kitchenette to grab a first aid kit from one of the cabinets. When you return, you nod to the hole in his shoulder. “I need to see it.”

For a moment, he falters.

“You want me to…”

“Take your shirt off,” you finish, then look at him from the corner of your eye, “or shall I take you out to dinner first? You not that kind of boy, Tan?”

Tangerine obliges quickly. He can’t have you think you’re flustering him. But, when you gently take his shoulder in your hand so you can check if the bullet has gone all the way through, he finds himself swallowing hard.

“Right, it’s still in there I’m afraid. I’ll dig it out and patch it for you.”

“You know what you’re doing?”

“I’ve de-bulleted myself before.”

Yeah. Both him and Lemon have been there before. Half the people in the business have, probably.

You seem to know your stuff, cleaning the wound carefully before you start to lay out a professional-looking set of tools which would be more at home in an operating theatre than in an east London flat.

“What are those, surgical tweezers?” Tangerine asks, surprised. You don’t look him in the eye as you go to start extracting the bullet.

“They’re actually a matterlad.”

Tangerine furrows his brow.

“What’s a matterlad?”

“Nothing lad, what’s a matter with you?” you ask, deadpan, and he’s so immediately furious to have fallen for such an obvious trick he barely feels you reaching into his shoulder to pull the shrapnel out.

“You really boil my piss sometimes.”

“I certainly do my best,” you reply, leaving the bloody scrap of metal on top of a coaster on your coffee table. Once more you disinfect the wound, then carefully start the process of stitching him up. Tangerine winces a bit as the needle bites his skin but says nothing.

Across your flat, a door is bumped open. Tangerine goes for his gun, expecting a pursuer to have followed him here…

… then he sees the cat plodding its way into your living room. It’s white, and fluffy, and only has three legs. It regards him with utter contempt before heading over to its empty food bowl and starts shrieking at you.

“Yes, I know,” you call. It meows again.

“Of course you have a fucking cat.”

“Don’t you bring my cat into this, she’s not done anything to you. If you hate me, you hate me.”

Tangerine is about to bite back about cats being one of the most entitled creatures on God’s green earth, but your words give him pause.

“I don’t hate you.”

You open your mouth to say something back, but just close it instead. You settle on bandaging the wound in silence. Tangerine takes the time to look around your home. There’s prints crowded together on the wall, probably by some poncy artist who he’s never heard of. A couple of vintage movie posters are blu-tacked up, too, with the corners beginning to look a bit tattered; like you’ve taken them down and put them up over and over. There’s a woven rug underneath your coffee table, and you’ve shoved a folded up magazine under one of its legs to correct a wonkiness. In the corner of the room is a record player. Of course. Of course you have a fucking record player.

Eventually the quiet is overbearing. Tangerine feels like he might have said something to upset you, which is stupid because he hasn’t, and even if he did he shouldn’t care… but he finds himself trying to make up for it anyway.

“What’s your cat’s name, then?”

You glance over your shoulder, and the cat meows again, as if indignant you have someone else in your flat.

“... You can’t laugh.”

“I’m not promising that.”

You purse your lips, and consider this for a moment, before quietly admitting:

“Amélie.”

Tangerine immediately bursts out laughing.

“Oh, fuck off - !”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

Finished with your work patching him up, you head over and scoop Amélie up in your arms, burying your face in her fur.

“Don’t listen to the bastard man, darling. You’re perfect.”

As if she can tell what you’re saying, she begins to purr. Tangerine has to squash down the tiny bit of himself feeling jealousy because a cat gets to press up against you.

“Didn’t peg you for a pet owner.”

You shrug.

“I found her while I was finishing a job up in Manchester. They’d locked her in a cupboard. She was so skinny…”

You trail off, a sort of odd, faraway look in your eyes. You play with one of her paws.

“Took ages to get the blood out of her fur,” you sigh, and just for a moment Tangerine is struck with just how human you can be, how kind, and how rare that is with people in this profession. Even himself.

His phone buzzes, and he checks it immediately, hoping to hide the redness his face has taken on. It’s Lemon, checking he’s okay. He fires off a text to reassure his brother that he’s fine, give or take some gunfire; and doesn’t mention whose apartment he’s at.

“So now what?” you ask, having given Amélie her dinner and come to sit down on the sofa next to him. “You heading off?”

He takes a long look at you. The way white cat fur has stuck to your shirt. The remnants of his blood under your fingernails.

“What else would I do?”

You lick your lips.

“You could stay.”

And when he leans in to kiss you, you kiss him right back.

[indigostreaking]

Can you possibly do a head cannon about the boys comforting the reader during her period? 🤍

Absolutely, nonnie! This is so cuuuuute! I’m so sorry this took so long 😭

It’s only fitting that I finish this request while on my period 😂

Josh:

You had woken up this morning to excruciating cramps and much to your utter mortification a bloody spot on Josh’s blindingly white sheets. He, of course, had brushed off all of your apologies, insisting that they weren’t necessary. “It’s natural, mama, part of the beauty of humanity and being a woman and all that,” he waved his hand with a flourish and flashed you a toothy grin. You shook your head before doubling over as another cramp hit. He winced at your pain, not wanting to ever see you hurting. He quickly disappeared and you heard the water in the bathroom turn on as he drew you a bath, filled with your favorite essential oils. He walked back into the bedroom to find you hugging your knees to your chest as you held your breath. “C’mere, let me,” he said quietly as he tugged your oversized shirt over your head and pulled you to your feet. He reached for the waistband of your panties, but you shirked his grasp. “Baby,” he scolded you gently, “I’m just going to put them in the wash for you. I know they’re your favorite comfy clothes…” You loosed a sigh before stepping out of them and crumpling them up so he couldn’t see the evidence. “Thank you,” you murmured with a weak smile as he helped you into the warm water. After a while, he returned with a fresh towel that he wrapped you in as you stepped out. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you completely and placing soft, sweet kisses across your bare shoulders. “Feel better?” He asked as he pulled you impossibly close, not caring that your hair was dripping and soaking his shirt. “Mhmm…but Josh, I’m so sorry about-” you began, but he cut you off. “I promise it’s okay, baby…they’re just sheets,” he whispered as he kissed your cheek. “Come meet me in the living room?” He looked mischievous, but he almost always did, especially with that Cheshire Cat grin he wore far too regularly. “Josh and y/n movie night?” You asked excitedly and his smile widened. “We haven’t had one in so long,” you whined. “Take out too?” You asked even more enthusiastically, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. “Yup, already on the way. Our favorite Chinese place downtown, and before you ask, yes I remembered to ask for the chopsticks and extra fortune cookies,” he added dramatically.

Jake:

After a particularly long day at work, you were really looking forward to changing into comfy clothes and cuddling up next to your human heater of a boyfriend to watch his cooking shows before bed. Your cramps and bloating had been killing you all day, and you were exhausted. As soon as you stepped in the front door, a delicious scent welcomed you. “Welcome home, love!” Jake called out as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat and keys. You sauntered into the kitchen and found him stirring a big pot of what appeared to be tortellini soup. He was only in a pair of flannel pajama pants with his hair up in a wet bun, fresh from the shower and ready for cuddles. You wrapped your arms around his waist as you hugged him from behind, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder blade while watching him. “Hey baby, smells good,” you murmured against his warm skin. He giggled at the sensation before replying, “Good. I know you’ve had a hard day, so I thought it might help. There’s also a bath drawn, a fresh towel, and a clean pair of cozy pajamas laid out on our bed…why don’t you go get ready while I finish up in here, okay?” You pinched his butt as you walked away, both of you laughing. After your bath and getting ready for the night, you walked back in to find Jake had already placed two bowls of soup on the coffee table, poured you each a drink, dimmed the lights and lit your favorite candles. Peak relaxation. He was seated on the couch with the remote in hand, scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what to turn on. “You look cute,” he smirked as you walked into his view. “Jake, you didn’t say they were matching pajamas…I love them so much!” You were nearly in tears over that gesture alone. He patted the seat next to him, beckoning you closer. You obliged, sinking down in the cushion beside him. “I love you so much,” he replied as he leaned in to kiss your temple.

Danny:

From your cozy spot in bed, you could hear the front door open and Danny’s keys jingle before falling into the glass bowl by the door. The soft rustle of the plastic grocery bags as they bounced off his thigh while he walked let you know he was coming to you. “Hey baby,” he said softly as he pushed open the bedroom door. He offered a gentle smile as you turned to face him. “I was hoping I’d make it back before you woke up from your nap…but I got you a few things while I was out,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your lower tummy, right where you’d been cramping all morning. You puckered your lips expectantly, waiting for him to lean in and kiss you. “Thank you baby,” you replied sleepily as he leaned away. He sat the bags down on the bed, pulling out 3 different brands of variety pack tampons and 4 packs of pads. He blushed as your eyes widened, “I wasn’t sure what brand you wanted and then I realized there were sizes…” His voice trailed off as you giggled and put your hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly in reassurance. “Anyways, I called my sister and she said that you’d probably want midol, chocolate, and salty snacks, so I grabbed everything I could find,” he laughed this time, dumping out an entire bag of different chocolate themed candy bars, chips, trail mix, and the value sized box of Midol. “You’re the sweetest human in the world, Daniel Wagner. I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you beamed up at him.

Sammy:

You and Rose were cuddled on the couch, with the brindle dog resting her head in your lap as you watched tv. A FaceTime notification came through, and your heart fluttered. “Hey Sammy!” You said excitedly as the call connected. “Well hello there beautiful! How are my favorite girls?” He asked with a bright smile as he leaned back on a pile of white pillows, already in bed. “Rosie had such a good day, didn’t you girl?” You sweet talked the pup and angled the camera so Sam could see her wagging her tail. “She got to play with her friend at the park-you remember that chocolate lab that she really likes?” You brought the camera back to yourself and saw Sam just completely enamored with you, listening intently with a easy grin. “Yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “Rose,” he began sternly, “you be careful around those boys..boys are nothing but trouble.” Ever the protective dad. You laughed loudly and Sam echoed it before asking you, “What about you, angel, how was your day?” You sighed and made a face. “I started my period yesterday, so today I’ve been cramping and starving…and now I’m just missing you,” you admitted softly. “I miss you, too,” he sighed. “Oh! Flip open the ottoman really quick,” he beamed at you as he waited. You sat the phone on the coffee table, leaned against the candle in the center so he could see you as you opened the ottoman and pulled out your favorite pullover of Sam’s. You practically squealed as you put on the brown, teddy bear one that still smelled like him. “I thought you took it with you,” you glared at him, remembering him packing it in his suitcase before he left. “I was going to, but I thought you might miss me..or at least I was hoping so,” he laughed as he raked his fingers through his hair. “What else is in here?” You leaned forward only to find a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, which just so happened to be your go-to period snack. You glared at him and his cheeks blushed pink. “Okay, so maybe I knew you’d be on your period and I thought these might help,” he shrugged and you both stifled a laugh. “Samuel Kiszka, are you tracking my cycle again??” You feigned shock, already knowing the answer was yes. “I feel like I should say no…but honesty is important…” he began before pretending to glitch out as if the service was suddenly bad. Despite the “glitch” he managed to say “I love you��� before the call “dropped.” “He’s such a shithead,” you thought to yourself as you giggled and opened your bag of pretzels. Rosie leaned forward and retrieved a stuffed duck from the ottoman container and you shook your head. Shithead or not, he always took care of his girls.

[severusimpact]

Alaira

Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

Previous chapter

Alaira had awoken to the smell of damp floor boards accompanied by Raven pawing her face.

It took her a minute to process she wasn't in her own home, but instead in a room located at the leaky cauldron. Removing Raven from the bed she tried to catch a few more minutes of rest before she started meowing loudly.

"Ah yes Raven. I hear you. I really do. Come on let's get you fed and then I should probably head out for the day."

Alaira jumped out of bed and pulled out some cat food from her trunk and put it in Ravens food bowl. Raven instantly became disinterested in Alaira and focused on the food began devouring it.

