#anyway put it in the drafts and prompts

[raikirikiri]

thinking about if konoha ninja who became anbu frequently 'died' so they wouldn't be on any registry and so other villages would get word that notable shinobi have 'died'. they don't do it often, that would be suspicious, but they do it to kakashi. minato assigns him to anbu and apologizes blandly when he tells him his death is going to be faked. kakashi, broken traumatized and depressed, thinks nothing of it.

kakashi 'dies' on a mission months after the death of rin, after obito watched, after he lost pretty much everything and any sense of self he had. his body isn't recovered and the circumstances of his death are unclear.

if im being entirely cruel, this means that no one in the village (guy, asuma, iruka, etc.) would know that kakashi is still alive. they all think he's dead and they grieve him and kakashi... disappears. he doesn't know himself anymore and he can't, because he's dead and he's in the anbu now and that's all that matters. his life for konoha in life and death, always.

obito, being the stalker he is, looks for kakashi. he missed him entering the anbu, he missed the faked funeral, he missed a lot. he tries to find him in his shoebox apartment, stakes out minato's home, sits at the memorial stone and rin's grave. but kakashi never shows up and obito decides he'll check the active missions in konoha, just to know where kakashi is (definitely not to follow him and watch him, that'd be weird, duh). so after sneaking into the hokage's office with kamui, he rifles through the piles of s-rank and a-rank missions, but kakashi's name is nowhere to be found. confused and almost insulted on kakashi's behalf, he checks the b-ranks and below, but no dice.

now obito is getting...nervous might not be the word but he's definitely feel angry at this point. if kakashi isn't home, on a mission, grieiving, or with minato then where is he. obito stalks guy next, finds him sitting on a rock by a stream, glum. he's pale, his eyes are watery, he looks exhausted and obito is definitely nervous at this point. he'd never admit it but for something to get guy of all people down... obito fears for the worst.

through much stalking and espionage, obito finds out where kakashi is.

he's dead.

that can't be right.

he would've heard if kakashi was dead, right? zetsu would've told him. he would've known. kakashi has one of his eyes, he definitely would've known. and obito, pissed, scared, and indignant, opens up the connection between him and kakashi, searching for kakashi's vision, for what he can see. he hasn't done it since that night when rin...

he didn't want kakashi to know it existed, never even wanted to take that chance. but he doesn't care anymore. kakashi isn't dead. it's just not possible.

obito was right. kakashi isn't dead.

but he might as well be.

kakashi has no way out of the anbu now, no way that wouldn't give away konoha's secrets. guy can't help him because guy thinks he's dead, minato can't help him, he killed him in the first place. kakashi will forever live, breathe, and die for konoha. it makes obito's blood boil, he feels reminiscent of the night rin died.

he hates kakashi. he wants to hate kakashi. he can't hate kakashi. he can hate the world, he can despise konoha, he can want to kill minato. but kakashi...

he's never been able to hate him. no matter how hard he tried, how easy kakashi made it for him. when it came to kakashi, his balance between love and hate was never more skewed.

there's a particularly awful mission, kakashi is the only one to return to the village and he's...he's not good. obito watches him laugh hysterically as he washes his hands of blood that isn't there. he's never seen kakashi so broken and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.

obito gets kakashi out of the anbu. kakashi hates him for it, fights him, thrashes against him and his will and ideologies. kakashi doesn't know him, obito was too ahamed to reveal himself. it doesn't matter though, kakashi wants to die. he was happy in the anbu, he says. it'd be a quicker death, a noble death.

you've already died, obito shouts at him, enraged and torn apart. how can't he see it? how can he be so naive and blind to it all?

kakashi doesn't answer, doesn't know what words to say to make this stranger believe he isn't worth the trouble. obito has no choice.

with a shaking hand, he removes his mask. kakashi watches, eyes wide and wet and obito throws the mask to the side to hold out his hand. you've already died, but you can be reborn.

with me.

kakashi, broken tattered and thoroughly sure he's lost it, takes obito's hand. yes, kakashi thinks, he's died. but if this is the afterlife, than maybe things won't be so bad...

[fandomfloozy]

Classical Conditioning

Pairing: Kento Nanami x clingy!reader

C/W: reader's love language is physical touch, petnames (kento refers to reader as love, sweetheart, darling), sorcerer instructor!reader (students refer to reader as sensei), gn!reader, slightly nsfw, mdni

wc: 6.5k

~°•*~

You're on the way home from a particularly grueling training session with the second years. Your muscles burn, your limbs feel heavy, and you want nothing more than to treat yourself to a sweet dessert and head home.

Home to bed, home to sleep, home to Kento...

You weakly push open the door of the nearest cafe you could find and head in. No sooner does the entry bell chime that the exhaustion of the day dissipates from your aching body. From one moment to the next, you've gone from zombie walk to barely containing your excitement as you spot an unmistakably familiar head of blond hair.

You don't even hear the cashier greet you as you're halfway across the room, your feet moving on their own volition. The closer you get, the wider the stupid grin on your face grows until you've practically jumped your fiancée from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his.

"Kento!" You're nuzzling into him with your eyes closed, feeling yourself recharge to practically full capacity.

He doesn't seem the least bit startled or surprised to see you as he reaches a hand up to place on your arms. He moves his face away to get a good look at you. "Hi, sweetheart." He rubs his thumb on your forearm. "We were just talking about you."

In your haste, you failed to notice Takuma Ino sitting across from your lover.

You breathe out an awkward chortle, slinking your arms away from Kento and rounding his chair to pull out the one next to him. "All good things, I hope?" You slide a hand down his arm as you take a seat.

"Nothing but, sensei!"

"You're not one of my students, Takuma-kun." You give a semi-exasperated smile as you reach down the table to grab Kento's hand. "I already told you; you don't need to call me that."

Kento glances your way. "We were actually talking about potentially having him shadow you on one of your next missions." He gives a squeeze at your locked hands at the suggestion. "Have you give him a few pointers, show him how you do things."

"Oh!" You look over at Takuma. "I'm not sure what I could teach you that you don't know, you're plenty capable already!"

"But you're a first grade, sensei! I could pick up a lot from watching you work."

"You're pushing first grade yourself!" You argue.

"And you're pushing semi-special grade, darling," Kento chides, coolly sipping at his drink. "Don't sell yourself too short."

You frown. If you sold yourself too short, Kento upsold you too much.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you let out a hum as you think. "Well..."

You look up and Takuma is giving you the closest thing a young man his age can get to puppy eyes. And it's working.

You fiddle with Kento's fingers. "I trust you're capable enough not to slow me down..." Takuma visibly starts to brighten. "So I suppose it couldn't hurt to have you come on a mission and shadow me--"

"Yes!" Takuma pumps a fist and grabs your free hand to shake in earnest. "I won't slow you down at all, sensei! Promise!"

You giggle as he continues to shake. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Kento chuckles a bit and moves to stand up. "Now that that's squared away, why don't I get you something to eat?"

"Oh! Yes, please." You remember that the sweet treat you came for remains unordered. You lean away to let Kento stand. "You remember my order?"

"You need to ask?" He smiles and starts making his way towards the register. You hold his hand and then his fingers to the last moment as they slip away from you. You then watch him with your chin leaned into your hand and a dopey smile on your face as you watch him tell the cashier your order and pull out his wallet.

"Your two's relationship is so wild to me." Takuma's voice breaks you out of your lovelorn trance. You clear your throat.

"I guess it is atypical," you hum.

Romantic relationships in the jujutsu world, especially between jujutsu sorcerers, are few and far between. Not many sorcerers become old enough or secure enough to explore those kinds of relationships, let alone get to the point of planning to marry. You and Kento are lucky...

"Especially because you two are such an unlikely pair."

You hum in response again, before what he said kicks in. "Wait, what?"

Takuma responds casually while taking bites of his pastry. "Well, you know. Sensei and Nanami-san are so different. Don't get me wrong, he's a great man, but he's kind of a square."

You snort, recalling your jujutsu tech days with Kento. "He's always been a little standoffish. Been that way since we were students."

"It's just crazy. You're so bubbly and nice, and he's so..." He gestures vaguely. "I guess what they say is true: opposites attract."

"Well..." You fidget. "He is a little more reserved than I am, I suppose."

He takes in another fork full of his food. "I don't think I've ever even seen him hold your hand first."

That leaves you speechless.

Was that true? Has he never held your hand without you reaching out to grab his first? You've never thought about it before.

No, surely, it's just in public. Takuma has never seen Kento initiate because you're in public. Kento doesn't mind PDA, but you're just more prone to initiate in a public setting. Surely that's what he means.

Surely.

The weight of the day is suddenly returning to your body all at once.

Kento returns with your order, hand on the back of the chair. "Don't worry about the bill, it's covered." Takuma cheers to himself. Kento turns to face you. "Ready to head home? You look exhausted."

You nod and let out a little, "Mhm." You reach out a hand and Kento helps you up. Huh...

Initiated.

"We're heading out now. I'll see you tomorrow, Ino-kun."

"See you, Nanami-san. Sensei."

You offer a wave and lean into Kento's arm as you walk out of the cafe.

Initiated...

The ride home is quiet. You're on the verge of nodding off in the backseat as the driver takes you and Kento home. He holds onto your treat from the cafe, your craving now forgotten. Your hands are folded in your lap as you try to stay awake.

It's private enough in the car. Surely, he'll at least try to hold your hand...

You want him to hold your hand. Your thigh, your shoulders, your waist... Anything, really. But he could at least hold your hand.

Please, hold my hand...

The car coming to a stop wakes you. Your head lay in Kento's lap as he gently pets your head.

"We've arrived," the driver announces.

"Let's get you to the shower and then you can sleep all you want, alright?" Kento whispers as he tenderly lifts you from his lap and into a sitting position.

Falling asleep on him like that in front of the driver. You really forced his hand there. He had to hold you in his lap. He had no choice.

Initiated.

Arriving home is a bit relieving, though. It didn't get more private than that. More comfortable.

You were showering. He was undressing and going about his nightly routine. It didn't get more intimate than that.

So by the time you stepped out of the shower, water dripping off your form, you expected something--anything--as you creeped up behind him. Dressed in pajama pants and slippers, brushing his teeth in the mirror, he saw your naked form in his peripheral.

He smirked and spat out the toothpaste. "All done, beautiful?"

You nodded meekly, holding your arm behind your back. He turned to face you and you looked at him, alternating between looking at each eye.

Surely, he'd initiate. Nothing was stopping him. You'd initiated all day; it was his turn. Surely...

He reached out to you, and you waited with bated breath...

...as he reached behind you, grabbing the towel to place over your head and dry you off. He smiled softly. "Go put on some pajamas. I'll join you in bed soon."

He then wrapped the towel around your shoulders and turned to finish washing his face. You stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before scuttling to grab clothes to sleep in.

Maybe he just isn't in the mood tonight.

T-shirt.

I mean, you don't have sex every night.

Underwear.

But even when you do... does he initiate? You suddenly can't recall.

Something you do every night, though, is hold each other. That's a given. Cuddling is essential. It's how you get to sleep: relying on Kento's warmth to lull you into a sense of security and comfort.

You rush to the bed and under the covers. You wait.

Kento emerges from the bathroom, turning off lights on the way to you. Your anticipation is almost palpable at this point.

He situates himself in bed, sat up and looking down at you. "Long day, love?"

The top half of your face is peeking out from under the covers as you nod. "Very," you remark with a bit of a whine. "Glad to finally be home with you, Ken." You reach out to him instinctively then think better of it and stop short, your hand flopping on the bed with a thud.

You both look down at it for a beat.

He laughs. "Me too." He picks up your hand from the space between you and presses his lips to it, holding back a chuckle. "Sleep well. We've got an early start tomorrow."

He then drops your hand to turn off the bedside lamp. The darkness somehow makes the room feel significantly colder.

Kento shimmies down into the covers, lays down face-up, and closes his eyes. "Good night, love."

"Night, Ken," you whisper.

You close your eyes as you replay the exchange in your head.

Initiated.

~°•*~

You wake the next morning curled up by Kento's side. Through the course of the night, it seems like you ended up drifting closer to him. Your head is on his chest, your legs tangled up with his.

His form is the same as he fell asleep in. Supine. Completely relaxed.

You sigh. You tried to give him a wide berth last night and still ended up encroaching on his space.

You carefully untangle yourself from him. His alarm hasn't gone off yet and you don't want to wake him. Once out of bed, you pad down the hall and to the kitchen. With the extra time, you decide you might as well get some breakfast ready.

In the silence while you're cooking, however, you can't help the doubts that start creeping up in your mind... You probably make him uncomfortable with your constant need to be touching him in some way, shape, or form. You know physical touch isn't his love language, and yet you pester him constantly anyway, even in public. He didn't so much as touch you last night without you practically begging for him to. He probably only reciprocates out of obligation.

Maybe you should tone it down today.

You hear the rushing stream of water from down the hall as you finish plating the food. Seems like you have time to pack your lunches for the day as well.

As soon as that's done, you pick at your breakfast a bit. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is having adverse effects on your appetite. You sigh heavily to yourself and figure you should at the very least have a coffee.

You prep one for yourself and one for Kento, and as if on cue, he emerges from the bedroom. His hair is glistening from the water and product still drying in it. He's got his dress shirt on with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looks absolutely heaven-sent.

"Ooh, thanks for breakfast, love." He smiles as he takes his seat at the table and you hand him his mug. Your fingers brush as he grabs it, and you yank your hand away a little too forcefully. Kento raises a quizzical brow at you. "Careful, I'm sure it's hot." He blows on it a bit before taking a sip.

You hide your hands behind your back to avoid potential slip-ups. You resigned yourself to no touching him unprompted today. You were going to stick to it.

"How did you sleep? I missed you when I woke up this morning."

"Slept fine." You grab your own mug to give your hands something to do. "Just woke up a bit early. Lunch is packed and everything."

"Oh, wow. That's quite proactive of you," he teases. Oh, you wanna kiss him. He digs into his plate and gives a nod to yours. "Aren't you having breakfast?"

You shake your head. He scrunches his brows and his eyes soften. God, you want to rub at the lines between his brows. "I should actually start getting dressed, if anything. I'll go do that now."

You set down your mug on the counter and make a beeline to your bedroom. This is harder than you thought. He's irresistible. How are you meant to make it through the day?

Ugh, but this is for his sake. You don't want to make him uncomfortable. Show restraint, you're an adult.

You get dressed, do your hair, brush your teeth, and take a look at the clock to make sure you're good on time before your driver arrives. Once you're sure you're presentable, you grab your things and start making your way to the front door to put on your shoes.

"Hey, sweetheart--"

You stop in your tracks and look over at Kento, who is standing by the coat rack, jacket in hand and a weird look on his face. His tie is still loose. That's unlike him.

He gives you a crooked smile. "You seem frazzled this morning. I'm sure you're in a rush, but do you mind helping me get my jacket on?"

You hesitate, then you walk over to him. You don't have to touch him while putting on his coat. This is fine. He's asking you to do this anyway. "I've got you, Ken." You take the jacket from his hands, and he turns around to give you full access.

Oh, his back looks so good under his dress shirt. One arm in. It'd be so easy to just run a hand over it and cop a feel... Other arm in. Has he always had such a biteable neck?

You don't get a chance to think about it before it's covered by the collar of his jacket. You clasp your hands together in front of you as he turns around.

"Thank you, darling."

He looks you in the eye and you can't help your gaze from drifting down to his lips. You should kiss him. You want to kiss him. But he isn't leaning in. He's not initiating. You shouldn't. But you can't help gravitating towards him when he looks at you like that with so much love in his eyes and--

You lean in and tighten his tie up to the collar of his shirt.

He looks down in surprise. "Oh! Heh, thank you again." He lets out a chuckle.

You smile. "Anytime." Success. You restrained yourself. That was a close one.

Your phone chimes and you look down. "My driver's here. I'm heading out now." You turn around and put on your shoes at the doorstep. You open the door and spare a glance back at Kento, who is still standing right where you left him. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day. Love you!"

"Love you, too..." He trails and adjusts his tie with one hand while the other waves a goodbye.

You give him a quick wave back and close the door behind you.

Phew, this shouldn't be that hard.

~°•*~

It's really not.

That hard, that is.

You spent the car ride to the school congratulating yourself on a job well done, coasting off the high of a win. By the time you arrived in the classroom, the whole ordeal took a backseat in your mind. As it stands, Maki, Toge, and Panda are enough of a handful in their own right.

You enter and all of your students seem to be here, sans Yuta. You close the sliding door and smile before walking to the front. "Alright, be seated," you announce as you set your things down. "Pop quiz today, so notes away and pencils out, please."

Your students' audible groans fill the mostly empty room.

"That's too cruel, sensei," Panda whines.

"Mustard leaf."

"Yeah, you didn't even prepare us for this," Maki complains.

The chorus of complaints keep ringing out. You sigh at the lack of order. You're not exactly in the mood with only your morning coffee sitting in your stomach, but you can't exactly blame them when it's so early in the morning and it's the last day of the week. However, that doesn't stop you from taking a deep breath and bringing your hands together in a forceful clap.

The sound reverberates through the floorboards and up the walls. Your students freeze.

The juxtaposition of your gentle smile and the tilt of your head lend to the immediate quiet. "I thought I asked you all very nicely to put your notes away and take a pencil out. I must have imagined the idle chatter, hm?"

They all sit up straight, desks cleared, pencil in hand. "Yes, sensei!"

A handful indeed.

It's what you need today, though. While Kento's off working, you're busy with the second years. There's no temptation this way. Not seeing him for the better part of the day helps. The rapid pace of training and lessons keeps you distracted... for the most part.

That is until, without warning, he's walking onto the training field where you're leading your class through combat drills. He has one Yuuji Itadori in tow, skipping along beside him.

You're kind of geeking, but you try not to let it show. This is Round 2. Second test of the day. You're in public this time. Your students are around. You can hold back.

You greet him with a smile. "You're back early. How did it go?"

Kento rolls the shoulder on his dominant side out. "It went well, all things considered." He looks a bit disheveled.

"It was so cool!" Yuuji cuts in. "Nanamin's cursed technique is always amazing to watch!"

You feel a swell of pride at that. Kento is very talented, you're glad Yuuji gets to learn from him. "How did you do today, Yuu-kun?"

"I think I did really well--"

"His form is still sloppy. He needs to get a better grasp on real-time battle strategy." Now that he's closer to you, you notice Kento's hair seems out of sorts. You want to run your fingers through it and fix it a bit...

"I thought I did a lot better today," Yuuji pouts. He leans his head onto the front of your shoulder and whines lowly so only you can hear. "Nanamin's been kinda mean today, sensei."

You laugh and wrap one arm around Yuuji, using the other to rub at his hair comfortingly. "He really wants you to improve. I'm sure it's nothing personal, Yuu-kun," you coo.

"I'll watch your students for you." You don't get a good look at Kento's face as he is already briskly making his way to where your kids are training.

Now that you mention it, that was a bit snappy. You wonder if something happened to Kento while he was out today.

You hum. You release Yuuji from your hold. "Why don't you tell me more about how today went?"

"Well." Yuuji starts prattling on about how he met with Gojo this morning who then let him know Kento would be instructing him again today, so they headed off to meet him, and Kento had seemed out of it this morning to begin with. Anyway, they went to exorcise some curses, but Kento seemed to be a little more aggressive with them today than usual. He mentioned how Kento had scolded him sternly more than a few times while they were working, but once they finished Kento still seemed unsatisfied and kept grumbling about this and that, stuff Yuuji couldn't make out. "And once we were done, I asked Nanamin if we could eat something and he said okay, but he just wanted to stop by here first to 'Check on the state of the instruction you students are being provided.' Whatever that means."

Huh. You should've guessed Gojo was at the source of this. He was probably pestering Kento into this morning. On top of that, Kento seems to be dissatisfied with how Gojo is teaching the first years and came to analyze the situation.

No wonder he seems a bit touchy.

Oh, Yuuji is still speaking to you.

"Sounds like a lot." You nod along to whatever he started talking about next. "I'm sure you and Kento had a long morning, Yuu-kun. How's about you take him to find Gojo-san and the other first years, okay?" You start guiding Yuuji back across the field to Kento.

It gives you pause to find that your second years are out of breath and hands-on-knees by the time you get back. You couldn't have been talking with Yuuji for more than a few minutes, what happened in that time?

"Really putting them through their paces there, huh, Ken?" You breathe out a laugh nervously. Kento is kind of scary when Gojo gets him riled up.

