#I haven't had presents to *unwrap* on my birthday in a long time

[kirby-the-gorb]

(No Obligation Whatsoever but if you *want* to give me a birthday present my kofi is in the pinned post or you could always draw a kirby :> after all I started drawing him every day in the first place just cuz I think low key simple kirby drawings are fun and there should be more of them!)

[court-jobi]

For Your Eyes Only

💥Poll Reveal: Birthday Special💥

Pairing: Bakugou x tattooed!reader (fitting theme for biker!reader, no?)

Words: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ (heavy smexy insinuations near the end)

Warnings: NSFWish, reunited lovers, partial undressing, body worship, tattoos, possessive!Bakugou, basically foreplay, implied sexual touch, reunited and it feels so good

Summary:

Someone's missed their Pro-Hero while he's been off lighting up villains for seven weeks straight. The meantime does gives you the brilliant idea for a gorgeous new tattoo, though... all for your darling hero as a birthday present while he's away on mission, so you can keep the freshly inked secret close to your chest. Pretty nice surprise waiting for Bakugou to unwrap when he gets home, yeah?

A/N: Remember THIS POLL? Y'all gave me some splendid direction, thanks so much to everyone who voted! Might still very well run with some leftover ideas and make another fic for our other recipient (Birdie Boy Hawks), but hope you enjoy the winner~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

"Ready for a surprise?"

Shrugging off his shoulder strap, Bakugou stares after you in snarky disbelief. He hasn’t even taken his shoes off yet, dammit. Still, he can’t help but smile.

"Hmm a surprise, huh? Takes a lot to surprise me, sweet thing…"

"Oh, I think I've done it this time,” you swing your hips on your way to the kitchen. “You haven't noticed it yet in all our calls- though I guess you haven't really had much chance to, lately."

"Tch– don't remind me,” he toes off his travel shoes by the table. “This whole ‘secret agent’ bullshit took way longer than I thought it would- been dying to get back to you. Haven't talked to you in days, or had decent reception enough to look at a photo in weeks; forget anything else. Speaking of…c’mere you.”

Bakugou slinks towards you, though you back up away from him, tugging your yukata taught from the back so he couldn't make a grab for it.

“What’re you runnin’ way for, heh??”

"Not letting you spoil it so fast there, babe~!”

You hop onto the kitchen counter with a couple careful adjustments to the overlapping ends of your robe, –sweet, sexy appeal coating your words.

"If you're gonna unwrap it, you've got to have a good view."

Bakugou teased the tip of his canines with an appreciative chuckle.

"You're my present, are ya?"

"Something like that."

Bakugou eyed you over with sneaky wonder. What on earth could you be hiding. 

His attention trailed down your legs- socked, but otherwise bare. He steps closer to you, wedging between your legs with a forceful jut of his hips, and cups your jaw into a long, starved kiss. You won't be getting out from under his grasp anytime soon, he's makin’ damn sure of that. 

It’s not your first kiss since Bakugou’s arrival through the door, but deeper than that quickie peck you'd given him at first sight. You’d hugged him tight around the neck in perfect bliss after such a long separation– only to dart away, killing any of his plans to never let you go. 

That long-awaited kiss of greeting was kept painfully brief by Bakugou’s standards– followed immediately by your retreat to the kitchen, where you’re now acting the most secretive you ever have in your entire relationship. 

He'd be crushed if he wasn't so confused. 

Parting, he rumbles directly into your waiting mouth.

"What are you up to, pretty?"

"No funny business. Just a great surprise." 

You’re toying with his hoodie’s knotted ends, cinching and uncinching the knots and seeking shy permission to strip him. Bakugou lets you, shedding his pullover that reeks of airport and leaving him in the black compression shirt he could trademark- wrinkled, half-rucked up his abs, and perfect.

To his surprise, you seem pleased enough with this level of undress and stop tugging on him altogether. At the moment where he’d expected you to slip his pants loose next, you merely push him back into place between your knees. Doing so allows the space to scoot just so towards the edge of the counter. 

You brace back on your palms, posture up and cutting your sights down to where his hands trail across your waist: he’s calculating your moves for hints, few as they are.

"Go on and open it."

Bakugou's brow still worked together as he fought his edging smile. 

What on earth could this be? His first best guess would be something sexy to wear, but he honestly finds that pointless since nothing lasts that long on you, anyhow. A laced-up view would be the most mouthwatering sight for the man who’s been starved of you for seven straight weeks… but he reckons this has to hold bigger shock factor. 

Following your lead and gentle instruction, Bakugou sweeps an eager hand back with a jerk to untie your sash and then bends over to divide the curtain of your kimono to your hips, granting him the sweet heat of your calves, knees, thighs, and-- 

Bakugou's jaw goes slack.

Atop your left leg, creased at the flesh of your hip lay his intended surprise: a fully realized tattoo of gorgeous black and grayed ink. 

The center of it all bore a gorgeously stylized pawprint -left empty of pigment for contrast- digging in slightly to the flesh, deliciously possessive, as if the full body were howling its word of ‘mine’ into the night. 

Claiming its territory. Guarding its beloved.

Naturally, the design didn't stop there. The paw and its indentions laid surrounded by a burst of swirls and sparks resembling firework patterns: some as sunbursts, some as residual trails of light intermixing with haze. The most notable hailed the shape of ‘Dynamight’s fanned accents– mimicking the rays of the earth’s brightest star– known by just about every folklore believer for strength and victory.

This shading is impeccable: saturated to perfection and a gorgeous display of artistry. There are billows of ombre smoke that spread throughout the design, creating a nebulous effect throughout the background, leaning into uncanny imagery of a certain someone’s quirk.

Each element features his take on ‘lucky charms’~ branded right there on your skin. 

The symbol was divine… and for a man with a faster tongue unafraid to speak his mind, Bakugou has no words.

Dumbstruck and in utter awe, Bakugou's fingers trail in slow motion towards your newest addition of skin ink. He releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding back, crouching subconsciously to one side, revealing more and more skin with the lift of the kimono. The hipband of your underwear cut off the very spiky peak of a spark, but it didn't hide much of the body of the tattoo- all was plenty visible from the hip, down your thigh.

You sneak in a cautious breath with proud anticipation, drinking in Bakugou's every soft reaction. A little huff escapes your nose seeing your partner’s mouth hung open from the moment he locks sight of your leg– sights which have never parted since. 

Not to speak, not to swallow, barely to blink.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki~" you nearly sing.

Finally, Bakugou tears himself from his trance to lock into your brilliant eyes, their bright points muted in this low light by the kitchen window.

"When-- hah- ho-?"

"You were gone almost two months, honey," you reminded with a twinge of sultry pride. "Once you got orders on the op, I booked the outline, then another session for the fill. Healed up just in time for you to come crashing in the door."

With your non-balancing hand, you twine your fingers over his, swiping over the lower half of the tattoo. The movement matches the curve of the curling tufts of smoke laid there.