Alaira's stomach had started to rumble showing that it was time she had breakfast as well. She quickly put on a simple outfit and said goodbye to Raven before exiting and locking her room.

Before she could even make it halfway down the stairs a loud voice called out to her.

"Ah 'ere she is. I knew I'd spot yeh straight t'way. Yer 'airs as white as teh malfoys."

Alaira looked at the source of the voice and saw a large man with long beard and hair even longer to match. She was running through how this man would know her, until it clicked that the only one that would know her is the person dumbledore said would meet her.



She made her way down the staircase so she could properly greet the man.

"Yes that's me. Nice to meet you. You must be the one dumbledore said would meet me. And...erm...what's a malfoy."

Alaira had truly no idea what a malfoy was but apparently they won't be hard to find considering they have the same white hair as hers.

"Eh- ne'ermind that. I'm Reubus Hagrid, grounds keeper of hogwarts. But yeh can just call me Hagrid. Dumbledore said I should show yer ter way aroun' diagon alley. But I'd imagine yehd wanna eat first."

At that moment Alaira stomach let out a sound to signify she was indeed hungry.

"Tom, two full 'nglish for me an Alaira 'ere, come on Alaira take a seat it'll be bought over when ready for yeh."

Alaira had taken a seat at a small table with Hagrid. She could feel people staring at her once before, she wasn't sure if it's because both her and Hagrid seemed to stand out or if it's people thought she was a malfoy as Hagrid had said.

Not long after they had taken their seats was a full English breakfast brought over to them. Alaira smiled and thanked the server before looking at the food and marvelling at the smell. She could feel herself staring to drool at the sight of it.

They both dug in and soon enough they had both finished. Hagrids plate being completely empty and Alaiars almost save a few pieces left.

"Now yeh have eaten I s'pose I should show yeh a few shops around the area."

They both stood up heading to the door to leave but not before thanking Tom for the service and food. When they exited the leaky cauldron they were met with a wall. A wall?? It must be a wizard thing she thought.

Then Hagrid tapped the wall in certain places and it began opening up unveiling a busy winding street full of witches and wizards. She had never seen a place so tightly packed.



Alaira hadn't realised her mind had started to wander till she saw Hagrid ahead of her in the seemingly never ending crowd. She hurried to catch up with him, eventually ending up walking beside him.

Many people seemed to know Hagrid and were greeting him with a small and good day as they passed him. Hagrid usually responded with a tip of his head and a smile of his own.

"That shop over there is olivanders, but you won't be needn' that, as yehve already got yer wand. That ones flourish and bloots that where yeh can buy books and where most the students buy there books."

Flourish and blotts was definitely one of the shops Alaira would be visiting during her time there. To buy books to refresh her magical knowledge as well as have something to pass the time.



Alaira was still staring at the book shop not noticing hagrid had been stopped by an unknown man and was having a serious conversation. Her eyes only broke away when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout this Alaira. There's something dumbledore needs me for so I'll have to be going now. Oh an before I forget, here's your ticket for the hogwarts express. It leaves from kings cross station, platform 9&3/4."

And with that Hagrid had left. Alaira looked at the ticket before placing it in her purse and heading towards the bookstore. However it was just as packed as the streets were. It seemed to be full of families preparing for the coming school year.

Alaira decided to spend as little time in there as possible. She had chosen some books after squeezing between people. Taking them over the counter to pay she had felt eyes on her. Turning she looked to see a man with hair as white as hers. His eyes seemed to hold confusion with them.

She could see that the man was now coming towards her, she quickly paid and managed to lose him in the crowd of the store and leave. She didn't know what told her that she should avoid that man, but something inside her could feel malice within him.

Feeling as if she had enough from today she had decided it was best to go back to the leaky cauldron. Especially as her cat was probably waiting patiently for her return.

When Alaira had returned to the cauldron as excepted her cat went into a small fit at even being left for a short time.

She spent the rest of the day relaxing with her cat and reading. Trying to ready herself for her new position at hogwarts.

Before she had known she had fallen asleep. She dreamt. Not a kind dream of warmth and love. But a dream of pain and a never ending loneliness. Though in that pool of darkness she heard a cry, a cry of someone broken who needed help.

[bethany-sensei]

Akieryon’s tiny friend boldly claimed the seat beside Luccan. The Cherub took the last open seat on Ragheiyont’s side of the table. Akieryon looked a question at both of them.

“I’m buying,” they said in unison. The Cherub chuckled and amended: “We’re splitting the bill.”

Ragheiyont reflected that he should probably give Akieryon his wallet back.

A cheerful young angel wearing a black apron appeared and began to ask for their drink order. Luccan interrupted at the second syllable. “Ten fish tacos, none of that onion and cilantro stuff, and a large side of sour cream.” He slanted a glance at Ragheiyont. “The kid’ll have the large carne asada plate.”

Ragheiyont had no idea what most of those words meant, so he kept his mouth shut. Akieryon ordered sopa de albondigas and a loaded elote, and the other two also ordered tacos. The server disappeared, and returned a moment later with a bowl of something red and a basket of little crunchy flatbreads. Akieryon and his friends started dipping the triangular flatbreads in the red stuff. Ragheiyont decided to join them.

The little crunchy things were salty and a little oily. The red stuff fought back. It had a pleasant tangy taste, followed by a tingling burn that made his nose water. He blinked hard and pressed the sleeve of his borrowed coat to his nose while Luccan did a poor job of smothering a laugh.

Ragheiyont took another bite. Then another. The sensation was odd, but he kind of liked it. Anyway, it tasted good and he was absolutely ravenous. Akieryon and his friends exchanged amused glances. With one finger, the Cherub moved the bowl a little closer to himself.

“Save some salsa for the rest of us.”

“We can get more.” Akieryon’s little friend slanted a glance at Luccan, then, deliberately, shifted to angle his back slightly toward the cat. Ragheiyont wondered if that was rude.

Akieryon leaned forward. “We have to get to Seikhiel tonight,” he said, his voice pitched almost too low to be heard in the busy dining area. “Luccan, did you find anything?”

“You won’t like it.”

Ragheiyont grinned knowingly. “Is it to do with a big key and a Lucie-guy?” His grin broadened as Akieryon and his two friends aggressively shushed him. Luccan tipped his head to the side, indicating their server, who hefted a large tray and headed toward them. Everyone leaned back from the table. Unerring, the server placed plates in front of them. Tacos were apparently folded flatbread with protein and vegetables tucked inside. Luccan’s arrived all lined up on a rectangular plate. He immediately picked one up and shoved half of it in his mouth.

Ragheiyont’s carne asada was a plate of grilled meat with onions and seasoned rice. Compared to his usual fare, it was nothing short of decadent. After his first bite, he ate with gusto, largely ignoring the conversation that swirled around him. Comments like “Get the green goop away from me” and “Touch the cream again and get stabbed” meant nothing to him. He didn’t even glance up when Luccan daintily shifted two wedges of some green fruit from his own plate to Ragheiyont’s. The meat was just too good.

The scrape of a chair dragged his attention from his plate at last. Ragheiyont looked up and blinked at yet another stranger, this one taking a seat at the end of the table. His luminous pearlescent skin and long white hair gave the impression that he was made of moonlight, and his deep red shirt and black leather coat helped the image along. Elaborate jewelry hung from his ears and his throat. Here, at last, was an angel who truly knew how to dress.

“Lord Baraqiel!” Akieryon’s Cherub friend started to his feet, presumably to salute, but Akieryon shoved him back into his seat.

Baraqiel tucked his fine lace cuffs out of harm’s way and helped himself to the salsa. “Progress?” He addressed the question to Akieryon, who nodded.

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[greycaelum]

Nights when sleep is hard to come by

The pitter-pater rain fall on the roof like a symphony kept you awake. Through the blinds, streaks of lightning flashes, permeating the darkness of the room announcing the arrival of a thunderstorm.

The storm outside rage on and you can't help but feel your toes curl and shiver from the coldness of the room and the unforgiving downpour outside.

"Mnn," Satoru's eyes fluttered half-lidded and search for yours. You flash him a helpless smile.

"Go to sleep, it's okay." You pat his cheeks, running your thumb across the apple of Satoru beautiful face.

"Hold," Satoru murmured reaching out to envelope you in his arms. "Me..." He trailed down when you wrap your arms around his back and rub circles on his shoulder blades easing him to slip back to Dreamland.

"Okay, big cat," you teased yet kiss his chin akin to placating a fragile being, tad afraid that if you whisper a little louder he might break.

He moaned softly snuggling himself into your chest. His breathing fanned your clavicle that you can't resist but sigh in comfort and warmth.

"...Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

You chuckled at his groggy voice as Satoru fights of his sleepiness, waiting for your answer.

"I want to watch you sleep." You stroke his head fondly, brushing the tangled white locks between your fingertips. "You're adorable when you sleep 'Toru."

"Am I?" He lazily smirk against your collarbones. But then, a loud growl resonated in the room amidst the thunder and lightning.

"Hungry?" You softly asked.

"Hungry..." Satoru mumbled, fluttering one of his eyes open and look at you with pitiful eyes.

"I can cook, instant noodles." You suggested, the fleeting drowsiness slowly fading away, quite ready to pull yourself out the bed.

"Yes please," Satoru yawned but made no move to set you free from his embrace.

"Noodles?" You asked again, resuming the lazy stroking on his head. Patience has never been your strong point, but as you gaze on Satoru's sleeping face. His hands clutches you so tight, trying to squeeze himself as close as possible to you, you can't help but lean down and kiss the crown of his head.

"Noodles..." He grumbled, repeating whatever it is you say in mumbles.

The house was cold and the gloominess rain brings fill the kitchen despite the lights turned on. If you went down here along you might've hesitated and just curl in the bed than facing the dark alone.

But then, Satoru is hugging you from your back, practically crushing you in his weight while ripping the noodles seasoning open and mixing it in the water.

"Go sit, it won't take a while." You tried breaking free but your beau begs to differ. Satoru in opposition simply buried his head into your hair and tightened his arms around your waist.

"Stay still." He said.

After putting the noodles in, all you have to do is wait for it to boil.

"Why are you being extra clingy? Hmmm?" You pull him to sit on the counter chair while you stand between his parted legs. Satoru sighed contentedly and buried his face into your bosom.

"Rain's making me lazy." He muttered and kiss your chest before burying his face to doze off.

"Love, I need to get the noodles it's boiling."

"My noodles?" He perked up from your chest and let go. But instantly he shivered at the sudden gust of coldness when you left his arms.

"Our noodles." You rolled your eyes and set down a plate and a bowl above it then turned the stove off.

Satoru pat the seat beside him after you pour the hot soup into the bowl. You gave him chopsticks and the spoon while he pulled the still near beside him.

"Like it?" You wipe the trickle of sweat on his forehead from eating the hot noodles.

"Love you," he hummed, giving you a bite of the noodles. Where else could he find someone who would wake up in the middle of this stormy night just to cook for him? And most of all, let him eat ALL the noodles by himself?

If that's not love, Satoru must be dumb. He blew on the spoonful of soup and offered it to you which you gladly sip.

The rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. To be honest Satoru doesn't mind anymore, that just adds a bonus for him to cuddle you more later. He finishes the bowl of noodles and drank a glass of water. Satisfied of his cravings thanks to you.

Satoru notice you bury your head on his neck while waiting for him to digest down. Your eyelids getting heavier and your breathing getting slower to a rhythmic pattern a tell-tale you're fighting the sleepiness to stay up with him.

"Let's go up, imma handle that one tomorrow." Satoru's heart softened and slip his arm under your knees to carry you.

"Satoru..." Your words slurred that it made him chuckle at how precious you sound.

"Hmmm?"

"Good night..." A big yawn stretch your lips and smothered your face against the crook of Satoru's neck.

The faint whiff of chicken noodles seasoning clung to him.