"They can handle this much," is all Kento offers, standing cross-armed, facing you students.

You pause. Your brows scrunch together in worry. "Okay, guys. Water break! Be back here in five minutes."

Your students let out a sigh of relief as they stagger towards the sidelines for some reprieve. Yuuji trails a safe distance behind you as you round Kento to face him fully. You soften your eyes as you meet his own, shielded from you by his round goggle sunglasses.

"Are you alright?"

The scrunch in his brow relaxes a bit at your scrutiny. "Yes, darling, I'm fine--"

"Are you sure?" You press. You take him in a bit more. His stance is relaxing some more. "Your hair's all fussed," you tease with a snort.

He looks at you. You look at him. You're mirroring his arm-crossed stance. You don't move to fuss over him, especially if it'll just make him more uncomfortable in this state, but you expect him to at least run a hand through his hair himself.

"Are you sure you're alri--"

"Yes, everything's fine. Yuuji, let's head over the first year classroom." He's already leaving before you can protest.

"Aww, but I thought we were going to eat first." Yuuji jogs to catch up with Kento and the two talk back and forth until their chatter becomes too quiet for you to hear.

You're left kind of unnerved by how he left things. Kento isn't one to beat around the bush. He'll usually tell you what's making him upset without mincing his words, especially when it comes to venting about Gojo. This recent transgression must have bothered him something fierce.

"Lover's quarrel?" You hear Maki comment behind you. You turn and realize all of your students have gathered to watch you watch your fiancée and Yuuji walk away.

"Pfft, no. Nothing that dramatic." You wave off their concern, or lack thereof. They're fishing for gossip, and you know it.

"Seemed like something fishy was going on between you twooooo," Panda singsongs.

"Salmon."

"Hey, do you want to waste the last..." You check your watch. "Two minutes of your water break yapping? 'Cause you're going to need it for the next set."

"No, sensei!" They scatter off to finish drinking at their jugs.

"Mhm, that's what I thought," you declare to yourself.

You want to bask in this recent victory. You staved off another round of the grabby hands again, after all. But something about this win just doesn't sit right with you. You don't feel good as long as you know something is eating at Kento this much...

Hopefully he works out whatever he and Gojo have going on.

~°•*~

The rest of the day is a blur. Your students are eager to get a start on their weekend or on missions, so as soon as it's time to dismiss them, they are out the door.

No new assignments were offered to you as the day went on, and thankfully, it seems like there aren't any pressing matters for you to attend to with the higher ups. By all accounts, you're free, so you grab your things and make way out the door and to the campus gates.

You haven't had a proper meal all day, so you start contemplating what you could pick up on your way home. You had enough ingredients to make a big dinner tonight. Maybe a quick snack would be enough to stave off the hunger until then.

As you continue to ponder your options, who do you run into but Satoru Gojo himself.

He spots you before you can think of turning tail to avoid him.

"If it isn't my lovely coworker and counterpart!" He offers a childlike grin and waves as his lithe form approaches you. "How is the beloved second-year sensei today?"

"Just fine," you respond, walking past him without a second glance.

He doesn't miss a beat as he trails behind you and continues chatting. "Aww, c'mon. Give me more than that. I feel like I barely get to see you."

You sigh. "That's on purpose, Gojo-san."

He feigns offense, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. "You wound me. We've known each other for years. You can call me senpai when we're not around the students, or at the very least drop the honorifics."

"Would you rather I referred to you as 'hey, you,' or maybe as 'trash-kun'?" You tease. You didn't hate Gojo, per se. You just found him a mite unbearable sometimes.

"'Gojo-san' is fine, then..." He pouts. "You and Nanami are just the same." He brightens as he seems to remember something. "Speaking of! I got to speak to our resident ex-salaryman today! He was telling me all about how you--"

"How he thinks you're slacking on training the first years?" You interrupt.

"What? No! I'll have you know I am doing an amazing job, especially with Megumi and Yuuji. As a matter of fact, they're..."

You tune him out for the rest of the walk to the exit. The thought of Gojo defending himself in the face of a scolding Kento was amusing enough to get you through the rest of the walk out. At the gates, you find your driver waiting for you, the car idling and primed to take you far away from the school and this conversation.

"As much as I love our talks." You turn to look at Gojo with thinly veiled annoyance. "I should be getting home for the day, Gojo-san." Before you can reach for the door yourself, Gojo does it for you. He opens it widely and with a flourish, offering his hand to help you in.

"But of course, sorry to keep you. Get home safe. Get rested. I'm sure next week will be another doozy."

You accept his hand and roll your eyes half-heartedly as he goes on and on. You can't help the small smile on your face as you make your way into the car, though.

As soon as you're securely inside, Gojo peers in and looks you in the eye. "But if I could offer you a bit of advice, my dear kohai." His tone comes across a bit more serious. You attention falls securely on him at that. "I'd go about talking to our friend Nanami over... stimulus control."

Huh?

You give Gojo a look that you hope conveys your confusion, but any note of seriousness in his demeanor leaves him as fast as it came. He grins widely at you and closes the door before you have the chance to question him further. As soon as the door closes, the driver pulls off and Gojo becomes but a shrinking figure in the rear window.

Well, that was cryptic.

What the fuck did he mean "stimulus control"?

You don't think much of it after a while. Gojo is infamously too unserious for his own good. It would be a waste of brain power to read too much into what could very well just be him messing with you, so you don't. What you do continue pondering is what you could do for dinner.

By the time you get home, you've decided on snacking on yesterday's treat while cooking up a suitable feast to make up for missing breakfast. And to congratulate you on a job well done today.

You are in high spirits as you eat and cook at the same time. You could get used to this! Restraining yourself was far easier than you had anticipated. What had seemed like an impossible task this morning didn't seem so bad in hindsight. Maybe every day could be like this...

With no touching Kento at all...

And him not initiating any physical contact with you... at all.

This experience had really put Takuma's observation to the test, hadn't it? Kento really doesn't initiate physical affection with you at all, does he?

Your mood sours a bit.

But you attempt to pull yourself out of it just as quickly. He has other methods of showing he loves you. He shows you he loves you every day. Constant messages checking on how you're doing. Doing the chores whenever you're far too drained. Sitting down to watch your favorite show with you. Bringing back trinkets from missions outside the city that made him think of you. Not to mention that he says he loves you outright every day without fail.

Kento is an intensely loving man, and if you only had to sacrifice a bit of hugging and squeezing for his sake, that was completely fine with you. He just wasn't the type to receive love that way and that's okay.

That's fine.

There's a jingle of keys in the lock of the front door just as you're finishing up the last dish of tonight's spread. You turn off the stove and start transferring to a serving dish as Kento appears in view, dropping his briefcase and shedding his jacket at the front.

"Ken! You're home!" You turn to place the pot and spoon in your hands in the sink. "Dinner's just about ready, just gotta set the table and everything." You reach to grab a towel and wipe your hands as you turn around to face him. "Unless this is a have-dinner-standing-up-at-the-kitchen-island sort of da--"

Kento leaning on the kitchen island with a hand on his hip gives you pause. His head is hanging low as he reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

You crane your neck to look him in the eye. "Long day?"

He sighs. "Like you wouldn't believe." He looks up at you, facing you head-on. An uncomfortable silence fills the space between you. He doesn't elaborate.

You scratch your head. "Well, at least dinner's ready!" You gesture to the courses for the meal. "One less thing to worry about."

"Mhm." He nods. You're not sure with the tinted lenses, but it almost seems like Kento is looking at you... expectantly? You don't know what to say. The silence stretches on. You twist at the towel in your hands.

You tilt your head and press your lips in a thin line. "You seem stressed."

He surprises you by letting out a dry chuckle and turning away. He takes off his goggles and places them on the counter. He runs a hand down his face as he leans on the other.

"Kento..." You approach him cautiously. You're not sure what to do. Usually you'd rub at his back, but you're not sure that's the right thing to do here. "If this is about the Gojo thing--"

"Gojo?" You're taken aback as he stands at full height and throws his hands up. He starts pacing and grumbles to himself, "Of all the things... Had to sit there and talk to Gojo about this, of all the people..."

"Are you alright?"

"Are you alright??" He turns quickly and faces you.

The outburst has you dropping the towel and bumping into the sink. You didn't realize you'd stepped back so far. Kento's right there with you, though. There's nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for him but to press a hand on either side of you, caging you in.

"Have I done something to upset you?" His bare eyes look into yours solemnly, almost pained.

You alternate between looking at both of his eyes for a moment. In your surprise at the seriousness of this exchange, laughter is suddenly bubbling up in your chest and bursts out before you can stop it. "What? Haha!"

Your fit of giggles seems to take Kento aback. He blinks. "Darling, I'm serious."

You try to stifle your laughter with the back of your hand. "Ken, honey, what do you mean?" You shake your head. "You haven't done anything to upset me. What made you think that?"

The warmth of a gentle hand on your cheek shocks you out of the hilarity of the moment.

Initiated.

Kento doesn't give you any choice but to look him in the eye. "I had to pull you in so you'd sleep in my arms last night." He emphasizes his words with a stroke of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. "I woke up without you this morning. You left today without a send-off kiss. God, I stopped by while you worked and didn't even fix my own appearance for the chance that you'd run your hands through my hair." Kento grows progressively more distressed as he speaks. You're speechless. "You haven't so much as brushed a hand against me all day. Have I done something that made you... uncomfortable with me?"

"Oh..." In the blink of an eye, all of the restraint you'd brute force trained into your disposition today is thrown out the window. "Oh, Kento." You reach up to place both hands on either side of his face. "You could never make me feel uncomfortable with you." You reach around his neck and squeeze him into you, rubbing your head into his cheek comfortingly. "The whole reason I pulled back today was because I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

"What?" He pulls away to look at you, placing his hands squarely on your shoulders, not moving them away. "What could possibly make you think that you make me uncomfortable?"

"Well..." You look down at your hands as they fiddle with his tie and dress shirt. "You have to admit the way I'm constantly touching and hugging and kissing you is a bit excessive, no?"

"No, actually. I don't have to admit that because it's not true. Look at me."

You peer at him through your eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, what made you feel this way?"

You glance away.

"Love, look at me."

You do. He's making full eye contact with you. Patiently waiting.

"Someone might have..." You trail off a bit. "Offhandedly pointed out...." Man, this is hard to admit now. "That you never hold my hand first?"

Kento blinks. Then blinks a few more times. "Surely, that's not true. Who told you that?"

"That's beside the point," you blurt. "The important thing is that that's what this whole thing was. Me making an effort to not touch you as much, only if you initiated first. And then it sort of turned out to also be a ploy to see if you'd even initiate at all... Which you didn't..."

Kento looks appalled.

"I just got really in my head about it!" You ramble on. "And then a little insecure. And then I was really just doing this all for your sake because I sort of got it in my head that you didn't like PDA--or physical affection in general--at all, because you never initiate any of it! And then I thought that maybe I was being too much and--"

In your panic, you failed to notice Kento slinking his hands down to your hips, towards the hem of your shirt. The feeling of the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your stomach makes you jump a bit. "How could you ever think you're too much..." His palms are warm as they join his fingertips. He's moved his head to lean beside yours and speaks lowly into the shell of your ear. His hands start wandering farther up to your bare waist. Unfettered. "When I can't get enough of you?"

You squirm in his grasp. "Kento..." you breathe. You're not used to him taking initiative like this.

"I'm sorry I got so used to receiving your affection without any effort on my part." He glides his nose from your ear down your neck. "I got so used to having your hands on me without trying-" He presses a kiss at your pulse point. You gasp. "That I made a real ass of myself as soon as you took that away." One of his hands moves from your waist to your bare spine. It makes you shiver and arch forward. "I took you for granted and for that I apologize."

Your breathing is picking up. "It's okay, Ken," you say unevenly.

Kento shakes his head. "No, it's not." He pulls back just enough so that he's practically nose to nose with you. "I love you very much. Let me be sorry." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

You nod against him. "Okay."

"Surely," he continues. "I have to show you just how sorry I am." The sideways smile he gives you carries mischief. Your eyes widen before he leans down. You let out a yelp as he lifts you off the ground and onto the counter.

He sits between your legs, and you hold him by the neck as you try to keep your breath even. "The food'll get cold."

"You'll hear no complaints from me."

You giggle as he leans on one of his hands to smash his lips into yours and uses the other to start loosening his tie.

This is so unlike him, and you can't help thinking that you should deprive him of your touch more often just to illicit this response.

Somehow that reminds you of a certain someone's advice and you end up smiling deeper into the kiss.

"What?" Kento's laugh mixes with yours in the space between you.

You snort at the thought. "I can't believe I Pavlov'd you into expecting hugs and kisses from me."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leans down and gives your neck a playful nip. "You're one bell I'll just about always salivate for."

That makes you snicker and shriek even more as Kento continues trailing kisses down your neck and squeezing and touching wherever his hands can find purchase.

Dork.

For a love language Kento didn't start off with when you met him, physical touch sure seems to be something he can't go without. And that's all your influence.

You guess what they say is true, to be loved is to be changed.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via darkbluepassion01

[lighthouseshepard]

writing idea - john gets considerably injured and doesn't tell arthur cause he thinks arthur would judge him cause "arthurs had so much worse happen and he just got back up" and arthurs like "dude you've had a human body for like two weeks i would expect you to not be used to pain" and its like a stereotypical hiding injury thing you know

HI HI thanks for this!! again i tried to keep it under 1k but. it ended up... 4.3k.....

heres a mostly unedited first draft i might play around with more later!! (: not so much a considerable injury but this is where my brain went anyways!

As John takes the stairs up to their small apartment building, Arthur in tow with one arm wrapped loosely around his just behind him, he stumbles.

It’s a quick, clean slip of his left ankle, rolling outward at an unnatural angle just as he reaches the last step. The movement itself would have been almost unnoticeable if not for the sharp stab of pain which accompanied it, a searing pressure radiating outwards in undulating bursts. He hisses under his breath, hurriedly letting Arthur go so as not to accidentally drag him down too, and tries to casually play off the lurch.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, righting himself. Immediately he bangs it against the cement edge, eliciting another silent wince he’s immensely grateful Arthur isn’t privy to. “Lost my footing, I guess.”

Arthur hums, instinctively reaching out for John’s guidance and huffing when none was received. Cautiously he takes the remaining steps, coming to stand just beside John at the top before the door.

“It’s alright, John,” he replies, head tilted in his direction. “Thanks for not pulling me down with you.”

His smile begins to fade after a moment of silence in which John stares dizzily at his own feet, struggling to control his breathing. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” comes the hasty retort. “I just… hit it on the stone, I think.”

His brow furrows. “Hit what?”

“My ankle,” John growls, blinking away spots of light dancing across his vision. In the dying sunlight they blended in amongst the cloudless sky, shimmering specks deceptively working to trip him up again as they wavered in front of him. As soon as the words leave his lips he regrets them. 

“I mean,” he clarifies, “I barely knocked it. Nothing to worry over.”

“Oh.” Arthur frowns, searching for John’s hand in the middle distance between them. “Do you want me to take a - well, not a look, but perhaps we could patch it up? Is it bleeding?”

“No.” John pushes slightly past him, fidgeting for keys in his pocket. Arthur’s arm is left hanging at his side, fingers lightly clenched. “I said it’s fine, Arthur. Can we drop it?”

“Okay,” Arthur mutters exasperatedly under his breath, following him hesitantly inside once the door is unlocked. “Whatever you say.”

John all but limps his way into the front hall. If the shuffle makes a noticeable sound against the faded rug he attempts to ignore it, desperately gritting his teeth. With each shift of his leg the throbbing increased, sending burning jolts of agony up through his foot. Beads of cool sweat were breaking out on his temples. Irritably he wipes them away, squinting into the living room through the haze of pain clouding the forefront of his mind.

“Stupid fucking ankle,” he mumbles.

 “What was that?” Arthur calls from behind him. John struggles to turn, one flattened palm braced against the wall. He watches as Arthur unwinds the scarf from around his neck, smoothly kicking off his shoes into the corner. Shoes that he, too, needed to probably remove if bending down didn’t seem like a far impossibility.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead he slowly twists back around, hobbling towards the promise of relief found in the couch awaiting him.

“John? Did you hear me?”

His eyes shut tightly as soon as he sinks into the cushions. The pain refuses to dull despite the lack of pressure once he sits, if anything only growing stronger when he attempts to prop it up on the coffee table, as though gravity were relentlessly trying to tug it down again for his own good. He groans, the noise pulled unbidden from his throat, and hastily covers it up with an aimless cough he feels as a weak imitation of one in his chest.

“John,” he hears a second time. Arthur’s voice is closer now, somewhere directly to his left. Although he turns his head in acknowledgement, his eyelids remain closed, brow furrowed. 

“What? I heard you.”

He could practically sense the crossed arms. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur asks, his tone firm. “Why are you sitting like someone threw you there and you don’t know how to get up?”

“How do you know that?"

"Lucky guess."

"Nothing’s going on. I’m… comfortable.”

“Really? You don’t sound like it.”

“I said it’s nothing,” John snaps. The wince which pulls his lips taut lessens any blow he’d intended within his retort. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I thought you hit your ankle on the steps?” Arthur says thinly, stepping closer. “So which is it?”

It never ceased to irritate and amaze, Arthur’s ability to weasel the truth out of him. Back when he’d just been a voice behind those deep amber eyes it was magnificently easier to conceal the truth, hiding himself in falsehoods he had ample time to conjure up while Arthur slept or moved about the world amongst others, unable to talk to him. He hadn’t been bound to a body which would betray him at the slightest inconvenience: all his emotions, he felt, were visible on his face and in the lines of his silhouette all the time. Being given away by the twitch of his mouth or the hesitancy in one look of his eyes was maddening. He couldn’t control it, hadn’t yet mastered the subtle art of physical deception. He had no reason to, he knew, but it continued to bother him regardless, being so visibly and openly seen by everyone around him. Every thought was laid bare, ripe for someone else to pluck.

These visual cues didn’t apply to Arthur, of course, but it didn’t need to. It didn’t matter when it came to him. He could sense each ripple of truths withheld in John’s voice as though they were tangible vibrations running beneath his fingers, plucking incorrect notes from a string of music. Whether this was a skill gained through time or familiarity, he didn’t want to ask. Perhaps he’d just had plenty of practice, before John came along.

“It’s… both,” he says lamely, eyes flicking open to watch as Arthur shifts from one foot to the other impatiently. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he exclaims, a frustrated scoff behind his words. “I’m not even looking at you. I can’t.”

“Like you know exactly what I’m thinking,” John presses, willing himself not to wither beneath that sightless gaze. Like a parent, he thinks to himself, who’s just caught someone doing something they shouldn’t.

“Maybe I do.” Arthur comes to stand beside him, bumping up against the edge of the couch. “Maybe I’m just trying to help, you donkey. What is going on with you?”

“It’s-” he begins to say, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’ve been like this all day: grumpy, antagonistic, walking… very oddly. Did you not sleep very well?”

“I slept fine,” John mutters. “How could you possibly know I was walking strangely?”

“Ah, so he admits something!” Arthur says with a scoff. “I can feel it along your arm when I’m holding onto you. The movement of your gait is different from anyone else - Noel, Oscar, even Marie. Your footsteps all sound unique, too. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying not to limp.”

The silence stretches. John breathes in shallowly, as if the quieter he became, the more likely he was to become invisible.

“John?” Arthur asks uncertainly. “Have you been limping all day?”

“I… not all day, Arthur.”

He sighs, a ragged exhale. “Jesus fucking Christ, John, I knew it!” he says, throwing his arms up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

John tries to prop himself farther up on the couch cushions, sliding the dead weight of his leg along the coffee table. “Because it’s not important, Arthur,” he protests angrily. “It’s just a - a sprained ankle or something! Noel says it happens to people all the time.”

“You told Noel?” Arthur’s demeanor shifts, and John can’t quite place where it was going. “Is that who you hung up on over the telephone yesterday, when I walked in?”

“I - yes, I told Noel,” John says, glancing away. “I didn’t want to… I mean, I wouldn’t-”

“But you didn’t tell me,” Arthur states, frowning. “I don’t understand, John.”

“Because I didn’t want to bother you with it, alright? Jesus fuck, Arthur! It’s just a little bit of pain!”

