#and getting cat hair on my pillow so my eyes puff up like i have pink eye lol. thats why she has 2 cat towers and soooo many toys in the

[the-trans-dragon]

My bedroom door doesn't quite shut all the way right now and my cat isn't allowed in my bedroom, so there are 3 outcomes for this:

-she puts her paw under the door and tries to pull it open. Makes a very overwhelming rattling noise but doesn't open the door

-she paws at it and it swings open and she goes 0.0 and stands there politely because she knows she's not supposed to be in there, so I can just shut the door

-she baps it open and flings herself into my room and hides under the bed until she gets bored and starts yelling or knocking stuff over and gets banished

[michelle-is-writing]

Comfort, Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 1k~

Disclaimers: nightmares, Kurt speaks with a German accent like he does in the movies.

One thing I have learned about Kurt is that he is a very touchy person. He's not touchy as in moody, no, he's touchy as in he constantly wants to be touching me. There's nothing wrong with it, but it does scare me sometimes when I feel his tail wrap around my leg out of no where or when he randomly teleports behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He's good at unintentionally scaring me, but unfortunately, he also gets scared when I get scared at the same time.

Tonight is a good example of this. Usually, I sleep soundlessly without something disrupting me. However, for some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason until a puff of blue smoke with a man in it appeared in front of me suddenly. Of course, like usual, I screamed in surprise, causing Kurt to accidentally teleport again and land on the floor a few feet away with a thud.

"Kurt!" I scold him, turning on the lamp beside my bed. Turning back toward him, I watch as he quickly stands up with a small stumble. Looking over at me, he smiles. How could this boy still be happy when he nearly hurt himself mere moments ago?

"Hi, lovely," Kurt greets me, walking closer to the bed. His pajamas are wrinkled beyond measure and his hair is pointing in every direction possible. "Have you slept vell?"

Glancing toward the clock, my eyes widen. "It's four am, Kurt," I point out, looking back at him to see his eyes cast away from mine as his smile disappears into thin air. "What are you doing up at this time?"

"I-I know it's early," Kurt admits, his voice low and fragile. Rubbing his arm nervously, Kurt continues pointing his yellow eyes away from me and onto the hardwood floor of my room. "I just had a bad dream, and I knew I-I could come to you," he adds, making me stare at him with concern.

"What'd you have a bad dream about, love?" I ask Kurt, watching him shake his head with his eyes now closed. He’s never one to come running after a dream, so I know something has to be bothering him. Kurt is quiet, yes, but when he comes to me seeking comfort, he's usually open to talking to me. This time seems to be different.

"Kurt," I address him, watching his eyes flash back to me in the moonlight. I hold my arms out toward him, giving him a small smile and nod as I know exactly what he wants. "Come on."

As soon as the last words leave my lips, Kurt immediately pulls back my (f/c) comforter and crawls in, curling up within my arms like a cat. Nuzzled close to my chest, his entire body hides underneath the covers while his hands play with the ends of my sweater, his tail having a mind of its own as it wraps around my leg. "I vould prefer it if ve shared a room together like Scott and Jean," He shyly confesses, causing me to smile.

"If that's something you want, I don't see why we can't have it," I tell him, watching as he quickly pokes his head out from underneath the covers.

"Is zhat truly something you vould like, dove?" Kurt asks, staring up at me with questioning eyes.

Once again, I smile before moving his dark away from his face. "I would love it, Kurt," I admit, too tired to even feel embarrassed at my confession. "Now, are you going to tell me what your nightmare was?"

In response to my question, Kurt looks away before gently lying his head on the pillow next to mine, a soft sigh falling from his lips. "You vere attacked in your room," he states, "a-and I teleported as fast as I could to get in here, but I couldn't help you in time and I couldn't... I couldn't save you," He shamefully admits, making me hold him closer to me. Kurt's voice gives away his distress, and it pains me to hear it.

"I can't bear to lose you, (Y/n)," He adds on, one of his blue hands rising from underneath the covers to wipe away a fallen tear. However, before he can, I gently swipe my hand against his cheek, making a tiny smile spread across his lips. "I've been zhinking about us moving into zhe same room for a vhile now, but I didn't know if you vould vant zhat too," in my arms, he lightly shrugs. "I vant to be able to protect you vhenever I can, and I guess my vorries got zhe best of me tonight."

Leaning down, I place a kiss to Kurt's forehead before nuzzling my nose against his. "My room is big enough for us both - we can start moving your stuff in the morning?" I suggest, gaining an even bigger smile from Kurt as he leans forward to kiss me.

"That sounds vonderful, dove!" He almost shouts, causing me to laugh as I gently place my hand over his mouth to lower his voice. Noticing his sudden burst of excitement, Kurt grows a little embarrassed, but continues on. "You mean you vouldn't have a problem vith me living vith you?"

I shake my head at his question, still smiling. "Of course not, baby," I assure him before turning on my other side to press my back against his chest. Kurt quickly takes the chance to move his arms around my waist and hold me close, his tail moving to wrap around my stomach at the same time. "Now, go back to sleep. May I remind you that you woke me up at four in the morning?"

"Of course, mein liebling," Kurt murmurs, leaning over and kissing my cheek. Even after he removes his lips from my skin, I still see him leaning above me as he gazes down at me with a soft, almost peaceful expression. "Please, do go to sleep, and I will be here when you awake."

With his words, I close my eyes and fall into slumber shortly afterward, but not before smiling to myself as the thought of falling asleep like this every night brings happy butterflies to my stomach. I'm in the arms of the man I love who holds me close to him with no intent on letting me go - what more can anybody ask for?

[emmyrosee]

Happy birthday tsumu 🥹🥰

———-

Sunlight pouring through the window sculpts his face even more ethereal than normal, though you’d rather die than ever confess that to him.

Atsumu seldom sleeps in later than 9 in the morning, but for some reason today, as it creeps closer to 10, you know you should wake him up and ready for the day, lest he be a cranky bastard the rest of the day. He does look absolutely sweet, with the sheets high on his shoulders in a snuggle and curled against the pillow as his evened breath keeps him lulled asleep. Golden locks are tussled around messily, and his lips are parted just slightly enough for warm breath to puff out of him.

He looks so warm, so comfortable, the idea of ruining that lovely look on him is heartbreaking. You reach out to hook a lock of that deliciously messy hair back, keeping his face in full view. His face twitches, and you kick yourself for disturbing him.

“What’re you lookin at?” He mumbles, a cocky lilt in his voice. His eyes are glazed and swollen with sleep, and your hand gently cups his reddened cheek. He nuzzles into the coolness of your hand with a small smack of his lips.

“Just you,” you mewl, deciding against being cheeky first thing in the morning. “So pretty in the sun.” He chuckles softly and rolls onto his back, extending an arm for you to curl into, which you comply with happily.

“I never want to get out of this bed,” he mumbles, holding you and curling back into the pillow with full intentions of sleeping again.

“I wish we didn’t have to either,” you whisper. “But it’s some handsome man’s birthday, and his brother wants to get brunch.”

“His brother sounds like a dick. And a loser.”

You laugh and gently swat his chest for his words, and he cracks a smile as he lets his thumb roll back and forth over your shoulder. The sunrays hit him perfectly so, casting shadows on his face. He stretches like a warm cat, relishing in that peering light.

“My pretty boy,” you whisper, thumb gently grazing his lower lip. “Pretty golden boy…”

“Huh?” He says back, honey eyes blinking open to gaze at you. “What did you call me?” He seems more awake as he smiles, cheeks becoming a bright flush of flattery. You laugh and move slightly to press a kiss to his lips, letting him soak in all the love you can give him.

“My pretty boy,” you repeat. “You’re my pretty, golden boy.” You lay a hand on his stomach and gently rub soothing circles on it, the muscles tightening under your touch but melting in once they become familiar with it. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, nosing at you. You look up and press a kiss to those pouty pink lips, mewling as his returns the affection.

You know that in approximately 15 minutes, his phone will start to wildly explode with texts from Osamu, wondering what the plan for the day is and how his brother “better be awake” to grab food together.

But that’s in 15 minutes.

For now, you relish in the time alone on Atsumu’s birthday, curled together under the blankets and warmed by your love.

[stormyelliotwritez]

Okk thenn could I req a shameless fic, where it’s Mickey x Male reader where reader tells him something while their cuddling like ‘u should stop smoking cigarettes, it’s rlly bad for you, and I’d hate 4 sum to happen..’ and he says it all slick as he just like played with mickeys hair or sum

So ofc mickey being so smitten, after a while, (and him saying he’s fine, and he’s stronger then these cigarettes) he gave up cigarettes with the help of Ian offering to also go sober, maybe some Mickey x Ian x reader :))) please and tyyy 😝

Ilysm mwah 😽

- cat 🐈‍⬛

YEAHHHHHHHH

sorry it took so long. i haven't watched shameless for a while so it took a bit to get the vibes right.

tw: use of the word f*g at the end but it is censored

It was a quiet evening and so y/n was staying overnight at Mickey’s place. It had been a stressful day and so Mickey pulled out a cigarette as he laid against y/n’s chest. The tension was thick as y/n stared at the cigarette and he combed his fingers through his boyfriends hair.

Mickey lit it and took a puff. They laid like that for a while, just Mickey breathing out the smoke. The smell was almost comforting in a way but still disgusting enough that y/n wanted to gag. He breathed through his mouth and tried to ignore it as he kept carding his fingers through Mickey’s hair. Eventually enough was enough and y/n smiled sweetly.

“You should stop smoking cigarettes. It’s really bad for you and I’d hate for something bad to happen to you when it didn’t need to, sugar,” y/n said with puppy dog eyes as he kept combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair.

“Baby, I’m fine and don’t worry, I’m stronger than whatever they could do,” Mickey said with a chuckle before taking another puff.

Y/N huffed.

Mickey sighed and chuckled. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Good,” y/n said before resuming playing with Mickey’s hair. The two of them laid like that for ages and a while later, there was a knock on the window. Mickey turned his head and rolled his eyes. It was Ian.

Mickey sat up and opened the window. “What do you want now?” he asked with a smirk.

Ian crawled through and fell onto the bed. He laughed and laid down. “Fiona’s pissed so thought I’d come see my favourite degenerates.”

Y/N scoffed and kept combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair. “I am not a degenerate, I’m mischievous. There’s a difference.”

“Is there though?” Mickey asked as he glanced up at y/n with the widest smile.

Ian watched them and laughed. “Yeah, is there?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and pushed Mickey off him. “You two are impossible.”

The three of them bantered and acted stupid on the bed until they fell asleep.

The next morning, the three of them woke up and laid in a pile on the bed until Mickey sat up and grabbed a cigarette. Ian rolled his eyes at him and y/n huffed and pretended to still be asleep. After a few minutes, y/n turned and stuffed his face into a pillow so he wouldn’t have to smell it. Mickey could feel their disapproval at him smoking in bed, so he opened the window slightly.

“It ain’t my fault I need it,” he said slightly annoyed.

“Yeah, it is and it’s gonna hurt ya,” y/n mumbled into the pillow.

“I’m fine,” Mickey insisted before coughing.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about quitting,” Ian said with a smile as he leaned on his elbows.

Y/N made a happy sound into the pillows.

Mickey leaned over and breathed smoke against Ian’s ear, causing him to cough too. “Suck-up,” he whispered so y/n didn’t hear.

The three of them sat and laid in silence for a while longer. Mickey absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down y/n’s side and Ian stared at the ceiling. Y/N eventually rolled over and glanced at Mickey who was blowing smoke out the window and Ian who was contemplating all the shit he’d been dealing with.