Bakugou follows as you move his hand along by your guidance, leading him lazily until you trace it down to the bottom, not wanting to cover up anything.

Taking a slow knee to study it with careful hands cupping your thighs, you coo light in your chest with a loving stroke on your hero’s arm as Bakugou gets comfortable on his knees.

"This-- this is days worth of work, for you.." Bakugou muttered breathlessly.

"‘Bout three full days, start to finish. Larza did such a good job, didn’t they." you beam, crediting your artist. With a little sparkle, you hedge your newly revealed excitement, "--Do you like it?"

Bakugou's squint through his surprised joy was adorable- though he'd deny ever resembling anything close to the word.

"Sweet’eart... S'fucking gorgeous."

His weak slack-jawed look turned into a grin, which drives up into a breathless laugh. 

But Bakugou is not done marveling yet…

You rake through his wild hair lovingly, doubling the intimate experience. 

“Three days,” he husks, "That's a long time, angel. You stayed so still for this one- there's not a stroke outta place."

Recounting each of your other tattoos that lie either on both your arms or other bits of tender skin, this piece held significantly more ‘natural cushion’ to work with.

"Probably hurt the least of any of them, honestly. M'not gonna lie n’ say it was a breeze near the hip..but hell, was the finished product worth it."

At this, Bakugou finally shows an emotion other than ‘want’- a flash of concern tents his brow and firms his lips as he lifts up to you.

You could laugh about it now; all discomfort is long gone after the insanely prickly healing process.

"Not too much of course! Just the usual. But the itching- oof, that wasn't funny. Had to hide out here for the first two days- couldn't wear any clothes over it yet. Just me, your pillow, my Kindle, and a vat of lotion to keep me from going out of my mind from the blistering. N’ I couldn’t handle talking to you, or else y-"

“-You faked a head cold, you crafty little DUMBASS!!” 

Bakugou pieced together your ‘random’ excuse for those days when he’d tried to touch base with you.

The sidenote of spending that much time alone -wearing next to nothing- sends Bakugou reeling into lust again in a heartbeat; all while you giggle at your successful ruse. 

Gifts to your lifemate have all carried meaning and touched on every part of his identity. Whether it was a symbol of your connection, or a splurge that he’d been pining for but far too tight-fisted to award himself, you stepped in and would take extra care into a special, well-thought out present on these occasions you felt were worth celebrating– even if he’d sooner forget. 

Bakugou’s arrival home landing on his birthday was a true afterthought to him; but not to you. 

Your skin laid newly adorned with more stunning art– but more notably, laid nearly bare under his hands. Right where he craved them, and right where he could smell your very essence - just a little closer. 

It’s no secret how much he loves every inch of you -inside and out- and in every curve and crevasse… and it’s here that his brain clicks together why you’d sat so precariously on the counter now.

Bakugou thanks you with his whole chest, the lovesick aura glowing even more beautiful with its rawness.

"This is absolutely beautiful- I love it, baby,” your striking boyfriend declares the impact your gift has had on him, "Fuck me, this is-- first the rings, then the new gauntlets, now this?"

"Well, anyone can see those first two in broad daylight,” you sass… then softer, “This one's just for you, Kats..."

"Damn right it is," Bakugou leans down, eyeing you before laying a euphoric kiss on the tip of your hipbone.

Heated lips kiss the same spot again, slower this time. Then another, further down. And again, and again- covering the art with wet lovemarks. You've moisturized the tattoo expertly, treating it with an essence of mango and verbena filling his senses– and a light coconutty taste, as he'd learned from the last time you'd gotten one done on your shoulder. 

Passing over the wolf’s claws, Bakugou bared his teeth ever so much, rumbling a happy growl to make you laugh- then moan. Pleasure, adoration, obsession.

With a flash of crimson up to you,  Bakugou hungered low and deeper still,

"Sounds like torture, angel. Don't know how you invite that sorta pain over and over…” 

Affected by his slow worship along your leg, you subconsciously tuck that leg in; anything to give him more space to cover, make sure nothing is missed.

“I keep tellin’ ya, it's not too bad. You’d look pretty hot with some ink, yourself.”

While the man disagrees with a playful sarcasm, his respect for both your thoughtfulness -and pain tolerance- is enough to get him hard.

Bakugou fantasizes about the whole process: taking a wildly rapid pen to you, laid on your side naked from the waist down, drawn u[on as a living, breathing canvas… all with the sole intention to be marked for his eyes only, forever. 

Three whole days.. Bakugou mulls over the work you’ve done. The statement you’ve made with this gift. The proud look in your eyes that doesn’t regret a single stroke, and has chosen to celebrate its claim on your body by giving him full rights to every inch of you…

“Wasn’t even ‘ere to hold your hand through it…” Bakugou offers sweetly. He would have been at your side, had he not been off saving the world yet again. 

A touch of dominance comes through his observation, eliciting a delightful reaction he knows will follow. You affirm; giving a sweet, pliant moan of agreement, while you shake your head in a ‘no’ for your past loneliness. You’re ordinarily plenty self-sufficient even in his absences, but play the role of the left-behind lover adorably well.

While one powerful hand teases needy fingers over the seam of your underwear with the intent to rip them off and another reaches for your ankle with plans to chuck it over his shoulder, the birthday boy relishes in the sights, sounds, and feel of you already–

“...I should make up for your troubles now, shouldn't I?” Bakugou rumbles like spring’s telltale thunder in front of your core, ready and waiting to taste, “Gotta thank you properly, yeah?"

[gyll-yee-haw]

Birthday Surprise

Hii, everyone! I'm back with something short to celebrate our man's bday and the release of his book! (so proud :'))

Hope you like it! (I'm kinda rusty, haven't written anything in YEARS)

Prompt: You give Jake a very special birthday present :)

Like 1k words

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy.

You were almost shaking in anticipation. Oh, how long the two of you waited for that moment... ever since you got married, and maybe even a bit before that, you and Jake have always discussed starting your own family. Seeing how he was with his nieces always made your ovaries ache.

Now he was in his "uncle era" as you would call. Releasing and promoting his book "The Secret Society of Aunts & Uncles" was just so exciting for him and you were beyond proud, seeing him so happy and trying new things.

You were almost sad that era would have to end... soon he would start a new one. And he had no idea.

Ever since your test results came positive, you knew you had to find a special way to tell Jake. He deserved that.

You found out two weeks before his birthday. Perfect opportunity... I mean, it was so hard to buy him presents... he always loved everything you got him, but you knew he never actually needed anything. But this year... it would be unforgettable.

-----

When the day came, you thought you would have a heart attack, you barely got any sleep. You knew he would love the surprise, but it had been so hard to keep it a surprise, it was almost driving you insane.

You found him sitting on the sofa, wearing an oversized green sweater after the two of you had his favorite breakfast. He seemed so calm and content. He looked cozy, he looked like home. You realized you were staring at him like a fool with a smile on your face. It was the right time, you felt it.

"Jake?" You called him as you walked to join him on the sofa. You held a box in your hands.