His shout rebounds around the living room, echoing along corners and twisting through the dark. Once it dissipates, all that nervous, fearful energy fading into thin air, John realizes the sun had already set. In the shadow of the singular lamp they’d kept on after they left earlier that day, Arthur looked smaller than John had ever seen him previously - socked feet, soft button down shirt untucked, shoulders slumped while his head was turned away from John’s direction.

Hurt, he understood after a solid minute of nothing spoken. There was hurt on his face.

“Arthur,” he says hastily, backtracking. “I didn’t…”

But Arthur was already interrupting.

“Is it bleeding?” he asks flatly. “From where you knocked it as we were coming in.”

John’s eyes widen. “What? No, no, like I said it’s probably just a sprain.”

“Don’t get up.”

“I wasn’t. Where are you going?”

He watches helplessly as Arthur begins to trod across the living room to the hallway just behind them. His left hand searches for the wall, brushing against it occasionally as he vanishes around the corner, the thin lines of his silhouette blending into the darkness. John waits with gritted teeth, listening to the faint but unmistakable sound of a drawer opening in the bathroom, before he’s rejoined in the living room.

“Give me your foot,” Arthur instructs. He comes around on the opposite side, taking a careful seat on the table in front of the couch. “Which one is it?”

“It’s… it’s this one,” John stutters, glancing at the little white box he’d placed between them. “What is that?”

“First aid kit. Came with the apartment, I think. Never thought I’d have to use it.”

There’s a bite to his tone which causes something in John to cower. Panicking at the unfamiliarity of the uneasy feeling, he thinks immediately to fight back against it. Yet no manipulation tactic in his mental catalog nor no insult he’d ever learned from Arthur was readily able to be wielded. He stares, unsettlingly dispirited, at Arthur’s hands while he begins to search through random items in the kit.

“Arthur.”

“Put your leg on my knees, John,” he says. He’s facing away, still wholly focused on determining which items were what through sensation alone. The subtle surprise when John does as asked without further complaint doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh. Thank you. Now tell me where it hurts.”

Stretching over as much as he was able, halfway balanced on the edge of the cushions and held now partially up by Arthur’s own legs, John indicates with one pointed finger. 

“Here,” he says, lightly touching the far side of his ankle. “Move your hand just - just there.”

As slender fingers come into contact with the swollen skin, John hisses. Arthur moves as if to draw back, but after some hesitation makes a second attempt with a touch so gentle John hardly senses the wandering examination at all.

“It’s swollen, John,” Arthur says, staring into the middle distance as he feels along the reddened skin. “You’re going to have to take your shoes off.”

“I know it’s swollen,” he grinds out, “I can feel it.”

Immediately he regrets the display of aggravation. Eyes flick worriedly to Arthur’s face, searching for any kind of reaction there, but he may as well have been surveying a blank canvas.

“I think we should try ice,” is all he says. “Before attempting any kind of compression. Wait here.”

“It’s not like I could go anywhere,” he mumbles beneath his breath as Arthur leaves him for the second time. “I’m not running a fucking race on this thing.”

When he returns, grasping a cloth wrapped bundle, John studies him curiously. Nervous muscles stiffen in preparation for another round of sharp throbbing; but as Arthur sits again opposite him, the grip which guides his foot is somehow even kinder than before, cradling the injury into position across his knees.

“Let me take your shoe off,” he murmurs. “I’ll be quick.”

"I’d rather you didn’t,” John protests. “Can’t we just - God, Arthur!”

No apology is forthcoming. It’s palpable in the tension of Arthur’s fingers regardless, the unhappy twist of his mouth. He fumbles the laces undone with one hand and slips the shoe off, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. One black sock follows. The hem of his trousers is rolled back up to his calf, delicately smoothed along by a soothing touch.

The introduction of cold is almost worse than the prodding he’d just undergone. John jolts as the cloth touches his skin. A pang similar to shattered glass ricochets across his foot and he has to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. Arthur holds him steady, other hand firm on his calf, bent over the injury.

“Easy,” he says quietly. “It’ll hurt for a minute or two, but this will help to numb some of the pain and swelling.”

“Numb?” John gasps, “or worsen? What even is that?”

Arthur readjusts the bundle. “Peas wrapped in a washcloth. You should know, you bought all the groceries last.”

“Why the hell would I buy peas? They’re repulsive.”

“Well I didn’t, and we don’t have ice in right now, so it’ll have to do.”

True to his word, after some uncomfortable minutes of silence, the throbbing begins to lessen. John sinks back in relief, a sweet dullness overtaking pain receptors which had not let up on their constant alarm for what seemed like eons now. Thoughts broken up by the unrelenting ache finally begin to clear. From behind the haze he sighs, tilting his chin up towards the ceiling. Long hair spills over the back of the cushions.

“That’s… much better,” he says weakly. “Thank you.”

“I imagine it is, yes… John?”

“Yes?” he answers, anticipation sitting nauseatingly in his gut. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you hurt your ankle?”

In the low light he steals a glance over. His vision was better than most - better than Arthur’s, when he had been able to see out of his eyes. Things came across with astonishing clarity, even when there was little illumination to help refine the world around him. John narrows in on the long pink scar across Arthur’s throat, an indelicate reminder of the Dreamlands, the incomprehensible weight of that last stand reduced to one single, jagged divide. His torn ear hid neatly enough behind reddish gold curls, but the mark across his face where those dangerous sands had scraped away the skin there was not so easy to miss. 

In the break between their conversation he rolled up his shirtsleeves and there too John could spot scars, dots and lines of invisible constellations, healed but not forgotten. The wooden pinky finger taps his ankle as he shifts the peas. John’s pinky, he thought. Or, it had been.

Everything about Arthur was a testament to some horror he’d survived, that they had survived together. And John, in this new body, had nothing to show for it.

“John?” Arthur asks. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” he argues. “It hurts.”

“Is this helping at all? We can always wrap it afterward. Hopefully it won’t need to be seen by anyone.”

There’s concern in his voice, so genuine despite the way he’d just been treated that something snaps just around John’s lungs, a sharp, bitter pull. Whatever he had been about to say dies under his tongue. Nothing comes out, although his lips part for several seconds.

“John?”

His restraint falters.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” 

“...What?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, yanking the words agonizingly out. “It wasn’t my intention to lie to you from the start, I - I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what, John?” comes the baffled prompt. “That you injured yourself?”

“Yes,” he emphasizes. “I don’t even remember how I did it, I guess I just… stepped incorrectly? Tripped over something? I don’t fucking know, Arthur, and it’s so goddamned stupid. I can’t even control my own two legs! How am I going to keep existing in this body if I break under the slightest influence? It’s not like you get hung up over a fucking sprain, or don’t bounce back from a coma, or a car crash, or-”

“Hang on, John, wait,” Arthur interrupts. “Is that what this is about? Me?”

“Yes! No. I don’t know, Arthur. A bit of both?”

Frustration boils beneath his skin, hot and shimmering. The corners of his eyes prickle but he doesn’t move up to rub at the sting coiled there, waiting for release.

“You don’t let anything stop you,” he says, the living room blurring. “Gunshot wounds to the chest, electrocution, multiple stabbings, so many falls I’ve lost count-”

“Technically the gunshot would have killed me if not for the wraith, " Arthur offers feebly, but John doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Not even getting gutted through inside those mines in Addison! Not even my shitty job of sewing you back up.” He swallows, breathing heavily. “You’re practically fucking invincible, and meanwhile I take one wrong step and I’m incapacitated for days, can’t even take a stroll with you down the street, can’t carry you up to bed when you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa.”

Tears were flowing now, trickling in trails of shame down flushed cheeks. “It’s ridiculous. I witnessed you wade through literal nightmares, Arthur, and you did it without losing yourself. You still managed to laugh where you could, to have hope, and-”

The thought was running swiftly away from him. He twists sideways as far as he could, facing the other side of the room, held in place only by his ankle. Again wishing to disappear, again wanting to crawl back inside Arthur’s head where it was safe.

It takes Arthur far too long to respond. For some time nothing moves in their midst, save for the rapid rise and fall of John’s chest, the hitched cadence of his breathing. Eventually Arthur shifts. John listens to his clothes rustle and wonders when the floor would swallow him whole.

“John?” Arthur says softly. 

His jaw clenches. “What.”

“Look at me.”

Sniffing, he turns. The hand not keeping the frozen vegetables on his foot coaxes his chin up and over. Arthur’s touch doesn’t linger, giving him ample space. John wishes it would. Frustration continues to slip across his face, lines of damp salt.

“I didn’t react that way to all of those things because I wanted to, John,” he says gently. “I did so because I had to. I was surviving, trying to keep us both alive. What would have happened if I gave in and just laid down and let it all overtake me?”

John mulls it over. 

“Nothing,” he concludes, wiping angrily at one eye. “We wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

“Exactly. You think I didn’t struggle? You saw me, John, you saw through me!”

He laughs, the first bright sound to filter through the room since they’d come home, tinged by bittersweet memory. “You were there for every second of it. Remember me waking up from the coma? I could hardly drag myself out of the bed, much less walk. And everything else that’s happened to my body, well…”

Briefly he touches his stomach. “Sometimes I wonder how there’s any blood left in me. I feel patchy, like I’m just made up of gaps a person could see straight through. It all still aches, John. I’m aware of it all, every stupid mistake or scar or… whatever else Addison and the Dreamlands, all those monsters did to me; but if I refused to accept in some capacity, where would that get me? Fuck, I’d never leave the bed, and I’d have every right to do so. Why do you think I still sleep in some mornings?”

“You’re saying you’re hiding things too, then,” John says slowly. A flutter of remorse crosses Arthur’s smile, curving it downward. 

“Yes,” he nods. “A little bit. I didn’t want you to worry, John.”

“This is the same thing, then!” John exclaims. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“It’s not the same, but… it is similar, sure. I’m still figuring this all out, what to do now afterwards. I know we both are. I suppose we’re each guilty of something here, aren’t we?”

A mutter answers him, unintelligible. Arthur sighs, rubbing John’s leg placatingly. 

“I have experience with this kind of thing, John. You, frankly, do not. We don’t know how this body is going to react to the smallest of injuries, so when you’ve hurt yourself, or tripped, whatever, you need to tell me. I can’t help you if you’re so determined to be… stoically adamant that you can handle it.”

He winces. “No, poor choice of words. You’re more than capable of handling anything. The point here is that you don’t need to do it alone. I didn’t do it all by myself, either, even if it was our body at the time. I still had you there with me.”

“Okay,” John mumbles. The tears had stopped, drying in faintly gleaming tracks. Unable to help himself, he reaches over and directs Arthur’s free hand to his face. Arthur catches on quickly enough. One gentle thumb brushes the dampness away beneath both eyes.

“You said I didn’t lose myself in the midst of all that,” Arthur adds contemplatively, “but I did. You brought me back over and over. I won’t let you drown here, either. I guess we need to be more honest with each other in general.”

He flashes a small smile. “Works in progress, hmm?”

“Sure,” John says, wavering under that look. It was impossible not to. “Okay, Arthur. Thank you. I guess I…”

“Hmm?”

“I know it wasn’t easy, but you made it seem so effortless. I guess I wanted to be able to react the same way.”

“Nothing about being human is effortless, John. If it were easy, you’d be something else altogether.”

Neither are sure what else to say, so they choose to say nothing at all. Arthur removes the cloth, saturated with condensation. The swelling had gone down somewhat. Beneath the inflamed skin a dull ache persisted, but it was milder, simpler to deal with. Darkness shot through with distant city lights and a sliver of the rising moon sits just behind the glass window panes of the front room, enticing and comforting with its allure of endless promise. In the lamp’s glow, John watches Arthur start to slide off the table, cradling his foot until he’s able to place it down atop its surface.

“I think you should sit here for a while,” he advises, frowning. “I can help you down the hall later. If you want, that is. It’s doubtful you’ll be able to keep much weight on this over the next few days if you want it to heal properly.”

“Great,” John mutters. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To change out of these clothes? Why?”

“Can’t you,” he stutters, “stay here? I can’t reach the washcloth. What if I need it again?”

“I can place it next to you,” Arthur says wryly, catching on. “It’s only a foot away.”

“What if I have to get up?”

“You shouldn’t be moving at all.”

“Arthur, please.”

“Christ, alright,” he agrees, fondly. “Just for a while. I’m exhausted too, you know.”

He slips next to him. They fit together seamlessly after some adjusting, John avoiding old wounds, Arthur working around this new one. It’s a recently acquired habit, this circling of one another, quietly curling up until they were consoled enough in their own selves and each other. John’s head ends up across Arthur’s thighs, his foot propped up on the armrest of the other end. He was so tall his leg stretched past the edge of the sofa, halfway dangling in mid air.

“John, darling?” Arthur asks absently, untangling dark curls spread out across his lap.

“Yes?”

“You’ve… carried me up to bed before?”

John blinks. “Of course. I couldn’t leave you on the sofa like that, shivering.”

“I wasn’t shivering,” he retorts with mock affront. “Was I?”

“It was kind of pitiful. To give you credit, you had kicked off the blanket I put over you earlier.”

“I was wondering where that had come from,” Arthur mumbles. “Thanks, John.”

“You’re welcome. You sleep like you’re the prize boxer in a dream ring.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You kick,” John says meaningfully, eyes already beginning to close. “Hard.”

“Oh. Sorry. At least I don’t hog the blankets all the time,” Arthur retorts sheepishly.

“I do not hog anything. I’m much taller than you now! I need more of it.”

“Not all of it.”

“Buy a second blanket, then, if you’re so concerned.”

They bicker until John falls asleep. Sentences drop to single word responses, and soon enough he’s out, trying to get one last quip through the heavy pull of slumber. Arthur sighs as he feels his breathing even out, one palm flat on his chest. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to change clothes. 

“John?” he whispers. “John?”

He doesn’t answer. Arthur lets loose another weary exhale. There was no way he could move now.

“I think you did this on purpose,” he says softly, yawning. “You just want me to play with your hair, don’t you? Unfortunately for you, I’m probably going to fall asleep right here beneath you.”

He brushes stray strands off John’s forehead. It continued to puzzle him how someone who had once spent thousands of years inflicting agony on others now flinched beneath the prospect of bothering those closest to him with pain of his own.

Arthur drifts into unconsciousness soon after the thought dissipates like smoke, head dipping to rest sideways on one shoulder. John, clinging to the last dredges of wakefulness, peers up through heavy lidded eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of Arthur’s silent goodnight, John, on his lips. 

[seaofolives]

🎭 #torokatober2024 day 18/31: cockpit 🎻

For good measure, Trowa presses his finger to his smile—after all, the troupe may have entrusted him to fly the ship to their next colony, but not Quatre.

He doesn’t care, really. It’s more than enough for him to be inside a cockpit even if Trowa had to sneak him into it.

The weight of the harness and the shape of the radars are achingly familiar as his hands fall naturally upon the levers.

“Okay?” Trowa takes the co-pilot’s place.

Quatre is joyful when he nods. He’ll never trade peace for anything, but there are some things he misses...

find the list of prompts here!

[rebloggingrexan]

#thats not sarcasm i love spiders

A creature designed to be “cute”, created by a god that does not fully understand what “cute” looks like to humans.

[kijosakka]

90th fic :confetti: :confetti: :confetti:

my official draft title for this was one 'who was going to tell me twices death was so fucking sad' and also take some role reversal except it isnt necessarily roles its more like outcome reversal

[nattvingen]

I hope Meryl replaces Kalec on the Council of Six, and not Aethas. After all this time Blizzard is still fucking itself into an ever deeper hole re: Purge of Dalaran a.k.a. "the worst plotline Blizz ever conceived also it smacks of antisemitism and culminates in what is little more than sick Kristallnacht fanfic and thinking about it makes me want to scream (at Jaina (but actually at everyone involved in greenlighting it))"

[hoshigray]

i fucking love ur writing sm mamas!

anyway. Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids <33333

It’s fine if you don’t want to. Anyway love you and your writing darling . 🎐

No, noonie, stop bc like, are you in my brain or smthn!!?? I was thinking about this exact prompt for a long while, and I see this appear in my inbox??! Well, well, *cracks knuckles* you've just given me the perfect opportunity mwahahahaha!!! This has been in my drafts for a minute, but I'm glad it's finally done! And omg tysm for loving me and my stuff, honey!! Hope I make ya proud with this one :') ilysm ♡

Also, I'm mixing in another request into this one since it's a pretty small request (reader sucking on Toji's Adam's apple as he pounds you), plus it makes things easier for me in terms of writing out stuff. Hope that's okay with the other requester; if not, my apologies!��(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞAnd btw, tysm for 1.6k followers, y'all!! Love every single one of you~☆

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - mating press - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breeding - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up!!) - reader skips the pill - fluff at the end bc why not - pregnancy (test at the end) - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetie) - oral fixation/reader sucking on Toji's adam's apple - the reader has stretch marks on their body bc I said so - praise - overstimulation - clitoral play (sucking & swiping). Wc: 3.4k

Toji, by all means, was not a man deserving of children.

His terrible childhood and upbringing have molded him into an emotionless and reserved person who only feels as though the only person he needs to look out for and care for is himself.

So when the premise of children came to him, he wouldn't give it the time of day. That is until he ends up having youths of his own. Even then, he would do the bare minimum of taking care of them — food, clothes, shelter, and taking or picking them up from school. And to top it off, his job wasn't befitting of a father — a hitman going mission to mission for money that he used to spend for himself, now going to the needs of his kids.

Toji knew Tsumiki and Megumi were better off without a father like him. Fatherhood (or children in general, for that matter) is no easy task, and it's clearly one he's not good at.

But all that changed when you came into the picture.

Never had he seen his kids warm up to someone, an outsider, so quick. Even when he mentioned his children to you at the beginning of your relationship, you didn't falter and happily wished to meet them. And the day you finally did was the day everything became a lot brighter for the entire Fushiguro family.

Not only did Tsumiki and Megumi come to trust you with every visit, but their adoration for you grew tenfold the more you were involved in their lives. And all Toji could do was watch you do your magic, whether it be watching animal documentaries with Megumi, making flower crowns with Tsumiki, or playing with them and the other kids at the nearby park.

And the most impressive part about it all was you teaching and including him in how he could get more involved with his youngsters. Now, his kids are closer to him than ever, going so far as Megumi clapping back on his father's snarky comments and Tsumiki having the man play tea parties (to his dismay, but whatever to makes his little girl happy).

It wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't had you around. You were just such a breath of fresh air to him and any child that came your way. Attentive and caring to the young ones as if you were a natural at mimicking the maternal role. He knew you'd be a great mother to any child, especially your own.

It was that thought alone that made Toji think about you having children. Or better yet, having a child with him. Making you pregnant with his baby. Making you his.

Toji walks down the stairs after putting his son and daughter to bed, his heavy footsteps beating the wooden floor beneath him with every step. He then enters the kitchen area, where he sees you washing the dishes from today's dinner after putting the food in the fridge.

When you notice his presence, you look up and offer a charming smile in his direction, your face illuminated beautifully by the ceiling kitchen lights that the image almost blinds him.

"Hey there." Your voice is always sweet to his ears, still smiling even when you turn back to washing dishes. "The kids?"

"Just finished puttin' 'em to bed," your eyes stay at the sink, but you can feel his heavy footsteps come from beside you. "But they said I suck at tellin' bedtime stories."

Your giggle is heard through the noise of dishes clacking on the rack. "Well, maybe you're not using cartoon voices like I told you to. They like it."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doin' that shit." You chuckle some more at his complaint, and he grabs a dry cloth to dry up dishes from the rack.

It's quiet between you, but Toji will sneak glances at you while you work through the dirty plates. His thoughts from before return, and all he can think about is you with a swollen belly.

The mere idea of having you bear his child fogs his brain. Witnessing your body change and expand with the growth of your little one within you, it's too much for his mind to indulge in.

The more he thinks about it, the crazier and hornier his mind goes. Unable to function suitably, Toji sighs heavily through his nose and places the dish and dry cloth on the countertop.

You notice him make his way behind you, his hands traveling down to your hips as his chin rests atop your head. But you pay him no mind and continue with your task. "Hey, darlin'."

The nickname has you hum to him, eyes focused on the soapy sponge and plate in your hands while your ears wait for him to continue. "Yes, Toji?"

He doesn't reply instantly, roaming his large palms up and down your waist and hips instead. "Ya know I love the hell outta you, right?" He goes on when you nod. "Always takin' care of me and lovin' me. But that love also goes to my lil squirts." A smile creeps in on his scarred lips as you giggle at his way of referring to his children. "It's just crazy to me how you're able to have 'em follow y'r every step, yet I can't even get a hug or smile before they leave for school unless I remind them."