“Love you guys,” he whispered as he watched them.

They both murmured love you back, though it was romantic on Mickey’s part and something else that hadn’t been determined on Ian’s part.

A few days later, the three of them were hanging out at some car park. Y/N was sitting on the ground, staring at some ants, and Ian and Mickey were leaning against the fence, staring at y/n. They were both head over heels for him but so far only Mickey had managed to ask him out and keep him. Mickey sneakily pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. He took a puff and sighed, breathing it out.

After a moment, y/n glanced up and narrowed his eyes. He crossed his arms and huffed. “You’re gonna get sick from that and I’m gonna be pissed.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad habit,” Mickey huffed defensively.

"Please stop... for me," y/n said with the damn puppy dog eyes.

Ian kicked the ground, obviously hesitating about saying something. Mickey noticed while trying to ignore y/n and rolled his eyes.

“Spit it out, Gallagher,” he said before taking another puff.

Ian kicked the ground one final time before looking up. “I’m gonna quit,” he said with a smile as he glanced over at y/n.

Y/N smiled widely and jumped up. He hugged Ian tightly and laughed before glaring at Mickey.

“At least Ian has the right idea,” he said, directing a disapproving look at Mickey.

Mickey sighed and dropped the cigarette on the ground. He smirked as he grabbed a hold of y/n and ruffled his hair.

“Damn, I wish I could stay mad at you, baby,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, you don’t,” y/n said before teasingly kissing Ian on the cheek.

Ian blushed and Mickey scoffed.

“So he gets a kiss and I don’t? He ain’t even your boyfriend,” he said annoyed.

“He said he’s quitting and who knows, maybe I want him to be my boyfriend too,” y/n said with a perfectly aimed eyebrow wiggle at Ian.

“Fine, I’ll quit,” Mickey crunched the cigarette under his boot, “I only got time for two f*gs anyways.”

“Fucking finally,” y/n said with a sigh of relief before pulling Mickey in for a kiss and then pulling Ian in for one too.

[phr3ia]

Love Game (Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 23 : Forgiveness]

[Morning]

Toji blinked his eyes open, and looked down to find you still nestled in his arms, your head resting on his chest. A soft smile played on his lips as he realized you were still hugging him, your leg thrown over his, your breath coming out in soft puffs against his skin.

He couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him at the sight. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. You let out a soft murmur in your sleep, nuzzling closer to him, making his heart skip a beat.

Concerned, he reached up to place the back of his hand against your forehead, checking your temperature. Relief washed over him as he found it cool to the touch. Your fever was finally gone.

He was lost in thought, when suddenly his gaze drifted downward, and he caught a glimpse of the curve of your breast peeking out from the collar of your pajama top. Memories of last night flooded back, and he felt a familiar stirring in his pants. "Fuck, not again." he muttered, trying to shift discreetly to ease the pressure.

But then, you chose that exact moment to nuzzle even more closer, your breath hot on his neck. Toji's body stiffened, and he let out a strangled noise, trying desperately to hold back a groan. "Jesus Christ, woman." he muttered, his voice strained. "You're like a damn cat, aren't ya? Always seeking out the warmest spot, regardless of the consequences." he grumbled, trying to maintain his composure. "You're killing me here. I'm gonna have to go jerk off in the bathroom after this."

Toji was just about to give in to his urges and sneak off to the bathroom when the sudden, shrill sound of your phone's alarm pierced the air, jarring him out of his internal struggle.

The alarm made your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself in a compromising position - wrapped around Toji like an octopus, your leg thrown over his, and your head resting on his chest. You let out a yelp, jumping back like you'd been electrocuted, and landed on the floor with a thud.

"Ow, fuck!" you exclaimed, rubbing your ass. Toji looked down at you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, suppressing a laugh.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" you insisted, scrambling to your feet and brushing yourself off. "I, uh, I must've been really out of it last night. I didn't mean to...to do that." you gestured vaguely between the two of you, your cheeks flaming. "My fever must've made me delirious. I was probably just looking for a heating pad, and you were the closest thing to one." you said, trying to play it off as a joke.

Toji raised an eyebrow, "A heating pad, huh? Well, I guess I should be honored to have been mistaken for one." he smirked, sitting up and stretching.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. "Shut up, Toji. You know what I meant." you grumbled, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Toji caught the pillow mid-air, laughing. "Alright, alright, no need to get violent." he teased, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "By the way, what do you want for breakfast?" he asked, staring at you.

You hummed, your gaze drifting away from him as you tried to think. "Um...I'm not really in the mood for anything, to be honest." you replied, looking down at the floor. "I guess you can just get whatever you want, Toji. I'm not hungry." you added, trying to play it off.

Toji smirked, placing his hand on your chin. "Don't be coy. I'm sure you're faking it. You're just trying to be cute, aren't you? Just tell me what you want, I'll order it." he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, and pushed him away "Fine. Fine. Ramen. Ramen it is." you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Toji chuckled, standing up and grabbing his wallet. "Ramen it is. I'll be back in a flash." he said, heading for the door.

You tilted your head, watching him go. "Wait, wait, wait! Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? This is weird, Toji. When did you become Mr. Considerate? Are you feeling okay? Did a cursed spirit possess you or something? Brain tumor, perhaps?" you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. "Because let me tell you, this is not normal behavior for you. You're usually more of a 'let's argue and whatever' type of guy, not 'let me go get you ramen'."

Toji turned his head, looking back at you. and stuck his tongue out before slamming the door shut. You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood to argue right now. Otherwise, I'd have a few choice words for you." you muttered, sitting back down on the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear in annoyance.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking for any messages. A sigh escaped your lips as you found nothing from Suguru. You let out a frustrated sound, throwing the phone beside you and slamming your body back onto the bed.

"Damn it." you muttered, burying your face into your pillow. "Why can't he just give me some kind of heads-up?

Your mind began to wander, spiraling into a dark place you hadn't visited in years. "Is he doing it again? Is he ghosting me, just like he did six years ago? I thought we were past that..." Your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat. "Something must've come up. Something important enough to make him abandon me again." You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I just want to know what's going on. Is he safe?" You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself down. "I just want this to work out, for once."

[17 minutes later...]

"Hey, your ramen's ready!" Toji called out from the kitchen, completely oblivious to the emotional turmoil you were experiencing. "Come grab it before it gets cold!"

Startled, you quickly wiped away the remnants of your tears. Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself and walked into the kitchen, trying to appear cheerful.

Toji was already seated at the table, a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. He looked up as you entered, his eyes flickering briefly to your reddened nose and damp cheeks, but he said nothing.

Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Knock, knock."

You paused, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

He continued, "Why don't skeletons fight each other?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "I don't know, Toji. Why?"

"Because they don't have the guts. Get it? They don't have the guts!" he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke.

You stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter. "That was terrible, Toji. Absolutely terrible." you said, shaking your head as you sat down across from him, but he managed to put a genuine smile on your face. "But thank you. For the ramen, and for the laugh."

There was a comfortable silence as you both slurped down your ramen, when suddenly, as if on cue, you both opened your mouths to speak.

Your voices overlapping.

"Toji, I-" you started.

"I'm sorry-" Toji said at the same time.

You both paused, staring at each other.

"Go ahead." Toji said, gesturing to you.

"No, you." you insisted, shaking your head.

Toji sighed, setting down his chopsticks. "Look, I owe you an apology. I've been an asshole to you since we met, and I'm sorry. I had no right to tell you what to do with your life, or to treat you like shit. I was rude, disrespectful, and I didn't give a damn about your feelings or your privacy. That was wrong of me, and I'm truly sorry." He looked at you with a sincere expression etched on his face. "I hope you can forgive me."

Toji waited for you to respond, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. After several moments of silence, he cleared his throat and spoke up, "So...are you just going to sit there and stare at me? Say something, dammit. This is the first time I've ever apologized to anyone, and it's making me feel really fucking weird. So, say something. Anything. Even if it's just 'okay', 'get lost', or 'whatever'. Just give me some kind of response." He looked at you nervously, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm not used to this whole 'apologizing' thing. So either accept my apology or tell me to piss off, but stop looking at me like that. You're making me nervous." He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. "Say something. Anything. Just don't leave me hanging here."

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Wow, Toji. I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth." you said, a playful smirk on your lips. "An apology? From you? I must be dreaming."

Toji rolled his eyes, looking away. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I knew you wouldn't take me seriously." he grumbled.

"No, no, I'm serious. I appreciate the apology, Toji. Really. I know it wasn't easy for you to say that." you said sincerely. "And I forgive you. Completely."

Toji looked at you, his eyes widening in surprise. "Really? Just like that? No strings attached?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "No strings attached. We all make mistakes, Toji. And I know you didn't mean to hurt me. You were just looking out for me, in your own way."

There was a pause before you spoke up again, "Actually, I owe you an apology too." you said, looking down at your hands. "I...I said some pretty harsh things to you a few days ago. Things I didn't mean. I was angry and hurt, and I lashed out. I'm sorry for that."

Toji waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I deserved it. I was being a dick."

"Still, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. Especially not the part where I said I hated you. Because the truth is, I don't."

Toji looked taken aback, "You...you don't?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, smiling weakly. "No. I might not understand you sometimes, and you might drive me crazy, but I don't hate you. Not even close...I'm sorry, Toji."

Toji smiled softly, "Well, we both said some pretty shitty things, but let's put it behind us, okay? You're forgiven. So, fresh start?" He held out his hand, waiting for you to shake it.

You smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Fresh start."

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End Of Chapter 23 🥀....

@barelylivingirl @meowforluv @miizuzu @geniejunn @scorpiosugar

[spicyseonghwas]

choi yeonjun - " a taste like sugar "

pairing :: choi yeonjun x male reader

content rating :: 15+ for suggestive content

genres/au's :: fluff, suggestive, boyfriend!yeonjun

content warnings :: light making out, light cursing, physical contact, suggestive language, food (is candy a food,,,), reader really likes caramel

word counts :: before: 377 ; after editing:

reposted from old account ( @hangyeomcult ); please reblog this if you like it! likes do not help my algorithm.

you flopped backwards into the soft, puffy pillows with a big puff of air. a colossal yawn escaped your (l/c) lips as you stretched out flat onto the bed, stretching your arms as far as you could get them to go without hurting yourself. a soft, tired smile slipped onto your lips as you looked over to stare at your (groundbreakingly gorgeous) boyfriend of 6 months...

choi yeonjun.

i wonder if he'll share his candy with me... you thought to yourself, smirking at the prospect of eating candy touched by a man such as him.

you smiled, moving over and laying carefully on top of him, leaning over his side and peeking at the youtube video he had been giggling at for the past hour. your smile widened a bit when you saw that it seemed to be a fan-made video compilation of yeonjun just being done with his group mates.

"hey, juuunnie?" you asked slowly, purposely being as cute as you could as you softly poked his cheek.

"yes, darling?" he asked, his eyes moving away from his phone screen as he turned over to look at you, taking one of his airpods out of his ear to better hear what you wanted to say.

