#3. learn how to paint nicely

[miss-k-lovenikki]

Gunpla Nikki

[devilrose]

Lillie

[scribeoffate]

[maraschinotopped]

explosion sfx. bomber shitennou pmv!

aka first ever pmv baby!!! i started working on this back in february and finished it. today! not jawdroppingly good by any means (probably bc all the drawings were made via my phone without a stylus and was worked on in between school stuff lol) but by god i feel like i am now unstoppable. i know how to make pmvs now. i have so much power.

i already have 2 other ideas for pmvs you people will never see the end of me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Starbucks is HOME. I showed up for my interview and a barista gave me a Free Drink. The interviewer was a touch late so I was just vibing, and that same barista brought me a cake pop because they accidentally made an extra. The interviewer is gay. I think everyone that works at Starbucks is a little bit gay. I love it there.

[roboromantic]

ough I really oughta just pay for an Actual blender course instead of trying to teach myself via youtube tutorials and messing around bc holy adhd, batman

[guinevereslancelot]

this eye care routine is a lot

[liberty-spiked]

a few months ago i started making a wearable fallout x-01 power armor papercraft :D

as you can see i already finished making the helmet and am currently working on the breastplate.

its just nice to make something so big thats from a video game you love so much!

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[tac-the-unseen]

Could you write slashers with a s/o who’s an artist? You can do with all/any you want but I would specifically like maybe the Sinclairs, Billy Lenz, Brahms and maybe Pinhead?

Slashers x Artist Reader + Pinhead

Micheal Myers:

•Pretends not to care, but he's an artist at heart

•If you sculpt or blind things he will insist on watching you over your shoulders

•Will steal supplies for you whether you ask or not

•if you Draw or paint, it's going on the fridge or wall

•He truly admires your work

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Billy and Stu really just lets you do your thing

•Stu suggest glitter no matter the work or meaning

•Billy Suggests You make a lot of gore pieces

•Both of them will go the extra mile to kill models for you, so you have a subject

•Both Jokingly propose to model nude for you

Thomas Hewitt:

•Loves it when you proudly show him your art

•if you draw/paint on paper, He'll build custom frames So he can hang it up

•If you paint on a canvas, He'll make you canvases so you can make more art

•If you sculpt/Make pottery He'll make a display case for your work

•He's very proudly flaunts it to the family

Bubba Sawyer:

•Shows you his Bone art

•Wants to make art with you

•No matter what you do, He wants to join

•Will be as happy as can be if you make crafts with him or use his supply of bones in your art

Bo Sinclair:

•His Brain immediately connects you to Vincent

•He subconsciously starts treating you like his brother, no matter your relationship with him

•When he goes to other town he grabs you and his brother some supplies

•kinda just plops you down with Vincent and expects you to to get along, especially if you sculpt

•That's about as nice as he can get

Vincent Sinclair:

•He's excited to have somebody who understands

•Will silently sit next to you well both of you work on your craft

•Feels oddly comforting to him

•His family has always been connected by art, even though they're not great people. So having you make art with him solidifies your position as family to him

•shows you his technique with wax working, and wants to teach you how to sculpt with wax

Lester Sinclair:

•pt. 3 of familial bond

•because he didn't receive much attention as a kid, He desperately tried to be an artist to gain favor of his mother

•It didn't click with him the way it clicked with Vincent so he was shoved aside for “real artists”

•If you sit down and make art with him, he will cry

•constantly seeking your validation and praise

•holds your art very dear

Billy Lenz:

•Yet another creature looking over your shoulder

•He's fascinated by your ability to create

•You have hands And he has hands, yet your creations are always different than his

•He's a little jealous

•demands you teach him how to be better

•If you already don't know he'll show you how to crochet in return

Brahms Heelshire:

•In All his time locked away He has had plenty to make art

•He focus on the more classical sides of painting and traditional drawing

•He makes stunning portraits, So if you have a different art style it confuses him

•He's lived his life very sheltered so at first he might not even consider it art

•He later learns how much time and care you put into these works and starts to appreciate your dedication

•He also steals some of them to put up in his room

Hannibal Lecter:

•Very excited

•Starts showing off his own private art collection

•Takes it upon himself to teach you “proper technique”

•Gives you random history lessons on your choice of art form

•buys you very expensive supplies

Will Graham:

•Okay dude

•Doesn’t really care

•Just happy that you're happy

•Secretly admires your work when you are away

•Always make sure your work is safe and undamaged

The Lost Boys:

•Marko is immediately grinning ear to ear

•David pretends not to care

•Dwayne silently watches you

•Paul is all up in your personal space while you work

•No matter what you make or how proud of it you are, It's going in the horde pile with all their other treasures

•Paul and Marko asking you to draw them all the time

•If you do it's being hung up on the wall

Pinhead:

•Another artist in his own way

•He prefers body modification and rigging as his art form

•Will creepy watch you work from a distance

•He’ll give you polite criticism from time to time

•Seeing you so focused and dedicated makes him think of all the other past artists he's met

•Decides fairly quickly that you are his favorite

Thanks for reading <3

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) my beautiful muse ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you're his beautiful muse and he'd do anything to keep his muse safe ヾ

yandere!hyunjin・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ yandere, smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ unprotected sex‎, breeding kink, dirty talk, talks of killing wc・ ‎0.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request a yandere smut with hyunjin please 💕

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 enjoy<3

a collector of art; that's what hyunjin was. he collected many pretty art pieces and other things he deemed as beautiful — that's why when he saw you , he knew he had to have you; you were his new muse.

you weren't allowed to leave; no , hyunjin didn't want the horrors of the world to tarnish his pretty masterpiece — so you stayed at home while he went out and sold his paintings, earning enough money to buy you pretty clothes, that's the only thing that mattered to him , keeping you looking pretty for him; he even took makeup class , and learned how to do hair so he could make you all pretty , so he can spend his free time painting his pretty muse.

“can i move now?” you sat on the stool , hair done to the nines , a new expensive dress. “not yet , im almost finished.” he said , dipping his paintbrush into the paint. “but im tired.” you whined , he sighed. “okay baby , okay just let me take a picture of you , i can use this as a reference for now.” he pulled out his polaroid camera , which he used to capture photos of you , it was quick and easy , but he loved to paint you the most , he believed it to be more beautiful. “there we go baby , we can stop now.”

“i think this one can go into my next exhibit,” he said. “as much as i don't think the world deserves to see you, this can't just stay here , they need to see you , how i have the most prettiest piece at home.” “can i go with you to see it?”

he hated that question , frowning while looking at you. “you know the answer to that.” he said , you nodded. “yeah i know i just thought — that's why we don't that baby you know you aren't the best at that.” he sat the photo down , walking over to you. “you look so pretty baby.” his hands coming up to your bare shoulders. “i dress you up so nicely don't i?” he hummed. “do your makeup so pretty?” he dragged his arm down to the back of the dress where the zipper was. “you don't need to go out , all you have to do is stay here and be pretty.”

the dress falling to your waist; you perfect tits on display. “so pretty , let's take this back to the room okay.” you nodded obediently , following behind him as he guided you to your shared room .

rocking his hips; his cock dragging in and out of you, he had been at this for a few hours now , you never had to work when it comes to fucking hyunjin , much like your everyday life he did everything ; eating out until your yanking at his hair , closing your head around his head. then he'd finger you , preparing you for his cock while also pulling another orgasm out of you.

by time he pulls his cock out , you're already in tears , and he loves this , you're the prettiest when you're teary eyed from his cock. “pretty pretty baby.” he cooed , “such a cry baby for my cock , you like it.” he groaned , stretching you out with his cock. “my muse , all mines.”

“hyu-hyunjin.” you moaned , his fingers toying with your clit , your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “prettier than anything i've ever painted.” he cursed. “got-gotta keep you here , so they won't hurt you.” he began to plow into you much harder. “fuck , fuck i'll kill anyone who looks at you.” he moaned , gripping your wrist pinning them to the bed. “that's why i can't let you outside -fuck- im afraid of what might happen; what i might do if someone who looks at what mines.”

as he pounded into you , you opened your eyes for a split second , and you could see in his eyes, they looked dark , like he actually meant what he was saying. “you’re mine aren't you.” he sped up. “all fucking mines.” you nodded. “all yours hyune , fuck!”

“then you wouldn't mind carrying my baby?” he groaned. “you'd look the most beautiful carrying my child , stuck to me forever.” he moaned. “gonna cum inside you.”

pinning you down; his hips snapped against you. “hyune gonna cum.” you moaned. “good , cum with me , cum for me while i breed your pretty pussy.” he groaned. “cum for me.” you gasped out , cumming , he fucked into a few more times before cumming deep inside you with a loud groan. “fuck!”