"Well, maybe if their father didn't always bully and call them 'squirts' and 'brats' all day, they would show you some love."

"Shut up," Toji flicks water from the faucet onto your face, forcing you to laugh more from your teasing. His heart swoons from your laughter, having you sway side to side with his body behind you. "But I mean it; you're so good with kids. Makes me wonder how come you never had y'r own yet."

"I just love kids." It was a simple answer. "Plus, I never really had time to care for a child. Got work and stuff, you know. And besides, I practically treat Tsumiki and Megumi like my kids."

"Mmm," he replies aimlessly.

"However," you resume while placing a wet bowl on the rack. "I wouldn't mind having a little one of my own. Now that I'm pretty comfortable with where I'm at in life, I'd love to have a little baby to share it with."

Toji lets your words sink in before saying anything. Now that he sees where you stand on the topic, finally, he can voice his opinion.

"Y/n..." he treads carefully with the words he's about to say. "I've been thinkin' about somethin'."

"Thinking about what?" You can't deny the uneasy atmosphere with Toji's mysteriousness, yet you listen as you turn off the sink faucet.

The two of you stop swaying your bodies with each other. "How 'bout we have a baby?"

Your body goes rigid at the question, and breathing subsides as your mind goes rampant with reflections too fast to comprehend. He wants a child—another child!? With me??!

"Like, right now?" The only question that escaped your lips, your voice hushed to a whisper. No one else is here in the space but you two, although the talk you're having right now feels virtually forbidden to the tongue.

"Doesn't have to be right now," Toji moves his head to your shoulder, his hushed, gruff voice clear to your ears. "But as long as it's with you, one more kid won't hurt, right?"

And your breath hitches when a hand finds its way to the surface of your stomach, his fingers lightly teasing with the flesh of your abdomen. He places his lips on your neck, and you bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. "Mmmm, why do you want more?" You still press him with questions despite almost dissolving into his kisses. "You already have a gorgeous girl—"

"I wan' have your girl." He murmurs softly to your ear before lightly biting the lobe, and a moan slips past you.

"A-And...a beautiful boy..."

"I want your boy."

"Toji, please," you surprise the older man by turning your body to face him fully, eyes surveying his. "This is no joke! Just because I don't have my own kid doesn't mean—"

You're silenced when Toji brings a hand to your cheek, cupping a side of your face. "I'm not jokin', sweetie. I know I'm not the best dad in the world — hell, I'm pretty lousy at it. But you," he leans forward while you instinctively go backward, hitting the sink behind you. "You're basically a mother to mine and a real damn good one, too. And since ya said things are good now, why don't I make you a parent fr' real."

"Toji—"

"Like I said: it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But as long as it's you," his thumb brushes your cheek as he looks deep into your eyes. "Let me give ya a baby, angel."

All you can do is look into his emerald orbs that examine you for a response. The silence between you two is accompanied by the ticking sounds of the clock on the kitchen wall. And after a few seconds, you sigh and place a hand on the big one caressing your cheek.

"If I say yes," your reply has his brows lifted. "Will you give me foot massages and a bowl of ramen at three in the morning and not be a bitch about it when I ask?"

Toji gives you a smile, his scarred lip tugged upwards. And you return one to him as he kisses your forehead.

"Works fr' me."

This is how the two of you end up in the bedroom; the ceiling lights toned down to a low shade, clothes discarded on the cold wooden floor, and the sound of lips smacking fills the silence.

"Mmmm, Daddy..." You whimper through the kisses, your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and you yelp when he bites your lip. His lips gradually embark downwards to your neck clavicle. Kisses and light suck to your nipples make you hum in pleasure, and a gasp prompts out when his teeth graze the bud of your soft mounds.

A hand sneaks between your legs and nestles in between the lips of your southern entrance, his big fingers enter inside with the use of the soapy fluid of your cunt, and you wail from the contact while he sucks on your breast.

"Such a good girl, angel." He lets go of your nipple to coax you, his mouth sucking your skin as his mouth continues its journey south. More licks on your body feel hot, kisses placed on every stretch mark he comes across. And he stops when he passes your tummy, coming up to see the view of his digits pushing to and fro inside your leaking chasm. "My fingers feelin' good, mama?"

"Yesssss," you hiss, eyes sewn shut to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation in your slit. He chuckles at your delighted expression before he leans down to suck on your clit, earning a shriek from your puffy lips. "Stoooop, I-I'm too sensitive—Ahhaaaannn!!"

He releases your tender bud from his mouth after placing a chaste kiss on it. "Sorry, baby, gotta have you nice and wet fr' me." He sucks and laps around on your wetness for a few more minutes before withdrawing his mouth from your leaky chasm, substituting his tongue with his big fingers to swipe on your clitoris. Broken sobs seep out from you. "Cummin' on my fingers and tongue, that's my girl."

The throbbing commotion between your legs has your ears ringing and your head pulsing. You've already come three times for thirty minutes. He's such a greedy man, but whatever it takes for you to prep for him.

Speaking of which, Toji props your legs onto his shoulders while aligning his cock to your folds, lathering the girth with your juices. Your heart beats irregularly with anticipation on the rise, a position you're all too familiar with. Toji sees you gawking at his glans kissing your folds, and he sneers salaciously. "Ready, sweetie?"

You give him a smile even through entering your lustful haze. "Skipped the pill and everything, Daddy." And with a kiss on your cheek, Toji wastes no time and pushes his length into you with every inhale you take. And the both of you moan when the cockhead slides right into your vulva. Every inch of his dick descends into you, making you full of his size, and whimpers fail to be suppressed as he scrapes your velvety walls deliciously.

After letting you adapt to him, his hips start with a slow rhythm for you to properly situate yourself with the mating press. However, with how you're gripping around him, it doesn't take long for him to quicken his pace. Soft wails soon become stifled squeals with the bite of your lips from the growing cadence, and your eyes begin to water when the underside of his shaft grazes your inner walls.

But when the tip of his cock finally touches your cervix, a choked scream sneaks past your restraint. And Toji chortles. "Mmmmm, that's what I wanna hear." He grinds his pelvis deep into your cunt, resulting in forced squeaks from your tongue.

"Ahhhnnn! Daddy, please—Oh, Jesus," It hurts to think when Toji accurately jabs your delicate cervix, tears streaming down your pretty cheeks. "Oh, God, it's too much, too mu—Oooohh!!"

"I know, darlin', I know." He comes down to your face, yet his pace does not falter. His speed increases and becomes harsher by the second, and your head pounds hard with every rut. You nibble on his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple as he drills his dick into you. "Nnnngh, so tight on me, mama. Gonna make me go crazy."

As if he wasn't going crazier already with the erratic rut of his hips. Driving his cock deep inside and the sound of his balls smacking your folds is all you can hear. Your face is now entirely hot, matching the tingling sensation of skin slapped together between your legs. You dare to peek down to see the union of your sexes, Toji's member now harboring a white ring near the base. Strings of your slick and his spit keep you two connected during this moment, and more incoherent shrieks are pulled from your throat.

"Nnnaaaaa, ahhhaaaa!!! D-Daddy, please!!" While there's uncertainty about whether your pleas will be heard, you still express yourself to him. "It's coming, it's coming! I'm gonna cum, gonna cummmm!! Nnnmmph!!" And when he comes down to you with his complete weight caging you in, the pressure of his body has you submit to him completely.

"Yeah, wanna cum on Daddy's dick." He says with his condescending, guttural tone that almost makes you melt onto the satin sheets beneath you. "G' ahead, mama—Hmmph! Make a nice mess while I finish here..." His strokes become ever intenser than before; his length brushes your inner walls, and continuous pokes to your cervix prompt your orgasm to climb faster. And you soon fall into a wave of pure ecstasy, your cunt clamping around him desperately while your body trembles.

And Toji is forced to fall into a release of his own when the walls of your slit contract around him, spilling into you with the flex of his abdomen. His sweaty body is on top of yours, and your breathing matches his as you two experience each crescendo.

Heavy exhales sync as you two calm down within your intimate embrace. Your mind slowly returns from its foggy state with the calm atmosphere soothing your body, and your quivers now subsided while the older man lays kisses and sucks on your neck. But it comes to a halt when a sudden yelp comes from your swollen lips because he thrusts into you again, even with your vulva being extremely sensitive.

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and it's not to your surprise that he has a smirk on that dumb, handsome face of his. His lips curled to where his teeth peek from under his scar. "Ya know I gotta fuck you more than once, right, sweetie? Make sure you're all filled up 'n all."

You suck your teeth with furrowed brows, but a smile comes up with breathless giggles. "I'm telling you, Mr. Fushiguro, you're most definitely treating me to daily foot massages when I get pregnant."

"Whatever you say," he shuts your threats with a kiss on your soft lips. "My pretty darlin'..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Toji twiddles with something in his hand while you lay on his chest in the shared bedroom. The kids were taking a nap after coming from school, leaving the two of you to enjoy the leisure of each other's company.

But today was a different day compared to any other. Because even if you two are looking at the television with the old rom-com displayed, neither of you is actually watching. Too busy distracted with the smiles plastered on your faces to care for what's on the screen. The only thing corrupting your minds is a matter that has you two in glee after a week of anticipation and mutual work.

The man peers at his hand to look at the object between Toji's fingers. Nothing but a pink and white stick — a pregnancy test. And at the center of the device conveyed two red lines, the signature implication that you were indeed with a child. His child.

"Hey, Toji," the call of his name has him look down at you, still facing the television despite your attention not wholly on it. "What do you think they are?"

"Hmm?" It takes a few seconds for it to click until he notices your hand brushing around your belly. He chuckles. "I'm hopin' for a girl. Wan' 'em to look and act like you."

You hum aimlessly at his answer before you berate him with more of your thoughts. "What if it's a boy? I think it'd be cute to have another mini-you running around the house."

"Nah, one mini-me is enough, and he already talks back to me like he's a teen." You giggle at the light sour face he shows and his complaints about Megumi. "Besides, I don't want another me. I'm already a lousy dad, and I didn't have the best childhood. I wouldn't want you to deal with a child that's exactly like me..."

Silence ensues with the answer; it's the only response you deem appropriate. That was the case until you say what was next on your mind.

"Toji, I'm sure your upbringing wasn't the best because people weren't there for you when you needed them. And although that's shaped you into the man I love, even I wouldn't want you to go through all that for a second time." You can feel the weight of his green eyes on you while you speak, though you don't turn to face him. "Nevertheless, times are different. You have me to love and care for you now—you and your beautiful children. You might not be the best dad in the world, but you've done a great job taking care of them."

"Thanks to you." He interrupts you, and you laugh.

"Yes, thanks to me. And because you have me, this little one won't be going through what you went through. I promise you, you're not alone in this. Because I'm pretty scared as this is my first pregnancy. But that's okay since I have you to take care of me. I'll be there to help you, and you'll be there to help me. As long as that's true, we'll do just fine."

Taken aback by your response, the older man turns to the pregnancy test still in his hand. The more he looks at the device, the more he ponders what you said. And a small smile creeps up on him, coming to a decision himself. At this point, it doesn't matter what the sex of the child will be to him. What warms his heart is that you promise to be by his side, helping him watch your little one — his child — his family grow as the days and years pass.

"Now," your voice brings him back to the present, whipping his head back to you. "I can't say the same if we end up with twins. Because you'll just have to deal with one while I have the other."

Toji puts the pregnancy test on the nightstand and goes for your nose to pinch it. "Fuckin' kid, who told you were funny, huh?" Your laughter only fuels him to mess with you more, but that's okay. He's smiling at your silliness, and that's all you want right now.

Because, even if they're not here yet, no child should have a father who doesn't know how to smile.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bad for Me — Cassian x Reader

Hi! I found this in my drafts and thought I’d share it while I’m finishing up the next part of Bluebird. I’m not sure why I never posted it 🤔maybe because I don’t think it’s very well written. Also, it seems I was using a prompt list for parts of dialogue in this, but I can’t for the life of me think which one it was 😅but anyway, enjoy an angsty piece with an angsty cliffhanger ending 💅🏻

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“What the fuck is this?”

There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t shake with anger as you stormed your way into the sitting room. Anger that had built up and festered as the day had faded into night.

It was late. You’d waited up — waited for the telltale, arrogantly loud footsteps that had announced Cassian’s return. Where he’d been all day, you didn’t know nor care.

Sure enough, you found him in his usual chair by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey rested on the arm and his eyes closed. His fingers rubbed circles into his forehead — a positive sign that he was sporting a particularly gruelling headache.

Good. You would yell into his ear until he launched himself off one of the verandas and flew far, far away.

“What is this?” You repeated, chucking the item you held straight onto his lap.

His eyes slowly opened, and he glanced down impassively. “That’s a piece of paper. It’s useful for writing, or drawing, or—”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

It had surprised you, to say the least, to wake up to the folded note on your bedside table — in Cassian’s rough scrawl.

Find yourself a pretty little dress. Don’t make any plans for Friday next. We’re going dancing. Cassian.

“Explain.” You demanded, your tone clipped. Brash.

You didn’t want to go dancing with Cassian. Or walking, or running, or…anything.

It was bad enough living under the same roof as him. Working in the same circle as him. Bad enough having to be civil in the name of a unified front.

But you were professional. You could pretend to get along in front of people.

That didn’t mean you had to socialise with him, though.

With a sigh, he sat up straighter, brushing his hair back. “Rhys is having me play courtier again.”

Your head cocked to the side. “But you’re so terrible at it.”

The minuscule pause and tick of his jaw told you you’d landed a sure blow. A nervy spot, for Cassian, was certainly his abilities off the battlefield. Why Rhys insisted on sending the General on certain courtier expeditions was beyond your comprehension. And beyond Cassian’s, too, judging by how much he hated it.

You took no small amount of pleasure in that fact. A little payback for all the ways he’d torn you down over the years.

“Hilarious.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Whatever. Rhys is having me represent him at a fucking ball in the Hewn City and I need a plus-one, so — you’re coming.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Absolutely not. Ask somebody else.”

“There’s no way I’m putting Mor through that. And she’s in Vallahan, anyway.”

“So take Amren with you.”

“Be real, Y/N.”

You stared at him, clenching your jaw. You hated him. Hated him so, so much — loathed him — that you swore your veins turned to ice around him. Ever since you’d met him, and you’d taken one look at him and thought he was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen. 

You’d sworn never to fall in love again, when you’d joined Rhysand’s Inner Circle — and seeing Cassian go through flings like you went through books only solidified that decision.

Hate was a good thing. Hate was something you could pour all your anger into and throw at the person that seeped into your thoughts a little too often.

And dish that hate out you may, but gods Cassian gave it back just as fiercely.

“Ask one of your many lovers.” You spat. “You have your cock in a different female every week. I can’t imagine you’re short on admirers.”

Cassian stretched his arms over his head. “And how many admirers do you have, Y/N?”

You tried your best not to flinch. To let him see the effect his words had on you was as bad as him thrusting a dagger into your gut. You willed yourself to give nothing away.

“Just find somebody else.” You said. “There’s not a fucking chance I’m going anywhere with you, of all people.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. You turned on your feet and stalked from the room, leaving the note on his lap and your barbed words hanging heavy in the air.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Three nights later, your bedroom door burst open so abruptly that you dropped your book on your face.

“Pause your masturbation for five minutes.” Cassian’s deep, arrogant voice filled the room. “I have your dress.”

You sat up, your entire body tensing the way it always did in his presence. “What.”

He kicked the door shut behind him, and even in your considerably-sized bedroom, his domineering figure seemed to take up most of the space. He strode to the foot of your bed — and paused, just for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of your nightgown, your unbound hair.

You didn’t have a chance to remark before he straightened himself out and launched a flash of pale pink fabric at you.

“For the ball.” He said. “I checked your size and asked the shopkeeper to pick it out, so…if you don’t like it, I don’t really give a fuck.”

Your eyes fell down to the dress in your lap. Undeniably pretty, with its rosy hue and flaring skirt, thin straps and tiny, beaded jewels. A dress you would probably choose for yourself, if the occasion called for it.

You’d always loved clothes; dresses in particular. The intricacies of certain garments fascinated you, and the thought of creating your own made your heart skip a beat.

You thought you’d feel pretty in this dress; prettier than you usually felt, in your leathers or shirts and breeches. It wasn’t all that often that you had an occasion to dress up for.

But even this gown wouldn’t convince you to accept Cassian’s invitation. Or, rather, his order.

You pushed the dress away from you, though your fingers lingered within the soft fabric. “You’re absolutely fucking insane if you think I’m going to that ball with you.”

Cassian’s eyes fell to where your hands stroked the skirts, before climbing back up to meet yours. The bastard knew what you were feeling. He fucking knew.

“Oh, you so want to.” He smirked. “I can see it in your eyes.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “So it’s a nice dress. I’m sure one of your many sexual escapades would appreciate it.”

The General’s head tilted, a few strands ripping from the loose knot his hair was tied into. “What is it about my sex life that bothers you so much?”

That you’re free to even have such a sex life without judgement. That you will never know what it’s like to be ostracised just for exploring such things. That you can fuck who you like with no repercussions. That it isn’t me you’re—

“Don’t mistake me for someone who gives a shit about anything you do.” You bit. “I just wouldn’t want such a nice dress to be wasted.”

“It won’t be. Because you’ll be wearing it to the ball on Friday.”

“No.” You threw the dress back at him. Picked your book back up. “I will not.”

“I’m going to hang it on the door.”

“Don’t bother.”

He ignored you, of course. The dress was hung. “We’ll be leaving at seven.”

“No we won’t.”

“We will.”

He pulled your bedroom door open, slipping out.

“Cassian?” You called, and there was a strong pause.

He poked his head back in. “What?”

“I’m not going to that damned ball with you.”

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You were going to that damned ball with him.

High Lord’s orders, your ass. You’d kill Rhys for this.

The dress was a perfect fit, clinging to you like a second skin. And as you stared yourself down in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the fabric, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this pretty.

A long, long time ago. A night of passion. A night that would ultimately ruin your life.

You shook the past from your thoughts, straightening yourself out. It was imperative that you wore an unbreakable mask to the Hewn City. One that was steeled and sharp and revealed nothing of the person that lay beneath.

A thump fell on your bedroom door. “We’re going to be late.” Cassian barked.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from the mirror. The beads of your dress swished as you moved, and you focused on that, rather than the oaf that was currently trying to break into your room.

Just a few hours, and this would all be over.

“Simmer down, General.” You pulled the door open, stepping out. “I’m ready.”

Cassian stepped back. And stopped.

His hazel eyes slowly traced the length of your body. And despite the fact that he’d griped about being late, he took his sweet time drinking you in.

You waited for the snide remarks. For whatever fault he would surely find with your appearance. But when his eyes landed on your face again, you couldn’t puzzle out his expression.

“Good.” Was all he commented. “Let’s go.”

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“Can you quit your fidgeting?”

Cassian scowled beside you, rolling his shoulders. “The collar on this thing is too tight.”

Your eyes travelled the sculpted length of his body — not for the first time — before you forced them away. He looked…undeniably breathtaking.

His comfort, you knew, was in leathers and body armour. Only on rare occasions like Starfall or Solstice did he swap his usual attire for more casual clothing like button-up shirts and trousers. You couldn’t recall a time you’d actually seen him decked in a tailored suit.

Until now.

The material was of deepest burgundy, outlining — accentuating — every last muscle it possibly could. There was something thrilling about the thought of so many deadly weapons hiding within that dashing attire. Something thrilling about knowing the Lord of Bloodshed walked beside you.

Right now, though, he was the fucking Lord of Complaining and Whining. You rolled your eyes, turning to him.

“What are you doing?” He watched as you pushed up onto the tips of your toes.

“Shutting you up.” You adjusted his collar, ignoring the feel of the backs of your fingers brushing his neck. “Better?”

“Suppose so.” He rolled those shoulders again. He wouldn’t be content until the suit was off him completely.

“Then let’s go.” You currently stood outside the towering gates of the Hewn City, the air always unpleasantly cold in these parts. You took a step forward, your dress swishing along the ground—

A warm, rough hand landed on your arm. Stopped you.

“What?” You glanced at Cassian over your shoulder.

“Rhys is expecting us to represent him.” He said, his hazel eyes strangely fierce. He always got that look when there was a task at hand. “I know we hate each other. And that’s more than fine. But just for tonight, can we pretend that we…don’t?”