"Yeah, baby?" He gave you his sweetest smile.

"I wanted to give you a present. But... not something you could just buy, you know? Wanted it to be special." You explained, looking at the box. He could see you were nervous because of how you were gripping on it for dear life. You just felt that... when the box was no longer in your hands, the situation wouldn't be under control anymore.

"You know you didn't have to give me anything, my love." He tried to calm you down. "Just being able to wake up by your side for another year is more than I deserve."

You took a deep breath and handed him the box. He sat closer to you and hugged your shoulders, giving you a forehead kiss before opening it.

He unwrapped a very clearly homemade book. He looked at you in awe.

"Y/N? That's... that's so thoughtful, did you do all of this...?"

"Well, Ramona and Gloria helped with the illustrations." You explained, seeing him smile just imagining you and his nieces working together on this project. "I wrote the story and struggled to bind it for several days, so... I know it looks messy, I just..."

"It looks absolutely perfect." He got emotional before he could even imagine what was inside...

"Will you read it out loud?" You asked shyly. "Wanna see your reaction..."

"Sure!" He smiled excitedly, as he opened the book.

Writing is hard, I will not lie... But there's a man who makes me wanna try. I wonder how can he be... Looking this good at forty-three?

He left out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

How can you deny he's the greatest uncle of all times... When someone calls him "uncle", you can see the pride in his eyes.

You could hear the emotion on his voice. You could see his eyes running through the illustrations with absolute adoration.

He's more than an uncle, it's true He gets called another thing or two The greatest actor, the funniest guy, He doesn't even have to try. How lucky am I, cause in the end I get to call him my best friend

That's it. Now he was going to read the important part. Your heart was about to burst.

But there's something he's never been called before... Something he'll have to wait a few months for. But I'm sure he will be glad Cause he'll have someone to call him... dad.

At the end of the page, you glued the pregnancy test. He stared at it wide-eyed, speechless.

"Honey, is this..." he was afraid of saying it out loud. It was too good to escape his lips.

"Yes. It's true." You grabbed his hand and placed it softly on your belly. "I'm pregnant, Jake."

He murmured something inhuman as he placed his gift on the side so he could bring you to his arms and fill your face with little kisses.

"This is... the best birthday present I ever got... I mean... they both are, the book and this..." he looked at your belly, then to your eyes. "Thank you, my angel, I love you so much... I love... this baby so much already, I..."

"We love you too." You replied as you felt your eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry, but now you'll have to start working on 'The Secret Society of dads'..."

"Y/N." He freaked out when it hit him. "I have NO IDEA how to be a dad..."

"I'm just joking" you laughed at his reaction. "You don't have to write a book about it."

"I just have to raise the child, which seems easier, huh?" He raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

"I know it's hard." You reassured him. "But you got me as a coauthor in this one."

"In that case... I just know it will be the most beautiful story."

______________________________________________________________

As promised, tagging my sweet @gyllenhaalstories, who inspired me to come back, and made me feel very welcome <3

[lovely-showtimes]

Rui and Akito x bubbly fem! reader who designed and asked their friend to make earrings of their favorite food, and bought them for chars bday? Tyy

earrings . . . ♡

characters - akito, rui.

type - scenario.

contains - written with fem reader in mind, although no gendered terms are actually used (there wasn't really an opportunity to write them in...)

a/n - i had to mostly rewrite rui's as it a) got really long and b) it felt too... clunky. i feel a little better than i did before about this, now! i really liked this request, i think it's cute! i hope you enjoy ~

You clutch the small, wrapped box close to your chest as you scan the Kamiyama High courtyard, searching for Akito. Despite how busy it was, your gaze soon lands on the ginger-haired boy you were looking for. You run over, a smile etched onto your face as you wave wildly.

"Akito! Hiiiii!" You skid to a stop in front of him and bounce on your toes. "I haven't seen you all day! Where have you been hiding?!"

"I've been caught up in a few other things. A few people have been pretty enthusiastic about my birthday, to say the least." Despite his slightly sarcastic tone, there was a flicker of glee in Akito's eyes.

You're glad he has some good friends.

You had gotten a little distracted from your main objective, however. You'd almost forgot! How could you?

"Akito, here!" You shove the gift into his hands abruptly, catching him off-guard. "For you! Happy birthday~!"

Akito studies the gift for a few moments, before carefully unwrapping it and lifting the lid. Inside lay two pairs of earrings - one of a tiny plate of pancakes, and one of a slice of cheesecake.

"I wasn't sure which you liked more, so I just made both. I hope that's okay," you let out a short laugh. "You could even mix and match them, if you want! One pancake, one cheesecake!"

Something else you said had caught Akito's attention, however. "You made these?" He lifts his head to gaze at you, surprise etched onto his features.

You nod eagerly, your hands excitedly balled into fists. "Yeah, for you! I did pretty well, didn't I?"

Akito studies the earrings for a few moments, running his fingers over them carefully, before a small smile creeps onto his face.

"Yeah, you did. These are pretty neat. Thanks." Akito puts the box back together and carefully pockets it. "C'mon, let's go. I wanna get home soon so I can try these on."

You eagerly knock on the door to the Kamishiro household, your barely contained excitement sparkling in your eyes. You momentarily paused to check your bag to make sure the present was, in fact, still there. Your hand wraps around it, confirming its presence, before you pulled your arm out of your bag again.

It had been a few minutes, and still had no one answered the door. You frown and knock once more, and this time you hear movement within the house. Eventually Rui opens the door. His hair is slightly messy, something unusual for him.

"Sorry about the wait." He smiles apologetically. "I may have fallen asleep while waiting for you. Only because I stayed up later than intended working on something last night."

He steps aside to let you enter and closes the door behind you. Once you're in his house, you immediately turn around and wrap him in a tight hug. You pull away before he even has a chance to react and pull the box containing his present out of your bag.

"For you! Happy birthday!" You beam brightly as Rui takes the present from you. He wastes no time in unwrapping it with surprising accuracy and lifts the lid.

Inside, of course, are the earrings you made him, designed to look like packaged soda candy.

"Ah...!" A joyful smile makes its way onto Rui's face. "I've never actually had any other earrings than the ones I always wear. These are wonderful. Thank you."

He leans over and kisses the side of your head, causing you to giggle and blush. Rui loves seeing you like this, so he doesn't want to potentially ruin it by letting you know that his left ear isn't pierced, and he can't wear both earrings at once.

Oh well, it's alright. He'll just use the other one as a spare.

[sheyri]

Happy Birthday!

“What are you doing for your birthday?”

“What do you mean?”

“Celebrate? Fun activities? Throw a huge ball?”

“Why would I celebrate?”

“It's your birthday! It's a special occasion!”

“It's just the day when I'm officially one year older. But we're ageing every day, with every experience.”