“gonna make sure it sticks.” he said. “no one's gonna hurt you.” he said , kissing your forehead. “i won't allow it.”

“my beautiful muse.”

[beloveds-embrace]

dukedom poly!141

I feel like Simon loooooves watching John fuck the reader!! Big voyeur that pervert

And there’s really no saying no to him either, he just has that energy about him that even makes Duke Price bend at the knees. He doesn’t even touch himself, just sits there, watching. Maybe it should’ve been obvious what with all the dresses he’s been getting her just to maybe hear from his lovers how good she looks wearing them. Idkk that man gets off on spoiling her, you know? Looooves watching John treat her real good, fuck her real deep :3

You get it

You are so right it’s insane 😩 he doesn’t need to touch, not now, is all too satisfied simply watching his lovers pleasure one another especially if John makes sure so spread your thighs open so Simon can see how nicely he’s stretching your pretty cunt. So Simon can see how wet you are and you haven’t even cum yet, strings of slick dripping down your thighs and leaving a mess behind <3

Never let this man learn about boudoir paintings (fuck you historical accuracy you will never tie me down) because he will demand each of his lovers to have them so he can keep and admire them <33

[lyrefromthesea]

Hey idk if my ask was at the end so idk if you still know it.

I would like to request the hashiras x taller/same height reader if that’s ok?

thank you <3

Hashira x reader - Tall for what?

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Shinobu x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: none

Tengen: 

• he's READY. he met you and his first reaction was "gods, what?!" without a doubt, he'll walk around you like you're a painting, taking in all your features.

• the moment he's finished his only thought is "flashy!" he will ask what kind of clothes you wear, if you want your demon slayer uniform to look more flashy too. a person like you must be seen!

• more than excited when you meet his wives, watching their eyes go 'o' when they see someone taller than their husband. and you're so nice too! they instantly begin sharing his enthusiasm.

Obanai: 

• used to people being taller than him, it wasn't anything special. what really got him going is that YOU seemed to notice the height difference. 

• are you looking down at him? no, that's not it. do you not take him seriously as a hashira? he was there longer than you, wrong answer. the secret is revealed when you smiled at him one day.

• "you have a really handsome face, i wish my eyes looked like that." great, his brain stopped working. he found a way to leave the conversation in a matter of moments.

• at least he tries talking to you more often now.

Rengoku: 

• "it is my pleasure to meet you!" he's enthusiastic. a new pillar? and your handshake was strong! it didn't take much to engage in a long conversation with him.

• you learn that he's not surprised about your height, but admires you nonetheless. when he said it's a pleasure to meet you, he was serious, he would be happy to engage in more conversations with you.

• really happy when he hears that you're assigned to a mission with him - he was curious to see your breathing style. and it's perfect, it resembles your inner being.

Sanemi: 

• he would've ignored you, it wasn't a shame to be smaller than a person or two. he is smaller than his younger brother anyway. then you talked back and let me tell you, he is STRESSED.

• your little remark quickly turns into a heated conversation. the distance between you two closes, foreheads bumping together. that's the moment he stops. 

• he will never admit it, but your fierce and determined gaze, the fact you're looking down at him. "whatever", pushes you away and leaves without another word. the blush spreading over his face was luckily not seen by anyone.

Giyuu: 

• seeing that you're taller than him, isn't something he really ponders about. you joined the hashira, you are a pillar the other slayers look up to, you are strong. that's everything he needs to know, right? wrong.

• you start talking to him - actually try to hold a conversation - he can't even run away. how come you're taller than him and always manage to sneak right into his personal space?

• but it's okay, he learns that he loves you and you love him. though he must admit, when you pulled him closer once, resting your chin on his shoulder, he felt a shiver run up his body. better not tell you, otherwise it will become a habit.

Gyomei: 

• he's surprised, positively. when a hashira meeting was held and he felt an unfamiliar presence next to him, he became wary, looking to the side. he was expecting to hear a new voice, but he would've assumed it to come from anywhere but above his head. 

• you're just a bit taller than him, but that was more than enough. even reaching his height was a surprise, but being taller? anyone would be flabbergasted. he was certainly glad when you turned out to be a gentle giant in disguise.

• truthfully, you were surprised to find out he was a gentle being too. the young demon slayers always get the creeps when they see two giants walk past them, looking intimidating until the smallest thing coaxes a smile out of them.

Shinobu: 

• she's used to people being taller than her. you weren't necessarily tall, not like Gyomei or Tengen, but you weren't on the small side either. she's glad to be your friend.