You stared back at him pensively. A petty part of you wanted to shrug him off and scoff. To tell him that the unpleasantness with which he’d always approached you had long laid any potential alliance to waste.

But he was right — Rhys was counting on you both. And Rhys had done a lot for you since you’d turned up on his doorstep with barely a coin to your name. For him…for him, you would pretend to enjoy Cassian’s company.

“Whatever.” You shrugged the General’s touch off, turning back around. “Fine.”

It wasn’t going to be easy, though.

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You made sure, in your life, that you never had to spend any extended amount of time with Cassian. You tolerated him when you had to, and avoided him the rest of the time.

But you’d been for nights out in the same group, of course. And you’d forgotten how many females tended to flock to his side and fawn over him.

This ball was a sure reminder of that.

You’d barely stepped into the room and grabbed yourselves a drink before groups of females were glancing over and chatting excitedly, shrill giggles floating over to you. It was a mere five minutes before one of them mustered the nerve to ask him to dance, leaving you standing on your own.

It was during that first dance that you decided — you weren’t just going to be civil with Cassian.

You were going to be so sickeningly over the top that he’d have no chance of skulking off with any of those females and leaving you by yourself while he got his cock sucked. Not a chance. If they thought he’d been claimed by another member of Rhys’s Inner Circle, they’d back off; if a little begrudgingly.

So you watched. Waited for that dance to end. Rhys hadn’t given you any specific orders, besides attending on his behalf and keeping an ear out for any gossip. You drank your wine and enjoyed the music, and the second Cassian had an empty space before him, you dipped in before anybody else could.

It seemed to surprise him. He blinked at you, before straightening himself out. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.” You grabbed his hand, fastening it on your waist.

“Rhys never said we had to dance together.”

“You want us to get along, Cassian?” The music began, tugging you into movement. “Then let’s get along.”

With the other couples beginning to dance around you, it left no other option than to follow suit and avoid causing a scene. Cassian’s jaw ticked, but he grabbed for your other hand and began to pull you around the dance floor with him. He was no seasoned dancer, by any means, but he displayed more skill than you’d expected.

Another thing you loved — dancing. Feeling like your feet were floating. Once you started dancing, you wanted to keep going and going into you fell off the world and tumbled into a blissful beyond. Nothing else mattered besides the music, the moves.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” Cassian commented, echoing the thoughts you’d had about him.

You shrugged, not misstepping once. “I was forced to take lessons as a girl.”

“I didn’t know that, either.”

“Why would you know? It’s not as though we like each other.”

He spun you around. Dipped you in his arms. “And why is that?”

Laughable, that he was the one to ask that question. “You tell me. You never tried.”

“Is that how it went?”

“It is.”

He stared at you, expression unreadable. No other words were exchanged as one dance came to its end, and the music flowed into the next piece. But you didn’t need words to carry out your plan.

The second you caught a glimpse of hopeful, waiting females in your periphery, you pulled Cassian closer to you once more, your bodies flush against each other.

You may have felt a teensy bit ridiculous as you slipped your fingers into the strands of his hair and brushed it out of his face.

“I like your hair like this.” The words were heavy on your tongue. Not untrue, but…painful to say out loud.

Cass stared at you. “…thank you.”

But his thanks was lost in your satisfaction as the awaiting female disappeared from the corner of your eye, skulking off to sulk, no doubt. It was an effort not to smirk. Still, you righted yourself and continued with your plan.

You made certain that yours and Cassian’s bodies met in all the right places. Very close. Very dangerous.

Perfect — because there were still hopeful, simpering females watching. Waiting for you to walk away.

“Dance with me again.” Your breathy tone wasn’t entirely for show — nor was the hand you trailed down his arm for emphasis.

But Cassian frowned at you. “What are you up to?”

“Me?” Your eyes glittered. “Nothing at all.”

He kept his gaze on you, following you into your second dance. You could have sworn you saw the slumping of many shoulders as you spun around the floor, Cassian’s hands like a burning brand on your skin.

You weren’t even really paying attention to him, simply following the steps mindlessly, until he spoke again.

“That isn’t how it went.” He said.

Your brow furrowed as you spun around. “What?”

In one swift move, he was pulling you against him, pressing your fronts together. “You said I never tried to know you. I refute that.”

You shrugged. “You treated me with the same contempt as the bastards I ran away from.”

“You treated me like I was dirt beneath your shoe and I didn’t deserve the time of day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. That simply was not true. He had always been cocky, and arrogant, and difficult. He acted as though mud wouldn’t stick to him, as though he could do what he liked, when he liked.

Suddenly, you didn’t want to be dancing with him anymore. Didn’t want his hands on you, simpering females or no.

He could go to hell.

“I never thought you didn’t deserve the time of day.” You contested tersely. “I—”

“I know.” He interrupted. Spun you around again. “I worked it out eventually.”

“Excuse me?”

“What your problem is.” Another dip.

You didn’t like this conversation — it’s direction. It would be easier to run away, to avoid it.

Easier, but cowardly.

“Pray, tell, General, what do you believe my problem is?” You stared at him.

He leaned down, just as the music faded. Poised his lips at your ear. “Jealousy.” He murmured, the word seeming deafeningly loud. “Sometimes the way you look at me makes me think that perhaps you don’t hate me that much.”

You knew your body stiffened between you. And as he pulled back and smirked, you also knew that he knew he’d won.

Whatever it was that glittered in his eyes was…knowledge. Knowing. An understanding. And that couldn’t mean anything good for you.

“Cassian?”

The two of you looked up upon the intrusion, only realising then that the music had stopped, and the dancing with it. A doe-eyed girl stared at the General with bright, sparkling hope in her eyes.

“I was hoping I might have the next dance.” She said.

You didn’t care anymore. You barely spared either of them a glance as you let go of Cassian and pushed out of his arms.

“He’s all yours.” You said.

And then you went to find some fresh air.

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“I’ll be sure to tell Rhys that you spent the evening skulking around on your own whilst I did all the posturing.”

You glanced at Cassian out of the corner of your eye. You weren’t interested in a verbal sparring match right now. The night air was pleasant on your skin, and you allowed it to cool your face, your neck. Allowed it to wash away the tension permanently coiled within your veins, if only for a few stolen moments.

“Go ahead”, was the only reply you offered.

Eyes pierced into you as you bathed yourself in the moonlight. Even with your own shut, you could sense Cassian watching, waiting. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anything beyond vague acknowledgement. Not now.

That seemed to fucking torture him.

“What—no smartass response?” He quipped.

“No, Cassian,” you sighed quietly. “No smartass response.”

He paused — seemed genuinely knocked silent for a moment — before he scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a second. Even in silence, I know you’re up to something. That scheming brain of yours—”

“This scheming brain of mine is exhausted.”

As your eyes flew open, you caught the way he faltered, a slight misstep, the barest ruffling of his wings. For all he was the General of War, the Lord of Bloodshed, you’d also observed him to be a profoundly emotional person. And that emotion sometimes won as he fought to hide it.

This emotion…it was ire. Gone was the sharp-edged teasing. He found issue with your words, and his jaw gave a telltale tick.

“What could you possibly be exhausted by?” he scoffed. “You need only turn up looking like a fucking goddess and people respect you. You’re not some lowly, bastard-born brute. You don’t get sneered at simply for breathing—”

“You believe people respect me?”

“Of course they do!”

“You don’t.”

He stumbled — actually stumbled — and it was only that which alerted you to the way he’d been inching towards you. But his steps faltered, and he gaped at you like your revelation was entirely out of pocket. Like you had no reason to feel that.

“You have never respected me.” You held firm on your point, even if your voice was a tad quieter. “I fled a fucking viper’s den and ran to Rhysand’s court, hoping to find a sense of…of belonging. But you…” A soft, rueful chuckle shuddered out of you. “You have made it your mission to ensure that would not be the case.”

Slowly, Cassian’s brow pinched. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, seeming to search for the right words. “That…isn’t how it went…”

“It is,” you shrugged. “You said I treated you like dirt — perhaps, unintentionally, I did. Perhaps it was a defence mechanism, because I never expected to flee absolute hell and come face-to-face with a male that I immediately wanted.”

There they were — the words out in the open. The truth wedged itself between you like a glaring, unmissable sign. You had never hated Cassian. Quite the opposite.

“I thought that I would never want another male in that way again.” You revealed hoarsely. “I thought I would live a life content with just…being me. With friends and nothing more. But that first day I met you, I walked in and I…I knew. I felt it.”

Cassian blinked, slowly shaking his head. “What…”

“And then you were so hostile, and I thought that maybe that was a good thing. That it would discourage me from feeling things. But I must be a fucking glutton for punishment, because no matter how cold you were towards me, my feelings only grew. And I tried…I tried so hard to shift them into hate, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to. I simply…can’t.”

The way he stared at you…so hardened, so severe…you couldn’t get a read on the reaction. But then…had you ever really been able to get a read on him?

“You were right…what you said about me being jealous,” you swallowed. “I was. I am—”

“That was…just a joke…I was just being a dick—”

“No,” you shook your head. “You were right. I was jealous in there, and I’m always jealous when people flirt with you. When I see you smile at them and joke with them and I shouldn’t wish it was me but I do. These feelings are constant. And that, Cassian…that is why I am exhausted. It’s exhausting for me to know you.”

Silence.

It should have been a relief, to have finally shifted such heavy feelings from your shoulders. But they were like tangible beings, fogging the air around you, wrapping you and Cassian up in a situation that was complicated and ugly and not at all ideal.

You knew he would do nothing with your feelings…except maybe sneer at them, laugh at them, throw them back in your face. You expected nothing from him. And the longer the silence went on, the more you began to wish that you could steal your confessions back. Shove them deep back into that narrow part of your heart that was still capable, somehow, of feeling such things.

You cleared your throat, tweaking the pretty, delicate gloves that covered your hands and forearms. “We should…head back inside.”

You breezed past him, suddenly desperate for the mindless chaos of the throne room. But you’d only managed a few steps forward before Cassian was gripping onto your arm and yanking you back.

Your dress fanned out as he spun you around, and a breath pushed out of you as he slammed you against the nearest wall, the cold brick biting into the fabric of your dress.

Before you could say anything, he was dipping down, his mouth sliding over yours.

Cassian kissed you deeply, punishingly, his lips moulding to yours perfectly. You gasped against him, and his tongue slid into your mouth to dance with yours, his rough, rugged taste invading you.

You’d thought about this moment a ludicrous amount. You’d imagined what the weight of his lips might be like, how perfectly his tongue might duel with yours. Nothing — no amount of imagining — could prepare you for the reality. The sense of rightness as his hand coasted up to clasp the back of your head, his fingers sinking into your hair. He gave a gentle tug, and you moaned in immediate response.

Air, it seemed, was not important. Not as you kissed him back feverishly, gripping at his shirt in an attempt to pull him as close against you as he could possibly get. The press of his hard body against yours was pleasure in itself. You nipped his lip, desperate for more, more, more, and he groaned in response.

This — this could very well spiral out of control, and you would welcome it. You wanted him to tear your clothes off and take you against this wall. You wanted him to make you feel like he wanted you, like it wasn’t exhausting to know him—

But there was suddenly emptiness and coldness. And it took your mind a moment to catch up and realise that he had pulled away.

Not far. Just enough to stare down at you, his deep hazel eyes flaring and furious. His panting breaths sawed out of him, landing directly on your lips and making you desperate for another taste. You tilted your head up—

He shook his head. Stepped back.

“No,” he murmured, voice gruff. “No. You…you are very bad for me.”

Your entire body turned cold at the words. Words that sliced at you, reminiscent of ones you’d heard before. “What?”

“You’re bad for me,” he repeated. “And I am very bad for you.”

“Cassian—”

“Don’t—don’t even say my name.”

With a swiftness that sent a gust of wind rustling the skirts of your dress, he turned, wings flaring and launching him into the star-speckled sky above you. You gaped at his retreating figure, flying off into the night, leaving you alone not only in that courtyard, but in the fucking Court of Nightmares.

Your mouth had turned dry, your skin cold. You lingered out there long after Cassian had flown off, waiting to see if he would come back. Pathetically hoping he would.

He did not.

And as you conceded, slipping your courtier mask back into place and turning to retreat back inside, his words rang like a deafening klaxon in your head.

You are very bad for me.

[guardianofnightmares]

Forbidden

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot.

... or, rather, for any sensible Prime.

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

"... is it wrong that I feel... bad for the prisoners? That I... periodically... h-help them?"

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Hello everyone, long time no see). Can hardly believe it's been a whole year since the last @blitzbee-week event and man, was I glad to participate in it once more. All of works were submitted on time to an event chat, but, unfortunately, I am uploading them here only now (full-time job drains me up).

Anyways, here is my first drawing from BlitzBeeWeek event Promts List. I think it will be fair to mention that this and next couple of my works will be dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". I will leave a link [here] for anyone interested to give it (and an existing teaser) a try. And yes, I am, in fact, going to finally upload first chapters pretty soon, it's happening, guys))). Thanks a ton for everyone who left their kudos there throughout a year, you have given me courage to put this behemoth of a story on paper and actually work it through.

As for the current entry for an event, I will provide part of a draft to one of chapters which is related to a depicted scene. It'll be "hidden" under a cut line for anyone wishing to get a more... fleshed out picture of what's going on here. Hope you'll enjoy reading it)

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“Bumblebee… are you listening to me?”

It was beyond confusing for Ratchet to see a younger Bot acting so out of touch with reality. He’s hunched over a console, helm resting in one servo while a wielding tool was twirled slowly in digits of another. Bumblebee looked so tired, clearly not caring about a task at servo, nor about an advice coming from his elder friend.

White and red Autobot knew how cheerful Bumblebee got each time they met via video calls, clearly waiting for a chance to talk to old teammates, even if these calls didn’t last long. That’s why him being so silent and lost in own thoughts was that much more worrying to witness. 

Upon being prompted again, the young bot finally raised his optics, the weight of his gaze almost making Ratchet flinch in surprise - to think that a recently promoted Prime was capable of behaving so out of character was indeed an alarming sign of change. 

The truth was, the minibot couldn’t help but to act all secretive, as if he’s done something wrong. 

Because, all things considered, he has. 

Minibot was well aware of what his actions could lead up to. All those rendezvous and revelations were such a dangerous subject to talk about, something that surely could lead him to being court marshaled if he’s caught by anybot. And what’s even worse - Bumblebee wasn’t certain whether telling friends what’s been troubling him was a good idea. 

Surely they’d not rat him out… but would they continue interacting with a yellow Autobot if he shared said secret with them? Wouldn't it be more mature of him to leave mechs oblivious (in order to protect them) and let his fears to silently fester in his processor?

... yet, to his shame, a minibot felt his resolve to keep his intake shut breaking upon seeing a haunted expression on Ratchet’s faceplates. Bumblebee wished he hadn’t looked up into the wise optics of his, those that seemed to read him as an unlocked datapad. How could he play it cool when a medic was looking at him in such a manner?

“…kid?” Now Ratchet was truly worried for his companion. He wasn’t even certain he’s ready to hear an explanation, but knew in his spark that he had to get to the bottom of a problem for minibot's sake.

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot. 

… or, rather, for any sensible Prime. 

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

“… is it wrong that I feel… bad for the prisoners? That I… periodically… h-help them?” 

… a fleeting moment or relief at voicing his concerns instantly evaporated, changed to regret once he saw Racthet’s optics widening beyond usual capacity and heard Optimus sputtering and coughing on his energon ration off the camera. 

Such reaction made Bumblebee hide his helm between shoulder pauldrons in a clear sign of dread - so much for the support coming from teammates it seemed. 

“What?” Optimus asked after standing up from a table he’s sitting next to, the stool screeching audibly after a mech span in it. “Help them? What do you mean by that, Bumblebee? Are you alright? Do they… force you to do something for them or..?”

Minibot didn’t answer any of those questions. Wasn’t able to do it under the searching gaze of an elder mech’s optics which seemed to pin him to his own stool. Bumblebee felt like energon was going to freeze in his lines and tubes from a rising horror. Time seemed to stop for him, not unlike inner mechanisms in a frame of his. He couldn't utter a single sound, words swimming in a jumbled mess that was his processor.

What could he possibly say in his defense, now that his teammates knew of his secret? That there was a proper reason for him to feel pity for the inmates? That he was the only one to keep those mechs alive because nobody else did? That perhaps, Primus help him, all this time they were held in prison, somebot tried to take them out of game by starving them to their deaths?

A yellow Bot clearly hasn’t thought the conversation through, just as he always did, hasn't prepared himself for such a reaction even, and now that mistake was biting his aft. 

But then… then minibot heard something that immediately tore him from a panicking state he got stuck in. 

“I’ll take care of it, Prime.” Ratchet announced in a calm tone, breaking the tense silence which settled over the video call. Bumblebee was so stunned that he didn’t register those words right away, looking dumbly at warm optics of a mech on the other side of a call line. 

“But-“ 

“Optimus.” Medic cut off his commanding officer in a stern but good-natured manner, showing that he knew what he’s doing. Trusting the judgement of an older Bot, red and blue mech nodded to him and stepped away from a console, giving both of his friends some room to talk to each other. 

Young Prime could hardly believe what he’s been witnessing in front of him. Afraid to hope that his situation might’ve not been so dire after all. Baiting his breath, he watched red and white Bot turning to him again and leaning closer to a screen.

“Bumblebee, tell me, what’s happening back on Cybertron.” Ratchet asked his young friend, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, ready to tentatively listen to everything minibot’s about to say. 

And that’s when Bumblebee understood, felt it in his spark which gleefully thrummed in his chest that his old teammates were not mad at him - only worried for his well-being. Said realization made the built up over orbital cycles tension leave his frame and gave him courage to answer as honestly as he could.  

“You don’t know even half of what's going on, guys,” He stated after a breath moment of silence, then scooted on his chair closer to a screen as well and continued speaking in a hushed tone as to not to be heard by anyone else on his side of a video call. 

While retelling the recent events, which took place in Tripticon Prison, young Prime couldn’t help but periodically glance at a screen to his right side, a list of main convicts taking up most of its surface. 

Their stern gazes seemed to burn a viewer with hostility. Evil, cold, sparkless optics on unsightly faceplates. That’s what fellow guards always tended to whisper to each other either in fear or in bold mockery while walking down the hallways.

But to Bumblebee the very same pairs of optics, those he'd looked into more times then any of the local mechs, more then his friends even, told another story. Each time he saw Decepticons, bound and stripped of their weapons, there was no rage in their expressions, nor malice or contempt - only an eternal tiredness, hopelessness... and resignation with Fate.

Warframes. Mighty mechs being brought to their knees and stripped of their pride. Truly a sight which made minibot feel more miserable then three inmates he tried to take care of.

“Bossbot… Ratchet… please, come back here as soon as you can," Recently promoted Prime finally said as a conclusion to his speech. "I… I am afraid I won’t be able to handle this situation on my own anymore.”

[ghoul-slime]

Collegiality

Kinktober Day 24: Gangbang/Group

Pairings: Aether/Dew, Swiss/Dew, Rain/Dew, Mountain/Dew, Phantom/Dew, and little bit of Phantom/Rain, really a bit of everyone/everyone but mostly just everyone/Dew

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3,432

Tags/warnings: Gangbang, group sex, multiple partners, cum play, rough sex, tender sex, hair-pulling, poly ghouls, crying, begging, orgasm delay/denial, Dewdrop getting wrecked overall, Dew being a smug little shit until the big dicks come out

Basically: the boys line up all nice and run a train on Dew

Had this sitting in my drafts for over a year, then decided to finish it up for Kinktober, which I then promptly fell behind on! ( @papaslittlesunshine I swear I will finish the ACTUAL prompts you gave me next!)

Read here on Tumblr or over on AO3

It’s not often that they do this, not with all of them anyway. It’s not that Dew doesn’t love all the attention on him, it’s just that he rarely has the patience to sit there politely for such a long time while everyone gets a fucking turn with him. But since Phantom is new to the pack, he figures why not.

“Think of it like a welcome gift,” Aether had explained to Phantom, like he was inviting him out to dinner and not to take part in running a train on his brand new, exceedingly hot packmate.

Later that night he walks into the common room with Aether, nervous with anticipation, to find Mountain and Rain fussing with the pull-out couch, the mattress now unfolded and made up with blankets and pillows. Swiss stands nearby watching them, arms folded over his chest. When he sees Phantom walk in he flashes a grin and gives him an encouraging thumbs up.