“Very philosophical, but also very boring.”

~~~

“She never had a birthday party, you know. Her parents didn't even acknowledge it.”

“I... shouldn't be surprised. But that sucks!”

“Yes. She deserves better.”

“Do you think she would enjoy a little surprise party? Just the three of us?”

“If it's nothing big.”

~~~

The next few days Ash and Callum spend plotting. They agreed that Ramsay would probably spend the day at work away up in the Downs, since it was a weekday. So they needed a convenient excuse to get her to come to Riverside.

In the end they decided to be at least somewhat honest about their intentions. “It's your birthday, at least take the day off.” Miraculously, it actually worked and Ramsay agreed.

Then there was the matter of the cake. “I was thinking a plum cake, for a personal touch”, Ash suggested. Chocolate cake was wonderful, but Ramsay had demonstrated her love for the fruit many times.

“Oh, yes! That's a great idea! I know where to get the best plums in Kensington. Just tell me how much you need, I'll take care of it.”

As for presents... “Maybe we shouldn't overdo it the first time.”

“You just don't know what to get her, admit it!”

“Guilty as charged. But I also stand by what I said. We don't want to overwhelm her, do we?”

“Yeah, okay. But we have to get her something small at least. It's not a birthday without presents.”

They brainstormed ideas for a bit until they settled on something they were sure she would appreciate.

“Also, I have an idea. But I'm not sure she would take it the right way...” Ash explained his plan. When he was done, Callum thought for a while.

“It's a bit macabre. But I don't know, it could go either way. Either she's really upset, or she'll find it hilarious.”

“Only one way to find out. Though first I'd actually have to manage it.”

“I think you should try it and then see how you like the result.”