• her actual focus on your height was your fault to begin with. she's minding her own business, working in the butterfly mansion, when you come over to help her. she's initially happy, but a vein nearly pops out of her neck when you laugh about having to get the boxes from the top shelf.

• now she relentlessly calls you out using your height when you do something stupid. "maybe the gods should've tried to add more brain than tallness."

"maybe someone's pissed there wasn't enough height for them." you are quick to run away. in an hour or two, she will be calm enough to not poison you.

Mitsuri:

• "wah! the new pillar!" she's in love with you - your looks, your presence, your personality. she's sure that you would instantly catch her eye in a room full of people.

• and then you talk to her and everything seemed great. she truly fell in love with you when you complimented her hair, called her a natural beauty. nobody was surprised when the two of you entered a relationship.

• one of her favorite things is getting picked up by you. she has fun telling you that you're tall and strong and just perfect for her. and of course, you enjoy telling her the same.

[capquinn]

Homeward | Q. Hughes

summary: 3 times you both dream about the future + the one time you’re finally living it pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes content: nothing but sweet, sweet baby talk word count: 3.5k ↪ masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn has always been a family guy.

And even now, his actions speak loudly of the family values that shape him. He never misses an opportunity to weave his parents and brothers into his day even when thousands of miles seperate them so it hadn’t been a complete surprise when Quinn first mentioned his desire for a family of his own.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn has always been a family guy.

Growing up in the Hughes household had been like living in a constant embrace of love and laughter with enduring sounds of chaos — the clatter of hockey sticks on the driveway, the hum of conversations around the dinner table and the inexplicable bickering between brothers. But most of all, it was the magical winters on the frozen pond behind their house that Quinn cherished the most. Spending hours with his dad learning how to skate, hanging onto every single piece of advice and words of encouragement, and how his mom always had cups of hot chocolate waiting for them when the cold finally drove them inside. The joy of spontaneous family road trips; the confidence that came with knowing his parents were always in the crowd, cheering him on; and the comfort of returning home. Those moments were etched into Quinn’s memory.

He remembers growing up wishing he would find someone the way his parents had found each other, and by some miracle, he had found it. He recalls the way his parents looked at each other, a silent communication that spoke volumes. Love unwavering. Evident in the small gestures that often went unnoticed by others but meant everything to Quinn. The way his dad would always wake up before his mom just so he could bring her a cup of tea to enjoy quietly in bed, or the way his mom would leave little notes in his dad’s lunchbox, small reminders that she loved and adored him. It was the way they always prioritised family dinners, making sure to sit down together no matter how busy their lives became. The way they listened to each other with patience and respect, even during disagreements.

They showed Quinn that love wasn’t just about grand gestures but about showing up every single day and making the choice to love the other.

And even now, Quinn’s actions speak loudly of the family values that shape him. He never misses an opportunity to weave his parents and brothers into his day even when thousands of miles seperate them.

He’s a family guy through and through so it hadn’t been a complete surprise when Quinn first mentioned his desire for a family of his own.

“I want that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, watching his teammate holding his toddler, making her laugh and smile. The words slip out before he can catch them.

You turn to him, eyes shimmering. “What, kids?” You ask, a small smile tugging at your lips, though you both know the answer.

Quinn scratches the back of his neck, and a flush starts to creep over his skin. He clears his throat, as if the action would be enough to get rid of any other lingering thoughts that might catch you both off guard.

“Yeah, y’know, the whole thing,” he affirms with a nod, nice and concise. He sneaks a sideways glance your way and when he meets your eyes and you smile, he feels his cheeks start to burn crimson so he casts his gaze away again, heart hammering at lightning speed in his chest. Nervous to hear your response

“‘The whole thing,’” you muse, heart skipping a beat at his words and everything in between. All the things you’re both too shy to say aloud just yet, but you understand all the same.

A too big house with a little bit of land that you can grow into with children and a dog or two. Swatching paint colours on bare nursery walls, and putting together a crib that will see all your children through their infancy. Introducing you as his wife and him as your husband. The patter of running feet and slamming of doors. The first summer by the lakeside with a tiny human who was half you and half him. Cups of tea in bed and love letters tucked into hidden pockets for him to find at away games. Late nights followed by freakishly early mornings. The chaos of family gatherings and having everyone all together all at once. The excitement of seeing you and your children standing in the crowd, cheering him on, and the thrill of meeting his eyes across the ice. Sick days on the couch. Bedtime stories. Homemade Halloween costumes. Friday movie nights. The whole thing.