A few moments later Dew saunters into the room. He’s wearing nothing but a thin black robe that he hasn’t even bothered to tie shut, with his hair pulled up into a tight little bun at the top of his head. He makes his way over to the pull-out couch before shucking his robe and tossing it over the back with a flourish.

Around him, Phantom hears the other ghouls start to disrobe, the sound of fabric rustling, belts clinking, and zippers coming undone. He stands there dumbfounded for a beat before he’s peeling off his own shirt and clumsily stepping out of his jeans and briefs, tossing them in a messy pile off to the side. He doesn’t know what to do, where to stand, or what to look at. For now, he plans to just hang back and watch.

Instead, Phantom is startled out of his thoughts as Dew steps in front of him, puts one hand on his naked, bony hip and points directly at him. 

“You. You go first,” Dew says curtly, before turning back to clamber onto the mattress, arranging himself completely unashamed on his hands and knees in front of the group. 

Dew looks back over his shoulder and sticks out his tongue. 

“Show me what you got, new guy,” he teases, before turning back around and spreading his knees just a little bit more. Making sure his newest packmate gets an eyeful.

Phantom’s breath catches when he sees that Dew’s been prepped already, pink little hole already wet with slick and lube. Phantom wonders if he’d fingered his ass open himself, or if another ghoul had helped him get there before dutifully taking his place back in the den. 

Phantom flushes, suddenly self-conscious, but Mountain and Rain are stepping in and guiding him to take his place behind Dew. Mountain’s hand rests on the small of his back as he takes himself in his fist, cock already impossibly hard at the sight of Dew spread out and waiting for him.

Dew wriggles his hips playfully, an invitation for Phantom to line himself up and sink in slowly, slowly, until he’s bottomed out and breathless. Until he’s fully seated inside the smaller ghoul’s hot little body. Distantly, he registers Mountain and Rain pulling away as he starts to thrust. He gives rapid-fire, shallow little thrusts, hips moving rabbit-quick and totally off rhythm, but Dewdrop is so tight around him, and so hot. He feels so unbelievably good and he realizes with a panic that there’s no way he’s gonna last more than a few minutes inside him like this.

Dew must be able to tell, because he barks out at him. ��C’mon, harder. Give it to me deeper, new guy.”

And Dew is playing just a little bit cruel, Phantom thinks weakly, speeding up his thrusts and pushing in harder, because he feels the way he clenches around him on each stroke, squeezing blissfully tight around Phantom’s cock each time he pulls his hips back. After a few more strokes Phantom feels that telltale coil in his gut pull tighter.

He realizes it’s too late with a whimper, gripping Dew by the hips and giving him one more thrust, as deep as he can manage, skinny hips flush against Dew’s as he cums with a cry, emptying himself inside the smaller ghoul. 

He’s lightheaded when he pulls out.

Dew turns his head to the side and Phantom braces himself for more teasing, but instead he just reaches back and swipes one finger through the mess between his cheeks before winking at Phantom and licking it clean.

Phantom’s dick twitches pathetically, but just as quick as he got there, he’s being ushered back towards the end of the line by Mountain while he watches Rain step up to take his place behind Dew.

“Hiya, Rainy,” Dew says sweetly, demeanor instantly changed and ready to play nice for his favorite water ghoul.

“Hi Dew,” Rain answers back with a smile, just as sweet, a well-timed blush rising to his pretty cheeks. 

Rain climbs onto the mattress behind Dew, runs his cock through the slick mess between his legs a few times before he’s pushing in and leaning forward until he’s got his entire body draped over the back of Dew’s. Bracing himself with one hand, he takes Dew’s face by the jaw, turns him to face him - and then they’re kissing. Straining, sloppy kisses, all tongue and spit, as Rain humps his cock into Dew, his perfect ass flexing as he bottoms out with each thrust.

“Mmm, that’s right,” Dew hums into the kiss, “give it to me Rainy,” he mumbles, muffled against Rain’s lips.

Pushing himself back to meet every thrust with a high-pitched, showy little moan, Dew tells him that’s right, keep going, that he can take more, that Rain can give it to him even harder, harder. He tells him just how properly he expects to get filled up now that he’s in the water ghoul’s capable hands.

And Rain is so good for him, fucking in at the perfect angle every time and letting Dew shove his tongue halfway down his throat at he does it. Perfectly happy to give Dew anything he wants, as he always is.

Dew grabs for Rain’s hand and threads their fingers together as he fucks him harder, craning his neck back at an impossibly awkward angle just to keep kissing him as deep as possible. Lips slick with spit and fangs clacking together with one final deep thrust, and Rain busts inside him with a groan.

Rain stills while he catches his breath, still sheathed inside Dew’s hot, throbbing little body and admires the thin sheen of sweat starting to show down the back of his neck. He presses a kiss to the fire ghoul’s shoulder and pulls out to see his cum, now mixed with the load Phantom just fucked into him moments earlier, start to drip back out in a thin stream. 

Dew reaches down once again, drags two fingers through the mess, and pushes everything back inside himself.

“And that’s round two,” Rain hears someone say behind him with a chuckle, ears still ringing from the blood rushing from his head. It’s Swiss, he registers, biding his time near the back of the lineup next to Aether. Both ghouls have a hand curled around themselves, giving lazy little strokes as they watch the show play out in front of them.

A moment later and Mountain moves in, stopping to pull Rain close, wrapping his arms around his slender waist and dipping him down for a kiss. He releases the water ghoul, who makes his way back on shaky legs towards Phantom hovering at the edge of the group. Rain winds his arms around his new packmate’s neck and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss of his own. 

As interested as he is in seeing Phantom and Rain naked and pawing at each other, Mountain turns back to Dew, eager for his turn. The sight of Dewdrop, face down on the couch and panting, looking increasingly more used up - but still waiting for more, has Mountain growling possessively. 

He moves in and takes the little fire ghoul by the hips before pushing his entire length deep into Dew, bullying his way inside until he’s fully seated. He’s the biggest of the pack by far, and the stretch and burn of it drags a long, ragged moan from Dew, and for the first time that night, the fire ghoul’s smug demeanor starts to falter. Mountain pulls back, almost all the way out, just enough that he can watch the blunt head of his cock kiss Dew’s twitching, puffy little rim. And then he’s slamming back with a thrust hard enough to push Dew all the way forward on his elbows.

Dew moans again, a real moan, none of those overly showy, bullshit porno moans from earlier, his eyes rolling back as Mountain fucks him hard and deep. He sets a relentless pace, full-length strokes pulled all the way out and then slammed back in until he's punching out breathless cries from Dew with each powerful thrust. He fucks him like that, with big hands wrapped around Dew’s skinny little waist.

If he squeezes hard enough he can make the tips of his fingers meet just below Dew’s navel. With each thrust, he can feel the hard length of himself pushing out Dew’s taut little belly just so. The bulge of him inside is barely noticeable, but it’s enough to rip the orgasm out of Mountain so fast it hits the both of them like an electric shock.

Dew goes stiff with it, surprised, clamping down around Mountain’s spasming cock, milking every drop from him with a ragged cry. Mountain pulls out, and Dew groans at the loss. He reaches out with a shaky hand, an attempt to feel the wet flow of Mountain’s load dripping out of his hole, but not before Mountain beats him to it, catching the rivulets of cum dribbling out of Dew’s ass and pushing it all back in, deep up to the knuckles. He fucks Dew’s loose hole with two fingers until the little ghoul is moaning again, and the wet, slick sounds of Mountain’s fingers inside him fill the room.

Phantom and Rain abandon their lazy, post-orgasm kissing as their interests are piqued again, pulling away from each other to creep in closer for a better look at how increasingly wrecked Dew is starting to look after just three rounds.

Mountain grunts, satisfied, and stands back to admire his work - at the way Dew’s wet little hole has been fucked pink and puffy from the stretch of Mountain’s fat cock and long fingers.

Dew only gets a brief moment to catch his breath before Swiss bullies his way in with a grin, sidestepping Mountain and cracking his knuckles. 

“You ready for me, firecracker?” He quips, one big hand squeezing the base of his dick in anticipation.

“Yeah,” Dew nods, face down into the pillows and breathless, hair spilling out of the bun on top of his head. He reaches back with both hands to grab his cheeks and spread. He pulls himself open just for Swiss, to let him see what a wrecked little mess he is. 

“Make me take it, Swiss”

Swiss grins wider and pushes Dew’s head until he’s face down into the pillows. He spits a wad of saliva directly onto Dew’s clenching little hole, takes his hard cock in his hand, and buries himself to the base in one stroke. 

Dew yelps as Swiss grabs a handful of hair, fingers wrapped tight around his bun and tugs, pulling until the fire ghoul’s back is bent into a perfect, pretty arch. He fucks him without mercy, hard and fast and deep. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin grow louder as Swiss sets a relentless pace that has Dew crying out, ragged moans and pleas of yes yes make me fucking take it until the springs in the couch are squeaking and Dew’s blush is bright red and spread all the way down the back of his neck and shoulders.

Swiss reaches back with his free hand and smacks Dew’s ass with a wide, flat palm. Dew cries out, caught off guard. Swiss gives him another one, relishing in the way Dew clamps down around his cock with each slap. He repeats until both of the little ghoul’s ass cheeks are bright red and angry and Dew is drooling into the pillows. 

He fucks Dew rough, until he has him split open on his cock and moaning like a whore, and then he lets go of his hair, brings both hands to those bony little hips and squeezes. Squeezes hard enough to leave bruises, digging his nails in to mark Dew up just the way he knows he likes. He tugs him in by the waist with a bruising grip, pulls him back and forth on his cock like a pretty little toy, slamming in deep enough to bully Dew’s prostate with every stroke, until Dew is scrabbling at the sheets with his claws and and sobbing into the pillows. Desperate for Swiss to touch him, begging him to make him cum.

Swiss obliges with a grin, reaches around and wraps one big hand around Dew’s stiff dick, hanging hot and heavy between his legs, bouncing in time with the thrusts wracking his body. Swiss jacks him off until he feels Dew start to flutter around him, until he feels him clench. Until he gets him right on the edge of an orgasm.

“Please ohhhhh!” Dew’s just about shouting now, gnashing his teeth between sobs as Swiss fucks his brains out. “I’m gonna ohhhhh!”

Swiss growls, heavy and deep, when he blows his load inside him, fisting Dew’s cock as he paints his insides with his release.

He jacks Dew off through it all, feeling the way Dew tightens around him, sees the way the fire ghoul’s tight little sack draws up taut, seconds away from an orgasm. 

From relief.

And then, at exactly the right moment, he uncurls his fingers and wrenches his fist away. He lets Dew’s dripping cock fall back between his legs, heavy and straining, so red that it’s almost purple at the tip.

Dew lets out a ragged cry at his ruined orgasm, tears spilling down his splotchy cheeks and soaking into the sheets as he chokes back sobs of frustration, desperately trying to hump his hips into nothing, chasing any sort of friction Swiss might grant him.

The multi-ghoul just laughs. And then he’s flipping him over so fast Dew’s head spins. He grabs him by the leg, fingers wrapped tight around one slim ankle and tugs him to the edge of the couch.

Dew’s chest heaves, choking out sobs between dragging in deep, shuddering breaths. Skinny little hips still humping at nothing as Swiss drags him around like a ragdoll.

“Please let me,” Dew is begging, sad little pleas between gasping cries and hiccups. “Swiss, please, I need to.. I…” 

Swiss is still holding Dew’s leg in the air with one hand when he reaches in with the other to spread him open with two fingers, watching the entire mess flow out and pool between his cheeks, until it starts to puddle, leaving a dark, wet spot on the mattress. 

“So pretty,” Swiss admires. “Made to be stuffed full of cock and filled with cum, aren’t you, firecracker?”

Dew looks up at him with wet, pleading eyes and nods.

Instead, Swiss just lets more cum dribble out, and then he’s running his fingers up Dew’s sticky, wet cleft and back down to his balls, still drawn up nice and tight. He pushes his fingers back inside, and feels how hot and wet and loose Dew is.

Dew squirms, tears streaming down his face in frustration as Swiss plays with his hole lazy and unhurried, agonizing in the way he just pushes the cum back up inside him and lets it all dribble out again. In and out, until he’s got his fingers coated and Dew’s entire body is shaking.

Swiss presses a kiss to Dew’s ankle before gently placing his leg back down on the couch and then he’s bringing his fingers to Dew’s lips, shiny and soaking wet with cum and slick and lube.

“Suck,” he commands, pressing his fingers between the fire ghoul’s lips. 

Any other time and Dew would fight back, hissing and spitting and loving the challenge, but now, fucked loose and pliant, tears still streaming down his pretty face from his ruined orgasm, and he complies immediately. Opens up and lets Swiss pet at his soft, pink tongue with filthy fingers. He wraps his lips around them and sucks. Hollowing his cheeks and suckling until Swiss is satisfied and pulls them away nice and clean.

“He’s all yours now, Aeth,” Swiss says, looking down at Dew reverently, before stepping aside for Aether to finally take his place.

Aether steps in to gather Dew into his arms, smoothing big, warm hands over Dew’s shaking body, soothing him, leaning in to whisper sweet words of praise into his ear, quiet enough that they’re just for Dew to hear. He leans in close, tells Dew how proud he is, how good he’s been for them, how well he’d taken all of them. How good he was for welcoming Phantom properly into the pack.

Aether parts Dew’s legs gently, gets him spread open nice and wide one last time. He presses in and folds the smaller ghoul nearly in half, leaning in and kissing him, deep and loving, as he slides inside. There’s absolutely no resistance, Dew’s body wet and loose and full with everything the other ghouls have given him.

Dew reaches up with shaky arms and wraps them around Aether’s neck, pulls him in as they kiss. 

And Aether talks him through it, sweet words murmured against his lips. He tells him how good he tastes, how sweet. His perfect Dewdrop. He fucks him with long, slow strokes, reaching in so deep and feeling how wet and full his little mate is with their entire pack’s cum.

Dew groans into his mouth, squeezes his arms around his neck and pleads against his lips. Little whimpers of pleasure as Aether makes him feel so good. Proud to know he’d taken care of his pack so well.

Aether kisses him in time with each push, each thrust hitting deep and perfect, bringing Dew’s flagging erection back to full attention. He whispers more words of praise against the fire ghoul’s lips as he takes his cock in his hand and strokes. He jacks him off and tells him how good he is. His sweet baby boy. His love. His mate. 

“Feel that, Dew” Aether asks as he bottoms out with a particularly deep thrust. “Feel how full you are inside?”

Dew nods, eyes closed and jaw slack as Aether fucks a litany of obscene, wet sounds out of him. With each push a little more of the mess inside Dew’s body dribbles out. Dew is stuffed so full that Aether’s cock is coated in it.

“That’s right, baby boy. Filled you all the way up, didn’t we? Oh, there’s so much inside you. That’s just how much we all love you, isn’t it, baby?

And that does it, Aether’s filthy, sweet words wring a surging orgasm out of him. Dew comes so hard on Aether’s cock he almost blacks out, his vision dark around the edges as he feels Aether spill hot inside him, adding one more load to the everything he’d already taken. 

They kiss, breathing ragged into each other’s mouths as they come down, sweaty foreheads pressed together. For just a moment, it’s only the two of them. 

And then Aether is taking Dew’s hand and guiding him down to feel where they’re connected, he presses the pads of Dew’s fingers against his own rim as he slips out. Lets him feel the hot gush of cum as he slides out, feel how hot and wet and completely fucked open his own little hole is.

Dew hums when Aether pulls away, satisfied and spent and boneless. He holds himself up on shaky elbows just long enough to see the way the rest of the pack is watching him with rapt attention before letting himself fall back to the pillows with a smug little smile tugging at his lips.

“Now,” Aether says, loud enough to pull everyone’s attention back to him.

“Who gets to eat him out first?”

[strwbrychffoncake]

"walking in a winter wonderland,, 3.1k words synopsis: an evening date w doctor zayne leads to a stroll through the winter snowfall of linkon contains: zayne x reader (afab reader in mind but theres close to no phys desc tbh) ,fluff fluff fluff fluff fluffff ,petnames (reader is called 'miss hunter' twice) ,playful bantering ,(attempts at) zayne dry humor ,keeping zaynes sweet tooth in check ,cute stroll in the snow ,looots of hand holding ,snowman moment ,kisses ,suggestive ending ,that's all i can think of rn :x note: i meant to release this like last wk but the writing was not writing.... i literally had to stop myself from writing for raf or greyson instead bc i said id release zayne help.. this is like an accumulation of five diff drafts into one so i hope it came out well?? please enjoy....

quiet.

it's quiet in the early evening when you step out of your apartment, sighting zayne's car parked right out front, said man promptly exiting the drivers side in favor of making his way to the passenger door as you walk the short path towards him.

he's clad in casual slacks, a turtleneck sweater and his dark trench coat, offering a small smile as you close the short distance before opening the car door for you.

"are you my driver for tonight?"

his eyes glint with playfulness.

"ive come to retrieve a miss hunter for the night. might that be you?"

you giggle.

"my chauffeur bares a striking resemblance to a certain renowned doctor zayne." you take a step closer. "do you know him?" you tilt your head in question, a questioning look adorning your face.

he takes your hand in his.

"i have no idea who you're talking about."

you feign a pout.

"well, i happen to be quite close with him."

"is that so?"

"yeah," you nod, looking off to the side, bringing your pointer finger to the corner of your lips before continuing.

"—so, im not so sure he would appreciate a stranger holding my hand..." you trail off, slowly beginning to slip your trapped hand out of his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold.

"well..."

he pulls it up to his lips.

"i'm zayne. it's a good thing that i'm no stranger" he emphasizes the last word, planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand, gaze holding yours while he does so.

you laugh again, heart full at the gesture.

a small smile pulls at his lips again at the sound before he helps you inside the car (not that you really need it, but as a gesture of his love for you, you allow him to treat you like a princess).

once he's situated back in the drivers side beginning to take off, you prompt him.

"so, where are we headed this evening, doctor?"

"that, is a secret" he answers simply.

you put on a thoughtful expression.

"hmm... are you sure you're not kidnapping me?"

a playful smirk ghosts his lips.

"it seems you've found yourself in quite the predicament haven't you, miss hunter?"

before you can respond, he reaches for your hand again, gripping it firmly.

"how will you escape?"

you hum in thought for a moment before turning your head to fully look at him.

"i'm not so sure that i want to."

the car stops at a red light, and he takes the opportunity to meet your gaze.

"good," his smirk fully stretches across his face now. "i wasn't planning on letting you go anyway."

-

the place in question turned out to be your favorite restaurant.

given the season, both the interior and exterior were decorated with colorful festive lights with cute winter themed decals hanging on the long windows.

(when you pointed out a cute snowman and asked zayne why they had a decal of him, he shot back that despite how it looked, you were as cold to the touch as a snowman before wrapping his scarf around you).

for the time, the restaurant was surprisingly not too busy, granting a cozy atmosphere in the dim lights, a pretty candle lighting up your table for two with small decorations of snow-covered trees in the center.

after pleasant conversation, hushed laughs and plenty of playful bantering over dinner, you advised against zayne ordering any dessert in favor of checking out a new cafe that had recently opened nearby.

(and that just so happened to be a source of both you and zayne's curiosity, but you each unknowingly refrained from visiting on your own in favor of trying it for the first time together).

at the sound of dessert, zayne was quick to pay for the meal (shutting down any argument you may have had at splitting the bill with a simple "nonsense" as he handed his card to the waitress) before ushering you out in what appeared to be haste but you knew was excitement, grasping your hand and walking the short distance through the cold towards the cafe.

-

the little jingle of the bell above the door is light as zayne opens it for you, hand on the small of your back as he leads you in first before following close behind you.

you're welcomed by the cheery voice of the cashier before you both take a look around.

upon entry, there's small shelves to the right of the entrance featuring different types of freshly baked and individually wrapped breads, more shelves against the rightmost wall that feature things from cookies to tarts to even small cakes in a cooler right beside them, and small counters in the center of the floor with featured seasonal items that are cutely displayed around a small christmas tree. to the left of the place is a small seating area, and straight ahead is a large hanging menu behind the cashier with drink options, among other made-to-order desserts.

there don't seem to be many customers at this hour aside from you and zayne, a couple of guests enjoying their desserts at the seating area and one browsing the options. the atmosphere is homey and welcoming, the scents of everything making the place smell absolutely divine.

after taking everything in, you and zayne begin browsing around at the various options displayed, taking a look at what they have and coming up with ideas of what you'd like to get.

as you slowly eye each shelf, carefully surveying every option, you try your best to settle on only two things while simultaneously trying to rationalize buying more because they look too good, there's no way you won't eat them all!

wanting a momentary respite from your inner turmoil, you take a peek at zayne only to let out an amused laugh at his troubled expression, already knowing the inward struggle he must be facing.

even so, you walk up to him, a teasing smile painting your lips.