"could a cute, precious boyfie have some of his precious, handsome boyfriend's candy?" you asked cutely, giving yeonjun your best puppy eyes.

yeonjun stayed silent for a moment, looking right into your eyes and making you feel as though he was staring into your soul, before smirking and saying,

"sure, have at it."

and he chuckled and dropped his phone onto the bed, reaching over and ruffling your hair and causing you to giggle as you reached over him for the caramel candies on his bedside table. you took three of them and plopped backward onto the bed on your back, unwrapping one of the little gold-wrapped caramels and grinning widely as you popped the sweet treat into your mouth.

a little hum escaped your throat as you sucked on the candy, being so caught up in the sweet, creamy taste of it that you didn't notice how your boyfriend was acting.

he had turned off his phone and taken out his airpods; the items were sitting abandoned on his bedside table as he had his back turned from them to watch you. he'd peeked over his shoulder to capture a quick mental image of the pure, content joy that you had always felt whenever you managed to get your hands on one of the caramels yeonjun always had stashed somewhere in your shared suite bedroom.

you were still so caught up in the taste of your little treat that it almost startled you when yeonjun gently flicked your cheekbone, giggling when he saw your reaction to the physical contact.

"hm?" you hummed, turning over to face your boyfriend.

"i wanna kiss you..." he said bluntly, staring dreamily at you with a soft smile on his lips that was... not entirely innocent.

"oh yeah, punk?" you teased, "then kiss me."

and you rolled off over, rolling straight off the bed and landing gracefully on your feet like a cat. but as cat-like as you could be sometimes- which was one of the many reasons yeonjun had fallen so hard for you in the first place- he was still quicker than you, and you suddenly found yourself pinned between yeonjun's arms against the closet door. you giggled and blushed and tried to look away, but he gently took your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, and now you were completely trapped. you had nowhere else to look but into his eyes, he'd made sure of that.

"kiss me." he said with the cutest frowny little pout.

"mmm.... no." you teased, giggling into his mouth when he took what he'd asked of you for himself, leaning in and quickly pressing his lips to yours.

the kiss could very well have lasted for a lifetime before yeonjun had to break it, choosing to touch his forehead to yours as he wrapped his arms around you and held you as close to him as he could get you without hurting you.

"I love the taste of caramel..." he said, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continued. "it's so goddamn sweet, just like you... just makes you taste so much better."

© seonghwas-lighter 2023-2024.

[sweetiebean00]

Of Ice and Snickers

This is the Eighth Installment in the series, of Nifflers and Magic, it can be found on ao3 as well!! I shouuld really find or make a place to put them all together buuuut, that's a problem for later!! Not quiiiite happy with this, but it's as good as it's gonna be so far! Takes place directly after the last one! @sarahskywalker-amidala @helendeath

Celia woke to snickering, to hushed laughter and the feeling of eyes watching her. She huffed, squinting through her lashes to find Sebastian grinning like the cat that ate the canary. She frowned, tempted to tell him to piss off and roll over. Leave the questions on how he got into her common room, much less her bedroom for later. Chalking it up to one of her fellow puffs -probably Poppy, giving her crush on the Slytherin in question, having let him in. Except something wasn't quite right, she just... couldn't put her finger on what. She blinked once, twice. Trying and failing to clear the glue that kept her eyes closing, her mind filled with cobwebs at the dull crackling of the fire as she yawned. Stretching along her bed, her pillow far too warm and inviting, her blankets too safe to move just yet.

"Sebastian, if you do not shut the fuck up, I will turn you into a stool and leave you there."

Celia froze. Wide awake and intimately aware as her surroundings came to her, as her memories raced through her mind like a freight train. The scriptorium, the curse, that itch in her chest burned to the forefront of her mind as her mouth went dry. That's not her blanket on her waist, that's not her sheets sticking to her back. Most importantly, her head was not resting on a pillow. She swallowed, shifting to get a look and- yep. 

That's Ominis. 

She never went back to her common room last night, because she had dozed off in Ominis' arms in Salazar's Scriptorium and he didn't know how to get in, much less have any success in getting into her dorm less Poppy or Adelaide had stayed awake or fallen asleep in the pens (Poppy) or the library (Adelaide). This is Ominis Gaunt she is curled up with in the Room of Requirements, and who's hand is currently nestled deep in her hair as his fingers curled against her scalp and Maker, that feels amazing.

Her cheeks burned with the memory of his kiss atop her head, with the memory of his fingers carding through her hair and pulling her close when she asked him to stay. The fire burned hotter with his voice ringing in her ears, surronding her on all sides as his bold declaration echoed in her head. Oh sweet baby Merlin, Celia buried her face. A low, embarrassed whine sneaking past her lips as she realized a second too late that she was now officially nuzzling into the spot between his collarbone and his jaw with her flusterment. Before she could apologize or pull away, he was holding her all the more tighter and she could hear the growl in his voice as Sebastian's snickers returned to her ears.

"Morning," She could hear the mirth in his voice, cringing as an embarrassed whimper escaped her throat and she was pulled firmer into Ominis chest.

"Sebastian."

It was a warning, waves of danger seeping off Ominis as the blonde shifted her against him. Tucking her more beneath him as if to protect her from Sebastian's sight. Too late, she thought bitterly. The snickers turning into proper chuckles as Sebastian ignored the dark hiss of his name. Instead, carrying on like they were merely discussing his favorite drama.

"Or should I say, good morning"

"Get. Out." 

"My, my, my, Ominis, that's not very polite of you." 

Celia didn't need to look to know Sebastian had a hand placed dramatically on his chest, over his heart. His face morphed into a mockingly hurt expression, but she would bet galleons she could still see that grin hiding beneath his facade. It made her hands itch, her knuckles burning with the urge to punch it off his face. 

"What ever would our darling Hufflepuff think if she heard you were being rude to her dearest friend?"

Fingers callused, but warm danced along her cheek. For a moment, she held her breath. For a moment, she felt the hair that long since fell from the braid lift off her cheek. For a moment, she held still. Memories from her past ghosting behind her eyes, she knew it was Sebastian. Knew it was just a bit of fun; knew he would never hurt her, and he already had her made. Cuddling with Ominis. Still, as her hair fell back to her cheek. Ice creeping along her side, she could almost feel the knife slicing across her face once more. Feel the arrow scratching at her bone as she froze, stopped in her tracks as she knew she lost the game. That her time had run out. 

She felt more than saw her hair fall back into her face. Forcing her eyes open, she peered through locks of brown to see Sebastian's hand stock stiff. Thick tan fingers stretching down to a palm locked in an iron grip, suspended just above her head. She blinked, turning wide eyes to Ominis where the chill on her side made sense. The hand he had used to tuck her against him, to keep her close was gone. Now it held firm against the flexing and shaking hand of their friend as Ominis glared. 

"Don't touch her." Ominis said icily.

His glare got colder the more their friend struggled. As if winter itself was locked inside his chest, and she wouldn't be surprised if she'd find frost covering the room itself. Goosebumps broke across her skin, and Celia resisted the urge to shudder. To move at all lest she received his ire. She's already faced an angry Ominis once before, an albeit hurt and worried, but angry nonetheless. She's not faced this however, not dealt with a cold one, she swallowed. Merlin, she never wants to. Never wanted to see it, deal with it. A part of her was burning, was awake and alive and she ignored it to catch the next frozen words coming from Ominis' lips as he finally released Sebastian's wrist.

"You've done enough already."

Silence, nothing but the fire crackling and the sound of their breathing. Celia swallowed her shock, surprise churning in her chest as gentle fingers tucked her hair behind her ear before tracing the path of her jawline to her chin, and then back to caress her cheek with his thumb. Nails scratched along her scalp, and she couldn't stop the way her eyes rolled with a hum of contentment. She... she needed to say something. That comment was completely... completely uncalled for. Sebastian's not done anything wrong, nothing she hasn't encouraged or told him too, at least. Ominis chuckled, his forehead resting against hers when the silence was broken.

"Merlin's beard, Ominis," Sebastian drawled, earning a long-suffering groan from the blonde in question. Celia's lips twitched. "I forgot how much of a prick you were when you wake up."

"And yet, you continue to do so!" Ominis snarked, earning a snort and a huff from their friend. "Does it please you make me suffer, Sebastian? Do you need everyone else to be miserable and sleep deprived alongside yourself? Would that make you happy?"

Celia snorted, shifting to watch Sebastian's eyes roll. His tongue sticking out as his hand opened and closed as he mocked every word Ominis was speaking. She snickered. "I know you're mocking me, Sebastian!" Ominis huffed. "Would you like me to turn you back into a niffler?!"

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Domestic Masterlist

Links Last Checked: April 28th, 2024

a long way from the playground (ao3) - shutupluke michael/calum G, 5k

Summary: His Dad had told him when he was younger that he would never understand what love actually felt like until he had his own children. He thinks he understands now. Watching his daughters interacting with his husband, their father- watching his little family just coexisting and loving each other; Calum feels at peace. He feels in love. He wouldn't trade his life for anything.

can we close the space between us now? by lifewasradical calum/luke G, 2k

Summary: “Whatcha doing on the floor?” Calum asks, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, closest to Luke’s face.

Luke’s eyes slip shut again, hiding the pale baby blue from the warm yellow light of their lamp. He looks calm, floating on the sea of their rug, waiting for a current to take him away. He shrugs, motion pushing his bleached curls away from their resting spot pillowed around his head.

“Just hanging out.”

Footprints in the Sand (ao3) - gonefornow calum/luke T, 1k

Summary: Calum and Luke have a beach vacation.

Honey & I (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton M, 3k 

Summary: Luke and Ashton get off in a laundry room. Just because.

it can wait until tomorrow (ao3) -  babushcat (MerrytheCookie) michael/ashton T, 1k

Summary: Michael has been baking a lot, lately.

Ashton commends the effort, and he’s glad for Michael’s newfound interests, determined to support him in whatever project he dives into—he’s had to be the taste-tester for many a failure, but he thinks he makes for a fair judge.

The thing is, Michael is not a good baker.

Kittens & Kids (ao3) - nationalnobody luke/michael G, 1k

Summary: In which Michael and his son absolutely adore kittens and cats and Luke has to put up with their constant childishness, never mind the fact that he might like felines just as much as they do.

Morning Pancakes (ao3) - wallywestie luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Ashton's eyes slowly peeled open, a smile finding it's way to his face. He saw the blonde boy he was completely head over heels in love with sleeping beside him. His usually quiffed hair, flat on his forehead. Small puffs of air coming out of his mouth.

Ashton rolled over, grabbing his camera from the side dresser, glancing at the time, 7:34.

He rolled over, so he was straddling Luke's hips.

"Lukey." He whispered, nudging his nose with his. He stirred a bit, not opening his eyes though.

"Lukey." Ashton brushed away the hair from Luke's forehead, kissing it. He kissed his cheeks, his temple, his nose and then finally his lips.

or, domestic sleepy, morning lashton fluff.

My World Is You (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: Ashton wakes up to soft lips against his skin, a fluttery feeling in his tummy, and the familiar warmth of a body pressed against his own. That body belongs to the one person that he loves more than anything else and always will, so it's only natural that he smiles and turns over to greet them. The morning sun shining through the bedroom curtains makes it a little harder to see, but when his eyes finally focus on what's in front of him, Ashton finds himself staring into a sea of blue.

He falls in love all over again.

'Still the same songs with the same old beats' by Forbiddenmichael michael/calum G, 3k

Summary: Weird to use the analogy that music so rowdy and thumping and bass-y, would be compared to the slight whisper of a friend directly hushed into your ear. But if silence could be deafening, then music loud enough to leave your ears ringing, could quieten the churning and pulsating rhythm of the word around you.

or Michael has a dog practically leap into his lap, and in any other circumstance he would have shoved it off, but under these circumstances, he couldn't be happier. The dog's owner seams to agree.

you complete mess (ao3) - jetblackash luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke walks in on Ashton cuddling a lot of random cats.

when you move, i'm moved (ao3) - netflixing michael/luke T, 2k

Summary: Michael Clifford, the two time award winner within his boxing category boasts a hard exterior with walls tall enough so that no one could get in, but then, Luke Hemmings, his boyfriend Luke Hemmings, with his manbuns and tortoise shell glasses and affinity for a certain type of thai food, changed that in an instant, and suddenly Michael had someone to come home to every night, and there was now a drawer of Luke's things in his dresser.

alternately, med student luke and boxer michael. 