“Hopefully someday,” he adds bashfully after he realises the weight of his confession, cheeks pink, circling an arm around your waist.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, frantically dazed and desperately relieved to hear that everything you hope for he hopes for, too.

With a shy smile, you lean into him. “Definitely someday,” you simply reply.

It’s then that Quinn realises that his dreams are no longer distant aspirations. They are tangible and in reach.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sun is beginning to drop below the horizon, casting golden hues over the Hughes’ sprawling backyard. The air filled with the hum of conversation and laughter, mingling with the faint smell of barbecue. The patio bustling with family members from all stretches of the country, all coming together for the annual summer family reunion, and Quinn is at the heart of it. Leaning against the railing, chatting animatedly with his cousins and relishing in time well spent with those he cherishes the most.

“Are you and the boys planning another fishing trip this offseason?” His cousin Dan asks, grinning as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, we’re thinking about heading up to the cabin again. The spot by the lake was great last time,” Quinn replies. “I caught a bass that was almost as big as my arm.”

“That’s right. Jack swore up and down that he had one just as big but it got away.”

He laughs, “he’s never living that down.”

Laughter ripples through the group but it’s cut short when Luke approaches, tapping his brother on the shoulder.

“Hey, Quinny, have you seen your girlfriend? She disappeared on me.” He tosses a football between his hands. “Think she’s scared of losing our bet.”

“I tell you every time — don’t bet against her. You always lose,” he warns, looking over his shoulder, half expecting to find you hovering in the kitchen and trying to be useful as you always were. When you’re not, his brows scrunch together, and he turns back to his brother, quietly surprised.

Luke shakes his head, laughing. “Not this time.” He rests the football under his arm and places his other hand on his hip. “We’re betting on who can kick the furthest field goal. It’ll be the easiest twenty bucks I’ll ever make,” he says confidently.

Quinn nods, not quite believing his brother. Sure, Luke is taller and stronger but somehow you always have luck on your side. A divine intervention that always saw that you pocketed the winnings.

“I’ve gotta see this,” he chuckles. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he tells his brother.

Quinn excuses himself from his cousins and as he makes his way inside the house, he’s greeted by the delicious aromas of various dishes being prepared in the kitchen.

He skilfully dodges around his Aunt Linda, who is juggling a hot tray of cookies, and then squeezes past his Uncle Bob, who is vigorously stirring a pot of chilli, just as his mom catches his eye.

“Oh, hey, Quinn, taste this!” Ellen calls out, holding out a wooden spoon coated with a rich, savoury sauce. “Tell me if it needs more salt.”

He obliges, stepping closer towards his mom and taking the spoon. He tastes the sauce, savouring the layers of flavour. “Nope, it's perfect. You, uh…,” Quinn's eyes are drawn to the doorway of the living room, where he can just make out your voice. “You always nail it,” he tells her, distracted.

As she takes the spoon back, her eyes follow Quinn's gaze towards the living room.

You’re sitting comfortably in an armchair, cradling cousin Kate’s newborn baby. Face lit with a gentle smile as you coo softly to the baby, eyes sparkling with joy.

The unassuming longing for ‘the whole thing’ quietly transforms into a fervent hope. A hope that is surfacing in the most unexpected moment, and now, it’s impossible for Quinn not to imagine you holding your own child one day, introducing the newest and smallest Hughes to the family. His mom, eyes brimming with tears, leaning in close, fingers gently tracing the back a tiny hand. Jack and Luke, unable to contain their excitement, hovering over your shoulder, each vying for a better view of the newest member of the family, and his dad standing close by, watching everyone fawn over the little one.

Ellen follows his gaze and smiles knowingly. “She’s wonderful with babies, isn’t she? It suits her.”

Quinn nods, blinking away his daydreams, though unable to tear his eyes away. “Yeah, it does,” he agrees softly, voice filled with a mix of admiration and affection.

Ellen squeezes his arm gently. “Go on, then. You don’t want to miss this.”

Taking her advice, Quinn navigates the rest of the way through the kitchen, weaving around the busy cooks and stepping into the living room.

You look up as he approaches, smile widening and eyes twinkling with a warmth that makes him feel even more at home.

“There you are,” you greet, voice barely above a whisper. “Come and say hi.”