So they set on getting everything ready. Callum arrived they day before Ramsay's birthday to help Ash with the cake. Ash showed him the present he'd made and they agreed he should just do it. They also wrapped the other present, then set them on a side table in the sitting room.

~~~

They only had a quick breakfast in the morning. Ramsay wouldn't arrive for another couple hours, but then they would have a proper meal. With plum cake.

Ash went outside and plucked some flowers for a fresh bouquet, which he then set on the table next to the presents. When they were expecting Ramsay to arrive, Callum set the table and they put out the cake.

And then the star of the day came home.

“Happy Birthday!”, Ash and Callum called out in unison. Ramsay stood in the doorway, stunned, then a grin spread on his face.

He came over and hugged them both. “You guys. You tricked me into celebrating!”, he said, still locked in the embrace. But he sounded happy, so Ash counted that as a win.

They exchanged kisses, then Callum cut in. “We got you something.” He handed Ramsay their present. He took it curiously and unwrapped it. Inside was a fairytale collection. “You probably know all of them already, but it's a new illustrated edition and the paintings are really beautiful.”

“I haven't read any fairytales in ages”, he replied, a bit of longing in his voice. “Thank you.” He kissed both of them again.

“Okay, so, I made something for you!”, Ash started, a little nervous. “I was practising my creation alchemy and... well, anyway. Just promise you won't be mad!”

Ramsay took the present from him with a raised eyebrow and carefully unwrapped it. When he saw what was inside he burst into laughter.

“So you're not mad?”, Ash asked carefully.

“No! No, this is perfect.” Ramsay grinned. He held a model of a human skull in his hands.

“His name is Gresham”, Ash began, but was interrupted by another round of laughter. “What! You need someone to discuss your research with when I'm not around. Or when I am. Because Source knows I barely understand half of what you're talking about.”

“He's certainly a good listener”, Ramsay replied, still giggling. “Though I best keep him in my private rooms. But I might take him for a walk when I have very special visitors.”

He sat the skull down gently, then hugged Ash again. After a moment he pulled Callum into the hug as well. “Thank you, guys. You're the best.” There was an odd tone to his voice, almost like he was about to cry. Ramsay pulled away and indeed rubbed his eyes. But he was smiling. “Seriously. I love you.”

“You don't even know the best part yet”, Ash teased. “There's cake. Plum cake.”

“How dare you keep that for last!”

This would truly be a great first birthday party.

Happy Birthday, Snacho!

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hola Dani 😊 ¿cómo estás? I just saw that it was lloviendo over there after a long time YAY!!! Rainy whether is BEST!!! Go make yourself a cup of tea and enjoy!! 🥰

Oh! You already had tea? Listen to me!! LISTEN... there's always room for more tea!!!

I can't wait to unwrap my birthday present a.k.a the latest LBAF IV chapter 😌

Homies this chapter is MINE!!! I can't be reasoned with so don't bother with any "It's for all of us" nonsense 🙃

FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS A MI 💃🏽

I had the best day!! I'm so happy!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Here you go my fellow homies homos and hoes, have some happiness, love and good vibes too!!!

Anyways... my original point was, I haven't had a chance to read the new chapter yet so no live read this time, but you know me I'll be dropping by to gush and scream at you.

Thank you Dani, I can't wait to meet Nicolas I already love him!

I am love you 💚💚💚💚💚

BABE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN. (i am once again screaming it. idk how to say it softly and normally lol)

I was literally drinking blue tea when i saw this message. I'm going to have a bath soon and then have my night tea!

AND YES THIS CHAPTER IS YOURS.

i was thinking of you when i wrote the rafael pov and i hope you liked it 🥺

ALSO FINALLY SOMEONE SPELLED NICOLAS CORRECTLY OMG *screams in stop using a H in his name*

I am love you too, babygirl 💚💚💚

[nitannichionne]

If He Was Your Fan, A Henry Cavill Fanfic Chapter 65: Birthday In Bed (Henry POV)

Chapter 65: Birthday in Bed

HENRY POV

It was her first time at my home, my real home. My birthday seemed like the proper time.

She came over that night. She said she wanted to be next to me when my birthday began, which was technically at midnight. She dressed in a beautiful blue gown that I was going to enjoy watching her float around the house in, and then I asked.

“I have a request.”

Her eyes widened, a sign of attention and compliance.

I could only smile. I presented her with the jewelry.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s all I want you to wear….for now.”

She gasped softly. “Seriously?”

"Birthday boy says, as you told me earlier." I shook my head at her. “I can’t be more serious. I guess you haven’t noticed the drapes are all drawn, blinds shut?”

I put them on her and she literally stepped out of the gown as I slid it down her shoulders and pushed it gently over her hips, feeling like I was unwrapping her as one of my gifts.

“I like the look of this gown by the way,” I tell her, kissing her shoulder. “Would you mind leaving it here?”

I open my eyes. The room is still dark, drapes drawn, but I smile. The gown is gone, but I smell cooking food. I turn onto my back, putting my hands behind my head, and smile, closing my eyes again.

The clock struck midnight as I lowered her onto me. My body rejoiced in relief, feeling her stretch and gush at the same time I sheathed myself within her, my body tingling in the places she had bathed with her tongue, leaving not much unattended to. I admired how her back arched, her hips spread over mine. I used one hand to clasp her wrists, the other to guide he hips as I thrust upward, reveling in her gasp as I greedily pulled her down.

“That’s it, darling!” I hissed as she bounced, rewarding her with the occasional thrust that made her moan and cry out, chase our climax. Her whimpers and cries snaked down spine, making me drive harder, and she drove me wild as her hips moved and snapped deliciously, I kept licking and biting my lips in pure lust, still tasting her on my lips and tongue.

“Henry!” She cried out, her head falling back. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” She let out a long cry and her body leaned forward as she clasped hard, making me cry out with her.

But I was in rare form tonight. It was my birthday. The woman I love was finally in my bed, and I felt hungry for her in ways I couldn’t define. Oh, how I had waited for this, like a starving man for a feast. And now…now…

I turned her to me and seated her on me again. Her fingers dug into my chest, but then slid to my shoulders for a firm grip. “Ride me, love…ride me.”

And she did…

I opened my eyes. To work out or not to work out, that was the question. I wasn’t hitting the gym, that was for sure, but a little spin on the exercise bike…?

“Nope,” I tell no one. I’d had plenty of cardio last night, and was planning for more. In fact, I was ready for more.

I roll out of bed and head for the shower. I turn it on, and hear padding feet hurrying toward me.

“Sorry!” she whispers, getting in and taking my sponge. She begins bathing me.

“What—” I laugh happily and she giggles as she wets my hair. “I can lift a finger or two, you know.”

“I want to do it,” she whispers, her eyes on the sponge. She liked running her hands over me, she liked caressing me, even rubbing me down. That warms the heart, the soft but firm touch, that feeling of being cherished in such a way. The water thankfully hides a couple of tears. “I put breakfast in the oven to keep it warm. It’ll be fine.”

“In that case—” I lowered to my knees and brought her foot up on the lip of the tub, licking on the way down.

“Ooh…” she half whispers, half moans, the sound blending with the shower. One of her hands sets on my shoulder the other in my hair. “It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly,” I whisper against the apex of her legs before I snaked my tongue out to taste her. I gave her such a lashing she collapsed against the wall moaning, unable to stand. I rise and hook her bent knee, and then she wraps it around my hips and does the same with the other as once again I sank into her. I enjoy watching her mouth fall open, her eyes roll closed. I work her up and down my length and she moves with me, her hands around my neck as I brace her against the wall. I open my eyes and I can see the tears in her eyes, different from the water and I wonder if she sees mine. We move together, panting, calling each other’s names as we find yet another release in the shower.

“How come you don’t have pajamas?”

“I sleep nude a lot,” I shrug. “when I’m home.”

“Ah.”

“But I have pajamas.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” I roll my eyes. “Me Mum gave them to me my first Christmas here. Never wore them except that day.”

She grows excited. “Never?”

I catch on quickly, rolling my eyes at her. “Darling—”

“Please?”

Ah, that little girl in her, the one I fall victim to with a smile. “Not wearing the top.”

“Alright!”

I lead her to back to the bedroom. “I only thought of them because you are wearing the same shade of blue, love.” I take them out of a drawer. “See?”