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

[windblume-wishes]

Hi hi!!! May a request a Lilia x Diasomnia reader fluff fic where the reader has studied a little too much and Lilia is trying to get them to rest? Love your work!! /hugs

𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤, 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕣! 𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥! ♡︎

𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤! 𝕀’𝕞 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥, 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕣! 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣�� 𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕛𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦!

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎, 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝙶𝙽 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛!

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖...

Lilia Vanrouge x GN!Reader - Rest A Little, Dear

You sat atop a bench out in the campus’s courtyard, nose buried deep within your textbook. After your pathetic fail on your magical history exam you felt compelled to study for hours on end, staying up all night with your nose in all the notes and textbooks you could get your hands on. All your studying was definitely making its dent onto you, maybe not in the most positive of ways but it was definitely making a rather deep dent into your mental and physical state.

You had yet to have eaten a single morsel of nutrients in what felt like years, it most certainly was not, only a few days had passed since you last ate a solid meal. The two granola bars you munched on did not count entirely but you did gain the calories. You managed to stay hydrated on nothing but coffee and teas, the occasional energy beverage from time to time did suffice but it was not much.

Grim began to notice your mood change drastically, he began to wonder if such a change could be due to that human term he’s heard around the campus called “puberty”. As a cat, he is rather confused about human situations but it definitely tears him to shreds that you are forfeiting sleeping with him and scratching him between his ears as he purrs loudly and happily. Your feeling companion finally snapped when he saw you sitting on that bench with your nose in your books, paying no mind to him whatsoever.

Grim huffed sadly, walking away when it then hit him- that’s right! Lilia! Lilia loves you to bits and if anyone would get you to sleep it’s the ol’ papa bat himself! He bolted down the hallways, trying to find where that old bat could possibly be at this time of day. He stopped when he suddenly hears soft snores and hums coming from one of the empty classrooms.

He recognized that voice, it was Lilia!

Grim slowly poked his head into the room to see Lilia humming a small tune to his son who’s head now lay on the desk in his arms which acted like a pillow. The grey demon feline trotted in on all fours and hopped atop the desk, staring at Lilia.

“Grim? What brings you here?” Lilia asked softly. “You look troubled, what’s the matter?”

“I-It’s (Y/N)… they haven’t been sleepin’ or eatin’ at all in days… I’m worried for my henchma- I mean my human…” Grim sighed, his ears drooping sadly and his big blue eyes filled with worry as he looked to the fae you loved deeply. “Please, Lilia, help my human… I ain’t loosin’ my tuna supplier!”

Lilia chuckled softly and stood up, planting a kiss on Silver’s head before disappearing before your feline companion. Grim huffed with a satisfied smile before taking a rest next to the silver haired boy he now claimed as his personal nap partner.

———————

A puff of green sparkles appeared before you, you knew very well what that meant for you, Lilia Vanrouge had been alerted to your predicament and was summoned. As happy as you were to see the charmingly devious face of your lover, you also were a tad annoyed because your study time has been interrupted so greatly that you could not hide your grunt of obvious annoyance. He huffed back and confiscated your book, giving you his signature stare that only he could make and cause you to stop all that you were doing.

“Now, now, (Y/N), I do believe some rest is in order for you, young one!” He smiled happily, dragging you from the bench and back to Diasomnia, ignoring your pleas and angry rants about needing that ‘sacred text of knowledge’. “Rambling, and rambling I see? That will not do, bedtime for you, my dear~!”

“Lilia Vanrouge!” You growl out, “you will NOT get me to sleep unless I get an eternity more of studying!”

Lilia huffed and gave you his stern, fatherly glare, you knew the second that beast of a glare was unleashed it was game over for you. One could only imagine what kinds of scolding’s followed that glare around, luckily for Silver, he rarely had to experience such, you on the other hand… good luck.

“(Y/N), Grim informed me of your recent behavior and how you are refusing to sleep. I understand that you did poorly in your last exam but that does not mean you work yourself to death!” You froze, you knew he was right, you were working yourself to death. “Now, let’s get you to bed, if you’d like, I’d stay and sleep beside you.”

You nod with a sigh, how could you refuse snuggles from your favorite bat? “Fine, I’ll sleep, but only if I get one of your famous lullabies Silver tells me about.”

“Oh?” He smirked, “Hmmm~ I believe I know just the song~”

——————

**A/N- Lilia sings Death Metal and screeched until you passed out, sorry anon!

[ditttiii]

gold rush. || kth {m}

⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch? 

⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.4k

⇢ rating: explicit / 18+

⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au

⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten. 

⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa​ who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever. 

also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere​ @papillonsgf​ @birbdae​ & @unoriginal-username15432​. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.

banner by @chillingkoo​ & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive​​ their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria​.  this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​ january monthly project. 

lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡

You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.

 The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.

 "What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.

 "What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen. 

 "Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."

 Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you. 

 It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.

 It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.

 You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.

 The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.

 "You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.

 "I did." He admits to a question you never asked.

 Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"

 He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.

 "God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"

 The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"

 The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis. 

 "I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong. 

  "Huh?"

 His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.

 "Why?" You rasp out. 

  Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope. 

 Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping. 

 "Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall. 

 "Don't play games with me." 

 A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.

 "What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail. 

 Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts. 

 It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.

 Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud. 

 Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.

 You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow? 

 "I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse. 

 "I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two. 

 "But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.

 "But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.

 "I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.

 Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.

 Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...

 "No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.

 Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't." 

 Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness. 

 "Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas. 

 "Don't do this to me. To us."  

 "You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.

 "No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw. 

 "I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso. 

 It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.

 Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart. 

 Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek. 

 The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.

 His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.

 "I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.

 His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.

 "Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.

 Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah." 

 When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

 Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide. 

 "You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 

 His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck." 

 Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh— 

 His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is. 

 When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity? 

 But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin. 

 He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung. 

 It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for. 

 His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona." 

 Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands. 

 You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.

 The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly. 

 Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are. 

 Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go. 

 The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does. 

 You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it. 

 With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high. 

 Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness. 

 The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going. 

 One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again. 

 Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last. 

 Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more. 

 Just a little.

a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡

[tavvattales]

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, I need your help!"

She/her

Romantic, I’m straight so guys

I love horror, cats and creepy stuff. I also love sweets. I don’t have a favorite food .

I don’t like fancy puff dresses, girly stuff. People who don’t like cats.

I have a high pain tolerence. And I don’t get grossed out easily. Im autistic so I prefer someone who’s quiet. I don’t like Crowded places and I love to travel. Im fearless.

Thx again

Hello sweetie pie~ Thank you for choosing Rebby's Matchmaking services!

Let's see here. . .

I match you with~

Xiao

Not being very big on sweets, there was one dessert the two of you shared your love with and it was Almond Tofu. Snuggling up on a nice rainy day, and eating this sweet treat was a common occurrence between you two.

Jumping onto the couch next to Xiao, you peer out the window behind you, "Xiao, it's raining. . ." you say in awe because you acknowledged that it was time for your favorite quality time with him.

"So it is," Xiao murmurs, glancing your way with a soft smile, "But what about it?" he says in jest, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

Tossing a pillow gently his way you couldn't help but pout, "Almond Tofu time!!" you exclaim, "And you better prepare for the best cuddling session you've ever had," you say, grinning widely.

"You say that every time," Xiao says matter of factly.

"H-hey-"

Before you could finish he cuts you off, "And every time gets better and better."

Xiao may be quiet, but that also doesn't stop him from speaking his mind, causing him to be quite protective over you. He can be quite fussy, but he just wants you to be safe, that's all.

Gathering up your bag, you start heading towards the front door, but Xiao stops you, "Hey. You have everything you need, right? Did you double-check everything?" he asks, worry lingering in his voice, his golden eyes gazing softly at you.

"Xiao, I even checked it three times; you have nothing to worry about. I'll be just fine, I promise. Besides, I'm just going into town for groceries," you say reassuringly, grasping one of his hands gently, giving it a loving squeeze.

"Yes, but there have been hillichurls sighted along the road-"

You're quick to cut him off, "I can handle my own, you know this," leaning upwards you give him a quick kiss to his cheek, causing him to become flustered.

"J-just call my name if you run into any trouble, okay? I love you, be safe. . ."

As Xiao became more comfortable with you he became quite the storyteller, knowing full well you adored horror stories. Late nights, just snuggling as you listen to his voice were your favorite.

Yawning loudly, you stretch into your lover, lazily draping your arm across his chest as you cuddle into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, "You always tell the best stories~," you say softly, making circles on his chest with your fingers, stroking him lovingly.

"Hmm, is that so?" Xiao asks quizzically, kissing the top of your head, "I'm glad. .but no more today; I can tell you're getting tired."

"Awh, just one more? Pleasseee?" you plead, giving him a puppy dog stare, fluttering your eyes up at him, "Your voice is so soothing. . .I'd love to fall asleep to it."

"Alright, alright, just stop whining, silly girl," he smirks, ruffling your hair gently as he continues where he left off, his voice causing you to drift into a deep slumber.

[acewithapaintbrush]

@lunamadrigal asked for a three sentence story with her OC Diego and @daliceus OC Auri. Please excuse me while I go laugh in a corner because three sentences turned into almost 650 words, so yeah. That happened.

I was allowed to chose the trope, so I went full "Snowed in" because she showed interest in that trope a few days ago and I immediately had pictures in my head.

@lunamadrigal and @daliceus I hope I did your boys justice.

*************************************

"You do know," Auri drawls with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow "that I can just burn us a way out of here." A tiny flame flickers to life on a single tuft of hair, dancing merrily from side to side almost as if to mock their predicament which is no predicament at all. The owner of the flaming hair raises his arm to point at it. "Don't you?" 

Diego doesn't react because honestly? He isn't really listening. He is too enchanted by the way the tiny flame leans towards the finger pointing at it, as if to give it a tiny kiss. Like a cat asking for scratches. 

"Earth to Diego!" 

Diego tears his gaze away and grins. He quickly replays their conversation so his lack of attention will go mostly unnoticed. Auri gets snappy when he thinks he is being ignored. 

"'Course I do!" He turns back to his task of rearranging the blankets in front of the fireplace. "But where is the fun in that? It's not every day we get snowed in."

Auri huffs and puffs. Diego will never tell him that he looks cute like that cause then he will stop doing it and who wants that? "Still don't know how you got us into this mess." 

Diego resents that. A little. It's only like 40% his fault. 

OK, maybe 60%. But no more. 

"Come on, lighten up!" Diego would like an award for not snorting at his own word play. Lighten up. Hah! A classic. "Isn't this exciting? Like straight out of one of Pa's Telenovelas."

He straightens up and looks around with a critical eye, playing with the cuff of his shirt absent-mindedly. The cabin looks cozy and the fireplace has warmed the place up nicely. There are blankets and pillows and some hot chocolate waiting for them. But something is still missing. Ah! 

"S'mores!" he shouts. 

Auri sighs, but Diego could swear he sounds more indulgent than annoyed. There is a tiny smile curling his lips and he sounds almost apologetic when he says: "Afraid I didn't see any. Guess we'll have to do without." 