Quinn moves closer, settling on the arm of the chair to get a better look at the baby nestled in your arms. The baby, fast asleep, looks peaceful and content. Tiny fists curled in a way that makes his heart race. He reaches out hesitantly to brush his finger over her cheek.

“Would you like to hold her?” You offer, watching his face soften.

He nods silently, positioning himself in a way that allows him to take the baby carefully into his arms. She starts to stir during the exchange, eyes squeezing tight, so Quinn starts swaying side to side, fixing the swaddle tighter around her tiny body. It’s enough to settle her, and with a crisis avoided, Kate grins.

“Natural, isn’t he?” she remarks, glancing in your direction.

You smile proudly. “I think he’s got a hidden talent.”

Quinn laughs lightly, trying to stay cool despite the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Hidden talent? You make it sound like I’ve been practicing in secret.”

Kate chuckles. “Well, you’re doing a great job for someone who hasn’t.”

He glances down at the baby, feeling a rush of emotions as the tiny life rests against his chest. The delicate weight, the rise and falls of her breaths and dainty features. It makes him feel a connection he hadn’t anticipated. A surge of readiness for ‘the whole thing.’

It’s fleeting, but glimpses of the future flash through his mind. He can almost hear the hum of a soft lullaby and feel the rhythm of rocking a sleepy baby in the wee hours of the morning. It’s a future he has always envisioned but perhaps hadn’t fully embraced until now.

You lean closer, curling your legs onto the chair and resting your cheek against Quinn's bicep, eyes alight with adoration, gazing at the baby. “She’s perfect, right?”

Quinn’s gaze shifts from the small human in his arms to you and he wonders if you’re thinking the same as him.

As if reading his mind, Kate innocently asks, “So, when’s it going to be your turn?” Eyes dancing between you both.

Quinn bites back a growing smile. He’s sure it’s a dead give away for all he’s feeling and wishing for right now. “Someday,” he replies, exchanging a meaningful glance with you.

Kate raises an eyebrow playfully. “You two talk about it often?”

You nuzzle your face closer against Quinn, trying to hide your grin, fidgeting with the blanket wrapped around the baby so, with any luck, she won’t be able to see just how desperately you want this life with Quinn. “We do. I mean, we still have a few more things we’d like to do first but… It’s definitely on the table.”

“Yeah, we’re in no rush.” Quinn nods in agreement, though the gleam in his eye suggests he wouldn’t mind if the day came sooner rather than later.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“I don’t want to jinx anything but this house is ticking all the right boxes so far,” you grin.

It’s a nice change, too. House hunting had been exciting at first but once the novelty wore off and the reality of the gruelling journey it’s going to take to find the home of your dreams sunk in, things started to move more slowly and with each viewing, you weren’t sure if your forever home truly existed. Physically, they had all been great in their own right but when you crossed the threshold, heart beating steady and unable to imagine your lives in the space, you would spare Quinn a look and he would agree. “It just doesn’t feel right,” he’d explain to the agent at the end of the tour.

But this house… It had been a surprise, last minute decision to view it. The agent adamant that this could be the one. “It has good bones,” he told you both over the phone. “Lots of character and it has everything you guys are looking for. It hasn’t hit the market yet so if you’re interested, now is the right time.” And that was it.

"This kitchen is perfect," you say, twirling around, eyes alight with possibilities. A wide timber island would go here, a large window that opens onto the deck over there.

Quinn nods, envisioning lazy Sunday mornings spent soaking up the morning sun while you whip up pancakes. "And the backyard is great. Plenty of space for a pool,” he says, sticking his head out of the stain glassed back door to sneak a peak at what the outdoors offers. Plenty of space for a barbecue and full outdoor setting deck, too.

And then after wandering through the halls, picking out the master bedroom and wistfully rattling off all your ideas and renovation plans for the bathroom, you enter another room. It's smaller, cozy, and the afternoon sun pours through the window, bathing the room in a warm glow.

You both stop in the doorway, an unspoken understanding passing between you.

“This is our nursery,” you murmur, stepping further into the room, floorboards creaking under foot.

Quinn follows behind, smile dancing on his lips, taking in the room. Wainscoting, large window that overlooks the sprawling backyard and the ornate cornices that are unique to each room throughout the house but are subtle reminders of the old age charm it upholds.

When you turn around to meet his eyes, he catches your hand. “This whole house is ours, isn’t it?” He asks, voice soft, almost reverent, though it needn’t be questioned.

“We have to make an offer,” you agree, squeezing his hand. “Everything is perfect. It feels right.”