"Sweet dream beautiful," he whispers and slowly set you down the bed, settling you inside the blanket. He can't help but bent down and kiss you before joining you in.

You rolled to face him and scooch in closer, laying your head on his arms then dip your lips to kiss his chest then whispered back, "Love you... 'Toru, sleep my love."

He watch you fully succumb to slumber. The lightning flashes and a raging thunder followed.

"I will love you like the thunder follows after the lightning. Fiercely and irrevocably." The word spill past Satoru's lips as you snuggle into him amidst the thunderstorm outside.

Because I know, no matter how reckless I am, you're the calm after my storm... Satoru kissed your temples and closed his eyes

Thunderstorms with you aren't that bad...

[st4rbwrry]

aphrodisiac. akira fudo.

# warnings; fem!reader, black coded, drug coercion, potions, fingering, dirty talk, couch sex, witch reader, hair pulling, femdom, oral.

 it’s not even halloween, and yet you had him sculpting a six-foot-tall replica of freddy kruger's infamous knife glove. it's only been his second day here in your—interesting home. he's only spoken to you for about five minutes, keeping it brief on your end since you were rushing to head out that day. while you were gone, he had time to examine your home. you were definitely a collector, and maybe a witch? by the way you dressed, akira could tell you were surely the dark, majestic, spiritual type of woman. black, all black. it took up the majority of your wardrobe, and even your apartment. matte black walls, astrology tapestries, crystals, dozens of famous horror figures like michael myers, jason vorhees, leatherface, scream. a life-sized chucky doll sitting legit by the bathroom door. candles, books, portraits of your favorite artists ranging from three days grace, deftones, bones, motionless in white—anything edgy.

   one thing that caught his eye, was how fucking gorgeous you were. even now, it was hard for him to fully focus as he watched you from his peripheral view, holding your black cat with pumpkin orange eyes by your waist like your child as you strolled around your apartment burning sage. you seemed to like dresses considering this is the second time he's seen you in one; gothic long sheer dress that showed a little too much of your thighs, luckily you had shorts on beneath. a satin bustier bodice with floral lace appliqué, dress swaying with your every movement. there's a few silver rings on your fingers, a lace choker around your neck, a leather garter belt on your right thigh, only there for fashion. you had on combat boots this afternoon when you ran out for groceries.

   usually projects like these take only three to four days for him to finish, but he fears it'll take just a little longer considering his sudden attraction for you. he knew how you looked before he met you, seeing your profile on instagram when you contacted him on his business page for this very project. cameras don't always do much justice, because your beauty is ten times more illuminate in person. the energy radiating off of you pulls him in like a magnet. your soft but slightly raspy voice, your marshmallow and coffee bean ambrosial, the way you walk, your smile, those lips of yours always drawn with black liner and smeared with gloss. perfection. mysteriously so.

   closing your eyes, you hum along to the music playing from your vinyl, smiling deviously as you pull the cork from a glass cylinder, twirling the green substance before looking over your shoulder to eye the man on his knees on the carpet, deep into his work, before pouring it into the boiling gumbo, stirring the aphrodisiac in. you wanted to see if he'll react, since everyone’s bodies are different, and get the wish you've been wanting granted since the intimidatingly tall, lean man stepped into your home.

   "join me," the vanilla tone of your voice catches his attention, turning his head to see you standing before him with a bowl of steaming food in your palm.

   akira smiles, graciously thanking you as he wipes his clay covered hands on his jeans. "i should probably wash my hands."

   "kay," you giggle, his chest bursting from the beautiful sound. turning, you stroll towards the couch, waving your cat away and taking a seat on the right side of the velvet black sectional. akira can practically feel the burn of your gaze on the back of his head, reeling to the way his back muscles tense as he rinsed off his foam covered hands.

  after towel drying, he makes his way back to you, the thud of his heavy doc martens causing an ache between your thighs you cross over the other to relieve the tension, his head tilting up at you before he laughs.

   “why do you look so tense?”

   “i feel like i put too much salt,” you twiddle your fingers against your cheek with a pout.

   "it smells and looks really good. i'll eat it up regardless," he tongues his inner cheek with a grin, your eyes stalking his legs as he takes a seat beside you.

   carefully, akira takes the steaming hot bowl into his hands, making sure to keep the thick waffle cloth beneath it firmly around so it wouldn't burn him. he can feel your gaze on him, the silence making him gulp. he tastes it after blowing gently over his spoon, nodding his head in approval and taking another bite, and another before smiling thankfully towards you.

   he'll be thankful alright.

   "how does it make you feel?"

   he raises his brow at the odd question. "uh, i guess—warm?"

   "mhm," you smile, picking up your own bowl before eating away. now it's his turn to stare, and he notices the direction your looking in is towards his project.

   "it's already turning out beautifully."

   "yeah, i should be finished in a few days."

   "sucks, i'll see you less," you wink, akira laughing.

   "you can always call me over for more stew."

   conversation spews on, and you realize he's downed the entire bowl within five minutes. he's very talkative, another note you gathered. he speaks fondly of his work, pays homage to those who've supported him. a child, a pretty baby girl named angel he showed you tons of photos he adored. he explains that the relationship with the mother is strictly parental. that they're only cordial because of the baby. hearing him speak of another woman, how she wronged him, or atleast what you're hearing from his side of the story, somehow it engraved jealousy. sure, he's been with other women, but have they given him what he truly desires? did they fuck him good enough to keep him? clearly not. one, two, three—too many women, too many stories, too many goddamn inconveniences.

    "i have a confession."

    it's okay. all of them crafted him for you.

    akira's breath stops as his eyes catch the way your nails drift to his knee, caressing halfway up his thigh until you bring it to your own, shifting in your position and raising your legs up to rest your bare feet on his thighs, spreading yours further apart. akira observes the way your sheer dress slides up to reveal more of your skin, swallowing his saliva as your foot hovers over the tint in his jeans, biting your lip, toes threatening to apply pressure.

    "confess," he grits his teeth, scanning your lips.

    "i did something naughty," you pout, batting your lashes.

    "as in?"

    "i may have laced the gumbo."

    akira is silent, and so are you. you wait for anything to come from him; a reaction, a complaint. the man before you drops his head before shaking it and chuckling deeply, the sound sending chills up your spine.

    "i knew it was something. i'm way too talkative tonight."

    "it's an aphrodisiac," you pronounce slowly, sensually, on purpose, eyes trained on his lips. "it enhances your sexual desires. only some react to it."

    "what are you—a witch or sum?"

    leaving him dry with questions, you only grin, biting your lip before finally pressing your toes down onto his crotch, akira stifling a groan and grabbing your ankle. he pries your legs further apart, calloused hands smoothing over your inner thighs until he reaches the drenched lace covering your pussy.

   "it's my job," you whisper, softly running your lips over his.

   "what is?" that voice again, so deep and salacious it goes straight to your clit.

   "i can tell when a man isn't being fucked properly. so, i give them something to ease them, lure them into those repressed desires and fulfill them."

   "or you're just satisfying your own," he says.

   "maybe. but it captures them every time."

   "i wonder," he trails off, slender fingers gently sliding off your thong. wasn't she wearing spandex earlier? didn't matter. "maybe it's because you're so goddamn tempting not to fuck."

   "i'm sure that's—it," akira's lips continue to curl up wickedly, the pads of his fingers rolling over your clit, keeping your right leg apart while you held your left to your chest, spread open completely for him as he rests his elbow on the headrest of the couch before settling his cheek in his palm, turned on his side to watch you, faces inches apart.

   "because you smell fucking delectable, flesh and arousal. because your smile is sweet, your tone is sensual. the way you carry yourself—grown. a woman."

   your mouth falters open as akira gathers your cum around his fingers after dragging two of them between your folds, slowly sinking them inside, testing the waters. your toes curl instantly, bucking your hips into his hand as his thumb presses your puffy clit and you finally moan. he's trying to take over. he takes his time savoring the way your walls clamp around him, begging without words to pull him deeper.

   "there you go," he gasps with you as he fucks you faster, knuckles deep, palm slick and slapping against your clit. you shudder under his control, gut twisting when he kisses you, tongues twirling together, eyelids droopy as you suck each other's lips, biting his to taste a hint of blood.  

   you find yourself gripping at his shirt, rising it up the harder his long fingers pounded into you. his hips jut when your hands drift over his bulge, skilled hand loosening his zipper to pull his dick out, not seeing much but feeling how big he is just by stroking it.

   "wanna put it in your mouth?" he heaved, shuffling in his seat to lower his jeans.

   your mouth waters at the thought, grabbing his wrist to stop his hand, guiding his coated fingers to your lips before wrapping your mouth around, sucking your taste off him. his dark eyes become midnight, impatient to have that same warmth on his cock right now. it's crazy, the more you suck on his fingers the more he can actually feel you already engulfing him in your mouth. the man before you furrows his brows confusingly, moaning as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head on his fingers, hips twitching from the exact sensation around his cock. as if there's two of you here sucking him off. you aren't touching him at all.

   "what the fuck did you put in that stew?" akira's mind blown, turned on nonetheless, but extremely lost. again, you say nothing, moaning around his hand and keeping your eyes locked on his. he's shifting in his seat, jeans now clinging to his knees as he thrusts into the air as if into your mouth. it feels the fucking same.

   drool dribbles down your chin, gagging on his fingers and it's pushing him too far. akira releases a high-pitched moan and pulls his hand away in shock, that compression of your throat identical to the one he felt below. he takes his wet hand and brushes it over his dick, thighs interacting from sensitivity. you take it upon yourself to gather your skirt and lift yourself onto him, akira staring up at the back of your neck hazily while you balance yourself on the balls of your feet, his hands on your waist, squeezing your flesh.

   "just relax," you reassure, keeping one arm thrown around his neck and sinking yourself down onto his cock fully, both of you moaning together. you feel him pulsate inside you, rolling your hips down, clenching tightly around him to which he reacts by taking your hair in his fist and tugging your neck back so it rests on his shoulder.

   that's your queue, not to grind, not to roll your hips, but to straight slam down until the sound overshadows the music, skin hitting hard with his own, breathing heavily into the air. it's rough the way you fuck him. needy, deprived, thirsty. akira can barely watch you, face scrunched while he keeps his lock on your hair, now with both hands, feeling the air on his neck from your rapid pants. 'fuck. shit. bounce on it like that. swear to god you're gonna make me fucking cum.' all of these flow from him like a melody.

   your hips are starting to ache from the way you have your body positioned, whimpering as you rise to release him momentarily, twisting your head out of his hold so you could turn to face him and his dazed expression. your only on your knees for a minute, staying on your feet, arching above him so your chest is in his face, his hands molding your ass with a groan while you use the back of the sofa for leverage. shifting your ass back, grinding and rolling your waist now since he's in the state you needed him to be; near done. akira's head is tossed back, guiding you but not really as you drop your ass and he catches it with small efforts of thrusts.

   leaning closer, you slick your tongue over his neck up to the back of his ear, kissing and moaning on his skin, whispering his name like a spell while he matched your energy and chanted yours. there we go.

   "i know, baby," you kiss his jaw. "she's good to you, isn't she?"

   "nnh," he can barely speak, shakily humming. his hands dig into your soft skin as you fuck him fast, threading your fingers through his black hair to hold tight, his hands coming back up to yours and holding your hair in his fists once more, both of your heads held back.

   akira begins to raise his hips, fucking up into you to chase his orgasm, stunning you enough to make you drop to your knees and meet him thrust for thrust, choking on your sobs. he keeps one hand in your hair while his free arm wraps around your waist, leaning forward until you’re hovering over his legs and the table, those dark eyes of his watching your face contort with pleasure. rocking your hips as your clit grinds against his abdomen.

  "make me cum, keep moving,” he strains above you, your mouth dropping as your hands trail behind him to hold onto his knees, akira sitting back with his grip still on your waist, two hands now, to make sure you don’t fall. you use this to push yourself forward onto his cock, stomach shuttering and a bead of sweat trailing down the valley of your chest from the practical workout.  