But Diego remembers seeing some bags in Tia Julieta's kitchen a few weeks ago. "Be right back!" he chirps, crosses his arms and falls back into his quickly summoned portal. 

The s'mores are right where he remembers them. He wastes no time and immediately returns to the cabin with two full bags. 

Auri faces the fireplace and hasn't noticed his return yet. He is kneeling on the ground, fluffing a pillow and grumbling something about inappropriate gift use and how stupid this all is. But the reluctant smile has blossomed and Diego can see eyes that are soft and crinkled in the corners and unguarded. It's unfortunate that Diego sees this side of Aureliano mostly when he doesn't know that he is being watched. 

But Diego will take what he can get. The fire reflects in Auri's glasses and paints his face in hues of red and gold. 

He's beautiful. 

There is a serenity to the moment. The snow, muffling the sounds of the outside world. It feels like they are alone in the world. 

Maybe just for tonight they can pretend that they are. That there is nothing but this cabin and the snow. Nothing but them. Here. Together. 

Diego takes a deep breath. 

He is being a sap, he knows, but this is so romantic and just like his Pa he is a sucker for the romantic subplot. 

He leans down and whispers seductively into his beloved's ear. "I'm back." 

Ok, so the pillow smacking into his face with the strength of a freight train and almost breaking his nose might have killed the romantic vibe a little. 

But hey. They are still snowed in. They have a fire and blankets and (deadly) pillows and now also s'mores to go with their hot chocolate. Diego can work with that. 

Let's see where the night will take them. 

[whereistheonepiece]

Missing You

Quick summary: Sanji misses Zoro.

Note: I haven’t outright stated it before, but my collection of short Zosan oneshots is connected to my fic “To Run.” This one makes a few references to it.

-

Sanji woke up to the feeling of Zoro’s lips on the corner of his mouth. His eyes flitted open and his lips curved upward in a groggy smile as he took in the sight of Zoro, partially hovering over him in bed, smiling down at him. Sanji made an amused sound in the back of his throat, laying a hand on his love’s bicep. 

“Hi,” Sanji said, his voice still thick with sleep. Sanji wound his arms around Zoro’s solid, warm torso, and pulled him down so Zoro lay on top of him. He chuckled softly as they both repositioned themselves to be more comfortable. “Morning breath,” Sanji whispered, putting his palm in Zoro’s face and pushing him back when Zoro leaned in for yet another kiss.

Sanji let out a small, undignified yelp in surprise when Zoro’s tongued darted out of his mouth and pushed between the gaps between Sanji’s fingers, poking out at Sanji in defiance. Zoro’s grin grew as Sanji withdrew his hand from his face.

“Child,” Sanji said accusingly.

“You had to know getting licked was a possibility when you put your hand there,” Zoro, incorrigible as ever, shot back.

“Actually, I thought you might just bite me like the savage you are,” Sanji said, staring up at Zoro with partially closed eyes.

“And that wouldn’t have bothered you?”

“No, because I was expecting it.”

Zoro snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dumbass,” he said, the playfulness in his voice turning the old insult into a term of endearment.

“Barbarian,” Sanji said in return, grinning to himself when Zoro laid his head on his chest.

“You love me,” Zoro said, more to annoy Sanji than to state the obvious.

“You’re so sure of that,” Sanji said, his voice glib, his fingers soft as he ran them along the path of Zoro’s spine all the way to his head, pushing through the soft green hair.

Contentment rumbled from deep within Zoro’s throat as Sanji played with his hair. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I am.”

Sanji lifted his head to kiss the top of Zoro’s. If only those who called Zoro the Demon of East Blue could see him now. They’d change their minds quickly if they could see him practically purring like a common house cat at having his hair stroked.

They lay there together, Sanji petting Zoro until his hand grew tired, Zoro lying on Sanji like a living, breathing blanket. Usually Zoro preferred to have Sanji lying on top of him, but Zoro had become somewhat clingier as of late, coming to Sanji for physical affection more frequently than he normally did whenever they had time alone together. 

It had been a bit of an adjustment for both of them when Sanji brought Zoro onto the Baratie. Back when they sailed on Sunny, Zoro could come to Sanji when he was preparing food for the next meal. He would hold onto him like the clingy, affectionate pest that he was. Zoro was less clingy whenever he had Sanji’s full attention, but he’d been receiving less of it lately.

It had been easier to give Zoro his attention back when all Sanji had to worry about was keeping a small crew fed and didn’t have a restaurant and its guests to look after, a staff working under him, or the constant pressure to prove himself worthy as Zeff’s successor. It was even harder to give Zoro his attention when he couldn’t let him hang onto him while he was cooking like he used to. Sanji was sorry that he couldn’t give Zoro that anymore. While he used to tease Zoro for being needy or accuse him of being annoying when Zoro grumbled at him for needing to move around the kitchen while they stood like this, Sanji did enjoy it. It was a nice compromise that kept Zoro happy, and Sanji did enjoy the company and the fact that Zoro wanted to be close to him. But Sanji was a boss now, and it was hard to be taken seriously when he had a grown man hanging off him.

So Zoro found a new way to get Sanji’s attention. He’d observe restaurant activity until there was a lull, and then he’d waltz into the kitchen, grab Sanji by the wrist, and announce, “Break time!”

The other chefs were always overjoyed to see Zoro. Sanji was aware he wasn’t an easy boss, especially if the day was stressful, and Zoro pulling him into the office to kiss him always left him in a better mood. The staff had noticed this, and so they welcomed Zoro in the kitchen, showing their appreciation with booze and a snack whenever he and Sanji came out of the office.

“You’re spoiling him,” Sanji would always chide the chefs, although secretly he was grateful that Zoro and the chefs were on good terms.

But maybe Zoro was growing restless with the way things were on Baratie. Sanji had less days off than he did back when they were part of a pirate crew. There were no more islands to explore, less opportunities for them to have a day all to themselves. So Zoro found more reasons to initiate physical contact with Sanji. He pulled him onto his lap when they sat down together. He grabbed him in his sleep and was always hesitant to let go upon waking. He’d touch him in some small way throughout the day whenever he saw him.

And then came the suggestions. It first started with simply telling Sanji what he should do regarding his work schedule.

“You work too hard, Cook,” Zoro would say. “You should ease up a little.”

“That’s what happens when you run a restaurant, Marimo,” Sanji would retort.

“You should go on vacation,” Zoro said one day, leaning against the wall and staring out the window. His arms were crossed and his stance was relaxed. He spoke as if this had just occurred to him, though Sanji was now starting to suspect it had been on his mind for longer than he’d let on. “Take a break from restaurant life. We can go visit the rest of the crew. Or just go wherever. Doesn’t have to be super far.”

“I don’t have time for a vacation,” Sanji said dismissively. He placed a cigarette between his teeth as he lit up.

“Why not?” Zoro asked, looking at Sanji.

“Who’s gonna run this place with me gone?” Sanji replied.

Zoro blinked. “Zeff. It was his restaurant, originally.”

“Zeff’s worked hard enough for three lifetimes,” Sanji said, waving the idea away with his hand.

“Okay,” Zoro said tensely, sounding as if he was forcing himself to be patient. “Couldn’t your cooks manage without you for a little bit? Some of them’ve been here as long as you.”

Sanji abruptly stopped in the middle of a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he tried and failed to imagine those idiots getting on without him. It was why he still hadn’t gotten around to appointing a sous chef.

He cringed, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “No,” he said firmly.

“You’re just making excuses now, Cook,” Zoro said, his brows pulling down in a scowl.

“What do you want from me, Zoro?” Sanji snapped. “I told you I can’t go on vacation! Can we talk about literally anything else? I don’t have much time left on my break and I’d rather spend it doing something else other than getting pestered by you!”

Zoro grew silent, his scowl easing somewhat, but not going away completely. “You know what?” Zoro said, pushing himself off the wall. He walked past Sanji, his boots treading heavily across the floorboards. “Forget it.”

And Sanji had, at least until now. And he thought Zoro had, too, since he hadn’t brought it up again, though he’d kept his distance during the next few days, leaving Sanji to himself until they retired to their bedroom. Sanji hadn’t said anything, preferring to leave it alone, and now, with Zoro lying on top of him, he felt guilt gnawing away at his heart.

-

“Hey,” Sanji said some time later.

Zoro took time to answer, his breath coming out in a short puff against Sanji’s bare skin. “Yeah?” he said groggily.

“Did you fall back asleep?” Sanji asked.

Zoro groaned, rolling off Sanji and onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling. Sanji rolled onto his side and laid his elbow on the pillow, propping himself up and cradling his head in his hand while he awaited Zoro’s response. “I think I did,” Zoro said.

Sanji smiled. He stared at Zoro, struck by a moment of clarity as the realization that this life, going to sleep with Zoro and waking up next to him each morning, was actually his. Zoro looked at him and caught him staring. He smirked. “Enjoying the view, Curly?”

“Maybe,” Sanji drawled. “You are pretty easy on the eyes, Marimo. Bedhead notwithstanding.”

Zoro rolled his eye at Sanji as he held open his arm invitingly. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked when Sanji didn’t move closer. “Come here already.”

Sanji obliged, laying his head on the junction between Zoro’s shoulder and his chest. Inhaling slowly, Sanji loosely wrapped his arm along Zoro’s stomach, enjoying the quiet stillness of their bedroom on this day off work. Idly rubbing his leg against Zoro’s, Sanji reflected over his decision to close the restaurant one day a week when Zoro had asked him about it. Not only did the rest of the men enjoy the free time, but it gave Sanji and Zoro peace and quiet all to themselves. It may have upset some of their clientele, and Zeff had given him some grief over it, but if it made Zoro happy, then Sanji would gladly deal with a few complaints.

Zoro had his arm around Sanji, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his shoulder. Several minutes passed before Zoro spoke again, and the hesitance in his voice made Sanji pay close attention. “Cook...”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“What would you say if I told you that Luffy wants to take me with him, Usopp, and Nami on a trip?”

Sanji blinked. They’d spent days, even weeks, apart back when they were searching for the One Piece, including those two years the whole crew had spent apart. In theory, Sanji had no reason to hesitate before answering. But it had been a year since he’d taken Zoro onto the Baratie with him, and they hadn’t spent a night apart since. Sanji had become accustomed to starting and ending his days with Zoro by his side. He found the idea of something disrupting his routine to be daunting.

But he did not voice these thoughts. Instead he said, “How long were you thinking?”

“A few weeks,” Zoro responded. Sanji swallowed. “Maybe a month?”

“Why so long?” Sanji asked.

Sanji felt Zoro shrug. “You can ask Luffy that,” he said. “Something about visiting a few islands before heading back.”

“I see,” Sanji said quietly.

“You didn’t tell me what you think,” Zoro said, his thumb coming to a stop.

Sanji closed his eyes, his thoughts turning to how quiet Zoro had become when Sanji had shot down the idea of the two of them going on a trip together. It wouldn’t kill him to allow Zoro to have some fun with their friends. “I think,” he said, “that I’m going to have to prepare your and the others’ favorite meals before you go.”

-

“All right!” Nami said brightly, looking Zoro up and down. “Got everything you need, Zoro? We’re not turning back once we leave.”

“I made sure he does, Nami-san,” Sanji spoke for Zoro, winking at Nami.

Nami smiled at Sanji, nodding at him. “I know you did, Sanji-kun,” she said, demonstrating her faith in him by turning her attention to the map in her hands as she and the others made the final preparations before they boarded Sunny with Zoro.