"have you decided what you'll be getting, doctor?"

he doesn't answer right away, standing at a spot close by the register as he stares between the rows of displayed strawberry desserts, eyes deeply concentrated, a loosely clenched hand held up just under his lips in thought.

"hmm..."

you take a step closer to the display case, one of the various cakes catching your attention.

"oooh, that one looks sooo good!"

zayne looks up at the cashier behind the counter.

"how much for one of everything?"

the cashier visibly startles at the inquiry.

"sorry?"

"zayne!"

at the sound of his name, he looks down at you.

"is something the matter?"

"you are not buying one of everything."

the way his expression morphs from serious to genuinely perplexed is so comical you almost let a laugh slip through your pointed façade.

"why not?" the tone of his voice comes out almost sad.

"because," you take a step closer to him this time. "that's way too much sugar for just one person!"

"the last time i checked, i didn't come into this building alone, did i?"

"that's-"

the cashier, a witness to the bantering, smiles to herself before deciding to speak up again.

"please let me know if you need any help!"

suddenly remembering the audience of one, you feel embarrassed, giving a short nod and a sheepish "thank you" before she goes to check on nearby displays, removing some or rearranging other various sweets.

zayne's attention is still on you.

"well?"

you blink.

"what?"

"surely the both of us can-"

"zayne, i am not letting you buy one of every dessert in here."

the rest of his words die on his lips, and he frowns.

"have it your way."

knowing he would deny it to all hell, you decide against pointing out the very dejected pout he wears in response to your declaration as he goes back to browsing the shelves, the serious look in his eyes returning as he internally struggles to narrow down what he'd like.

. . .

in the end, you settled on the idea of each buying three desserts you wanted to try the most (since their opening special of buy two get one free was active) and sharing them with each other so that you could both have a taste of more items.

(despite this, zayne still picked a total of six items, claiming that the prices were quite exceptional, and that it was "okay to indulge every once in awhile." before you could protest, he had already paid and made his way to a nearby table, wordlessly expecting you to follow).

and though you didn't want to feed into his satisfaction, you had to agree that the amount of desserts he had picked was justified as those turned out to be your favorites (and he quickly finished his other options, only after allowing you a taste first).

. . .

by the time you both exited the bakery, you're met with the sight of snow, ground crunching beneath you as the delicate snowflakes continue their pleasant descent before piling onto the ground.

your eyes are wide, excitement glimmering within them, even when the cold flakes sprinkling over you draw out a shiver from you.

"look zayne, it's snowing!"

"indeed."

his lips curl up, but he's not looking at the snow.

instead, he's gazing at you, a fond adoration in his eyes as he stares at your expression.

you are so precious to him.

before he can suggest getting you out of the cold, you grab his hand, gazing at him.

"let's walk around!"

"and let you catch a cold?" he raises an eyebrow.

you playfully scoff.

"i'll have you know, my immune system is amazing!" you defend.

he offers an unimpressed look.

"i suppose that explains why i had to nurse you back to health the last time you were out in the cold, then?"

"come on, please??? just for a little bit!"

when you beg like that, looking the way that you do, he feels himself weaken.

he never had any intention of denying you of your wishes, anyway.

"alright." he nods.

you let out a small cheer in triumph.

"but..."

he removes a pair of mittens from his coat pocket, handing one of them to you.

"since someone didn't think to bring their own."

you pout but take it from him.

"yeah? and what about my other hand??" you tease, slipping the oversized glove on one hand before holding your other one up and wriggling your fingers to emphasize your point.

wordlessly, he takes a hold of it, pausing your movements in the process as he pulls it towards his lips to blow warm air onto it, never breaking eye contact with you.

"i'll just have to ensure you stay warm another way. "

he lowers your hand still in his, properly intertwining his fingers with yours.

his voice lowers.

"dont let go."

then he leans close to your ear, whispering.

"doctor's orders."

his voice comes out in a deep rumble, almost commanding, your heart fluttering helplessly at the tone.

feeling shy, you aren't given a chance to respond before he begins leading you down the sidewalk, taking in the scenery of the decorative lights encasing almost every nearby building or tree, casting a light glow over the ever falling snow.

though for awhile, your attention is more focused on your intertwined hands and zayne's handsome face than the scenery before you both.

-

eventually reaching an open area, you quickly take note of the amount of snow piled on the ground, breaking away from zayne's hold, telling him that "a snowman is just asking to be created here!"

he watches in amusement as you scurry around, rolling the snow into three big balls before piling them onto each other and then searching for anything that can be used to create a face.

after several minutes, you take a couple of steps back, excitedly revealing the finished product to zayne.

"ta-da!"

he stares at the snowman who seems to be staring right back at him.

"pfft.... zayne-"

"is that... supposed to be me?"

the snowman in question resembles the various snowmen plushies you have piled at home who, you've joked, resemble zayne quite well, and "are so warm and cozy to cuddle when you're away on business or have a late shift at the hospital, you know!" according to you.

except, for this particular snowman, you've wrapped a scarf around its neck— the same scarf zayne wrapped around yours earlier— granting it his style as well.

zayne lets out a sigh before walking up to the snowman, reaching out to grab the scarf before you stop him.

"wait! a picture- i have to take a picture first!"

you fish into your pocket with your ungloved, trembling hand (almost numb from the cold and playing in the snow) as zayne pauses, turning to you and watching you struggle with a deadpan expression.

"if we stay out here any longer, your hand might end up falling off."

you manage to pull your phone out, opening it to the camera app.

"good thing i have a surgeon who can easily reattach it for me~!"

he sighs again.

"take it quickly."

you face the camera to zayne and the snowman, taking a photo of them side-by-side before stepping closer and taking one of all three of you, posing cutely while zayne stares unamused the entire time.

"ok, got it! lets go now-"

as you lower your arm, your phone slips from your shivering grasp and into the plush snow below.

before you can go to retrieve it, zayne leans down, plucking it out, wiping it with his coat before placing it back into your pocket for you.

"thank you," you breathe out, a grateful smile stretching across your lips.

he suddenly leans closer to you, causing your breath to hitch.

"you've got snow..."

his hand reaches up, brushing snow from the top of your head.

he moves his hand down the side of your face, lingering there for a moment before cupping your cheek.

"zayne?"

even when you're freezing like this, you look ethereal under the snowflakes that continue to dance around you, hair a little messy from the chilly wind, eyes shining from the decorative lights nearby, parted lips slightly chapped from the cold and breaths visible thanks to the chill.

he suddenly leans forward, lips easily melding with yours.

words are never needed when everything zayne wishes to say is relayed in his kiss: deep in the way that he loves you, sweet from the desserts you'd shared, loving in his loyalty to you, passionate in that you were his, and he was yours.

in this moment, under the glittered night sky, snowflakes catching in your hair and clothes, surrounded by the soft lights of the festive city, you and zayne seemed to be lost in your own personal winter wonderland reserved for two.

he breaks the kiss shortly, grasping your cold hand in his once more.

"you've had your fun. let's get you someplace warm."

you blink up at him, speechless from the kiss and offering a nod instead, allowing him to quickly lead you back to the car.

he situates you in first before slipping into the drivers seat, quickly turning on the car and clicking the heater on. while it slowly starts up, he retrieves his scarf from his coat (that you didn't see him nab from his snowman-self) and wraps it around your hands.

"to warm them up quicker," he reasons.

"oh? are you sure this isn't your way of restraining me from escaping back into the snow?"

he puts the car in drive before he goes to respond.

"if i had been concerned about that, i assure you i would have tied your hands securely."

wanting to push him some more, you wriggle a hand out from the scarf.

"it appears im free~ what will you do if i try to escape?"

in a single motion, your hand is enveloped by his, holding it down against the small glove box between your seats.

"this."

you wriggle your fingers playfully as you feign trying to escape, only causing his grip to tighten slightly.

"stay still," he speaks softly, yet again in that commanding voice that urges you to comply.

"or are you that eager to learn how surgeons tie knots?"

-

when you both return home (to zaynes place, under his insistence that it was closer, and you loved any excuse to spend more time with him), zayne almost immediately goes to start the flames of the fireplace after shedding you both of your snow covered coats, leading you to sit comfortably in front of it first.

"feel better?"

"yes," you sigh in relief, hands held out towards the flames. "i didn't realize how cold i really was!"

"well, i imagine standing out in the cold and playing in the snow will do that to you. "

you huff out a breath at his response, laying down on the fluffy carpet, peering at him upside-down.

"there's nothing wrong with having a little fun," you refute.

looking at you splayed out in his home like this— light of the dancing flames setting a pretty glow along your figure, hair spread out under you, expression playful from your remark yet satisfied from the warmth, shirt riding up slightly to reveal some of your midriff— along with all of the teasing remarks tonight finally catches up with him, his demeanor changing into something a little darker as he closes the distance, taking the spot beside you.

"but there is something wrong with disobedience."

"huh?" you blink at the man now beside you in question.

"zayne, what-"

he grabs your hand (still held out towards the flames), pinning it down and shifting himself so he's half hovering over you.

"well, when a patient doesn't follow doctors orders, they'll have to pay the price."

you feel your face heating up from the growing tension.

"what are you-"

he squeezes the hand he's holding down.

"you let go of my hand earlier."

"that's-"

your eyes widen in realization.

he suddenly leans down, planting a kiss right atop your pulse point, causing the rest of your words to die on your lips.

"it seems i have to discipline a certain naughty patient who has a streak of disobeying professional orders."

he crashes his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss that you can't help but to completely submit to.

and true to his word, the fireplace was not the only thing warming your bodies in the face of the worsening blizzard outside, breaths mingling with one another in the comfort of the living room, both escaping to your own world for two, pleasure overflowing between the both of you.

after all, the doctor couldn't have you getting sick on his watch, could he?

-

a/n: this took way longer than i thought but once i got the sequence of events in order it slowly started to come together.... js yday the draft was at 1.3k words now the number is flipped.... i love my doctor zayne what can i say :x

*mostly edited but i edit late at night so ill check over for any errors again later*

i could not for the life of me figure out the "proper" word for the storage box between the front seats of a car so its called a glove box pls spare me....

[miraeluc]

i loved ur last hcs about sh so much ! if its not too much, can i ask for u to make a 2nd part (?) including shoto & izuku. please, im begging u, ill sell my organs if needed. thank u <3

dearest, from the depth of my heart, i’m offering my sincere apologies, for some stupid reason, i saw your ask a few months ago, prepared the draft and forgot entirely about it. i feel so bad pls don't sell your organs omg i hope this reaches you.

bnha boys finding out about your selfharm

prompt: /

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader, todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: mention of bad mental state! (reader); selfharming; some crying; pronouns of reader not mentioned (i think? correct me if i’m wrong pls!)

izuku midoriya

izuku, just like bakugou, was aware that you had been struggling with your mental health

but, obviously, he also was not aware of your self-harm tendencies

to be fair, it wasn't something you struggled with for a long time

only two months, to be exact

the first time you put a blade to your skin was your biggest regret - because although it wasn't pleasureable, it was extremely easy to spiral out of control, doing it nearly every day as if it was routine.

and since it was winter - you didn't worry about hiding it since you could wear long clothes without people questioning it anyway

when izuku found out, he was a mess

it went like this

the both of you were spending a cozy evening together

since everyone in your class was out or with their families, you had the entire living area to yourself

you were sat beside him, scrolling on tiktok and he was doing the same, but on his own phone

after a long while of you guys just silently enjoying eachother's company, he wanted to ask if you were hungry, but since he hadn't spoken in a while his voice cracked while doing so, and you were quick to mock him

long story short, you were now underneath him while he was tickling you.

when you tried to push his hands away, he grabbed your wrist - initially only wanting to stop you, but when you winced, he immediately stopped tickling you and, without thinking, pulled up your sleeve to see if he had hurt you

instead, he was met with the red, angry lines littered across your skin, the wounds not fresh enough to still bleed, but they were obviously still open wounds

you froze in place

he gulped, eyes moving to meet yours before he wordlessly pulled you to sit on his lap, arms wrapping around you and caging you in

"-'s ok. don't feel bad. i'm sorry i didn't realise sooner." he choked out, trying to blink away his tears

you were still frozen in place, thoughts running wild as you tried to gather your words to say something 

“izu.. please- don’t blame yourself for not realising sooner,”

he moved to look at you, teary eyes meeting yours “let’s bandage you up, ok, love?”

before you could react, he already stood - hands steady beneath your thighs, carrying you towards his dorm room, placing you down onto his bed before leaving to grab a first-aid kit from his bathroom

he wordlessly applied aloe vera gel over the more or less still fresh wounds, wrapping bandages around your arm securely before pressing a light kiss on your hand

“we can talk if you want to, but let’s get the food i was talking about earlier, hm?” 

you smiled slightly and nodded

although you still had a long road before you, you felt that a tiny burden had been lifted off your shoulders

you no longer had to fight for happiness all alone, - izuku would be by your side every step of the way, rest assured.

todoroki shouto

although shouto was indifferent, he was not stupid

he didn’t officially know of your battles with mental health, nor did he officially know about your self-harming tendencies, but he picked up the signs.

he didn’t want to confront you about immediately - since he also wasn’t a very open person, he wanted to provide you the space you needed until you were ready to open up and talk about your struggles

in the meantime, he tried his best to subtly ask fuyumi for tips on how to comfort someone when the time came

he did begin to get increasingly worried when he started hearing less and less from you - you often didn’t show up to class, and you never answered texts

todoroki, not being one to pry, tried giving you the space he assumed you needed

he didn’t take it personally - he knew you weren’t doing this on purpose, but he was flooded with worry.

and when he found out you haven’t been leaving your room at all, he decided it was time to react and check on you, even if it meant bothering you

when he stepped into your room, his eyes had to adjust to be able to see in the darkness that immediately engulfed him as the door clicked shut behind him

the air was stale - clothes scattered around the floor. your bed was messy, but you were not to be seen

tentatively he called out your name, switching on the small bedside lamp you had

„y/n?“ as he took in the sight of your room, but his eyes zeroed in on something, an object, on your bedside table

he tried again, blood running cold

„y/n? are you in the bathroom?“

he picked up said object, mindful to not cut himself with the small blade, moving to place it somewhere away from beside your bed - out of sight, in hopes that his heart would slow its racing

„yeah. i’m in here. hold on.“ he heard you groggily call out

his eyes closed in relief at the sound of your voice - having assumed the worst and he sighed shakily, dropping to sit on the edge your bed whilst he waited for you, running a hand through his hair to push it back

when you stepped out of the bathroom, his face understandably dropped

you looked so pale, so defeated

so fragile

he noticed the way you were fidgeting, an arm hidden behind your back - probably the reason he heard you shuffling around your bathroom. maybe in search of something to cover up?

he stood again, slowly approaching you. when you didn’t flinch away, he gently reached up a hand to caress your cheek

„did you bandage yourself up properly?“ he whispered, no hint of judgement in his tone - just worry

and alas, that is all it took for your eyes to brim with tears.

your lower lip shook as you quickly blinked up at him, shaking your head and releasing a heart-shattering sob as your boyfriend engulfed you into his arm - caging you into a protective hug

„it’s okay. will you let me help you?“ he whispered

a/n: hi again - i KNOW i disappeared for like 2 - 3 years but i’m about to finish my drafts and post them out, but i want to announce that requests are temporarily closed as i will no longer be writing about anime characters (unless i get an intense surge of inspiration), but there will be more explaining that in a separate post. for now, enjoy the drafts!

[zerobaselove]

zb1 as date ideas, summer edition ♡

pairing: zb1 x reader

genre: fluff

warnings:none i think?? idk ive been staring at this for too long. lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: i am well aware i didn't do a winter one,, or a spring one,, but the winter one is in the drafts and now its may and i just had more inspo for this one so maybe next year LOL. anyways i hope you all like these <3 (bonus points if you can guess the song i'm referencing in jiwoongs LOL)

jiwoong ;

"okay close your eyes," you boyfriend jiwoong said, a smile spread across his face as he reached out to grab your hand, leading you past the closed door reading roof access. you obliged, shutting your eyes as you put your trust in the man, feeling the warm summer breeze hit your face. you had lost track of how many steps you'd taken before being prompted to open your eyes.

it was beautiful.

two chairs and a small table had stood in the normally empty spot by the ledge of the roof, a small blanket folded neatly on one of the seats. string lights were draped along the half wall of the roof top, connecting to the backs of the chairs. a small speaker, softly playing one of your favourite songs, sat on the table alongside two boxes; one with the brand of your favourite restaurant plastered over the side, the other smaller, with a delicate bow placed atop. a present.

"what's all this for, woong?" you questioned, letting go of his hand as you went up to examine the set up a little more. "can't i do nice things for my partner?" he smiled, pulling out one of the chairs, motioning you to sit, "especially when they've just gotten a promotion at their job." he took a seat across from you, admiring the way the warm glow of the string lights illuminated your smiling face.

"you didn't have to do all of this," you insisted, but he merely shook his head. "i wanted to," he grabbed the small present, holding it out to you, "you deserve it, all of this and more."

you grumbled a little more, mumbling a thank you as you opened the box; a ring. "jiwoong, are you-" you started before getting cut off. "i'm not proposing y/n," he chuckled, "not yet at least," you stopped holding your breath, noticing the small engraving on the inside of the ring. 'Even as time goes by, I will always love you.'

you couldn't help but tear up a little as you took in the gift, placing it on your finger, "jiwoong, it's beautiful, thank you." you sniffled, holding back the tears threatening to spill. "if you think that's beautiful," he glanced at his watch, grabbing your hand and leading you to the roof's edge, "then look up."

as if on queue the sky begun exploding in pops of colours all over, decorating the sky like a painting. fireworks. looking over at your boyfriend, the way the fireworks painted his face in shades of oranges and pinks, you couldn't help the feeling swelling up in you, pulling him in for a kiss. "i love you jiwoong, thank you."

"i love you even more."

zhang hao ;

"aren't you coming in?" hao's voice echoed from where he stood between the water and the shore. when your boyfriend suggested a beach date, you thought he meant relaxing on the beach, maybe listening to music or reading. how foolish.

"y/n c'mon!" he yelled, "it's warm and everything!" you shook your head, "i doubt that hao! i'm perfectly fine here!" you insisted, hoping to get back to your book, but it seemed that option was no longer on the table as he stalked up to where you laid on the soft towel. "fine," he mumbled, "i'll just bring you with me then."

he quickly grabbed your arm, your free hand quickly dropping the book as he dragged you closer and closer to the crisp looking water. as soon as your feet touched the rushing wave, a shiver went down your spine. that shiver soon turned into a full body jolt as the water made it's way up your legs, stopping only when you were chest deep in the water.

"fine, fine i'm in." you huffed, "and it is not warm for your information." he laughed at your rather pathetic adjustment to the water, mumbling something about how you'd "get used to it." you would've argued more with the boy if it weren't for the splash of water that just hit your face, thanks to your delightful boyfriend. "zhang hao i'm going to kill you," you nearly shrieked, though you couldn't stop the laughter erupting from your lungs as you chased him through the water.

"can't get me now!" he stuck his tongue out before smiling wide. he was right. you were already neck deep, and thanks to your height difference, he stood far enough out of your grasp that you couldn't grab him, and yet the water was barely touching his shoulders. so you did the only thing you could. payback. you used all your strength to splash water in his direction, effectively soaking the boy, his hair dripping down his forehead.

"you're evil," he chuckled, diving fully underwater this time, long forgoing the idea of keeping his hair nice, only to pop up right beside you, shaking his hair like a wet dog causing you to shriek once more, the two of you bursting into laughter. you both started making your way back to the sandy beach ahead where you volunteered to help the boy dry his hair.

"so, how about popsicles?"

hanbin ;

it took very little to convince your boyfriend hanbin to come with you to the farmer's market being held in your hometown. it was a staple memory of your childhood, coming here as a kid and trying the homemade fudge and petting the little sheep at the petting zoo, sometimes even picking strawberries to make jam with; which you had insisted was on the agenda for the day. when hanbin told you he had never been to anything like it, you knew you had to take him, had to remake those memories with the boy you loved.