   “jus—m’fuck. almost there,” he’s slurring his words now, and nothing makes you happier than to see a man in this weakened state.

   “akira,” you chew on your lip, whimpering his name each time you slammed your hips down, making sure to clench your walls. “akira. akira.”

   and then, he’s cumming, ready to pull you off but you whisper repeatedly that it was okay, they were safe. holding him deep inside of you, swirling your hips very gently, closing your eyes from the feel of his cum coating your walls, akira breathing inordinately, still moaning.

   “fuck,” he laughs, lazily staring at you before taking your lips in his, swallowing his sounds and stroking his jittery waist, sitting up.

   "phasmatos somnus," a snap of your finger by his ear has him drifting into deep slumber, entire body weakening beneath you. pressing a kiss to his lips, you ease off and lay him on the couch, tossing a throw blanket over his body and tucking him in. striding towards your bedroom, you dig into your dresser to find a shiny pair of handcuffs, ignoring the way his cum slid down your inner thighs, making your way back to him and cuffing his wrist to the table's leg.

   pumpkin meows at you from the window she currently resides, judgement instilled in her eyes as you dial a number in your phone and press it to your ear. wouldn't be the first. "hey girl, he's here. come by around 8. don't bring angel, please. wouldn't want her seeing daddy all tied up."

   there's not much else to say, the signals been given. pulling the phone away after the woman hangs up, grinning ear to ear, stalking closer to a peacefully asleep man, you stroke his black hair with pride. "see you in the morning."

[cauzukofleascum]

Old Comforts in a New World (Togata Mirio x Reader)

Chapter One: A Weak Breeze on a Summer Day

It was a hot August Monday and literally nothing had gone right for you. You opened your sleep-crusted eyes at five in the morning, invisible fists pounding against your skull, alarm clock blaring louder than what you felt was necessary for a clock. You dragged yourself to the shower of your tiny, dank, outer-Mustafu apartment. You turned on the shower, stripping out of last night's slightly sweaty, a little-too-sticky sports bra and panties. You gazed at your brown skin in the mirror, tired, sleep-blurred eyes roaming over your body. You looked good; drained, but good. You stuck your hand in the water to check the temperature. Why was it cold? Oh hell, the water heater went out. You cursed under your breath, making a mental note to argue with your landlord about fixing it later that afternoon. You stepped under the water, ice-cold tears running down your body, goosebumps jumping up against your skin. You washed quickly, shuddering and sniffling under the water, before jumping out and wrapping yourself in a towel. You went out to grab your suit from the laundry room, put it on, then hurried back to the bathroom to put on your makeup and get ready for the day. Time seemed to move in slow motion, breakfast seemed slower than before, the sun rose slowly over the city, casting light into your coffee. Wait, shit, you've sat there for too long! You're late! You scrambled up from the table, grabbing your coffee and scraping the leftover omelette into your cat's bowl. You grabbed your car keys, and practically threw yourself into the car. Now begins your long, boring, traffic-filled commute to work.

You sat in the car, listening to the radio. Although you lived outside the city and were usually safe from terrorist attacks, you liked to stay updated when something happened so that you knew when to move back into your 'panic house,' which was your parent's home in America. As you clicked the buttons on your radio, the newsman's voice announcing grimly: "The terrorist known as Overhaul is wanted by the Hero Commission, last sighted in the center of last week's traffic accident on [KZZRT-!] Street. Star U.A. student Lemillion has announced he is officially retired." You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. You had been watching the news when helicopters were surrounding the awful traffic accident, shaking on your living room couch as you watched a young man with snowflake white hair step out of a van. The thought of that sight made you shudder, but what really disturbed you was the bump under your tire and the loud hiss that you were hearing as you drove down the highway. "Goddammit, a flat," you growled, "Can this day get any worse?!" You pulled over, called your boss, and went to fix your tire. 

Two hours later, you finally made it to work. As you sat in your desk seat and logged into your monitor to clock in, your boss tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to go ahead and follow him into his office. Practically shaking in your shoes, you went and sat in the creaky, old leather chair that sat across the desk from his nice, modern, sleek one. Your boss gave you the heartbreaking news: You're fired. It had nothing to do with you being late, they had just hired a brand new worker with a quirk that complimented the office perfectly: Cloning. Sadly, you were kicked because you had the least amount of time with the company, and you were not nearly as efficient as one man who can turn into multiple men for the same pay. And, of course, companies valued free labor more than tears about how you were going to pay rent, or how hard you'd been working for the six months you'd been there. 

You packed up your desk, submitted your final timecard, and walked, head low, to your car. You sorrowfully placed your box full of office decorations and items into your trunk and started on your way home. It was about noon, and you were starving. It wouldn't hurt to stop and grab a microwave lunch before heading home to eat it. You took the long way to the grocery store, sobbing your last few tears before pulling into the parking lot and wiping the tears away from your face. You glanced in the rearview mirror.  Your eyes were puffy, red, and tired. You stepped out of the car and walked into the little corner store.

You browsed the ramen section of your local store quietly. You were in your thoughts when you heard a soft, slightly croaky voice call out: "Hey!"

 You turned, not really wanting to deal with anything or anyone. However, when you were approached by a tall, blonde, and pretty heavily bandaged blondie with deep blue eyes and a rather charming smile, your mind changed a little.

 "Ah, sorry, do I know you," you asked a bit shyly, "or am I in your way?" The blonde smiled, "You've GATA be kidding me, you don't remember me, Y/n?" 

'Why did he say 'Gata' like that?'  You wondered, staring up at him. He stared back, waiting patiently for a reaction. "Ah...no, sorry, I don't." 

He smiled, "That's alright, it's been some years! Togata Mirio. We went to middle school together." 

Your eyes lit up with remembrance, "Oh! My goodness, you've gotten so tall! Jeez, has it really been 5 years since I last saw you?" You smiled, grabbing a pack of heat-ready-eat udon noodles from the shelf. God, he was just as handsome as when he was in middle school! You'd always had a crush on him, his charming, nerdy, yet alluring personality always had some weird hold on your heart. 

Mirio smiled, motioning to himself before wincing from his injured arm. "Ah, I know! You're still as cute as ever!" You glanced down at his hurt arm, "What happened? It looks bad, you look like you were hit by a truck." Mirio shook his head, his expression momentarily falling from cheerful to despaired, "Ah, just... things happened at U.A." 

You decided not to press further. "Whatever happened looks like it took a toll on you..why don't you come over and I'll make you some food? We can catch up there." You offered innocently. Mirio brightened a little, "Trying to get me home already? Sure, if you wanna have my company." 

On the way home, you and Mirio chatted about everything and nothing. After about a twenty-minute drive, you pulled into your apartment's driveway. You let Mirio make himself at home as you started to make Udon with fresh fish stock. "You know, I'm glad I ran into you today, it's been so shitty." You said with a sigh, dropping vegetables into the broth, turning to face him. Mirio was looking down, seemingly spaced out. His expression looked desolate, haunted even. His deep blue eyes snapped toward you, and he seemed to brighten up, "Ah, sorry, didn't mean to space out!" He stood up and walked toward you, leaning over you to look into the pot, "I heard you though." He placed a hand on your head, "You're so short, I remember you used to be taller than me in middle school!" 

"You still look back on middle school, I hardly remember much from it," you said, reaching to take his hand off your head. It was so warm and rough...when you were kids it was small and soft, but these hands had seen years of hard work. You found yourself running a thumb over the small scars he had there, then quickly let go of his hand, apologizing with red cheeks. Mirio's gaze softened, "That's too bad, I remember a lot of middle school! We used to be so close, and we would pretend to be heroes together! Mighty Lemillion and his sidekick, Gaffer!" Mirio smiled brightly, yelling a bit, "Mighty Number One Heroes!" You couldn't help but smile. 

"Well, I do remember that. It was fun, pretending we would be heroes. At least you're on your way to number one, though!" To be quite honest, it pained you to think about leaving middle school and taking the entrance exam. You and Mirio had been separated after you were denied entrance to U.A., but you held no resentment or envy in your heart. It made you happy to know that Mirio did as well as he did, even if, for some reason, he was outside of U.A. right now. As you thought about this, you happened to notice Mirio's eyes turn sad. His smile never faltered, though, "Yeah!" Ah, wait, didn't the radio say something about Lemillion retiring? You furrowed your brows and began to speak; "Mirio, I h-" "You know, Y/n, you're really just as beautiful as you were in middle school. Ah, wait, the stock is gonna overcook!" Mirio pointed at the soup, quickly changing your focus. Oh well, you'd ask later.

You set the bowl of udon down in front of Mirio, then sat in the chair next to him at the dinner table. "Thanks again for keeping me company," you said softly, taking a bite of your udon, "But why do you keep..er...complimenting me?" "Ah, should I stop? Sorry, I kinda can't help it, I didn't get to tell you all those years ago, so why not now?" Mirio chuckled, running his hands through his fluffy golden hair. His eyes flicked upward to meet yours, a provocative smile on his lips. "Aha! I used to have a crush on you too, I was always just too shy to say it." You smiled at him, but looking at his face you couldn't help but imagine doing dirty things with him. Mirio was quiet, gazing at you. Suddenly, he leaned across the table, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

mamas boy - m. atsumu 

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, fluff, a little emo 

➳ wc ;; 1.1k

➳ plot ;; you and atsumus mom meet for the first time 

she can see it all over your face that you are the kind of love her son was destined to find

➳ a/n ;; why did writing this make me ugly cry... 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

atsumu miya doesn’t plan on leaving you home alone with his mother during your first meeting. 

but he’s something of a mamas boy, and when she ruffles his hair and hands him a paper bills folded neatly, he already knows the drill. she wraps her hand around his closed fist and lists off the ingredients one by one - green onions, ginger, and 2 cloves of garlic. 

then she whispers something while looking at you, sharp eyes as she leans up and says whatever secret she can’t let you in on. you squirm a little in your seat, trying your best not to be intimidated. it’s hard, because atsumu miya’s mother is.. well.. intimidating. 

and you’ve seen her in pictures, many times in fact. she’s a single, working mother. she smokes skinny cigarettes and has two ashtrays just on the kitchen table when you arrive. they’re a pair - a black and white cat. her hair is streaked with salt and pepper grey but it’s still a rich brown everywhere else. she has a mild case of crows feet but soft looking hands - a mole on her right one. her nails are painted a fresh purple, lavender and unchipped. 

you can’t sit still at the table. she hasn’t spoken much to you at all but you can hear her pull out a chair with a back of her foot. she brings a pairing knife, two bowls, a cutting board - clearly well-loved.

the first thing she picks out of the basket is an apple of many. you give her a panicked smile, hands flailing

“oh! uh, lemme help you with that,”

she shakes her head, puts the whole thing down before patting the pocket of her apron. a package of pretty cigs.

“mind if i smoke?” 

you shake your head. she nods, smacks the plastic against her palm three times before cracking it open. she lights with a decorative lighter. it’s engraved with something. the match flickers and the air fills with the lightest scent of tobacco. she lets it hang from her lips, taking a sharp inhale before letting it out in a long cloud. 

one thing you know for sure is she’s the type of woman you could only dream of being. shoulder length hair, pushed back with only a hairband. she cuts the skin of the apple with her fingers curled around the knife, thumb against the blade with confidence. it cuts smooth, sharp. 

“i’ve heard a lot about you,” 

your first reaction is to be surprise. you let out a confused really? before shutting yourself up - but for the first time in conversation, she laughs. it’s warm and a little raspy. 

“don’t be so nervous,” and her voice goes a little softer “im surprised that knucklehead could pull someone as pretty as you,” 

this time you flush, cheeks warm as she gives you a smile. it’s sly in a familiar way, a little knowing too. she taps the ash of her cigarette and starts cutting the skinless apple into slices. the peel goes in one bowl, the fruit in the other.. 