Watching her go over the map of the islands she and the others intended on visiting, Sanji felt himself longing for the simplicity of the life he’d shared with his crew. He felt his heart filling up with nostalgia for the days when he and his friends could explore strange islands together, days when they could gather around the same table together and share stories and food. They still occasionally saw each other, but when their crew was scattered around the world, it was difficult to get everyone together at the same time.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Sanji looked at four of the most important people in his life, and he felt the pull of adventure tugging on his heartstrings.

But he could feel the weight of Baratie and its responsibility all around him.

So Sanji exhaled smoke from his lungs and walked up to Zoro, who had Luffy wrapped around his torso. He held his cigarette between two fingers with one hand and he grabbed Zoro’s face with the other. He pulled him in for a long goodbye kiss, Luffy’s voice in his ear as his former captain tried to convince him to come with them.

-

It was quiet as Sanji got ready for bed. It was often quiet when he and Zoro got ready for bed together, as Zoro was not a loquacious person to begin with, and both had long ago learned to share an easy silence with each other, but this was an empty quiet that Sanji was now unused to.

Sanji stared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, his eyes blank and his jaw stiff, his movements mechanical. He looked at the unoccupied space next to him in the mirror, the beginning of a story about an entitled customer waiting to spring forward from his mouth. If Zoro were with him, Sanji would have pulled his toothbrush out of his mouth and, mouth full of foam, started telling him about his encounter with a customer that had insisted on being served a meal that currently wasn’t on the menu. And Zoro would have listened until Sanji popped his brush back into his mouth to finish brushing his teeth. Zoro, in that straight to the point way of his, would have asked him, “So did you kick his ass?”

Air escaped Sanji’s nose in a small burst of amusement at the thought. He pointed his eyes down toward the sink and spat out the toothpaste, wondering if Zoro was keeping up with the nighttime routine they’d established, and therefore brushing his teeth at the same time as Sanji. Rinsing out his mouth, Sanji could feel the weeks without Zoro stretching out before him, opening a chasm between the two of them.

-

Sanji had intended on waiting at least a week before picking up the Transponder Snail to call Zoro. He wanted to give Zoro time to himself with their friends, but also wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t so needy that he couldn’t last a week without hearing Zoro’s voice. After all, Sanji thought as he chopped carrots for the stew he was working on, he’d gone longer without talking to Zoro. Surely Sanji wasn’t that needy, that clingy. Surely he had enough going on with the restaurant to keep him preoccupied. Maybe Zoro would end up calling him first.

But Sanji felt his restlessness steadily rising within him as the days passed. Work was as hectic and demanding as ever, and one of Sanji’s primary releases—taking a break in his office with Zoro—was gone, leaving Sanji trembling with an undercurrent of frustration and pent up aggression throughout the day. He’d tried channeling it into work, tried dealing with it on his own in his and Zoro’s room, and he tried calming his nerves by chain smoking like there was a secret prize at the end of each cigarette, all to no avail.

It was when he tried picking a fight with Carne and Patty that he finally gave in. 

Sanji, at the end of his patience, goaded the longtime staff members into a fight that they could not possibly win. Carne and Patty, to their credit, fought back as valiantly as they could, but they were no match for Sanji. They knew this. Sanji knew. Zeff, who’d been watching from a corner, knew this. 

Zeff had given Sanji one look and jutted his chin toward his former office, silently insisting that they talk. And suddenly Sanji was ten years old again, following Zeff until he came to his senses and took a few quick strides to catch up to Zeff and then move past him on the way to Sanji’s office.

Behind the closed door, Zeff simply told Sanji, “Get your affairs in order, Eggplant. You have no reason to bark at your men like that when they’ve done nothing wrong.”

Sanji had bristled at Zeff and told him to mind his own business, telling him, “Oh, you’re one to talk about lashing out at people when they don’t deserve it!” Privately he knew Zeff was right. However, instead of telling him so, Sanji engaged Zeff in a screaming match until their argument had petered out into little more than red faces and heavy breathing. Zeff had skulked out of the office, remaining silent for the rest of the day. Sanji had come out a short time later, angrily adjusting his tie, daring any one of the chefs in the kitchen to look his way.

Everyone in the kitchen, save Zeff and Sanji, kept their heads down as they worked on their individual tasks, the air thick with tension and their collective unease.

Sanji, walking stiffly back to his station, heard one chef mutter to another, “I miss Zoro.”

Sanji deflated a little at hearing that. Clenching his teeth, Sanji pointedly kept his eyes down as he worked, thinking, I miss Zoro, too.

He called Zoro later that evening.

-

“Cook?”

Sanji smiled at the sound of Zoro’s tinny voice on the other end of the receiver. He’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. “Hi, Marimo,” he said, reclining on their bed. “How’s the ‘adventure’ going?”

“Pretty tame,” Zoro said. “I was just thinking about how much more dangerous East Blue seemed back when we were all starting out. Now it feels downright peaceful.”

Sanji chuckled. Zoro’s assessment of the sea they called home brought back memories of how young they’d been when they’d all started sailing together, back when the odd Sea King was their biggest threat. They really had no clue what they were getting into back then. “How’s Luffy?” he asked.

“He’s having a blast,” Zoro said. “I think all he cares about is getting to sail with his friends again.”

The longing to be out on the open sea with his friends again awakened in Sanji, manifesting itself as a weight in his chest. He imagined himself on Sunny again, preparing lunch for them while Luffy and Usopp fished, Zoro napped in the sun or polished his swords, and Nami read in a lounge chair.

“That’s good,” Sanji said. He lay on his side, grasping the receiver in one hand. He comfortably draped his arm along his middle and drew his knees up slightly, imagining Zoro lying in bed behind him and spooning him, rather than talking to him on a Transponder Snail on another ship. “And you? How are you, Zoro? Not missing me too much, are you?”

“Missing you a regular amount,” Zoro said cheekily. The Snail, on its perch on the bedside table next to Sanji, mimicked the relaxed smile Zoro would wear while enjoying Sanji’s company. The only thing better than seeing the Snail replicate his love’s smile would be to see that smile in person.

“So you do miss me,” Sanji teased.

“Course I do,” Zoro said. “You know I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know,” Sanji said. He imagined Zoro wrapping an arm around him, right under Sanji’s own. “It’s just nice to hear you say it.”

“I miss you, Cook,” Zoro said for Sanji’s benefit, and it made Sanji melt.

“I miss you, too,” Sanji said softly, hoping the Snail had picked up his voice.

“And what about you, Cook?” Zoro said. “You wanna tell me what happened today?”

Sanji frowned as he thought back to the fight he’d started with Patty and Carne, then the argument he’d had with Zeff. He shrugged into the open air, wondering if the Snail on Zoro’s end was currently mimicking his movements. “Nothing to report. Everything’s the same as usual around here. The men miss you.”

Zoro laughed. “You’re not being too hard on them without me around to help you...ah...relieve your stress, are you?”

Sanji grimaced, covering his face in shame. “Nope,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He made himself yawn, pretending he’d suddenly been overtaken by exhaustion. “Well, I’m pretty tired. I’ll talk to you later, Zoro.”

“Oh,” Zoro said. “Okay. G’night, Cook.”

“Night, Marimo,” Sanji said. “Love you.”

Sanji ended the call before Zoro could respond.

-

While Sanji slowly adjusted to spending his nights alone, it was in the quiet, stolen moments that he most missed Zoro. Finding a patch of sunlight, perfect for napping; stepping out for a smoke when the lunch rush had finished, picturing himself reaching his hand out and threading his fingers through Zoro’s; stepping into his office for a moment of solitude and picturing Zoro sitting at the window seat, inviting Sanji to sit with him.

Sanji decided to go for walk along Baratie’s deck before turning in for the night. He looked up at the moon and brought his cigarette to his lips, his mind on his and Zoro’s conversation earlier that night.

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?”

“Well, I think Nami’s had enough. Luffy’s begged her to let us visit one last island, and then we can go home. So as soon as we’re done with the next one, we’ll be heading home.”

Sanji inhaled deeply, trying to do the math in his head to figure out how much longer until he got to see Zoro again. Zoro and the others had been sailing for a couple of weeks now, but Sanji figured the trip back would be slightly faster since they wouldn’t be stopping at each island they came across. He only had to wait for just a little longer until he could have Zoro by his side again.

He stared up at the full moon, chuckling at himself for how ridiculous he was being. A month was nothing in the grand scheme of things, really. A month was speck of sand on the beach in the rest of his natural life. Just when had he become so soft? When he’d invited Zoro into his life, he supposed, and all the compromises and changes that entailed.

He let his gaze drift across the sky, taking in the map of constellations as familiar to him as the skin on the back of his hand. Was this how Zoro had felt? This yearning for more, this desire to spend more time with someone inaccessible to him? Sanji hoped that he didn’t make Zoro feel as lonely as he currently felt, hoped that the time they did spend together was better than total solitude, but a picture of what Zoro must have felt was beginning to form in Sanji’s head.

Sanji frowned, gaze falling until it landed on the sea. Remorse seized hold of his heart as he remembered all the small ways Zoro had sought Sanji’s touch in recent months, as if trying to squeeze out every last drop of quality time with Sanji in the fleeting minutes that they had. Just a little of Sanji’s time, that was all that Zoro asked of him. A week, at least, to visit a nearby village and spend some quality time together. Was that really so much to ask for? Sanji no longer thought so.

He thought of leaving the restaurant alone for a week. He could let Zeff watch over things, just like he had for so many years, but Sanji still didn’t like the idea of asking him to take over for him just so he could run away with Zoro for a short time. Running a restaurant was hard work and Zeff had more than earned his rest. So that either left one of the chefs onboard or looking for someone new. Sanji was hard on the men, but he knew any one of them was skilled enough to work as head chef, so long as they put in the work. It was just a matter of finding a man with the right personality.

Sanji would tell Zoro this when he saw him again. The idea of finally relinquishing some of his many responsibilities and letting someone else help out was strange, but Sanji had already alienated Zoro to the point of running off on a month long adventure with their captain. He didn’t want to end up losing him. He’d already lost Zoro once and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

-

Sanji jumped on Zoro the moment he stepped foot on Baratie’s deck, tightly wrapping his four limbs around him. One hundred men couldn’t remove Sanji from Zoro if they tried.

Zoro took this in stride, supporting Sanji by the thighs. “Hi, Cook,” he managed to say before Sanji started kissing him.

Luffy hooted somewhere behind Zoro, shouting, “Sanji missed Zoro!”

Aware they had an audience, Sanji pulled back, but he grinned at Zoro, whispering, “Guess you should let me down now.”

Zoro laughed softly, his eye crinkling at the corner in a way that made Sanji’s heart melt into a puddle of mush. “I guess so,” he said, setting Sanji down.

Slipping an arm around Zoro, Sanji called to Luffy, Usopp, and Nami, inviting them onto Baratie for a meal to welcome them all back.

-

Pleasantly exhausted, Sanji relaxed into Zoro’s arms. Content smile etched into his face, Sanji breathed in Zoro’s scent, felt the heat of Zoro’s skin against his cheek. All was right with the world. Zoro lay there in bed with him, happy to share this moment with Sanji.

Sanji laid his hand on Zoro’s abdomen, relishing the solid feel of Zoro’s body beneath his touch. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“Missed you, too, Curly.”

“I don’t think you know how much I missed you, though,” Sanji continued.

“I dunno,” Zoro said, “you just gave me a pretty good idea of how much you missed me.”