"these are gorgeous," you said to the woman sat behind the small table lined with various pieces of jewelry, letting go of hanbin's hand to further inspect a small pendant on a necklace. it was a delicate design, a small outline of a rose on a thin silver chain. "look at this one," you showed the boy next to you. he looked at it and smiled, "it would look great on you, y/n, you should get it." he smiled wide, picturing the dainty accessory along your neck.

you only shook your head a little, "i don't need it," you insisted, "it is really pretty though," you mumbled as you thanked the kind woman as you continued your way through countless stalls. some with bright coloured paintings and fabrics, others with sweet smells that seemed to draw you towards them like a moth to a flame. you had almost made it to the end of the converted barn when hanbin spoke up, "i'm gonna go to the bathroom before we go pick berries, wait here i'll be back." you smiled and nodded at the boy, leaning against the wall of the barn as you awaited his return.

a few moments later, hanbin returned with a wide smile on his face, his hands behind his back, as if he was hiding something. "you didn't go to the bathroom did you?" you questioned, a curious smile tugging at your face as you eyed up the boy, "maybe i didn't," he giggled, pulling out whatever was behind his back, "maybe i was getting my lovely partner the necklace they couldn't stop admiring." he held out the rose necklace, gesturing you to turn around so he could clasp it around your neck.

"hanbin," you whined, a blush rising to your cheeks, and not from the august heat, "you didn't have to."

he shook his head, spinning you back around to admire the way the pendant rested between your collarbones, "a rose for you, one that will never wilt." he placed a kiss to your cheek, "eternal, like my love for you."

matthew ;

"be ready in an hour, we are going on a date :D" you eyed the text on your phone, barely having time to process your boyfriend's antics before you had to be up and getting ready. one quick shower and rushed outfit choice later, you were getting your shoes on as the knock came at the door. opening it to see a smiling matthew standing before you. "so what exactly are we doing?" you questioned, not even noticing the basket in his hand until he raised it in response.

"i thought we could have a little picnic!" he smiled, grabbing your hand with his free hand, "no use in wasting the good weather." he had a point, it was a beautiful day out, and you shouldn't be wasting it inside, like you had planned.

soon enough you two had ended up in the grassy park near your house, setting up under the shade. "you even remembered a blanket!" you smiled wide, sitting down on the soft plaid fabric, watching as your boyfriend sat across from you. "just you wait till you see what else i brought."

he started pulling out what felt like dozens of small containers, all containing your favourite fruits and snacks, some even cut up into cute little shapes like stars and hearts. and last but not least, he had pulled out a mysterious container that seems to make noise when it moved, "what's that one?" you questioned, wondering what else he could've possibly brought. but you couldn't help the smile erupting on your face at the contents of the box.

"oh my god, are we gonna make bracelets?" you beamed, eyeing up the box of goodies; multicoloured beads, small charms, and little circular beads with letters of the alphabet. "you know me so well!"

he chuckled a little at your overjoyed reaction, placing a kiss on your lips, "glad you like it," his gaze turned back to the containers littering the blanket, "let's eat first though, i'm starving." you both laughed as you dug into the countless snacks in front of you.

as the hours passed, the two of you had made a dent in, and put away the snacks, and had made a handful of bracelets and keychains for each other; your personal favourite being the matching initial bracelets you now sported. and now you were enjoying the sunny weather, your head in matthew's lap while he played with your hair.

you didn't notice when the boy had picked up the small oxeye daisy, but as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gently placing the white flower with it, you couldn't help but giggle at the innocent act.

"there," he smiled, admiring the way it complimented your beauty in a way he couldn't describe, "perfect, just like you."

taerae ;

date nights with taerae had become routine for you two, especially in the summer months when it was warm enough to stay out late, just how you both preferred it. usually you both decided on the dates together, but tonight had been a surprise, your only hint being to dress comfy, and that you did.

so when the two of you pulled up to a drive-in movie theater, you were ecstatic. "i've always wanted to do this taerae, how'd you know?" you beamed as he drove up to an empty spot, backing in so the bed of the truck faced the sizable screen. "wild guess," he chuckled, hopping out of the car to come open your door. you were too busy admiring the setting sun behind the screen that you didn't even notice the blankets and bags of snacks that had seemingly magically appeared out of the backseat.

within minutes, taerae had set up the bed of the truck to look nearly as comfy as your bed. blankets and pillows strewn across , leaving two small areas for you both to sit. you joined him in the back, thanks to a helpful hand to actually get you up there, and got comfy just in time for the title screen to roll. a laugh escaped your lips as the familiar surfing montage played.

"teen beach movie? really?" you gaze him a joking glance, though not complaining about the choice. "don't laugh!" he smiled, lightly hitting you on the arm, "we both know you love this movie, and so do i," the last part was barely above a mumble, as if he didn't want to admit his childish taste. "it's perfect taerae, you're perfect."

the two of you had the night of your lives. between the laughable cheesy lines from the movie, and the catchy hits that you both knew all the words to, it was everything you could've hoped for.

as the two of you packed up the truck and got ready to leave, you couldn't seem to wipe the smile off of your face. "we have to do that again before summer is over," you insisted, grabbing his free hand as the two of you drove towards your home.

"we can come back whenever you want my love, i hear they're playing the sequel next week." the two of you burst into laughter, "sounds like a date."

ricky ;

"what are you wearing to the festival today?" you asked your boyfriend ricky over the phone as you stared at your full closet, unsure of what would be cherry blossom festival attire. his smile was almost audible through the phone, "you'll look pretty in anything y/n, don't stress so much."

you only sighed, looking towards the phone as if he could see your glare, "i'm not stressing, i just wanna coordinate with my stylish and cool boyfriend." you said matter-of-factly. it was no surprise to anyone that your boyfriend typically dressed well, especially for nice occasions, so why wouldn't you want to match him. he only chuckled, "well i'm wearing a white sweater and light green pants, does that help?" you hummed in approval as you grabbed a pair of white flowy pants and a sage green loose button down. it would have to do, you told yourself.

soon enough you heard ricky's car pulling up and you rushed to get a pair of shoes on, remembering to pick a comfortable pair in hopes of the walking you were about to do not killing your feet. "well don't you look stunning," ricky mumbled as he met you at the door, snaking his arms around your waist and hugging you briefly, breathing in the smell of your perfume. "i could say the same to you," you smiled before making your way to the car.

the festival was beautiful. that might even be an understatement. the pale pink flowers were in full bloom and the light breeze blowing some of the petals around only added to the picturesque feel of it all. you couldn't help but admire the blossoming trees as you walked a bit ahead of your boyfriend. he had no complaints though, it gave him an opportunity to take some candid pictures. he needed a new lockscreen anyways.

"ricky! ricky!" you called back to the boy a few feet behind you, "they have a lock bridge, we have to go!" he let out a laugh at your excitement as you grabbed his hand, nearly yanking him towards the small stand selling the colourful locks. you had decided on a bright red one, the colour of love, ricky had insisted as you both grabbed a marker to write your names on the lock. "what's taking so long," you whined at the boy, his face hardened in concentration with the lock and pen still in his hand. you didn't hear a response until a few moments later when he mumbled, announcing his finish,

your eyes scanned over the back of the lock as he handed it back to you, a rose, beautifully drawn along the back surface. the red lock had perfectly filled in the petals colours. "do you ever get tired of being so talented?" you asked, your gaze shifting from the lock to the boy in front of you. he jokingly hushed you as you both made your way to the bridge's railing.

"to forever and always," you smiled, the boy planting a kiss on your temple before repeating your words, "to forever and always."

gyuvin ;

"y/n do you have any more quarters?" your boyfriend begged, pleading with you as you stood in front of about a dozen ducks sat in the water, gazing up at gyuvin. "gyuvin we've been here feeding them for the last 15 minutes, lets go look at some other animals." you insisted, attempting to lure him away from the ducks that weren't even really apart of the zoo's attractions.

after some back and forth, and a couple fun facts about the zoo's panda exhibit that you had researched beforehand, you had convinced the boy to take your hand again as you made your way through the winding paths.

"y/n look!!" gyuvin yelled, drawing the attention of some people passing by, and even some of the creatures within the cages. the urgency made you whip your head around, seeing two ring-tailed lemurs up high inside one of the enclosures, seemingly glaring at the tall and excited boy next to you as they let out a few indescribable noises.

without second thought, gyuvin had started to mimic the noises, or rather attempt to, in an effort to communicate with the creatures, only leading you to shake your head. "i'm just gonna pretend i don't know you," you joked, still not leaving his side. it was cute watching him get so excited over all the little animals, you couldn't lie.

hours passed like this; one of you dragging the other to the wall of an enclosure, excitedly pointing at some animal, even stopping to take some pictures of, or with, the animals when you could. it was only when the sun began it's descent that the two of you decided to call it a day, having looped back around to the beginning of the zoo, marked by a large blue fountain.

"i have a couple coins left," you smiled, rifling through your bag to grab the loose change, "let's make a wish."

"i thought you said you didn't have any quarters left." gyuvin jokingly huffed, hands on his hips, "they're nickels, gyu," you laughed, handing him one of the silver coins, "and besides, those ducks were well fed after you were done with them i can promise you that."

the two of you let silence surround you for a moment as you both wished on the coins, tossing them into the fountain with a content hum. "so what did you wish for?" you asked the boy as you walked out of the park. "if i tell you, it won't come true!" he insisted, unwilling to give up the information.

little did you know, he hadn't wished for anything other than for things to stay as they are right now, to stay by your side. and little did he know, you had wished for the same thing.

gunwook ;

"have you seen the moon tonight?" the text read. leave it to gunwook to know exactly when to text you; your saviour from the sleepless night staring at the ceiling. you typed back a quick reply, "no why?" his response came before you could even shut your phone off. it simply read, "come outside." and so you did. throwing on the nearest pair of shoes, you walked outside, being met with a brisk summer night's breeze and a smiling boy, cheeks illuminated by the streetlight.

"what would you have done if i didn't come out?" you laughed at the boy waiting for you. "i knew you would." he stated simply, waiting for you to reach him before the two of you set off along the road you both grew up on. "full moon." he beamed, pointing at the clearing between the roofs, your line of sight following where he pointed, not quite seeing the moon, only the glow from behind one of the houses.

sensing your struggle, he grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him, your back nearly pressed to his chest as his hands lightly tilted your head in the right direction, finally seeing the beauty glowing before you. "it's huge!" you exclaimed, louder than you wanted in the silent street, save for the buzz of the streetlights and whirls of wind. he mumbled some agreement as the two of you kept walking to nowhere in particular as you quietly chatted about everything and nothing.

somehow the two of you had ended up at the park nearby, sitting yourselves on the swings as you continued your late night chats. the higher the moon rose in the sky, the less you cared what you were saying, and the more philosophical and somehow nonsensical the conversations got.

you were unsure how long you'd been outside, but at some point the wind had started nipping at your skin and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran down your spine. without words shared, gunwook shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "no no," you insisted, "keep it, you'll get a cold." he laughed, shaking his head, "i'll be okay i promise," grabbing your hand, he stood up, leaving you to follow suit, "we should head back anyways."

soon enough you ended up back under the streetlight outside your house, not quite ready to say goodbye, but promising to hang out again the next day. gunwook was already a few houses down when you noticed the thick jacket still keeping the wind at bay, "wook!" you called out quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, "what about your jacket?"

"keep it, you look better in it than i do anyways." he smiled, continuing his walking pace, "see you tomorrow y/n!"

yujin ;

"why is it so dark in here," yujin whined, bright green putter in hand as his eyes adjusted to the interior of the glow in the dark mini golf course. "can't glow in the dark without the dark yujinnie." you laughed, setting your ball up for the first shot, narrowly missing the chance of a hole in one as the ball skimmed past the glowing flag.

he groaned at your obvious response, groaning again as the undershot the ball by a good few feet. "how am i supposed to win like this!" his gaze eyeing your ball as you make it in this time, "this isn't fair!"

you couldn't help but laugh at the boy's newfound struggle. "not used to sucking at a sport are you?" a giggle pushed past your lips, "i'm starting to feel real good about our ice cream bet." you said as you watched him miss the mark once more, the ball bouncing off the side of the only obstacle in this stretch of the course. he only grumbled as he finally made the shot, letting out a sigh of relief as he picked up the glowing ball, heading over to the next hole.

the longer you played the better yujin was getting, and the more competitive you both got as you neared the end of the mini golf course. "i'll take cotton candy," he said smugly, having tied up the game by the last hole, "if you win," you clarified, staring him down with a smile as you watched him line up the shot. "i think you mean when i win y/n" he chuckled, taking the shot.

and missing.

the boy dramatically dropped to his knees, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter, ""so what was that again? "don't laugh yet," he insisted, still on the floor on the course, "you have to get it right now or the next shot's mine." "easy peasy." you mumbled, taking your shot and watching it go right into the hole marked with the glowing flag.

you could only faintly make out his sounds of defeat as you jumped up in excitement, "cotton candy sounds great right now doesn't it?" you teased, smiling at the boy as you walked over, offering out your hand.

"yeah yeah," he let out a small laugh, taking you hand as he got up off the ground, "let's go get ice cream."

[yanderes-galore]

Axel My bloody valentine (Original) Romantic hcs :3

Idk why my drafts originally said Prompts for this... I got confused, Ig. Anyways, here's Axel. A bit out of season but... who cares, right? I did the Black Christmas one out of season too.

Yandere! Axel Palmer Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Murder, Blood, Graphic descriptions, Possessive behavior, Violence, Death, Stalking, Removal of human hearts, Forced relationship.

Axel is unhinged, yet it's also similar to a Scream situation based on what I've seen.

Axel is shown to be able to hide his unhinged behavior and act "normal".

There's some times he's violent however... like with T.J and Sarah.

Then of course there's the whole reveal of Axel being the murderer near the end of the film.

Due to watching his father be killed by Harry Warden, he soon deems himself the miner's successor.

It's in that moment at the end of the movie that we see him so unhinged.

Keeping this in mind, I can see Axel fooling his obsession easily as he picks people off.

Considering this is technically a "Valentine's Day" film and the last line Axel says in the movie... He'd see his obsession as his valentine.

He wants you as his partner... and he won't let anyone else change his mind.

Axel is pretty good at playing the double role, pretending to be a victim to win over his obsession's sympathy.

Meanwhile, he's a murderer who wants to kill anyone who gets too close to you.

Axel isn't afraid to get messy and obviously tends to use deception.

His whole thing is putting human hearts in chocolate boxes.

I'm not surprised he'd get himself bloody and gruesome when it comes to rivals.

He tends to use his pickaxe, but he's shown to use other methods.

Axel definitely tries to present himself as a caring boyfriend to you.

He's around you often, usually quite clingy as he nuzzles into your hair.

Axel wants to play his role well, you don't need to suspect a thing.

He'd be one to give you heart boxes of chocolates with a smile, gently kissing your skin as he continues to pretend.

Meanwhile he's also the one sending you human hearts with their boxes covered in blood, right after one of your close friends goes missing.

While Axel tends to play roles and pretend... the one thing that isn't fake is his obsession towards you.

He stalks you around when alone.

He often whispers your name with delusional glee as he tears the heart out of someone.

Axel sees himself as your only love.

He should be your only love.

You're the only one for him, but more importantly, he's the only one for you.

Axel is possessive, as shown with how he is against T.J.

He tends to get into fights and be violent if someone else takes interest in you.

In your case, they may quickly be found dead due to Axel feeling threatened.

Axel will do anything to preserve the relationship between you.

That mostly includes getting rid of rivals and spoiling you the best he can.

When you encounter "Harry Warden", you won't know it's him for a long time.

Although it's weird the miner spares you in particular.

Being offered human hearts only works in Axel's favor.

That rival is gone and he drives you even closer to him.

The notes with the hearts are often twisted declarations of love and murder towards you.

Meanwhile Axel's notes are soft and affectionate when he gives you chocolate.

In terms of if he'd kidnap you?

I can think of two answers.

The first one is... yes.

I can see Axel capturing you as Harry Warden in order to keep you somewhere more isolated.

Then he'll never have to share you, he'll never have to be jealous, and you'll be his.

You'd be tied up and in an abandoned building or maybe even deep in the mines temporarily, all while Axel sits in front of you with a smile.

You plead with him to let you go, but he merely shakes his head.

Why would he let his beloved valentine go?

You two are meant to be.

There's no way he'd let you go.

While you're tied up, bound, and crying... Axel merely cups your face and coos.

He'd kiss your face and lips, even if he was covered in dirt and blood.

You'd be all his... all his to hold... no one to share with.

No one will ever find you again.

Not without dying, that is.

The other option is no, he'd kill you instead.

Both options are driven by the same emotion, jealousy.

However, the second one is the most extreme.

He'd choose such an option if he felt he couldn't keep you to himself.

If you broke up with him, rejected him, or went to someone else for help?

Axel would feel the only way to keep you as his would be to take your heart.

Axel feels, no, knows he's the only one who deserves your heart.

Which means...

He'll have it even if he has to tear it out of your chest.

Axel will try to make your death quick, making sure you're dead before rummaging around your chest cavity.

Although... He'll eventually tear your heart out of your chest with a wet snap.

Does he care if you're dead?

Not entirely.

In his eyes, you're still with him this way.

He can't lose you if he has your heart.

Imagine if Axel tried to find a way to preserve your heart, keeping it like some sort of trinket.

He'd whisper to your heart as though it's you, keeping you close with deranged chuckles.

One way or another, you'll be his.

You're his bloody valentine... forever and always.

[loviingpedri]

feliz navidad - jude bellingham

prompt: jude’s first christmas tree in madrid

warnings: grammar issues, cheesy lines

credits to owners for all images

“jude! look at all these ornaments i got.”

“they’re really pretty. remind me, what is the theme for the tree again?” he picked up the green ornament with the unique carvings of it.

“traditional christmas of course. classic colors like green and red. it’s gonna look beautiful.”

“beautiful like you?” he winked at you while you grinned from his flirty comment.

“anyways! are you ready to start decorating?” he nodded his head as he opened the box of lights. he began to put the lights on as you tried to find hooks for the ornaments.

“do you think we should do fake presents again. i mean, it looked pretty last year.”

“do whatever it takes to make it your dream christmas tree. the least i can do is help you. take this as my appreciation for your sacrifices in moving here with me.” the lights were blinking at you as he finished his sentence.

“you always say that. can’t leave the love of my life in a foreign place alone.”

“aren’t i special then?”

“don’t let your ego get to you jude.” finding the hooks for the ornaments, it was finally time for your favorite tradition. decorating with jude.

grabbing a sparkly green ornament, it was already matching with the lights. soon, dozens of red and green were everywhere.

“jude! did you put these green ornaments together?” he was just happy to help. you appreciated everything he did, but sometimes it didn’t quite match your ideas.

“yeah? what about it?” he grabbed another red ornament as the tree started to become overwhelming.

“they aren’t suppose to be next to each other. it’s a contrasting kind of idea, you know?” he just nodded, but he didn’t understand the point of it. another rule added to the list, don’t put the same kind of ornament together.

the tree came together perfectly. especially with the ribbons and lights. the only challenging part next was the star. you attempted to put it on there yourself, but it was no use.

“having trouble?” as you finally stopped stretching your arm, you couldn’t deny it.

“yeah i am. do you have a ladder or anything?” now, the jude bellingham started laughing in your face. usually, you would be offended but it was definitely more confusion. “what are you laughing at?” giving him a sassy pose, his smile became vivid.

“the only thing i should be smiling at. why get a ladder when you have me?” jude really thinks he’s the smartest man out here.

“what?”

“oh come on. i’m strong enough to hold you.”

“jude, what are you on about?”

“get on my shoulders of course. you’ll be tall enough to put the star on.”

pure shock was seen in your face. “are you serious? i mean you could seriously get hurt.”

“don’t you trust me?” he crept down slowly and told you to just get on. after awkward movement, you felt your stomach drop as he stood up. everything was much clearer in this view.

“this is absolutely crazy.”

“don’t fall, please.” as you got closer to the tree, the star was shining bright on your face. jude walked to the couch to playfully yet gently throw you off. a lot of giggles and cuddles were shared as you admired your new masterpiece.

“it’s so bright.”

“yeah, just like you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable under the blanket right next to him.

——————————————

author’s note: happy holidays to those who celebrate! it’s crazy how this has been in my draft since november and it finally came together. wishing you all happiness!