“ah.. thank you,” 

she nudges a slice towards you, chuckling when you eat it with a soft chomp. 

“atsumus always been stubborn as a bull. so is samu, but atsumu is real loud about it - always got something to say,” 

the words ring so true you let out a full, rowdy laugh - covering your mouth a little. she’s unfazed, agitation and affection woven intricately together.

“his head damn big and he’s too arrogant - noisy and never picks up his damn socks,”

her every word is full of love, the unmistakably critical kind. the kind of love that is ugly and unconditional. it’s a tough love, through and through. hardened by years of experience. 

“but he’s a good kid. not free of flaws, but he’s... good. i think i raised ‘em alright,” 

you nod, big and bright like the sun.  it’s always been her and her boys - something like love and romance so lost on her - she’d almost forgotten what it looks like. 

almost. 

but she still remembers love, even now - when she was was young and rosy and glowing just like you are. she can see it all over your face that you are the kind of love her son was destined to find. the kind of love that looks past her shoulders and stares at the baby photos on the wall. the kind of love that offers to cut fruit, the kind of love that eagerly urges one to try. to press forward. the kind of love that stays and grows and fixes. 

when she remembers what love looks like - she can see it all over your skin. in the strands of your hair. the corners of your mouth, in the center of your gravity. 

“... he better be a good man to you. if he’s bein’ a shit, come find me and i’ll set him straight” 

and her voice shakes like a leaf in the wind. her heart aches in a way she could never expect. and she can feel her own resolve crumbling, just a little. this unexpected feeling that she hadn’t lost her son but gained a daughter instead.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” and you stare at the ring on your finger with affection, at her with gratitude that words couldn’t carry “but.. he’s a great man to me. always been,” 

and her heart clenches. and she thinks to herself - she did alright after all this time. the affirmation is so heavy, she gives you a trembling smile. it’s all she can afford. what a weight you’ve lifted so easily off her shoulders. that she raised a good man, the kind their father could never be. 

“ma! i’m home,” 

both of you are startled as atsumu struts into the kitchen. there’s a cake (the secret!) from a bakery, and the groceries she’d so headily request. he sets the bags down on the kitchen table, next to the white cat. he leans to kiss his mothers temple and returns to wrap his arms around your shoulders, kiss your cheek and nudge it. 

“what’d you two ladies talk about while i was away,” 

and you roll your eyes and smile at her, wink - like the two of you share a secret you can’t let him in before rolling your eyes. 

“oh you know, just how you can’t pick up after your damn self miya,” 

he scoffs, stares at his mother indignantly as you laugh your ass off. 

“ma, c’mon! it’s not even that bad,” 

she looks at you, and smiles - shaking her head. the cigarette has gone all to ash. the sun is setting beneath the trees and it feels like a heavy burden has been lifted off her shoulders.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[thunderthighs77]

Aizawa and His Assistant Pt. 1

**Part 2** **Part 3**

 18+

MINORS DNI

(CW/TW: Fem Reader x Aizawa, pet play, smoking, humiliation, a teeny tiny piss kink hint if you squint {part 2 will have the actual p!ss}, anal play, vaginal play, vibrators, !!face fucking!!, degradation, lmk if I missed anything!)

Content: a BJ Alex inspired pet play scene with Aizawa and his secretary. :)

Aizawa lit his cigarette and sat down. He spread his arms out to the sides of the sofa and spread his legs. He was in his dress pants and a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt. While he smoked his cigarette, he had his usual unemotional expression as he looked around the dimly lit lounge room.

He reached over to the side table with the cigarette in his mouth and held a little pink remote control in his hand. He lifted an eyebrow and pressed the “on” button. On the ground, you yelped as the butt plug that was in the playful shape of a cat tail started vibrating. He raised another eyebrow and smiled and looked down at his squirming pet.

Aizawa took in and let out a puff of smoke and smirks. “Psss psss psss,” he sly tongue hissed. You looked up, whimpering. He gestures with his fingers a motion for you to come forward. “Here, kitty,” he said with a smirk. 

You look down and whimper at the strong vibrations, trying to maintain your dignity. How did you end up here? You were doing paperwork just a few hours ago at your desk, but after so many casual quickies, you thought that your boss Aizawa had wanted a little more....and to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit. 

Aizawa gets impatient and increases the vibration control. You yelp and start crawling towards him while the butt plug vibrates and you stumble a bit from the strong vibrations. He smirks as he smokes and watches. The little bell on your collar dings as you crawl towards his legs.

Aizawa bends down a little as he switches the cigarette from one hand to the other and scratches your chin like one would to a cat. He reaches for the bottle of water and a tin bowl on the table and he places his cigarette in his mouth to use both his hands. He pours the water from the bottle in a tin bowl and he places the bowl on the floor. 

You’re a trembling mess, resting your weight on your bent arms and then on your bare palms. All of a sudden, in front of you is a silver bowl, pushed by Aizawa’s dress shoes. You look up at him with lost eyes as he inhales his cigarette. 

“Drink,” he demands as smoke exits his mouth. You lean down and start licking. The sound is embarrassing. The water laps into your mouth, like it would to a dog's. It felt humiliating. You were one of the most respectful women in the office, and yet you were doing something so humiliating as this. You looked up at him and paused your drinking as a drop of water making a drip sound when it dropped back into the bowl.  

Aizawa raises an eyebrow as he blows out smoke. “Who told you to stop?” You stood still and stared at the bowl, refusing to lick it. Aizawa reaches over in his pocket and presses a button.

Buzzzzz

Damn...the vibrator. You let out a whine and tilt your head downwards again to drink the water. He smiles a crooked smile with his cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth. “Mmm, too easy for you,” he states. You stop drinking and look up at him with a confused face. “Hu-AH!”, you let out.

Aizawa pressed the button for the highest level of vibration. You yelped and threw your head down as your collar jingles. Aizawa crossed his legs and with the crossed leg, his dress shoe held your chin up and he looked at you. “Turn around,” he says as he rests his cigarette on the ashtray. While still barely hanging on from the vibrator, you hesitantly turn around and have your plugged asshole in full view for your boss.

Aizawa reaches for a little pink vibrator with a pink battery box. He sticks the vibrator in your pussy and takes a roll of tape and snags a piece with his teeth. He uses the piece to tape the box to your inner thigh. He then presses the “on” button and watches as you tremble in front of him. “Turn back around, kitty cat.” 

You whimper and hesitantly turn around and he spreads his thighs open. The vibrator in your cunt feels amazing, and it definitely makes this experience a little better than before. You rub against his legs and nuzzle your head near his inner thighs. You tremble and moan a bit from the vibrators but he picks your chin up and looks at you with his usual mundane and lazy expression. 

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over to his cigarette and places it in your mouth. “Suck,” he commands. You inhale while staring up at him and as he pulls the cigarette out of your mouth, he grips your jaw and prys it open. You blow the smoke out gently in his open mouth. He breaks away and takes the cigarette back into his mouth and settles back down into his seat.

You begin to unbuckle his dress pants and he pulls out his hard dick. You hold your mouth out open and feel excited that his dick is all yours. He pulls it out and gently smacks your cheeks with it. You bite your lip and begin to suck his tip, causing him to throw his head back and he groans as the cigarette is in his mouth. He pushes it deeper into your mouth and he slides it to the side where it protrudes your cheeks. 

 You playfully suck it and look up at him as part of it is hitting your cheek. You swirl it around with your tongue. You begin to lose your mind as the vibrations are wanting to make you cum. While being on your knees, you reach down and begin to rub circles around you clit with Aizawa’s dick still in your mouth. 

He peeks and reaches into his pocket and shuts off both vibrators. You let out a whine and close your legs to try and continue your orgasm, but it has already been ruined. Aizawa takes you out of your mouth and grips your jaw. “Who the fuck told you to cum whenever you want?” You close your eyes and lick your lips. You open your mouth and smile. He tightens his grip and has a furious expression, especially at your teasing smile. You knew you did something wrong. And you didn’t care. 

You try to make it up to him as your hand reaches over to his dick to jerk him off. He let go of your jaw and backed down to his chair and you purred, “I’m sorry, Sir. I only cum when my master tells me too,” you said in a seductive voice as you rubbed your thighs together to try and play with your clit.  You nuzzled your head on his pants and lazily jerked his dick. 

He inhales his cigarette again and watches, almost untrustworthy. You begin to slightly deep throat it as he gently pets your hair and blows out smoke. You suddenly feel him grab a chunk of your hair and thrust into your throat while his cigarette sat tight in his sealed mouth. It wasn't hitting the back of your throat. It was sliding down your throat.

 You couldn’t breathe. The smell of his cologne was the only thing you could sense as of right now. It was mixed with the smell of cigarettes as he pushed your head down to his lower abdomen. He placed his cigarette in the ashray and reached into his pocket. He turns on both your vibrators again and your brows furrow at the feeling. You start losing your mind and your eyes slightly close as you begin to tear up. He keeps pushing your head down as you just take all of his dick. Your orgasm creeps up on you, and Aizawa’s words don’t help. “You walk around like you’re this boss lady, but you are just a needy whore.”

He pulls out to let you breathe for a second and you cough and whimper and close your thighs to try and have a little hint of an orgasm. He gets angry at the thought of you coming again without his permission and he stands up and grabs a chunk of your hair and slams your nose back into his snail trail as your throat accepts his dick down its wet tunnel. The slippery sounds of your spit and Aizawa’s balls smacking your chin were the only thing you could hear. He finally shoots his milk all down your throat. “Awww...yeahhhh fuck! *He immediately pulls out and cups your cheeks. “Open your mouth,” he says while breathing heavily from his immediate orgasm.

With mascara running down your face, as well as your spit and drool dripping onto your thighs, you hold your mouth open full of his cum. He reaches over to his cigarette and inhales it. Then, he bends down and blows it in your open mouth. “Swallow, baby,” he says sweetly. You swallow and whimper as your orgasm approaches. Aizawa chuckles and shuts off the vibrators much to your dismay. "Whyyyyyy?", you moan. Aizawa put out his cigarette and states, “Because you weren’t a good kitty.”

 He reached down into his pocket and pull out a tin can of what looked like mints. He opened it and pulled out a small pill. “Open for me again, kitty.” You open your mouth hesitant to what he was going to put into your mouth. He placed the pill in your mouth and instructed you not to swallow yet. He closed the can, and put his dick back into his pants and zipped up. The pill tasted awful, nothing like a mint at all. He walked over to the mini bar and took a bottle of liquor and took a swing and he gripped your cheek and kissed you. He poured all of the drink into your mouth and you gulped it, along with the pill. He let go and you breathed heavily and wiped your lips. 

“That should go into effect in an hour or two,” he chuckled and walked away. You looked at him with a worried face and turned your head to see where he walked over to. He walked to the bar and had an sinister smile on his face. 

*It was a diuretic pill, basically it’s supposed to make you pee, like a lot and very quickly. Part 2 coming soon*

[disastermages]

[read it on ao3]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” Cangse asks, her eyes looking up at the tin roof that hangs over the train station, as if she could see through it and watch as the building gets pelted with rain without letting it touch her or the bag that’s starting to dig into her shoulders. The weight of it is welcome and familiar, it no longer burns and itches like it had after she’d first left her mother’s house.

The old woman who’d been standing next to Cangse for the last two stops only smiles and shakes her head, “This is a winter rain still, my dear, you haven’t seen a rainy day in Yunmeng until you’ve been here in the spring.” Bringing one finger up to her nose to try and brush warmth back into it, Cangse wants to ask the woman what the difference between a winter and a spring rain was, but she doesn’t get the chance.

The headlights of something bulky and black sweep over Cangse and the old woman, making them squint, even as Yu Ziyuan sucks on a lemon in the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the steering wheel. They needed her there, but it would be a cold day in hell before Yu Ziyuan would be happy about it. Cangse doesn’t dare dim the smile on her face as she waves and turns back to the woman standing beside her.