Sanji paused before responding, frowning. “I’m serious, you know.”

“Mm?”

“Yeah,” Sanji said. “I...had a lot of time to think while you were gone.”

“That so?”

Sanji nodded against Zoro’s chest. “Yeah, it is. And I think... I think you were right.”

“About what?” Zoro asked.

“It wouldn’t kill me to take a vacation.”

Zoro paused at Sanji’s admission. “Yeah?” he said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

Sanji wrapped his arm around Zoro’s torso, gently squeezing. They hadn’t talked about it in so long, but he remembered that nightmarish time when Zoro was convinced that Sanji didn’t value their relationship. It made his heart ache to think that he could potentially make Zoro feel that way again. “Yeah,” he said.

He continued, “I mean, I still don’t want to dump this all on Zeff. But I really gave it some thought, and it wouldn’t hurt me to have someone who can step up for me when I’m not around. Maybe even make the workload a little easier on me. I don’t know, the idea of it is still so new to me. But I want to make you happy. And if that means I need to find someone who can watch over the restaurant while you and I take a small trip together, then I’ll do it.”

Zoro tightened his hold on Sanji, saying nothing. Sanji returned his embrace with the same fervor, smiling against Zoro’s chest.

“It’s really not too much trouble, is it?” Zoro eventually asked.

“It really isn’t,” Sanji responded. He lifted his head off Zoro’s chest so he could properly look at him. “And I’m sorry for making you think that it was.”

“Come here,” Zoro whispered, having nothing else to say.

And Sanji did, closing the gap between their mouths.

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking prompts: 22. “When you’re feeling better, I swear, we’ll talk this out.” Qui-Gon& Obi-Wan. You’re writing is so lovely btw!!

Yay, more prompts! And I do love this one. Thank you for choosing it!

CW: this one got rather dark. there are heavy implications of and references to attempted assault of a minor, child death, and other horrors of war.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

They were three days out from Coruscant when the fever made a turn for the worse.

The Jinn/Kenobi team had been deployed to Calzec III to investigate the disappearance of an ambassador, an assignment that had led them down very dark paths into the minds and heart of a planetary society.

A mere two days into their investigation, Obi-Wan had vanished — kidnapped, it was quickly discovered, by the party responsible for the disappearance and murder of the ambassador.

Qui-Gon had assumed that the six days between Obi-Wan’s abduction and his recovery would be the worst of it.

That the growing dread inside him that had gnawed away at his concentration and serenity, the likelihood that he would not reach his apprentice in time, his fears that Obi-Wan was being hurt, would be the most difficult things to handle.

Or even the mingled relief and panic when he had finally found his sixteen-year-old Padawan bound and unconscious in a cellar with a floor half-flooded in dirty water — that after that, they had survived the worst.

He was mistaken.

Obi-Wan was ill when he was pulled out of that cellar. There was no one to trust and nowhere to flee except off-planet, and the the distance between Calzec III and the nearest medically advanced planet was no shorter than simply returning to Coruscant.

So he set a course for Coruscant and settled Obi-Wan in his bunk, stripping off the soiled clothing he had been wearing since his kidnapping and replacing them with a clean set of tunics.

The boy was exhausted, unfocused; his skin was clammy to the touch and he had brief periods where he seemed fully awake and mostly functional.

After the first day of hyperspace travel, they had settled into a routine. Qui-Gon kept to the cockpit, while Obi-Wan kept to his bunk and the fresher, trying to rest and to contain his illness. Qui-Gon knocked periodically on his door, reassuring himself that his apprentice was all right.

And that he was there, because working alone on a hostile planet without knowing anything of his Padawan’s wellbeing aside from being sure that he was in danger had been more of a trial than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

And then, on the third day, he knocked lightly on the door and received no reply.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

He thought he heard an indistinct mumble. Qui-Gon chuckled, imagining the boy emerging from his blankets like an irritated loth-cat, rumpled and annoyed.

Then Obi-Wan screamed.

Qui-Gon’s mind conjured — for a split second — a new version of the image he had pictured in his mind for over a week — his Padawan, attacked in his sleep — drugged — dragged from his bed —

Then he blinked and the image vanished. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and pressed on the entry pad, opening the door. He stepped inside the cramped cabin and was relieved to see the boy securely in his bed, the room completely absent of any impossible intruders. But Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with fever, and he was struggling beneath his blankets, thrashing as if he were actually being attacked.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, shaking his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

The Padawan didn’t seem to register Qui-Gon’s presence at all. He struggled with his bedsheets, small whimpers escaping his lips as he fought.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon said more sharply. “Wake up now!”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and dry heaved, his eyes flying open. His Master dropped to his knees beside the bed, running a hand soothingly up and down the boy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “You were dreaming.”

“C-C—” Obi-Wan choked.

“Shh,” Qui-Gon said again.

“Cerasi—”

Qui-Gon’s heart plummeted. Obi-Wan was not coherent, that was obvious.

The boy had not mentioned that name in over two years.

“Padawan, you must focus,” he said softly. “This is not Melida/Daan. We are on a ship, heading home.”

“Cerasi is…”

…dead…

“…gonna… kill you.” Obi-Wan’s words, and the sheer venom in them, shocked the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan was still struggling, but more slowly now, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing so. His eyes flickered feverishly to the middle distance, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Padawan…” Qui-Gon said slowly.

“Let them go!” Obi-Wan shrieked suddenly. One arm came loose from the blankets and missed striking his Master by inches. “Let them go, they’re too young! Let them go let them go let them go!”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon seized his Padawan by the shoulders.

Bloodshot blue eyes suddenly snapped directly onto Qui-Gon’s face, but instead of calming, Obi-Wan’s panic only increased. “Get off me!” He screamed, twisting, kicking, squirming away. “Don’t… don’t you touch me! Stop, stop, stop!” he was wailing now, utter despair twisting his face beyond recognition. “Please don’t!”

Qui-Gon released his Padawan as if burned. He pulled away sharply, horror rising in him, tasting bile.

I wasn’t — I wouldn’t —

It’s a fever dream —

A memory?

Qui-Gon tasted bile. “No,” he heard himself say aloud. “No.”

Obi-Wan had squirmed away, pressing himself flat against the wall the bed rested against, his body curling inwards — the last defense of the helpless, the frightened. The abused.

“I won’t,” he was saying frantically. “I won’t. Get out. Get out. They’re flying in the morning, they’re flying — Nield said — we tried to take the tank but — we lost too many — no. I tried! I did!”

Obi-Wan fell abruptly silent again, staring vaguely, his breaths coming in uneven little puffs. Sweat glistened on his brow, in his hair.

Qui-Gon wanted desperately to reach out and touch his shoulder, wipe his brow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, terrified of causing another panicked outburst, of hearing —

I don’t know what happened on Melida/Daan.

“Trevor, Meola, Hanta, Chassi, come with me,” Obi-Wan said, still gazing vacantly. His voice, however, was firm. “We need to clear the streets. Gather up the bodies. Any pieces large enough to carry. Leave anything too small.”

I never asked him. I just assumed. He told me about the end of the war and Cerasi’s murder and I never thought to ask for more.

“Hanta?” Obi-Wan said. He coughed. Kept trying to talk even though he could barely breathe. “Hanta? Dammit… she’s gone. Infection. Infection. We’re out of medicine. We’re out. They can’t. I won’t go. They can’t they can’t. Get out.”

Obi-Wan dissolved into jumbled sentences, his eyes fluttering open and shut and open again, his cheeks blazing with fever.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered.

“Cerasi?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan said, and he sounded very small, so uncertain, nothing like the slowly-more-confident but quiet Padawan who had accompanied him last week. “I could. But he’s not. He’s not. He left, he doesn’t — he doesn’t want me.”

Another chill swept through Qui-Gon. He held his breath, waiting for more, not wanting to hear it but needing to know.

“He left me, I’m not meant — he said I wasn’t meant to be — I’m not good enough for it, Cerasi,” Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes fell closed again. He almost seemed to be sleeping. “He was right about… right about me. I’m not. Not. I can ask. He might not… come back. For you. For you he might. He’s good. Not me. Not me.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head onto the bedsheets, his breath sharp and painful in his chest.

I never asked.

“Nield. I will ask. I’ll ask the Jedi I will, I will. I’m not one of them. For you. I’ll ask for you.”

We never talked about it.

“The little ones, Cerasi. I can watch them. I’ll watch them today. My fingers. The man, he broke my fingers in the alleyway. I’ll watch the little ones, little ones. It’s story time, Jilo. Shhh.”

I let everything that happened afterwards consume it. Consume me.

“Qui-Gon doesn’t want me,” Obi-Wan said, so, so softly, his tone perfectly reasonable. Calm. “My fault. I’m not. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them. It’s okay. I want to… I want to go home. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “I want to go home.”

My Padawan.

With utmost care, Qui-Gon rose to his feet, feeling the floor sway beneath him as if he were at sea and not flying through hyperspace.

He went to the fresher and poured a glass of water and dampened a rag, carrying them both back to the beside. He set the glass on a table, and seated himself cautiously on the side of the bed, radiating as much calm as he could, trying to make his presence known through their training bond.

It must have worked, because Obi-Wan did not panic or flinch away from the person sitting beside him. Or perhaps he was simply too tired, delirious to the point of vacancy.

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand and gently pressed the boy back against his pillows, resting the cool cloth against his forehead once he had settled. He kept his hand there for awhile, and gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair with his thumb, watching the boy’s eyelids flicker as he began to doze, to dream.

With his other hand, Qui-Gon gently took one of Obi-Wan’s, holding it gently as if it were fragile, a treasure beyond price.

“Oh, my boy,” he whispered, and was not shocked to taste salt on his lips as he spoke. “Sleep now. When you wake, we will talk, I swear it. We’ll talk about everything. Anything you want.”

Obi-Wan continued to dream.

As he fell deeper into sleep, his fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon’s, and he did not let go.

fin.

[nootgi]

Love? - Kaeya

A/N:// I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIC WHILST I WORK ON MY OTHER REQS, I MAY HAVE CRIED A LIL WRITING THIS! I apologise for this story too T^T

Word count: 3k

“What’s love?” Kaeya paused at the question, his paperwork left forgotten on the table.

“Isn’t that a big question~!” He teases Annette, ruffling her hair. She puffs out her reddened cheeks and tries to move away from his hand, pressing Kaeya for an answer.

“Have you ever heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat? Though I suppose a baby like you wouldn’t know at such a young age.” He laughs, picking up the glass of grape juice to sip from. No alcohol around the children is what you strictly ordered when Kaeya decided to take Annette to work. For something like take your daughter to work day.

“I’m 6! I’m not a baby and mother says it’s good to be curious.” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at her words. That sounds very like you. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree he muses as he looks into Annie’s eyes, they hold the same wild innocence yours do. She has her mother’s eyes.

“Very well then, let me tell you a story.”

It was early April and the Windblume festival was coming to a close. The celebrations, despite coming to an ending, still kept the streets lively. Most of the people of Mondstadt were recovering from a hangover from last night’s heavy drinking but still had smiles on their faces. Kaeya was going for a stroll, to distract himself from the thoughts building in the back of his mind. He looked down at the plaza from where he stood, watching the clean up. It always felt bittersweet, taking down the flower garlands that hung from the buildings or rolling up the green carpets that lined the steps. He didn’t know how but he came to love Mondstadt so much... Well actually he did know. They accepted him for who he is, with all of his flaws and lies, Mondstadt and its people held a part of him he didn’t know he had. His family. And in that moment as windwheel aester petals blew from above, Mondstadt gave him something he’ll always be thankful for. 