“Oh, put the bottoms on!” she smiles brightly, and I do without protest. “You look handsome, brings out your eyes, baby.”

“Tell you what,” I say, throwing the buttoned top at her. “You put that on.”

She slips it over her head and it looks like a mini dress of sorts. She steps in the mirror. “Wow, looks big.” She flounces her arms, her fingers somewhat visible.

I walk over and roll the sleeves up. “Ah, now you can wear it.”

“But—”

“Birthday boy says.”

She giggles and turns back to the mirror. I hold her from behind around her waist and kiss her shoulder. I look up at our reflection and her head is turned to kiss my cheek, eyes closed. She is leaning into me, against me, breathing me in…me.

I breathe with her. I listen to her hum happy birthday Marilyn Monroe style in ear, and I melt inside. How long do I have to wait? She belongs here! Why doesn't she see that? And then the inner voice asks, Why haven't you proposed yet? What are YOU waiting for? I sigh, wanting the perfect time, for her to feel ready for it, but more than anything to not be turned down. I sigh at the ring on her finger.

"What?"

Shit, quiet too long. “Tell me, love, have you been to a pub?” I ask.

“Not…not really.”

“Well, I’d like to go with you.” I wait. I do like to drink, and now that I am in between productions, I am known to get knackered now and again. I take a deep breath. I know she isn’t a drinker. She told me that alcoholism did some things to her family, but….

“Alright.”

My whole body relaxes. I didn’t realize I was so tense. I chuckle softly. “Thank you.” With that, I sweep her up in my arms.

She whoops with surprise. “Where are we going?”

“To breakfast.” I carry her toward the kitchen.

“Ah.”

“Then back to bed.”

“Back to bed?”

“Yeah, then tea.” I say softly.

She giggles.

“Must have that tea, milady, I am British.” I steal a kiss from her. “Then back to bed, but we can have tea in bed after that, you know, elevensies?”

She’s laughing now.

“You don’t know your tea times?” I cluck my tongue at her. “Well, we’ll set that right.”

“What do you do between sex and tea?”

“Go to the loo?”

She curls her arms around me, laughing so hard I can’t help but join her. Now that she has been here in my home, I know that I won't-I can't-wait much longer to make things permanent...

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67

[sezja]

Previously: first, kiss, final, numb, broken, wings, melody, rules, chocolate, nostalgia, heartbeat, stranger, confusion, bitter, afterlife, daybreak, audience, endless, fireworks, hopeful, birthday, tomorrow, oppression, agony, return, protection, boxes, hope, preparation, beautiful

One-Word Prompts: #32 - underneath

mildly nsfw (fades to black)

"You sure about this?"

It's a simple question, gently asked: now that they're here (Sanson's house, Sanson's bedroom), there's a hesitation in Sanson that hadn't been there before. Reluctance? Uncertainty? Hard to say. For all they've been traveling companions for a while now, and for all Guydelot had glimpsed a good deal of how Sanson's mind works from his journal, they're still practically strangers; they've not bothered getting to know one another, not as well as perhaps they ought to have before Guydelot found himself naked in the other man's bed.

Still, here they are.

Sanson still lingers in the doorway, a little pale as he takes in the view. "Yes," he says. Then, a little more firmly: "Yes." He takes a deep breath, steeling himself as though for battle. "I haven't... well-"

"Don't tell me you're a-"

"No!" That brings some color to his face. "No, I... I haven't had a partner in..." He clears his throat. "It has been... it's been some time, since I last..."

Ah. Guydelot sits back up, winding the sheets around his hips for a little modesty. "Come here."

Another moment's hesitation, then Sanson drifts slowly in his direction, wary as a stalked hare. Guydelot smiles, taking Sanson's hands in his own: Sanson's still dressed, save for his boots and overcoat, left neatly by the front door. Guydelot's own clothes are lost to the bedroom floor; he'll worry about them in the morning - for now he sets about gently tugging off Sanson's gloves. "You know we don't have to, right?" One glove hits the floor, and Guydelot turns his attention to the other. "I'll think no less of you if you've changed your mind. Just say the word, eh? Any time."

No response, though Guydelot notices some of the tension fade. It'll do. He lets the other glove fall, and lifts Sanson's hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles slowly; he turns one hand over to kiss the calloused palm. A lancer's hands, strong and rough from years of gripping a spear. When he takes a fingertip between his lips, he hears Sanson's breathing hitch.

"Still fine?" Guydelot releases Sanson's hands, letting his own rise to frame the other man's face. Sitting on the bed like this, Guydelot's nearly at eye-level with Sanson, still standing. There's no fear in Sanson's eyes: a good sign. A better one still is when he nods, slowly. So Guydelot reaches further back, letting Sanson's hair down, letting it fall loose so he can sink his hands in it. He smiles. "You've got no idea how long I've wanted to touch that."

"My- my hair?"

"Aye." He draws his hands back, trailing the dark locks over Sanson's shoulders, letting his fingertips graze Sanson's neck. "And you. I reckon I wanted to get my hands on you even when I thought I hated you, Sanson the Stiff."

Sanson shivers at the touch, though he doesn't draw away; color rises in his face once more, pink and pleased. "You oughtn't say such things," he murmurs, unconvincingly.

Guydelot grins in response. "No better time for it, if you ask me. Here we are, you and me, and I finally get to see what you look like underneath all this Adder gear." He lets his hands slide, slow and light, down Sanson's chest and stomach, coming to rest at the hem of the thin shirt he'd worn beneath his jerkin. "A little like unwrapping a present, eh?"

"Speaking of that-" Sanson rests his hands, trembling slightly, on Guydelot's, stilling them. "You do recall what I said when we began traveling together?"

An advisement, when they first began living in close quarters - the brief, stiff declaration of a man wanting to avoid the awkwardness of discovery by revealing it on his own terms. Guydelot remembers. For the first seventeen or so years of his life, Sanson'd thought himself a girl. At the time, Guydelot'd figured it'd never be relevant.

"Aye," he replies, lifting an eyebrow. "Good news is I know how to work the equipment."

It startles a laugh out of Sanson; that musical sound that makes Guydelot stop breathing for a second. "You-"

"You worried I'll see you as less of a man once I see you naked?"

"Perhaps." But he's smiling, and his hands are lighter where they rest on Guydelot's. "But I find... I'm eager to find out." He lets Guydelot tug his shirt over his head, revealing a tighter garment beneath; this he peels away on his own.

"Eager, is it?" Guydelot tugs Sanson onto his lap, where the man settles comfortably, straddling him. Guydelot is pleasantly reminded that he's naked underneath these sheets; the weight is like an electric current. He lifts Sanson's hands to his own shoulders, letting his own hands come to rest on Sanson's waist once more. "Just how eager, eh?"

As though only just realizing he is allowed to touch Guydelot, a look of wonder crosses Sanson's face; his hands stray to Guydelot's chest, applying gentle pressure to make him lie back - an order the bard is only to pleased to yield to: lying on his back with Sanson above him, he is abruptly dizzy, lightheaded with desire.

"You," he whispers, reaching one hand up to cup Sanson's chin. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

[inthememetime]

Cleaning the Gravestones- Chapter 7

Taglist: @mochazocha @feralsrock @reading-wanderer @max-the-hecker @murderandjam

"Happy Birthday!" Came the call from the kitchen when she returned. 

    How had she forgotten? It was already the 20th. "Thanks!" She replied, feeling guilty at the wrapped present and the other place settings- their friends had been invited, no doubt. 

    "C'mon, open it," Vlad encouraged, pushing the box towards her. "You might want to use it later today."

    She grinned, but the expression felt wrong on her face. Was she really going to break into his room once he went to work- and then the second job she wasn't supposed to know about or acknowledge? 

    "Vlad, where did you get this?" She exclaimed at unwrapping the birthday gift. This was too much, she was sure, for a man who worked as a bartender to afford, even if he did get discounts on rent. 

    Still, the camera was one she'd been wanting for years now, the best a 1993 Cannon camera could offer. It was professional grade and cost well over $1,000. 

    "I have my ways," he said, the old response to any similar question she asked. Where did you get the $500 to cover the fridge breaking down? Where did you find my wallet after I got mugged? Where did you- that was always the answer. 

    She smiled shakily and sat the camera down. "I love it. But I can't accept this if it's dragging you further into debt."

    "It isn't, I promise," he said gently. 

    "But-"

    "Would it make you feel better to know Babushka left me a little something in the will? It just took a year for the disputes to settle." 

    She bit her lip. This could help her immensely, get her into the big leagues with photography. "So you're not hurting yourself or anything for me, right?"