“Popo, are you going to be alright by yourself?” Cangse does her best not to bend to speak to the old woman, but it’s hard, the woman is short, and Cangse worries about the woman hurting herself to look up at her. Rain and cold were supposed to hurt old bones, weren’t they? “My friend could give you a ride if you want.”

Calling Yu Ziyuan a friend was a stretch when she was already honking the horn, the sound of it blaring, but the old woman only smiles and shakes her head, her hands gripping her bag tightly. “My son will be here soon, you go on. Your friend doesn’t seem like the patient type.” For one moment longer, Cangse and the old woman share a conspirator’s smile, trying to drag another round of honking out of Yu Ziyuan, but then Cangse is being nudged down the steps.

“Are you wearing bell bottoms?” Cangse hadn’t expected to be helped with her bags, but the sight of Yu Ziyuan’s bell bottoms more than makes up for it, the grin spreads across Cangse’s face before she can stop it, the rain is still pelting her back, and Yu Ziyuan is still frowning up at her, though she shuffles further against her side of the car, the heel of her boot catching against the car’s floor.

“Shut the door! It’s freezing out!” Yu Ziyuan demands, though she looks no less like a ruffled cat when Cangse does as she’s told, the car shaking and bouncing as she gets settled into her seat, tracking in mud that neither of them mention. Cangse would get used to the mud, she would have time.

The car starts and Yu Ziyuan reaches into her bag with one hand, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, her foot still heavy on the brake. She must feel Cangse looking at her, because Yu Ziyuan looks back, the cigarette between two fingers, “Did your mother not tell you what mine did? It’s fine to smoke, but only in the car.” It’s the driest thing between either of them, but Cangse knows a joke when she hears one, and she doesn’t stop herself from snorting, even as she cracks the window, just enough to let the smoke out and to keep the warmth in. Cangse doesn’t blame Yu Ziyuan for smoking, not since Jiang Yanli’s health had started its downward tick, but it still almost makes her cough, and it still makes her eyes burn.

“I thought you and Jiang Fengmian would have sent Wei Changze after me.” Wei Changze would have been happier to see her, but he would have insisted on helping Cangse with her bags, and Cangse would have had to thank him, but not in the same way she would have thanked Yu Ziyuan, had she offered.

Finally, Yu Ziyuan takes her foot off the brake and they start rolling down the gentle slope of the hill, picking up speed when she finally presses on the gas, the cigarette still held between two fingers. Those fingers are no longer near Yu Ziyuan’s mouth, though. “Wei Changze had to drive A-Li and her father to a doctor’s appointment.” The phrase “A-Li and her father” raises Cangse’s eyebrows, the meaning behind it clear. They were fighting again. She’d seen it during their courtship, during their engagement, even on their wedding day. Or, at least, she’d seen some of their fighting on their wedding day. Wei Changze had carefully pulled her away from that, keeping her hands held tight in both of his.

Cangse sees the smile on her own face in the window’s reflection, but she can’t see the old woman on the train platform anymore, but she doesn’t see another pair of headlights behind Yu Ziyuan’s car, either. She must have gone inside of the office, she’d only stepped out to keep Cangse company after all, hadn’t she?

The woman had been there, and she’d gone inside the station office, where it was warmer and drier, to wait for her son.

“Fengmian wants another baby.” Yu Ziyuan says it suddenly but steadily, the train station behind them growing smaller and smaller in the rearview, the cigarette between her fingers is already halfway burnt. Cangse presses her lips together, but she isn’t surprised. Jiang Yanli was almost five, she was almost five and already needed delicate handling. Jiang Fengmian would want someone he could play with. It still sets Cangse’s teeth on edge.

“What do you want?”

Cangse doesn’t ask the question lightly, nor does she ask it to be cruel, but Yu Ziyuan’s cigarette is almost completely ash by now, only a sliver of white left to see before she stubs it out quickly. Some of the ash blows onto the denim of Cangse’s jacket, but she won’t begrudge Yu Ziyuan for it.

“I think,” Yu Ziyuan starts and stops, loosening her grip on the steering wheel, “I think I’d like a boy.”

~

“He fucking didn’t.” Wen Qing’s voice rings out across the dining room, a coffee cup still held in one of her hands, but Meng Yao doesn’t turn to look at her. The spoon in his hand is too heavy, but he still plays with it, even as Jiang Yanli stands up from where she lingers just inside his line of sight. She’d been lingering like that, since Saturday evening had dripped into Sunday morning like ink, and Meng Yao had pretended that he hadn’t heard Wen Qing tell Jiang Yanli that the bruises on his neck looked self-inflicted.

They weren’t, Jiang Yanli knew that, though she hadn’t said it. It went unsaid that there was no point, but Meng Yao knew that the bruises that had been there, even though they’re fading into nonexistence. He’d hoped… he’d wanted them to be gone by the time Lan Xichen got back, so he wouldn’t have to explain, but his hand still strays up towards his neck, trying to feel for swelling that went down. Jiang Yanli and her constant, too cold, ice pack had seen to that.

“I’m not pulling him out when he gets stuck in the mud again, my whole front end almost came off the last time.” With sleep heavy eyes, Meng Yao can see Jiang Yanli’s hand on the small of Wen Qing’s back, neither of them backing away from the window. They don’t have to worry about being seen, both Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were already in town, taking care of their own businesses. They rarely came home for lunch. Jiang Yanli had told him that when she’d stepped into his office, refusing to let Meng Yao take his lunch there. Jiang Yanli had gotten stubborn about leaving Meng Yao alone. She’d left his office door open, and lingered like a ghost dressed in blues, and purples, and the occasional yellow or green, or she’d kept him from leaving to the loneliness of his own room.

She’d almost driven him crazy, but he’d been grateful for it. Meng Yao had been grateful for every interruption and every excuse she’d given just to keep him from being alone.

It still hadn’t stopped the nightmares, nor had it stopped the sleepless hours that came in between, but Meng Yao is grateful for every measure Jiang Yanli had gone to. He’d done his best to swallow it all down, but even Yu Ziyuan had called him out for the dark bags under his eyes and the way he’d only picked at his breakfast.

His work still hadn’t suffered because of it, Meng Yao had made sure of that.

“A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli’s voice is as gentle as the hand she puts on his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts and making Meng Yao look up at her. He wants to shield his eyes from the brightness that spreads across Jiang Yanli’s face, “You’ll come to the door with us, won’t you? Xichen is back, and he’ll want to see you first, I’m sure of it.” There’s insistence in Jiang Yanli’s voice, her smile wide and bright enough to make Meng Yao think to shield his face from it.

It takes him a moment too long to realize what she’s said, but when he does, Meng Yao is letting the spoon clatter into the bowl as he stands. He doesn’t care if Wen Qing turns to glare at him, he hasn’t cared about that since Saturday evening, but he somehow cares even less now.

Meng Yao can’t help but glance out the window as he walks by, his eyes falling on something light gray and shiny, and tragically just low enough to get caught in the worst of the mud if a storm were to come and swallow them up. Wen Qing’s words make sense now, even if Meng Yao had only been half listening to them. The three of them walk to the front door together, but Jiang Yanli allows Meng Yao to lead, trailing behind with Wen Qing as Lan Xichen beats them to the door, his bag hanging heavy on his shoulder and his keys still jingling in his hand.

Something makes Meng Yao stop short, his throat going tight and the light bruises around it suddenly burning again, as if they were fresh. His hand twitches, but Meng Yao won’t let himself reach up and press his fingers to them, he’d done enough of that when he’d looked into his own reflection, wary of any sudden change that might happen.

Can Lan Xichen see them? Would he have any idea that they had been there? If he doesn’t, Meng Yao won’t tell him, he couldn’t and wouldn’t put that weight on Lan Xichen’s shoulders. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did, and he couldn’t expect Lan Xichen to either, no matter how much he might want to.

But there’s already a hand pressed against his cheek, a thumb already stroking just underneath Meng Yao’s eye, soft enough that he can’t choke down the pull he feels to wrap his hand around Lan Xichen’s wrist. His own thumb strokes over the rounded bone of Lan Xichen’s wrist. If they hadn’t had an audience, Meng Yao might have pressed a kiss to Lan Xichen’s palm, but he’s too aware of Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli standing at his back, pretending that they don’t see the two of them, just like Meng Yao pretends not to see the two of them in their spare, stolen moments.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen starts, a gentle smile spreading across his face, but Meng Yao feels no need to shield his eyes from it. His other hand twitches, wanting to reach up and hold Lan Xichen’s face in return, but the chance is taken away by the sounds of two people bounding down the stairs from where they’d been doing who knows what for how long, only coming down to cut Lan Xichen’s words before they’d even fully formed.

Meng Yao has no energy left to be angry at them for it, nor does he stop Lan Xichen’s hand from slipping away from his face, though their fingers still linger, still clinging to each other by the tips. Something so small shouldn’t settle all the ruffled parts of Meng Yao, but it does. Touching Lan Xichen soothes the frayed ends and soothes the bruises that still burn at Meng Yao’s throat, whether Lan Xichen can see them or not.

It’s easier to follow the group of them to the kitchen this time, to watch as Lan Xichen drinks water from a tall glass that Jiang Yanli gets for him, to watch him lean against the counter, to participate in the flurry of conversation that comes when Lan Xichen returns, a glass of water held in his own hand.

This is a routine that Meng Yao had seen before, but he hadn’t allowed himself to be part of it. He’d tried to stay out of it, and he’d tried hard, but now Meng Yao doesn’t have to force himself to remember Lan Xichen’s name, nor does he feel the prickle of being someone new somewhere old.

He doesn’t stop himself from listing, just a little, after the others leave him alone in the kitchen with Lan Xichen, all the frayed, ruffled, and now soothed parts of him dragging him downwards, until his forehead meets Lan Xichen’s shoulder and fingers press into Meng Yao’s cheek.

“Yanli called me, you know,” Lan Xichen starts gently, stroking the apple of Meng Yao’s cheek with just the tips of his fingers, “she told me what happened.” Meng Yao squeezes his eyes shut. He hadn’t imagined that Jiang Yanli would have told on him, but he might have known that she would, if she’d been pressed. “Let me see?” Lan Xichen asks, and Meng Yao starts. The prickly feeling comes back into his stomach and he hesitates for a moment too long, swallowing thickly. “I won’t make you, A-Yao, but I was worried, I thought…” Lan Xichen doesn’t finish, Meng Yao won’t make him.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Meng Yao makes himself tilt his head back, exposing what remains of the bruises and letting Lan Xichen bend down just a little to look at them. His thumbs press into the sides of Meng Yao’s throat, and he closes his eyes, his own hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He won’t allow himself to push Lan Xichen away, he would let him be kind.

Lan Xichen deserves to be kind, if he wants to.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen whispers, leaning in closer and pressing a kiss to either side of Meng Yao’s neck, “what got ahold of you?” Lan Xichen isn’t looking for an answer, Meng Yao knows, but the words stick in his throat like bones.

Meng Yao doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels both of Lan Xichen’s hands on his cheeks, his lips on his forehead. There isn’t a breath of space left between them, and Meng Yao finally lets himself set his hands onto Lan Xichen’s hips, asking him to stay close without a word. “I should have been here, I could have…”

“Xichen,” Meng Yao tries to speak, but his voice is already muffled against Lan Xichen’s chest as he’s pulled close and bone crushingly tight. What could he have done? Would he have gone out into the woods and returned with nothing, just like the police had? Would he have tried to open the door from the hall, and would he have gotten the same result that Meng Yao had? Meng Yao presses his face into Lan Xichen’s chest and breathes hard, trying to shake the cold memory of that room off of his skin still.

“A-Huan.” Lan Xichen reminds him softly, fingers stroking gently through his hair now, though his voice is no less serious, “When we’re alone, I’m A-Huan, remember?” Meng Yao nods, but doesn’t dare raise his face from Lan Xichen’s chest, not when Lan Xichen’s whole body is still so comfortingly warm around him, driving whatever miniscule amount of wakefulness away, and making Meng Yao sleepier by the second.