“Here’s a flower for our cavalry captain!” You cheered, holding a cecilia flower in front of Kaeya’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You snuck up on him, attacking him at his weakest moment with a smile. Even though Windblume was coming to a close, you kept the festive cheer. You were handing out a variety of flowers to everyone in Mondstadt to spread the joy and love to everyone. 

“Such beauty handing me a flower, what did I do to deserve this.” He smirks at your momentary panic, ducking down slightly to be face to face. He takes the flower and smells it, hiding his smile in it’s petals. You scold him for saying such cheesy things to someone he just met. It was funny how even though it was your first meeting, your personalities fit perfectly as one. 

“Don’t you ever feel embarrassed by saying those things?” You adjust the flower that was tucked behind your ear.

“The only embarrassment I feel is that I have nothing in return for this lovely gift.” His hand comes up to fix the flower, tucking it perfectly behind your ear. The white petals glowing against your skin. That one encounter set the tradition of Kaeya and you giving presents back and forth every year during Windblume. Even as the years went on, the present stayed as a simple cecilia flower as an ode to that first meeting. 

“He didn’t believe in love at first sight. You could say it was only something that existed in fairy tales for plot convenience. It takes a lot more than first sight to fall in love but he swore that moment could’ve been it.” He looks back at the child who now climbed into his lap, she placed the red blanket over the two of them to make sure they were both comfortable. Her eyes were fixed on Kaeya, watching with eager eyes to hear more. He holds her close so she doesn’t fall off his lap as he continues his story. 

“Love can be the best feeling in the whole world but it can also be the worst.”

Kaeya stood in front of the crowd of kids with an odd look on his face. It wasn’t one you were used to seeing on his face, it was the look of utter confusion. You walked over to find out what was going on but decided to listen to the conversation first. 

“Sister Barbara said you’d be entertaining us! But this is boring!!” One of the kids said, the others around him nodding and some going far as to cheer. Kaeya didn’t know what to do. He was bad with kids, he couldn’t be mean otherwise Jean would have to deal with the complaints and he most definitely couldn’t use his usual lines. As he tried to think of something to do the kids started to chant ‘let’s play!’ and that’s when you finally decided to enter. 

“Hey there Captain! Need some help?” It was like an angel coming down from the heavens, he swore there was even a halo around your head. The kids, already knowing you, cheered at your entrance. Kaeya watched as you calmed the kids down, getting them to eat lunch and successfully buying time for the two of you to plan something to entertain them. 

“How’d you manage to get into this then Kaeya?” You approach him after giving the last child some apple juice. 

“Jean would normally do this but since it’s been a while since she spent time with her sister I decided to volunteer.” That stunned you for a moment, you heard stories from Amber about how Kaeya always seemed to avoid work and formed an unfair opinion of him in your head. You felt guilty because of those thoughts, you saw how he struggled with those kids but still put himself out there for the sake of Jean and Barbara. “But let’s not tell Jean that.” 

“Would it be so bad for Jean to know the truth?” You ask plainly, ignoring the way Kaeya said the last part of his sentence. 

“Well-” You didn’t even let him finish

“I think the problem you have Kaeya is that you’re too closed off, children are so open and trusting that the only way to get along with them is to do the same.” 

“That can’t be done overnight let alone in an hour (Y/N).” It was the first time Kaeya said your name and it sent shivers down your spine. The very thought of opening up felt dangerous to Kaeya, the last time he opened up the last of his family left him in the dust.

“You’re right in that area but we can take baby steps!” You weren’t deterred by the tall walls he built around himself. You used the word ‘we’. We can take baby steps. That’s all that lingered in Kaeya’s mind, it was like an informal promise from you to him that you’ll be beside him for that journey. 

“Then where do we start, captain cheerful?” You roll your eyes at the nickname but gesture towards the children. 

“We start with them.” That day was one of the best days Kaeya had since his childhood. He never thought hide and seek could be so thrilling or that duck duck goose could be so intense! The kids were more than happy to embrace Kaeya and his awkward aura, teaching him of super secret tactics that no-one would ever know. He found himself learning more about the children and about himself. At times when he feels his guard going back up, he glances over at you and sees you playing with some of the quieter children, bringing them out of their shells. Your smile blended in with the childish joy of the kids around the two of you. Sometimes your eyes caught each other's and you both just shyly laughed it off as kids pulled the two of you away in different directions. It was hard to catch a moment to talk to each other until you took the kids to watch the sunset by Cider lake. Most of the kids were settled on the grass, sitting crossed leg and talking about all the fun they had that day. One of the boys shyly tugged Kaeya’s leg, asking to be carried since his mother always did it for him. He looked towards you for help but you just gave two thumbs up, encouraging him. He carefully picked up the boy, letting him rest on his hip and one arm securing his waist. The boy rested his head on Kaeya's shoulder, using the fur on his shoulder as a pillow to slowly doze off. Kaeya stood still. He didn’t expect the day to go like this let alone carry a sleeping child too. You patted Kaeya’s shoulder to reassure him and the rest of the sunset was spent with whispered words exchanged between the two of you. After such a successful day, the two of you decided to take the kids once every week off of Jean’s hands. 

“Love didn’t make him become a better person magically but instead motivated him to strive for that. She inspired him to try and be a better version of himself. It wasn’t like she was perfect either, they both worked on themselves whilst inspiring each other. That’s the good side of love Annie, but there is a bad side too…” Annette saw Kaeya’s eyes darken a little and she moved her small hands to rest on top of his larger ones to comfort him. 

All Kaeya saw was red. It started off as a light hearted exchange between some treasure hunters that the two of you came across during an adventure. They used the typical story of their cart breaking down and needing help so they could lure adventurers into a trap before robbing them blind. Kaeya already knowing this tried to shut them down before anyone else could fall victim to them. He was going to only use his words since he didn’t want you getting hurt in the crossfire. He knew you could defend yourself but it was too risky with the amount of numbers they had on them, no doubt there were more of them hidden. However his words only seemed to provoke the treasure hunters more, they struck to attack him but the crossbow went astray and hit you in the shoulder instead. It could’ve been a simple flesh wound or a small cut but even the tiniest amount of blood from you sent him off. The area started dropping in temperature, the floor stable floor below the men started to turn into ice and there was a still moment as a singular snowflake drifted down onto the floor. Once it hit the ground, there was a flash and  its delicate crystals were stained with blood. Kaeya stood over the last one with his sword raised to crash down on him till you came from nowhere to hold back his arm.

“Kaeya! Stop this!!” You begged him, looking at his side profile and trying to avoid looking at the bodies that surrounded the two of you. He couldn’t hear you, all he could hear was your scream when you got hit and had tunnel vision. 

“Please stop, you’re scaring me.” You sobbed softly, finally catching his eye. The darkness that clouded his eyes faltered as he put down his sword and embraced you. The man that was on the floor scrambled up to his feet, apologising profusely before running off with a terrified shriek. Kaeya could care less about what he did, he could only think about you now. He felt your shoulders shake from the fear or maybe from the sobs that escaped your body. His heart felt as though it dropped to his stomach, he hurt you. He scared you. When his hand came up to pat your head, you flinched away. It still sticks with him to this day, your tear stained face and eyes filled with fear because of what he was. He hated himself after that day, he felt as though he was back to square one. 

“It can lead you to dangerous things. You could disregard everything and everyone around you and ironically hurt the one you were trying to protect. But you can control all these negatives by simply talking about it with whoever you love. Never run away from it.” 

“Did the lady leave him after that?” Annette asked with tears in her eyes, not wanting to see such a tragic ending for the love story. 

“No she didn’t. When he ran away, she chased after him. She was really stubborn and cornered the poor man!” 

After the incident, Kaeya was put on a suspension from his job. The people of Mondstadt didn’t know any better, thinking it was him taking a small break from his work. Kaeya doesn’t know why Jean kept it a secret but decided to roll with it. He took his suspension as a time to withdraw from you, it was scary how quickly he became so attached to you. It was dangerous for the two of you so he decided himself to end whatever went on between the two of you. When you woke up the next day, you found out about Kaeya’s suspension and tried looking for him to talk things out. It was an impossible task since Kaeya seemed to become air whenever he saw you approaching or when you ask people about his location they all gave different answers. It annoys you to no end. He saves your life and then decides to remove himself from your life. Like hell you’d allow that. So you hatch a plan with Rosaria. 

It was a Thursday night and normally Kaeya would be holed up at work but with his suspension he decided to go to the angel’s share. Rosaria said she would be there in the back corner on the second floor, she told him that she would drink with him since it was boring to drink alone. He arrives earlier than Rosaria and decides to start drinking before she gets there, ordering a bottle of dandelion wine and slowly sipping on it. Minutes turn into hours and before he realises it’s closing time and he isn’t nearly as drunk as he would like to be. Rosaria was a no show and the tavern was completely empty. That’s when Kaeya realised he was caught in a trap, he had nowhere to run as you slowly approached him. You had a really angry look on your face. It was one look, he hates to admit, that scared him. You say nothing as you seat yourself across from Kaeya.

“F-fancy seeing you here (Y/N).” He offers with a meek smile.

“It really is an odd coincidence huh? It feels like it’s been a while since we talked.” You smile, but it isn’t reaching your eyes. That night you both talked about your feelings and cried with each other. Kaeya tells you things he never imagined telling you, about his self-hatred and how he feels as though he doesn’t belong. How the guilt eats him up everyday. You in return comfort him through it all, you might not have much to say back to him but that’s okay because just having someone listen to him was more than enough. Especially if it was you.

He was walking away from your doorstep after dropping you off home when he was stopped by you.

“No matter what happens Kaeya, don’t make my decisions for me! I’m a grownup and I told you all those years ago, WE will take these baby steps together.” You say seriously, holding his gaze with your fiery eyes. As he looked up at you, he felt his heartbeat pick up and a terrible realisation came down on him. Oh.

“I promise.” He was in love. 

“When you love someone Annette, it isn’t all black and white. You have to work to keep your relationship going, when something bad happens you talk about it, celebrate the small wins alongside the big ones. At moments you can feel lost in love, know you aren’t alone in this world. And once you find that special person, never let them go.” He pats the girl’s head as she brings her hand up to rub at her sleepy eyes. 

“Would there ever be a moment you would let go of love?” She asked innocently. As Kaeya opened his mouth to respond, the sound of the door opening interrupted the two of them.

The two look towards who came in and suddenly all the sleepiness in Annette’s body seems to leave her.

“Mommy!” She shouted excitedly, jumping into your open arms. You lift her up and spin her around as she giggles happily. Kaeya watched the exchange with fond eyes, standing up to walk towards them.

“So what did you do today?” You ask, it seems like an innocent question but Kaeya knows it's you checking to see if the two of you got up to any devious acts. 

“I learnt about love!” Annette says proudly, she holds her hands against her hips and proudly puffs her chest out. Kaeya laughs softly, as you turn to him with a curious gaze. 

“Oh really? Who taught you?” Diluc walks in behind you, laughing softly at Annette. Annette notices his arrival, reaching out for him to take her off of you. She laughs when Diluc tickles her sides as he adjusts his grip on her.

“Uncle Kaeya!” Her red hair bounces as she turns to point to Kaeya who was standing a few steps away from the family. 

She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s hair.

‘There can be a moment Annie. Sometimes there can be a moment when you realise another person can make them happier than you ever could but I hope from the bottom of my heart that, you, my dearest niece will never experience that.’