    "Right."

    She pulled the camera closer, then stood up to give him a tight hug that probably lasted a little too long. "Thank you so much, seriously."

    "You're very welcome," he replied warmly. He let her go the moment she started pulling away, and she abruptly decided she wasn't going to break into his room and betray his trust like that. 

    At least not tonight. She'd have to pick a better time or, ideally, a better way to go about getting her answers. 

-

    (Was being a little odd, or having been in her life at the same time her grandmother decided to give her ghost-related gifts really bad enough to warrant a betrayal like that?)

    He left about 2 hours in, when she'd gotten tipsy enough with Celestine and Darcy that proprietary went out the window. 

    Ok so maybe she was a little srunk. Drunk. Shh. 

    "Cone back, you haven't even had a shot," she whined. 

    "I've got to go to work," and was he laughing at her? That was very dude. Rude. She meant rude. What was rude again? 

    Vlad set his keys down on the counter with a laugh. He leaned over and took her shot of tequila. "Hey! That was mine."

    "You don't need it," he chuckled. "I'll see you later."

    And that would've been that, except. 

    Except. 

    When her friends left (with Paul- like hell were they getting cabs this late in this neighborhood), she locked up. And noticed, on the counter, the keys still sat where he left them when she distracted him with a shot of tequila. 

    Harriet groaned. She just wanted to sleep, but now she needed to wait an hour or two so she could open the door for him. Like hell was she going to leave the door unlocked. 

    So she set her digital alarm clock drunkenly, and plopped down on the most uncomfortable chair they owned, intending to wait and watch TV until he started banging on the door in 2 hours. 

    She lasted until the first commercial. When she woke, the sun burned her eyes painfully, and she was covered in a red and white blanket with 'Toronto Maple Leafs' proudly emblazoned on it. 

    It smelled like decomposing leaves and fresh flowers. 

    She struggled to her feet, feeling awful she'd inadvertently locked him out, only to hear snoring from his bedroom. 

    It took a few minutes in her hungover state, but Harriet eventually came to 5 realizations. 

    She had not let him in, and he had not brought his keys. There was no way for him to get into the apartment without breaking the door or barred windows. 

    She had been moved from the uncomfortable chair to the couch. She didn't remember getting up to move at any time. 

    Her digital alarm clock had been turned off. 

    His favored blanket- which she hadn't grabbed- smelled like rotting leaves. 

    Her grandmother was onto something. 

-

It took longer than Harriet wanted to admit to come to a decision on what to do. She would've been embarrassed to admit aloud that her first instinct hadn't been to gather information, or even to try and get a story, no matter how untrue out of her friend; it had been to run. 

    She decided not to for several reasons, the primary one being he'd never shown any inclination to hurt her before, followed by the trust and friendship they'd built slowly over the past few years. Not to mention- well. Not to sound like a teenager, but she was starting to like like him. (Maybe a little more than that, once she could figure out what the hell he was.)

    (Though she didn't know it, this bravery and trust would, again, save her from a lifetime of running, always looking over one shoulder.)

    "Hey, can I talk to you?"

    Vlad raised an eyebrow as he left the bathroom, hair still soaked from his shower. "That's ominous."

    "Actually," she began, "I'm kind of curious about some of the research you, Jack, and Maddie were doing?"

    "Oh! Well, that's fine, then. What would you like to know?"

    "This alternate dimension stuff. Did you guys honestly think you were going to see ghosts or whatever? How would that even make sense?"

    He sat across from her and considered the question. "There's a theory that there are more than just 3 dimensions. How much do you know about that?"

    "Explain it like I'm 10," she said. "If I've heard about it, it's in passing, or it was one of your math spiels."

    He flushed, and she laughed. "It's ok, I just don't have the ability to communicate in equations."

    Vlad cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said, and sat his hair tie on the plate in front of him- she'd come prepared with bribes in the form of cinnamon rolls. "So. This plate is one dimension. Flat. Things or people on it can't perceive a dimension above beyond slight oddness, but the things in the dimension above them can percieve the first. Like the elastic- it's 2 dimensional. They might be able notice something new blocking their way, but they wouldn't be able to comprehend when it had arrived, time in general, or anything else. Good so far?"

    "Please don't tell me you're lining me up for a monk with a key joke," she teased, and he snickered. 

    "No. Don't worry. Ok, so 1st dimension is only aware of their own dimension. 2nd dimension- let's call the hair elastic 2nd dimension. It resides on the first plane, but it has dimension and volume. It's aware of what it can see of the 1st dimension, and of things around it on the second." 

    He put his hand above it. "It might be able to notice the shadow, but it wouldn't be aware of the time. To that, my hand was always there, and always will be right where I have it. And when I remove it, because it lacks awareness of the third dimension, it will be as if my hand was never there."

    "That's trippy as hell."

    "Wait until I get to quantum mechanics."

    "I'm going to need something harder than orange juice, aren't I?" She snarked right back, and he ducked his head with a grin. "Ok. So 1st dimension is basically static, 2nd dimension can see 1st but has no perception of time. I take it 3rd is where we are?"

    "Exactly," he replied, sounding pleased. "We're aware of everything in the 1st and 2nd dimensions, but we're also aware of the 3rd, time. To us, there was a time before I put my hairband on the plate, and there's going to be a time when it's not going to be there anymore. And just like beings in a second dimension can notice parts of the effects of our existence, we can notice the fourth."

    "And the fourth is...ghosts?" She asked, a little incredulous. 

    He shrugged. "Ghosts, beings from the 4th dimension- whatever you want to call them. Just because we don't usually see them directly unless they put in effort, doesn't mean we can't notice signs of their existence. Temperature imbalances, electrical issues; the reason we called them ghosts is because for all human history, we've been recording their presence. Spirits, ghosts, whatever you want to call them: they linger around places where we have died, they take the faces of dead loved ones, and they interact with us enough that we have rules for them."

    She hesitated. "So- we can't really understand them, right? What if we're just making up faces for them?"

    He swallowed. "No. No, you can- we can understand. Ghosts..." Vlad sighed heavily. "Harriet, in the hospital, I crossed the line between life and death so much that I saw and experienced things people aren't supposed to. And I- I changed."

    "What do you mean, changed?" She asked quietly. 

    Vlad looked away. "It's not important."

    The tone of voice indicated it was very important, actually, so she pressed a little. "Is it hard to talk about?"

    He looked at her, something like shock on his face. "I died. I died so many times I stopped keeping track. Yes, Harriet, it's a little difficult!"

    "I'm sorry."

    "No. No, that was uncalled for. I apologize for snapping. You're only curious about the person you're living with. That's normal, I think."

    He heaved a sigh. 

    "Give me a few days, until we're both off work. I'll show you something that'll answer at least a few questions."

    She reached over and took his hand. As always, despite not looking up at her, he tangled their fingers together. Despite not wanting to meet her eyes. And despite, she was almost certain, not being alive.

Cleaning the Gravestones- Chapter 6

Taglist: @max-the-hecker @mochazocha @feralsrock (you seem to like this, but lmk if you want me to remove you!) @reading-wanderer @murderandjam as always, let me know if you want to be added!

Chapter under the cut! AO3 link. Chapters 1-3 on Tumblr. Chapters 4-5 on Tumblr. Original post Tumblr. Do you want a Cleaning the Gravestones Masterpost? You can find any additional content/other chapters by searching the tag Cleaning the Gravestones on my page

Harriet chuckled when she dug through the books the next day after a long, exhausting day at work. All occult stuff- Vlad would probably like them. Still, her grandmother would ask to make sure she'd read them, so she cracked them open.

The signs of a ghost, however, were- well.

She was quickly less amused. "Ghosts become fixated on a person, place or action, and must destroy or claim it," sounded like something out of a bad horror movie.

Flickering lights. (Except her bedroom, every area in the apartment had lights that flickered. According to the book, that meant this was the only room a ghost hadn't touched.)

Smells. Awful, brimstone and sulfur, or rot. Sentient ghosts would often seek to cover the scent. (Why did Vlad keep so many plants- all herbs or flowering plants with strong scents?)

Cold spots- they were everywhere but her room.

A hunger. Constant, gnawing hunger that could be appeased by food being sacrificed. (Vlad was always hungry, unless it was a homecooked meal. Always.)

She shook her head, disgusted with herself. Vlad was not a ghost, that made no sense and wasn't physically possible. He was alive. The lights flickered? Their apartment was old. Vlad liked plants an abnormal amount? At least it was something harmless and not drugs.

Cold spots- again, this was a turn of the century building. So Vlad was always hungry- maybe the radiation poisoning had affected his ability to feel full or something.

Besides, none of the descriptions of minor spirits or malevolent ghosts fit him.

That was when she found the chapter on guardian ancestor spirits.

"Despite the name, not all guardian spirits are ancestors, though that is most common. Sometimes, they can be strangers. Their lotalty and love can be earned while dying or shortly after death by the cleaning of gravestones and other rites after death," the book said, "though ghosts without gravestones can still happen, particularly in cases of burning, murder, or strong emotions tied to their death."

Burning. (He was burned and boiled alive, cooked by radiation.)

She read on, after listening carefully to determine her roommate was still watching TV. Or, at least, the TV was still on.

Cooking and sacrificing food to the deceased, speaking to them as if alive, caring for them, cleaning the gravestones. She'd done all that- except for the gravestone thing.

"Harriet, you're being ridiculous," she muttered to herself.

It turned out the incense her grandmother had given her was the best for casting out malevolent ghosts. They were repelled by their reflection in copper mirrors. Writing their names on yellow and paper and burning would set the spirits free.

Red beans would satisfy them. They feared peaches. Well. Peach wood, but she supposed peach wood staves were hard to smuggle.

She thought about it and snorted. "Couldn't hurt anything," she said to herself.

She finished changing into her pajamas and took the incense and burner to the living room, where she could hear the TV still going. True to form, Vlad was laid out on the sofa, half asleep to the sounds of a laugh track.

"Hey. Mind if I light this?"

"Mm-mm," he grunted, and she did.

No immediate reaction. She sat down, moving his feet so they were in her lap and leaning back.

After an hour, the only changes were the air smelling of peaches and sage, Vlad snoring heavily, and her legs falling asleep.

She chuckled at herself. "Told you it was ridiculous," she muttered to herself. "You're not a malevolent ghost, are you?" Harriet quietly asked. Vlad started to drool a little.

She squirmed out from under his legs, closed the window, then crushed the ember on the incense. She shook Vlad's shoulder gently and he groaned. "'M 'sleep."

"Your back will thank me later if you sleep in a real bed. Trust me."

He whined and threw an arm over his eyes. "Nnn. Sleep here. Go 'way."

She fought the urge to coo. He could be so adorable sometimes. Instead, she tugged lightly on his hair. "I won't leave you alone until you go to sleep."

He pouted up at her, bleary eyes half-closed. "Y'r mean."

"No, I'm not," she laughed. "Go to bed, or I don't want to hear about your backache tomorrow."

Vlad groaned and rolled to his feet. She waited until he managed to get his door open to return to her room. She was hit with the smell of flowers, as usual- but underneath that, the faint scent of petrichor.

"You're being ridiculous, Harriet," she reminded herself yet again. And then she went to bed. She did not notice that, in the copper mirror hanging around her neck, Vlad was not reflected. Something else was reflected instead.

-

Within a week, Harriet had mentally dismissed her Grandmother's presents as nothing more than superstition. As always with food she made, Vlad ate both the red beans and peaches like they were going out of style.

Writing his name on yellow paper and burning it did nothing but smoke up the kitchen. (And make him crow, unbearably smug, that he wasn't the only one who burned food anymore.)

She'd lit the incense a few more times- it smelled nice- and the only change was Vlad picking up a few more boxes on the way to work one day. And it wasn't like he was avoiding the smell- one of the packs he bought was identical to hers.

The only thing still causing a little... She wouldn't call it suspicion. Suspicion implied guilt for a crime. But maybe curiosity? The only thing leaving her curious was the mirror.

She'd left it on the coffee table the day after she lit the incense. When she came home from work, it had been turned over, shiny side down.

Then, the kitchen counter because it made some pretty reflections with the neon lights from the building across the street. Again, when she looked next- this time on the way to work- it was face down.

And now, a few days later, it was missing. Harriet rapped her knuckles against the cheap countertop and finally decided keeping the peace was worth more than an old copper mirror. Besides, it probably just slid under the couch or something.

She noticed the reddish gleam- under the couch, as she thought, and huffed at herself. Why would Vlad bother messing with a piece of copper?

When she pulled it out, however, she swallowed.

There were 5 distinct divots around the edges, where it seemed the copper had been melted. Soot blackened the shinier part and, on the back, she could see the reverse of a hand-print as if it had been melted in someone's hand.

She put it in her pocket, debating whether to bring it up or not. What she was thinking was physically impossible. She wasn't living with a ghost; he had a pulse, he was a bit weird but ultimately harmless to her, he-

He, Maddie, and Jack had been trying to open doors to other dimensions.

And how many times had he died?

"It's finally over!" He'd told her at her graduation. But when she asked if he meant the radiation poisoning, he'd evaded the question. Instead, he'd just said 'something like that'.

But that was-

Her investigation- snooping, and a gross invasion of privacy that she was nearly certain Vlad would never do to her, if she was being honest- would need to wait until after work.

"No." She said to herself, and pocketed the mirror. "I'll just have to- to do an investigation. Think of it like that," she said to herself. "I'm not- invading privacy, or breaking in, I'm just investigating."

[thelaststrikeyouorganized]

"Oh my god I haven't got you a present" for some sprace?

thank you for the request!

sprace is great guys

warnings: swearing, excited spot

Race woke up to kisses all over his face and the sound of giggling. He opened his eyes and saw Spot hovering over him, smiling. Race grinned, wrapping his arms around Spot’s waist.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Spot said, leaning down to kiss Race. “It’s about time your ass woke up”

“Jesus, Spot, what time is it?” Race has only seen Spot like this on two occasions. Race’s birthday and-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

“It’s ten. I’ve been up since eight, though!” Spot was beaming, and it was then Race began to notice a sweet scent fill the air.

Oh.

It’s Christmas.

Shit.

“C’mon Race! I made breakfast!” Spot rolled off of Race and stood up, extending his hand out to Race. Race smiled nervously and took it and let Spot lead him to the kitchen.

Oh God, I’m the worst fiancé ever. I didn’t get him anything. I forgot about Christmas. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU FORGET ABOUT CHRISTMAS? Race, you dumbass. You really-

Spot stopped suddenly, pulling Race out of his thoughts. Race gasped. A smorgasbord of breakfast was set out before him. Pancakes, cinnamon rolls, bacon, you name it. Race grinned and sat down, Spot sat next to him.

“Spot! I-I don’t know what to say! Thank you so much!” Race hugged Spot from the side, who turned and kissed Race on the forehead.

“Anything for you, Race. I still have something else for you!” Spot wiggled out of Race’s arms, and ran out of the room.

Now Race was really starting to freak out. Spot made him this huge meal, and now he had another present for him.

Spot came back carrying a little box. He set it on the table in front of Race. “I…I know it isn’t much…but I saw it and I knew I had to get it for you…”

Race carefully unwrapped the box, and opened it. He gasped and pulled a silver bracelet out of the box. “Spot…I-I…It’s beautiful.” Spot gently took the bracelet out of Race’s hand and put it on his wrist.

“It has my initials on it…I-I figured it could be a reminder of me whenever you’re at work…or something.”

Race put his hands on Spot’s face and kissed him. Spot wrapped his arms around Race’s waist. Suddenly, Race pulled away.

“Race?”

“Oh my God, Spot, I haven’t got you a present. I forgot about Christmas. I-”

Spot cut Race off by kissing him. Race’s eyes widened, and he melted into the kiss. He sighed when Spot pulled away.

“Race, it doesn’t matter that you didn’t get me anything. I love you. Not getting me a present doesn’t change that.”

“But you-”

“Race. It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re here with me. That’s the best Christmas present anyone could ask for. Sure, presents are nice, but I’d rather be with you than have a present anyday.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”