His eyes drift around the room, mind painting vivid pictures of what it could be. “So obviously the crib is going against that far wall.”

You giggle, “obviously. And the armchair will go by the window because this lighting is so…” You sigh, imagining lazing half awake in the armchair with a little one curled against your chest, light filtering through sheer curtains. And over there, in the middle of the room, you see Quinn beckoning a wobbly toddler to take their first steps.

But back here, where life is falling right into place, Quinn pulls you close, a hand resting on the small of the back, and presses a kiss to your temple. His mind is never too far from the very same musings.

“I can see us here,” he murmurs with an air of finality.

Decision made.

No other house will do — this is it.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s summer at the lake house, and the Hughes are making the most of the wonderful weather. The warmth of the sun filters through the leaks of a towering oak tree, casting dappled shadows on the ground and the air hums with the sounds of insects and the soft lapping of the lake’s waves against the shore. You and Quinn are sprawled out against pillows side by side on a faded picnic rug, and between you, six month old baby Oliver sits with a floppy ahead askew on his head, tiny hands exploring colourful toys.

You let out a tired chuckle, smile tinged with exhaustion. “He’s still wide awake,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

Quinn sighs, waving a rattle in front of his son. Encouraging him to reach, stretch or turn. Anything to burn some more energy and tire him out faster. “I really thought the fresh air would work. That article made it sound like a sure-thing.”

Since arriving at the lake house, your sweet baby boy had decided now was the best time for a sleep regression. Quinn thinks it’s the change of environment and whilst you hoped that to be the case and after a week of adjusting, things weren’t improving. In fact, the past few nights have been the worst of all with Oliver waking up every few hours, leaving you and Quinn to take turns soothing him back to sleep for periods far longer than usual. Admitting defeat, you had both accepted that this was going to be your life for the next little while. That dark circles under your eyes might just become a permanent feature and coffee your new best friend. But every time you look at your baby’s bright, curious eyes, you’re reminded of how you used to hope and dream for this life. Nothing could ever be bad enough for you to wish it all away.

“It could be worse, right? At least he’s happy,” you reply, rubbing your eyes.

Quinn nods, his heart swelling with love as he watches his son play. He thinks about how much his life has changed in just a few months. The nights are shorter, and the days are filled with more challenges than he ever anticipated, but they’re also filled with immeasurable joy.

He rolls over onto his back and reaches for Oliver. He pulls him into his arms with ease, resting him on his lap. “It’s just way too fun at the lake, isn’t it, Ollie boy? All the swimming and boat rides. You don’t want to miss a thing,” he says, grinning, giving the small boy a little wiggle. Oliver drops the rattle with a grin and falls forward, lying flat on his father’s chest, his tiny hands clutching at Quinn’s shoulders in a hug. “Oh,” he laughs, smile widening, arms wrapping around his tiny body.

He sweeps his palms in soothing circular motions over the baby’s back, cherishing the moment. The softness of his son’s body against his own and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. He knows these moments are fleeting, that Ollie is only ever going to be this small once. That soon enough, he will be crawling, walking, and running, leaving these quiet, tender moments behind.

You smile, watching Ollie’s energy ebb away under Quinn’s touch. “Look at him, finally lying still,” you whisper. His little lips are squished into a pout against his daddy's chest, making him look even more adorable. You reach out to gently brush your fingers slowly over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose repeatedly, an attempt to lull him into a slumber. Ollie’s eyelids grow heavy. “Remember last summer? We were talking about how different it would be here with a baby.”

“Nah, it won’t be that different,” you recall Quinn telling you one night on the porch. “Just a bit more packing and a few more naps in the day.”

Your hands came to rest on your growing belly. “Babies change everything,” you countered as a sudden rush of nervousness washed over you. It crashed into you, making you feel unprepared for the huge change in the horizon and all that will follow.

He shrugged, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “It doesn’t have to change. We’ll just, I don’t know, make adjustments. We’ll get a couple of baby gates and a top notch baby monitor,” he said half jokingly, sensing your change of mood. He noticed the furrow of your brows and how you chewed on the inside of your cheek, a tell tale sign that you’re worried. Gently, he leaned in and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than usual. A reminder that you weren’t in this alone. “He’ll fit into our lives, baby. It’s going to be great,” he murmured, voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

Quinn’s eyes meet yours, soft with understanding. “You were right,” he breathes a chuckle, his hands still working circles against Ollie’s back. Sleep is close, he’s sure of it. “It is different. But it’s also better, too.”