“A-Huan, I missed you.” Meng Yao allows himself to say it finally, no matter how muffled his voice is in Lan Xichen’s oversized sweater. The words twist a wary laugh out of Lan Xichen, the sound of it comforting against the top of Meng Yao’s head.

“I didn’t get around to grading any of the boys’ work that I said I would, that’s how much I missed you.” It pulls at something in Meng Yao’s chest to hear that, his arms sliding up to curl around Lan Xichen’s neck, though he’s almost too short for it. “I would start to, but then I would think about you, and I would think about how you would already have all of this done. I would try again, but the same thing kept happening.”

Despite everything, Meng Yao hears himself chuckle, the point of his chin pressing into the center of Lan Xichen’s chest. For a moment, there’s only quiet and the two of them, clinging to each other like no one else could walk into the kitchen and see them, but then Lan Xichen is speaking again, the sound of him quieter now than it had been before, “I thought we could sneak away a little bit later, that’s why I brought the car. There’s a place down by the cove, Yanli told me how to get there once.”

“You’d take me there?” Meng Yao has to ask, but the words are brittle. Even if Lan Xichen didn’t know how to get there, Meng Yao remembered the walk to the cove well, when he was younger, couples went there for bragging rights, but Meng Yao had never been lured there by some high school boyfriend’s siren call, not once.

“I would.” Lan Xichen answers, pulling away, though only far enough to look into Meng Yao’s eyes before he kisses him, soft and sweet, and far, far too quickly. “Yanli says it’s prettier at night, but I thought we might catch the sunset.”

If Jiang Yanli had gone to the cove… Meng Yao silences that thought with a tiny shake of his head. He wouldn’t think about what Jiang Yanli had done with anyone at the cove, be it Wen Qing or anyone else.

If Lan Xichen took him there, it would be their cove. Theirs and no one else’s.

“Alright.”

[hearts-hunger]

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see. 

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way. 

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

 “I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love. 

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one. 

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food. 

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile. 

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. 

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

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[jingyismom]

Happy birthday Lan Jingyi!

word + mood prompted minithreads part 1:

river + sleepy

The sun is high and insects buzz all around their boat. It's too hot to be anywhere right now, but Jingyi supposes the river isn't the worst place to be. He squints up at the disciple steering them.

"We're not gonna hit any rapids or anything right?"

She shakes her head with only a slightly pitying look. Jingyi ignores it. How is he supposed to know river topography? He's not a fish.

Mm. Fish.

"Sizhui, are you hungry?" 

Sizhui does that thing where he is Not Rolling His Eyes. "No, Jingyi, I am not hungry half a shichen after eating."

Jingyi sighs. It's too hot is what it is. He yawns.

"Well if there's no excitement and no food, I'm taking a nap."

Nobody says anything. He takes this as enthusiastic support, and stretches out against the side of the boat.

"Wake me when something interesting happens."

"With Jingyi asleep, how could anything be interesting?" Sizhui deadpans. 

Jingyi lets his fingers trail in the cool water, smiling. He reaches back to lazily flick droplets at his friend and listen to the quiet, indignant sound he can't keep from making.

"Such a good point," he says. "Wake me when you miss me."

There's a beat of silence. 

"Then don't go to sleep."

Jingyi huffs into his sleeve to hide his embarrassed flush.

"Can't hear you. I'm asleep already."

"Apologies."

Jingyi can hear the grin in his voice. It's nice. He sleeps. 

~

ramen + anxiety

The dorm is far too quiet, and it's driving Jingyi out of his mind, but he knows he can't put on music and do calculus at the same time. It just doesn't work. Not that his brain and calculus work all that great anyway, but the point is, he's trying. Really, he is. 

His phone buzzes and he grabs it so fast he almost fumbles it across the room. It's a text from Sizhui.

"What are you eating?"

Jingyi lets his head drop to his desk. What time even is it? Like 6?

He checks. It's 9pm.

"Ramen," he types back, defeated. It's all he has.

Or at least, he thinks he has a packet left. He's not sure. He's been too busy to keep track. Between classes, and training, and service hours liberating old ladies' cats, he's hardly had time to breathe. And now he has a test, not a quiz, a TEST, and it's tomorrow MORNING, and he doesn't even know what he's doing with half the material.

And it's 9pm. And he /thinks/ he has ramen. He may just starve.

He stares at his textbook for another interminable period of time until his phone buzzes again. It's Jin Ling, this time.

"come downstairs. bring ur miserable ramen."

Jingyi shoots out of his seat and throws on a sweatshirt. He's not entirely certain he wants to deal with whatever Jin Ling has in mind but it's better than sitting here staring into space. He grabs the ramen and half runs downstairs.

The teeny tiny kitchen is full of people. Sizhui is chopping vegetables. Zizhen is boiling water and heating oil in a pan. Jin Ling is sitting at the table, arms crossed, bowls and utensils and more packets of ramen spread like tarot in front of them. 

"...Hey," Jingyi says, a little overwhelmed.

"Hey!" Zizhen calls, jiggling the pan as Sizhui throws something green into it. "Heard we're having ramen?"

Jingyi sinks into the chair across from Jin Ling.

"Yeah,” he says, grateful beyond words. "It was all I had."

~

rabbits + longing

"You shouldn't slouch," says Sizhui, "you're supposed to be setting an example."

Jingyi motions vaguely at the little disciples filing off the practice field, then leans his head on his fist. "They're not even looking."

"Hm."

It's disapproving sound. Jingyi glances at him sidelong.

"What, no speech?"

Sizhui gives a little shake of his head.

"Am I too pathetic for dignity? Is that what you're saying?"

Sizui frowns hard. "No. Of course not."

"I am," Jingyi insists. 

He sprawls on his back along the low wall on which they're sitting. "I'm pathetic. I can't think. I can't eat. I can't even teach basic sword forms. Sizhui, how am I supposed to be a person anymore."

"Jingyi," Sizhui pleads. 

"No, I'm serious. All I can think about is-- is his hair. And his smile. And you know, you know how sometimes he just-- he smells like rain? How does he do that? I'll never even know because he hardly knows I exist. How am I supposed to exist?"

Sizhui sighs. Deeply. 

"I don't know what to tell you. I wish I did."

"I just--" Jingyi breaks off, horrified by the crack in his voice. "Oh fuck, I just really...I want...I don't know."

Pressure builds in his chest, familiar over the last few weeks. He feels like he might burst. He presses his hands to his eyes, determined not to cry over this. Well, not again.

"You know, Hanguang-jun would say that the world itself is enough to live for, even when it's hurting you."

Jingyi peeks at him out of one eye. "Did he say that? When?"

"Last year," Sizhui says, looking at his hands.

He doesn't have to say more. Last year was especially hard for Sizhui. An extended family trip with his undead cousin helped, but really, how much can something like that improve things? 

"Well, if Hanguang-jun said it..." he says, wry. It's a common refrain, but not entirely reassuring just now. "Still, I--"

"Hanguang-jun!" Sizhui says, standing.

Jingyi scrambles to follow, straightening his rumpled robes. "Hanguang-jun."

HGJ is striding toward them out of the trees. Jingyi hasn't seen him alone since Wei-qianbei came back. He hopes everything is still okay.

"Sit," he says when he reaches them. They sit. HGJ stares at them, then glances around the empty field. "Behind the wall, on the ground."

Jingyi exchanges a glance with Sizhui, but they both clamber over it to sit behind. HGJ walks around it, stately, and then goes to his knees in front of them.

Jingyi stares, breathless, absolutely certain they're about to receive some great cultivation secret, perhaps even the key to immortality. HGJ is so serious, and careful, and has never asked him to join him somewhere private before. This is it. It's happening. He doesn't know what it is but it's happening right now.

"Be careful," HGJ says. "Do not frighten them." 

Jingyi nods. He'll be so careful. He doesn't know who not to frighten but he'll work on it-- he's generally not very intimidating anyway, it should be fine.

HGJ leans toward him. He extends his arms.

And deposits two small, round, perfectly white bunnies in Jingyi's lap. 

"H-- Hanguang-jun?"

Jingyi stares at the creatures. They're warm, and look very soft. They seem sleepy.

"When you feel better," HGJ says, "Sizhui will show you where they live."

Jingyi looks up at him, at the serene expression on his face, and his earlier resolve crumbles. 

"Th-thank you Hanguang-jun," he says, wiping tears and snot off his face.

"Mn."

HGJ stands and takes his leave. Sizhui pats his arm. The bunnies nuzzle his hands.

~

affection + congee

After one of the most miserable nights of Jingyi's life, the rising sun shines into his eyes. He rolls over and pulls the blanket over his head. Everything is awful. His head hurts. His face hurts. His throat hurts for some reason? He can barely breathe.

He feels like a boiled cabbage. He knows he should be getting up, Hanguang-jun will expect him to be at breakfast with everyone else, but he just can't. Not yet.

He pouts to himself, whimpering pathetically as he pictures Hanguang-jun’s disappointed face. He can't survive it.

He hears the door open, and forces himself upright, trying not to list to the side.

"Up, 'm up," he says, and tries to get out of bed.

He can't really see out of his watery eyes but he assumes it's Sizhui come to collect him.

"Aiyo, get back in bed you little nuisance, your thumping around will wake the whole inn," comes a different voice entirely. Brisk hands push him down and pull the covers over him. "That yao really did a number on you, huh? Who's ever heard of a sinus infection curse?? Bad luck."

"Not luck," Jingyi says, mulish. "Pushed Jin Ling out of the way."

"I know, I know," Wei-qianbei goes on, and Jingyi thinks he might be dreaming what he says next. "You were very brave, we all saw. Jin Ling is grateful."

Jingyi frowns. "That doesn't sound right."

Wei-qianbei chuckles. "Just take it. And this, here, it'll help you feel better."

A spoon appears in front of his face, full of something pale.

"Wei-qianbei," he says slowly, "is this...your congee?"

A snort. "No. Hanguang-jun made it, just for you."

Jingyi blinks up at him. "He did?"

"Mhmm," Wei-qianbei nods, his mouth pressed tightly closed.

Jingyi has a feeling he's being made fun of. He pouts, but takes the spoon and puts it in his mouth.

"Wow. Good."

"Of course it is, I made it."

Jingyi gapes. "You--"

Wei-qianbei ruffles his hair. "Someone had to take care of you and I drew the short straw. Eat up, and you /will/ feel better, alright?"

"...alright." Jingyi concedes. It seems to be helping already, somehow. "I will."

"That's a good little duckling."

Wei-qianbei laughs at his grimace and pats his shoulder.

"You look more like yourself already."

~

part 2 of these minithreads posted in a reblog later today <3

[gryffindors-weasley]

Unexpected

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco is met with something unexpected one morning, something that changes his life for the better.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of the dark mark, angst, mentions of the war, anxiety, scars, fluff, kissing

Draco was sat peacefully on the back patio of your shared cottage, looking at the beauteous rolling hills just beyond the backyard and the vibrant flowers clustered all around the house. A fog had settled in the early dawn hours, blanketing everything in a cloudy haze. He was having his usual tea as he so often did when he had the chance. Though he usually liked to spend his free mornings wrapped up in your embrace, not that it was really an option because you always had a tough time letting him go. But he had been an early riser and he felt compelled to enjoy the quiet Sunday morning outside.

This hour was always the most peaceful, the only sound having been the doves cooing and the breeze blowing through leaves. Though as much as he loved the tranquility, he hated it all the same when his mind sat in silence for too long because it inevitably lead him astray. Everything came to haunt him eventually if he let himself be alone, it always does. It’s gotten better with time, though the war was still too fresh, everything was still too new for things to not creep up on him. In those moments when he felt he had enough, he’d come to you and things would lessen.