You nod, heart brimming with an all-encompassing love. The way Quinn is gently soothing Oliver, his tenderness evident in every touch, makes you fall in love with him all over again. And your sweet, spirited boy, now peacefully relaxed and drifting in and out of almost-there sleep, breathing steady and synchronised with his dad’s. You’re acutely aware of the life you have built together and the perfect tiny human you’ve brought into the world.

“So much better,” you agree, shuffling closer towards your two favourite boys. You rest your head against Quinn’s shoulder, dropping a kiss to the back of Ollie’s hand. “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

And why would you? The life you had both always envisioned is unfolding with a quiet beauty, and it’s more perfect than you could have ever dreamed.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro thoughts: short n sweet <3 all about the sun

sun in the first house can be well known for how they look. there appearance is what brings them the most attention. There outlook on life must revolve around them in some way shape or form. They have a knack for knowing more than what they lead on, however, people are use to knowing them for how they portray themselves, the personality is a treat once you get to know them honestly.

sun in the second house love to be at home lol. can really be sweet homebodies most of the time, but also they live to have a more balanced life so try taken it easy on them for a while. the second house is the house of finances, stability, and materials, it also has alot to do with talents. in this house, the second house sun person needs time alone to go over some things they have a gift in, another thing with them is that they are pretty material focus. notice how i didnt say materialistic, because everyone deserves to have there needs met, and they don't notice how people think they look when their drive is mainly focused on the material and less on anywhere else.

sun in the third house - communication with people that they love and admire is a dream for them. they need more individuals in their lives who will allow them to speak and allow their thoughts to come out. they have a creative imagination and it must soar doing some type of hobby. sculpting, painting, or even just something like a crossroad puzzle could be what they need to get through the day. they have the ability to know whats wrong with a person as if they're a mind reader.

sun in the fourth house can also come off to be the black sheep in the family. thought i was going to say their the golden child? thats a rare occasion. the golden child is the 1st, 5th, 7th, 10th, 11th houses. this house, if you have any problems with family, your light can burn them a little. so them being the black sheep here is because the 4th house is a very private house, and the sun sheds a light on this house. that means, anything that someone has done or is about to do usually the 4th house sun notices it or sheds a light on it. telling them its wrong etc etc. very nice and sweethearts, needs people who want to be around them in order to feel good.

sun in the 5th house have a knack for entertainment. poetry, acting, singing, dancing.. you name it. they are good at many things, but they are also good at pleasing a crowd. there romance life can be pretty intriguing or they can come off as the hopeless romantic. very sweet, charismatic personalities.

sun in the 6th house (i honestly love this house) have a good aura to them. they bond really well with plants and animals (house of the virgo) and they typically keep to themselves. they love learning and they live their whole lives working at something they love to do. its just what they came here for. fashion could be significant here with people with this placement, its what helps them shine (6th house is connected to the wardrobe).

sun in the 7th house are the popular loners. well liked by a lot of people, but also well rounded. they have a tendency to know a lot about others because people thinks thats a way to get their attention. a lot of gossip energy can be around them. either they are the ones to gossip, or others tend to gossip to them.

sun in the 8th house have intriguing personalities. the way they move, the way the have this mystique to them, but when they open up.. whew. their just a different level of raw. there is a potency to their words that can bring anyone to their knees. because they have a need to heel the inner body/soul/consciousness and unlike others they need their space in order to do it. like a snake coming out of their skin, they change a lot just like any person... but for them it comes with a price.. the old self.

sun in the 9th house are deep philosophers and are VERY intelligent. its because their playful funny nature you dont really notice but.. they are really good at gaining information and would LOVE someone who can match their freak.. that is with the books of course. the perfect travel buddies, and will make you fall in love with them with their free spirits.

sun in the 10th house are very romantic behind close doors. i say this because the 10th house (believe it or not) is very private. they show you what they want you to see. a very inspiring personality. they can have the masses fall in love with them with ease, and can have any man or woman just because of the popular energy thats naturally around their name.

sun in the 11th house needs to familiarize themselves with the masses in order to understand the community better. can be friends with any and everybody. the original loners, but the real cool kids.

sun in the 12th house have a unique outlook on the world and they typically reflect this in their art, their life, their clothes, etc. they have a different stream of thought than their peers so this could typically make them the odd one out. they have a very empathetic personality, and are incredible to work with. they are for the people thats for sure.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)