It was when he was sitting out there that morning that it had happened. A cat, fur colored with splotches and stripes of gray and black and white, had nonchalantly walked out from the blooming row of hydrangeas along the cozy home. It startled him immediately, nearly causing the hot tea to spill over the edge of his mug and onto his hand.

He uttered a soft curse into the air, any traces of sleep disappearing from his body as he watched the animal with a cautious glare. He was never really fond of cats, having never forgotten being swatted at harshly by Filch’s, followed by a very unfriendly hiss. Though he will admit it was almost certainly because he’d been taunting the poor feline. It was definitely the cause. Regardless, he hadn’t taken to them very well but was fortunate enough to keep from crossing paths with any, until now that is.

It inched closer to him, far closer than his liking and he found himself sitting a little straighter in his chair, scooting back a bit as if the action would help his cause.

“No, off you go,” Draco shoos softly, gesturing for it to go somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The cat had of course paid him no mind as it wound up at his feet, making figure-eights as it wove around his ankles and walked right overtop his bare feet. Every few moments it’d stop its movements and rub its whiskered face against his leg, sniffing him a bit as if to see if Draco had been a threat or not. Though he had thought the small creature was rather threatening. He’d fought in a wizarding war just seven years ago, he even had the most excruciating dark magic inflicted upon him to the brink of death, yet he feels this rather small cat just might be the death of him. Even more so at its next move.

The cat effortlessly leaps up onto his lap without a care in the world and a small gasp leaves his lips, his arms raising higher as the plump little animal leaves muddy paw prints on his pajama pants. He’s tense as the very tips of its hooked claws poke his thighs, but he makes no attempts to shoo it away this time. It’s a rather uncomfortable feeling, but he feels it’d be far worse if he tries to usher the animal off his lap, so he stays put much to his dismay.

“You’re rather bold, aren’t you?” He mutters softly, still cautiously stiff but not nearly as much as moments before.

It looks up at him at the sound of his voice, round green eyes seemingly sparkling up into his. Then, without warning, the cat nudges it’s pink nose against Draco’s. The action was abrupt and rather forceful, the friendly gesture smushing the tip of his nose and nearly causing his tea to spill over the ceramic edge again. He sets down the mug all together by that point, feeling another soft nudge to his cheek when he turns his head away briefly.

It was purring, that had to have been a good sign, right?

The remaining tension was starting to dissipate from his body as he realized the animal was rather fond of him. At least it seemed to be. A small smile pulled at his lips as he ran the tips of his fingers between its ears gently and hesitantly, the cat leaning into his touch almost instantly and pressing it’s paws on his bare chest to brush against him some more.

“You are bold. Quite like my girlfriend,” he chuckles, thinking fondly of you curled up in bed inside the house. A few minutes ago he’d been just short of petrified, and now he’s found himself talking to an animal that has absolutely no idea what he was even saying.

It settles back into his lap, perched on his thigh as it’s attention was promptly pulled to his arm, almost drawn to it. The small creature sniffed at the mark forever imprinted on his pale skin, one he’d rather not look at ever again if it were possible. He felt it had been bad enough that his chest was riddled with pale pink scars from a fateful encounter in his sixth year. In one way or another, there was always going to be something that would serve as a permanent reminder of his past decisions. They’ve faded considerably over the last few years, even the mark, having been inactive and weaker with the Dark Lord gone. He’s grateful for that, for its appearance to be less harsh and hard, he’d been grateful that it’s constant burning had since gone away. But regardless, it still remained and it still taunted him every time he spared a glance. He swears he can feel it from time to time.

It’s still one of his biggest regrets, one he nearly lost you over in more ways than one. You had almost left before he’d had a chance to explain himself, and even then you were wary. He didn’t blame you, it was perhaps one of the most vile things to be associated with in the wizarding world. But the conflict swirling around his every decision, the fear behind every confident string of words he spoke, was very evident. And you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

That’s the very reason he’d almost lost you once more. Your unwillingness to let the war conclude with him on the wrong side of that ruined courtyard proved to be one of the most dangerous things you could have done. It had showcased his true vulnerability for the entirety of the school to see as he quietly pleaded for you to stop speaking against the Dark Lord, to stop being so brave for just this once. But you hadn’t, you were unwavering and it had just barely worked out for the better. If he let his mind wander too far into what could have happened to you, the churning in his stomach would surely have made him sick.

His thoughts had been interrupted by a hiss, causing him to tense once more at the unfriendly sound. The cat had been focused on the swirling mark still, it’s back arched and ears pointed back defensively.

“I don’t like it either,” he sighs, turning his arm over in quiet humiliation.

At the sound of his voice, the feline’s attention is stolen completely, visibly relaxing once more as its soft purrs sounded again.

He had the nagging feeling to go inside and find his way back to you, if only to make sure you’d still been there. He felt it was the only thing that could ease his mind at that point because he wasn’t able to clear his head on his own any more. So, he carefully nudged the cat and it promptly hopped off his lap much to his surprise. However, the curious gaze was something he’d expected.

With a glance behind him, it had been quick to follow after his strides, taking two steps for every one Draco had taken to reach the back door.

“You can’t come inside,” he chuckles, though his words didn’t mean a single thing as the splotchy cat nearly pushed its way right between his ankles to do so. “Maybe some other time, alright?”

And with that, he closed the door behind him and set off to find you.

—

“Dray?” You call out curiously, turning to find him already seated at the small kitchen table.

He hummed into his mug tiredly as he took a sip of his morning coffee, and you took a seat on the edge of the wooden tabletop. A smile was tugging at your lips as you looked at him and he raised a curious brow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’d be cat treats in the cupboard, would you?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest after you set the small bag down.

“I don’t believe I would,” he answers, hiding his smile behind another sip lengthy of his drink, though you didn’t miss the way the very tips of his ears burned pink as he eyed the bag. It was more than noticeable against pale shade his hair.

You squint at him in disbelief as you nod, amusement lacing your features and he knew in that very moment you wouldn’t let this go. So he sighed, resting his chin in his palm as he tried to remain stoic. If only for the sake of his own future embarrassment.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you laugh, running your fingers through the tangles of platinum dipping down over his forehead.

“I most certainly am not,” he argues. He may have been good at being deceptive with anyone else in the world, but with you, he didn’t stand a chance. He never did.

“I suppose this means a stranger has left a bowl of last nights dinner on the patio then,” you quip with a smirk, standing to your feet and turning to walk towards the back door.

A warm hand was quick to envelope your own and whisk you back into his chest with ease, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lips that press to yours sweetly in a valiant effort to pull your attention from your current curiosity to him instead. He thought it just might have been working when you settled you arms around his neck and relaxed against him, quieting you for a moment.

His kisses continued to the corner of your mouth, pressing sweetly to your flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he held you closer. You knew just what he’d been up to with this, he wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out, but you could let yourself bask in his affections for just a minute more. Or maybe two. A soft bout of laughter fell from your lips when his own had brushed over the underside of your jaw, a spot he knew all too well and the jovial sound made a warmth bloom across his chest. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, but his attempts to distract you seemed to have had its hold on him more so than they had you.

“Draco,” you murmur, stifling your giggles as he lifts his head and looks at you briefly, breathlessly. You lean on your toes and find his lips once more, tasting his coffee and more prominently the cream and sugar, his soft laugh evident against your mouth as he melts into you. You always have that effect on him whether he admits it or not. “Nice try.”

He’s too caught up in a blissful daze to keep you from slipping out of his arms, leaving him to stare after you with kiss swollen lips and a racing heart as you skip to the back door. He soon comes to his senses, however, but he’s a moment too late as he watches you step outside the door.

“Darling wai—”

He cuts himself short at the sight of the portly little cat seated contently on the cracked stone patio, more so at the taunting smile you’d given him. One that softens when your gaze returns to the tricolored cat nudging it’s adorably fluffy face against your hand.

“I…I’ve never seen her,” he sputters as he scratches the back of his neck, internally kicking himself because how could he know that if he’d never seen her. His statement was further disproved when the friendly feline pauses her actions in favor of falling at Draco’s feet. It was his voice. The very sound of his voice never failed to capture her attention at any given moment.

She stares up at him expectantly with big green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of the beloved owner she had so carefully chosen. He couldn’t deny the way his heart melted, or the soft smile fighting desperately to pull at his lips.

“What’s her name?”

“Pearl.”

His response was spoken without a lick of hesitancy and he’s quick to realize his mistake, eyes widening and cheeks flushing a pale scarlet. No amount of sweet talking or loving kisses could get him out of that one. He huffs out a sigh and bites the inside of his cheek as you laugh softly, a triumphant smile on your face and you cross your arms over your chest.

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighs softly and allows his shoulders to slump in his obvious defeat. Now the love of his life had the means to tease endlessly him over this, and he knew you’d take the opportunity with open arms. When he opens them again your smile is soft, and he feels the sweet creature looping around his feet again in hopes of gaining his affections. For that, he’s quick to bend over and scoop her up, and she assumes her rightful position in the crook of his arm. Her eyes fall closed in a matter of moments now, soft purrs escaping her as his thumb brushes along her face tenderly. He could deal with the pesky white fur clinging to his navy sweater later.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the precious sight, and you didn’t have it in you to tease him about it quite yet. That could wait. For now all you wanted to do was gaze at your love, who’d been cradling quite possibly the cutest cat you had ever seen. It was a sight you never expected to see, not after Crookshanks clawed him fiercely, and not after Filch’s cat had spat a hiss at him. You could have sworn he’d stay at least ten feet from the nearest fanged creature. But you supposed you were wrong in the best of ways.

“Can we keep her?” He asks softly after a while, blinking at you with pleading gray eyes.

There hadn’t been anything to think over at that point, not with the way she nestled into him with a certain familiarity that was too sweet to break. It was clear that Draco had grown attached, and she must have meant something to him because he’d never been keen on them, or any animal for that matter. It hadn’t been a question when he dipped down and planted a soft kiss on her head. Or at the sight of the blush pink bowls stolen from the kitchen cabinets, always full of food and water for the last two weeks. You’ve caught sight of the pudgy little animal in the gardens, and she’s undeniably sweet. It seems as though your answer was very clear.

“Of course we can,” you smile, and his mouth hangs agape as he looks up at you once more, almost in disbelief. “What? You couldn’t possibly think I’d say no, could you?”

The smile on his face is nothing short of adoring as he takes a moment to process your response. With careful movements, he sets Pearl down on the cushion of one of the lawn chairs gingerly much to her dismay, but she quickly lets it pass as she curls up with a yawn. He crosses the gap between the two of you in no more than two strides, taking your face in his hands before pressing his lips on yours. His tamed excitement had poured into every brush of his lips, one hand dropping from your cheek to snake around your waist and press you closer to him.

Draco wasn’t one to be outwardly expressive of his excitement, preferring to hold it in for fear of it being stolen from him if he lets it show. But it was easy to tell he’d been struggling to contain such a feeling, his kiss and loving embrace sending you stumbling backwards a step or two. He nearly swept you off your feet. He parted from your lips with the softest of grins, kissing you once, twice, three more times before a content sigh fans warmly across your lips.

“I love you, you know,” he nearly whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bounce between yours with sincerity.

You smile brightly, bumping his nose with your own as you find his lips again. Of course you knew. He might not have spoken it aloud as often as he felt like he should’ve, and when he did it was ever so quiet just for you to hear. But his actions always spoke louder than words. His kisses always assured you of such, not that you needed convincing.

“I do happen to know,” you breathe against his lips, laughing softly at the way they chased yours for more. “I love you, Draco.”

The moment of bliss within your own little world was soon interrupted by the softest of meows, little spotted paws standing firmly on Draco’s shoe. He let out a laugh and swept her up, her nose pressing to his cheek in an affectionate nudge. He found himself lucky to have not one, but two things to love, and they’re just as fond of him.

Draco doesn’t know how he’d deserved such a thing, but he’s promised himself to never let go of this unexpected joy.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @dracosaurusrex @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq