#but I wanted fluff ok

[ylangelegy]

mingyu is absentmindedly scrolling through instagram reels when he finds a video of a content creator in his kitchen. his caption is simple enough: meals i made for my girlfriend this week.

mingyu watches, slightly bored, as the influencer shows off everything from at-home matcha lattes to vegetable omelettes. he's just about to scroll away when the influencer shows off the last meal: a bento box.

mingyu rewatches that part once. thrice, even. he's had dosirak countless of times before, but this one is different. it's— cute.

mingyu looks up a hashtag of #bentoboxlunch and is absolutely floored. there's rice shaped like sanrio characters, and boiled eggs with nori eyes, and hotdogs cut up to look like octopi!

mingyu, who has always taken pride in cooking for you, in making your favorites of bibim-guksu and jajangmyeon, finds an entirely new purpose.

mingyu blows an inordinate amount of money on supplies. character picks, rice shapers, vegetable cutters. in between schedules, he watches how-to videos. when you're asleep at night or he wakes up earlier than you in the morning, he quietly pads around the kitchen to practice.

mingyu spends a good three or so months stealing away this new hobby, hiding it from you, until he decides his skills are up to par. with the intensity of which he's going about this, you'd think he's competing on master chef.

mingyu who, one morning, nonchalantly informs you, "i packed you lunch. let me know how you like it, okay?" you try to tell him that it isn't necessary, that you're a grown adult, thank you very much, but he pouts and whines until you take the lunch box anyway.

mingyu, whose leg bounces up and down all the hours leading up to noon.

mingyu, who has gotten a lot of praise across his life for many things. his skills as an idol. his physical appearance. but this? the text he gets of you gushing over the puppy-shaped mashed potatoes, over the boiled egg that's been cut to look like cherry blossoms? this is definitely a top five compliment.

mingyu enjoys this way too much. he learns more and more over time. heart-shaped tamagoyaki, doraemon constructed out of seaweed, rice that looks like snoopy. you tell him he's going overboard, doing too much, but how can anything be 'too much' when it's you?

mingyu doesn't even understand why he loves doing all this until, one day, you present to him sandwiches that have been cut in to stars and melon slices that are molded like diamonds. the sandwich is a bit dry, and the melon is out of season, but mingyu doesn't care. it's the best damn meal he's ever eaten.

mingyu, who has to hold himself back from proposing on the spot when you tease him, i love you, i want us both to eat well.

mingyu, who thinks to himself that he would cook for you for the rest of his life, if you'd let him.

[brningcigs]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

no1-pro hero!katsuki x babysitter!reader !!

╰┈➤ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“is the brat asleep?”

you were knocked out of your cleaning trance upon hearing that familiar gruff voice, glancing over your shoulder and smiling before you looked back down to finish washing the dish in your hand. “he sure is.. he knocked out about twenty minutes ago.”

katsuki approached the sink, leaning against the counter as he watched you clean the dirty dishes in the sink. “how’s he been with you? i know he can be a handful.” you simply smiled and shook your head. “he’s an angel. s’got a temper like his daddy, but i know how to handle him.” you replied, your smile only growing. ever since you started working for bakugou you and his son became inseparable. he was the sweetest kid - sure his tantrums were a nightmare but he was awesome.

katsuki chuckled and nodded his head. “yeah sorry bout that.. he seems to take after me with a lot of those kinds of things. how are you with.. yknow, everything? working for me i mean. any complaints?” as you pondered his question you turned away from the now empty sink and grabbed a clean rag, drying your hands off on them before looking back up at katsukis taller frame. “i like it.. i really do. honestly i would do it for free. you’re son is wonderful and you’re..” you stop yourself before you accidentally say something unprofessional, smiling sheepishly as your ears heat up a few degrees. “you’re wonderful as well..”

the corner of katsukis mouth pulls into a grin noticing the faint hint of color on your cheeks and he leans in a little closer. “you’re pretty wonderful yourself.” he spoke in a foreignly tender voice and you can’t help but lower your head to hide the growing blush on your face and tuck your hair behind your ear. “thank you..” you say as you glance back up at him, your eyes switching between his red ones.

a brief moment of comfortable silence falls between you two before katsuki finally breaks it, his hand reaching out to rest on the counter top behind you. “do you wanna have dinner with me sometime?”

you almost choke on nothing, surprised by his sudden proposal and you find your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much. “i- yeah i would.. love that a lot.” you reply with a small giggle and a few chuckles pull from katsuki as well. “good.” he replies, nodding his head in triumph.

a moment of silence fell between you two but it wasn’t uncomfortable. when you first started working for katsuki, he was more stand-off-ish, not really making conversation or feeding into your attempts at small talk. but as the weeks of working for him turned into months he became more accustomed with you, and you were just so good with his son.

katsuki could still recall the moment he realized he was interested in you beyond working as his babysitter for his son - or his ‘brat’ as he referred to him as. he had come home from work late, pushing down enough of his ego to apologize for getting held up when he spotted you in his sons nursery, holding the small child in your arms protectively in your sleep. his features softened as he stared, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and his heart swelled.

ever since that moment, he knew he wanted to get closer to you. he became more talkative, showing his appreciation more. he even started paying you more, which took him having to tell you to shut the hell up when you politely declined, pointing out that he had more money than he knew what to do with.

now that he’d finally made a move, you were beyond overjoyed. you weren’t sure what to expect of this date, but you couldn’t wait to finally get to know him on a deeper level.

[teddybeartoji]

thinking abt how toji would wipe your tears whenever you're sad.. he'd definitely let you cry into his chest too but i feel like a part of him would like to keep his eyes on you. he wants to protect, he wants to take care of you. he'll brush his calloused thumbs over your cheeks, over and over again, until there's no need for it anymore. he'll watch you sniffle with worried look on his face but the second your eyes meet his, he pushes his own feelings aside. this isn't about him, it's about you. so he gives you a little hum and the faintest little smile while reaching for your nose. you try to turn away, to hide, but he's not letting you go anywhere. he brushes your snotty nose with his bare hands and laughs quietly when you squirm in his hold, your whiny complaints sounding like music to his ears. you hit his chest and a raspy chuckle tumbles from your lips and he knows it's going to be okay. that you're going to be okay. toji would and will do anything to make you smile again and if that means getting his hands dirty, then so be it. he couldn't care any less. snotty clothes are nothing while you are everything.

[littlebirdy-bat]

thinking about…

The world around you had faded out ages ago. Crosslegged on the couch, eyes glued between the pages of the book that occupied your lap, buried under a mountain of blankets.

With everything tuned out, you failed to hear a deep voice call your name from the room over. The soft padding of footsteps soon joined the calling as the sounds slowly got closer.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he lent on the door frame, eyes scanning over the room and landing on you. A soft look graced his features, one he only wore around you.

The simple domestic scene before him had his heart soaring and melting all at once.

After a minute of watching you, he pushes himself off the doorway and further into the room, his body craving to be near you. Closer to you in any way.

Towering over your curled up frame, he lets out a soft whisper of your name. Daring not to shatter the soft moment you were indulged in.

And still you don’t respond.

Hands itching with need, he careful grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly tilting your head up, large doe eyes peering through thick lashes meeting his gaze. He now has the attention he so desperately desired.

And, god, did he know what he wanted to do with it

[lyss-sketchbox]

Something something helping wrio preen because neuv gets his feathers and now theyre gone

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

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

word count; 6.6k

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

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

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

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

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

”does it hurt?”

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

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he wins. he always wins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all of it for one person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sure you do.”

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

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but…

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru sits up a little straighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

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

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

”settle down, little knight.”

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

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

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

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no matter where he goes, you follow.

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

“come with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blink.

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

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

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

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

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

his knight. his favourite knight.

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

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

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

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

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he’s warm.)

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

“i missed this.”

…

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

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

“… me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence. and then, a chuckle.

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

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

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don't get it, though.”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

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

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

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

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

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

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

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

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

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

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

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

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

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

“i think i was born to meet you.”

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

[gauloiseblue]

Tender.

(Simon Riley × Reader)

He closes the door behind, as a pair of hands reach out to touch his shoulders, before they softly tug on the top of his attire. A sigh leaves his lips when you peel the heavy layer off him, freeing him from the stuffy suit.

You smile at him as he loosens his tie, and you hold out your hand to take it.

He watches you as you fold his suit, and set it down on the stool. Leaving it there to be laundered in the morning.

It's a sight he never thought he'd see, and the one he never got used to.

He wonders if Price ever thought the same.

"Never thought you'd settle down, Captain."

He saw his friend grinned, and his eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Never thought you'd bring someone either, Simon." He chuckled before he patted his back, "A beautiful one, too."

He quietly smiled, while his eyes searched for his lover unconsciously.

Lover.

What an easy word to say, for a tangled mess it left behind.

"Oh…" He heard his friend sighed, as he saw the bride bow down to let a tiny, curious hand touch the mantilla. "Look at her. What I won't do to see her smile."

He let out a snort when he saw his friend softened at the sight of her. Captivated. And tender-struck.

He'd call him mad, if he wasn't affected by it.

Just a little shift of his gaze, he found himself staring at a serene face—that is yours. His heart thrummed when you smiled at the little boy, who shyly hid from the bride behind you and his mother.

A sight that'd plague him for a lifetime.

He blinked, as her voice called him to the present.

"You've been quiet for a while now." She mused, "What's on your mind?"

He looks at her, and notes the way you press your lips together, waiting. "Nothing." Is all he said.

You didn't press it further, and he didn't know if it's alright to keep it that way. You knew that it was a lie, you both knew that, but you didn't show it. You understood him, and he yet again took advantage of it.

You give him a small smile, before you turn to the mirror.

That's when his silence falters.

He knew you didn't turn your back on him, and that you only looked away to unclasp your necklace. But his body tenses up, and compels itself to move towards her.

You're at a halt when his hands pull you into him all of the sudden, while his face is buried in the curve of your nape. "I love you." You heard him whisper, and for a moment, you almost thought he bit his tongue from stating further.

"I know." You murmured against his hair, as you stroked his cheek tenderly.

"I didn't deserve it." He spoke in a low tone—a tone that's reserved for confession.

"It's not your place to judge." You replied to him.

"I didn't love you the way you needed."

"You did. A million times in fact."

"I took your love for granted." His voice trembled when he spoke, "I took advantage of your kindness, and I made you think that you love me, even when—"

"Simon."

He didn't resist it when you took his hands into yours, as you stared into his eyes.

"I didn't love you against my will, I chose this myself." You told him, "You never forced me into this. If anything, I should be blamed for it, because I want you."

You give his hand a squeeze as an assurance.

"You're enough for me, Simon."

His eyes widen, before they soften up by your touch. He reaches up to hold your hand, and presses them against his face.

"You're too good for me." He said as he kissed you palm.

"Learn to live with it." You chuckled, "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He recites the same promise, as he presses his lips against your finger. A kiss, that'll someday be replaced when he's on his knee.

[pprodsuga]

tonight’s short scenario before i go to bed is brought to you by popular!gojo in a non curse, college au, who has women falling for him left and right. he walks through campus and notices the stares people give him and can hear the whispers about him when he sits in his assigned seat or buys coffee for himself when he’s alone.

satoru always says he doesn’t need to be tied down at the ripe age of 22 but will drop everything if it’s you who’s calling him.

he’ll drop his study group when you text him to come over because you’re bored. satoru will politely excuse himself from said women vying for his attention when he sees you walking to your next class and insists on making the trek with you.

satoru doesn’t know what this feeling is (he ignores nanami who tells him this feeling means he has a crush, but satoru doesn’t get crushes). all he knows is that his heart spikes when you text him and he wishes your contact is the one lighting up his phone.

but all he knows is that he loves it when you fall asleep on his shoulder and steal his hoodies when you come over to study. satoru loves it when you accept the snacks he gives you or when you come over without so much as a warning. why do you look so good in his clothes?

you’re his best friend. that’s it.

(no, says nanami as he pinches the bridge of his nose. she’s your best friend who you want to kiss.)

here’s my masterlist and any reblogs/feedback would be much appreciated - happy reading! xx

[tommys-wings]

When they’re having pizza nights at Eddie’s, Buck and Tommy usually order the two with the most protein and then share them half and half, fist bumping once they’ve done the exchange, like this is the height of teamwork.

Eddie just calls them dorks and, one time, Tommy goes ‘you’re just jealous of our swag’ to which Christopher just pretends to leave like ‘I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool’ and Tommy lets out his offended ‘eeeh!’ (The same one he had when Buck teased him about the mouth static).

This prompts a contest between Buck, Tommy, and Eddie, to see who can misuse gen z/alpha slang the most egregiously, ending up in what can only be described as a Chris torture chamber.

Anyway, they’re never starved for banter.

[macfrog]

wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k 

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.  

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

 So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

[cryptidclownz]

i have scars too!

designs i made for them under the cut!!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

saw @chez-cinnamon's absolutely BANGER butterfly!Howdy design and couldn't resist! two fluffy flutterbyes <3 solidarity

[zu-is-here]

More dark kcrm (just two of them heh) for the birthday fruit @orange-dreamzer <3

[teddybeartoji]

thinking a lot of thoughts about bf!gojo :(

he will be the sweetest bf ever.. it's a bit concerning with how attached he is to you, bordering on codependency but he just cant help it he loves you too much :(( everytime youre both together on something like lunch with friends or hanging out the sight of you two is enough to give anyone who spares a glance cavities.. his eyes are so in love and hes always got that dopey smile on his face, his touch is always gentle and caring despite him being a teasing asshole sometimes 😭

and behind closed doors ... dear god this man is INSATIABLE.. always has to have a hand around you and touching you !!!! and his sex drive.. erm.. yeah.. idk i see him as the type to want to do it everyday because he just loves you too much and he doesnt know what to do with himself and all this love he has !!!! theres something sweet about him just always wanting you and wanting to make you feel good eufnhffhehrjfnf

the stark difference between you two being such a sweet couple in public but also .. having seen each other INSIDE OUT quite literally is so hot and cute.. :( that level of intimacy .. :((( BF!GOJO WE NEED YOU !!!!!! ok this has gotten too long im sorry HAVE A GOOD DAY THANK YOU

HIIII MY SWEETHEART I'M SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!! BUT I'M HERE I'M HERE I'M HERE!!!!! I'M HERE AND I'M FEELING TERRIBLY SOFT FOR HIM AND I NEED TO HAVE HIM IN MY ARMS RIGHT THIS INSTANT!!!!!!! i agree with everything you've said nonnie!!!! and i am covering you in kisses as thanks!!!! mwah mwah mwah!!!! wait also!!!!!!!!!!!! more exclamation marks!!!!!! please please please don't apologize for rambling!!!!!!!!!! i will always hear you out!!!!! i want more actually!!!!!!!!!!!! please!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok everybody get comfortable bc i have some of bf!gojo headcanons for you!!!!

his pupils are literal hearts whenever he's with and whenever he's Thinking about you!!!! (i'm saying that his pupils are always like that)(he is simply unable to get you off his head)(he's not even trying)(he's so fucking in love with you).

he's constantly resting his head on your head or on your shoulder. this just came to me. he wraps his hands around your middle and he always gives you a squeeze!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a kiss on your neck. and he probably (read: definitely) smells you. and then hums into your skin. omfg i need to hug him so badly. i am losing my mind here nonnie...

okay and i just talked abt him taking naps with you too, right? and i just can't stop thinking about him always taking pics of you whenever you fall asleep on top of him:(((((((((((((( drooling or not, he's taking the pic!!!!!! AND i truly believe that he has begged (literally begged down on his hands and knees) shoko and suguru, so that they'll take pics of the two of you together aswell!!! satoru has a folder with like a THOUSAND pics of you both just napping together:((( he goes through it whenever he's really missing you:(((((((

ok and he loves taking showers and baths with you. loves, loves, loves. he just wants to sit under or in the water with you, just feeling your skin against him. feeling your heartbeat against him. he likes the intimacy of it all. it's so tender and so soft and so loving and he just wants to do everything with you. he's gonna take a fucking piss with you if you'd only let him.

he loves your smile sm. this is such a basic little concept but he does. nothing else in this sick world brings him as much joy as your smile and laughter. and oh my fucking god his heart feels like it's going to explode whenever he makes you laugh (which is all the time let's be honest he's very fucking funny and he is not afraid of making himself look like a fool just for you<3). he loves it when you laugh at cat videos, he loves it when you laugh at whatever the fuck is playing on the tv and he loves it when you laugh at a joke one of his friends make!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he goes a little insane whenever he sees you having fun with his friends:((((((((((((((((((((( it just means the world to him:(((( and you and the younger ones too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omfg when he sees you coddling gumi and yuuji and nobara:((((((((((((((((( stop, he literally feels like he's going to cry every time i am also crying i can't do this anymore

btw he always swings your hands whenever his fingers are interwiened with yours!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ahhhh!!!!!!! and he has that big dopey smile on his lips again and his dimples are showing and he's laughing so loudly that everybody is turning to look at you both on the street but you couldn't care any less!!!!!!! how could you when your boyfriend is making your heart grow twice the size it was before and you just feel so giddy and so full of love and you want to kiss him stupid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he loves spending his morning with you. i actually think of him as more of a morning person actually idk how popular that concept is but yeah. don't get me wrong - he refuses to let you up from the bed for at least an hour after you wake up but he does have a lot of energy. he wants to kiss and he wants to hug and he wants to tickle and he wants you to play with his hair and he wants and he wants and he wants and you will give and give and give!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's a little lovesick puppy and he needs your attention like he needs air!!!!!

and then he wants you to brush his teeth for him. yes. you read that right. he sits you down onto the bathroom counter and bares his teeth at you like the puppy that he is and HE'S SO FUCKING CUTEEEEEE FUCKKKK CUTENESS AGGRESSION IS SO REAL I NEED TO JUST SQUEEZE HIM A LITTLE AAAAAAAAAAA I NEED TO PINCH HIS CHEEEKS!!!!!!!!!!!! he still looks sleepy and his smile is so fucking big and his hands are resting on your hips, his thumbs are drawing hearts into your skin. and he most definitely kisses you before he actually rinses his mouth.............. and then laughs when the toothpaste gets all over you. it's a mess and he's laughing and you're in love.

he loves it when you baby him. he does ask for it as a joke but when you genuinely do it he gets a little flustered. the tips of his ears always turn into a shade of dark pink and he's looking at you like puss in boots. you know what i'm talking abt. big eyes, fluttering eyelashes - he loves you so fucking much. he loves it when you tuck him in bed, he loves it when you kiss his nose, he loves it when you pinch his cheeks i am biased i just said i want to do that don't look at me, he loves it when you tickle him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAIT STOP HE LOVES IT WHEN YOU TICKLE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! HE WANTS YOU TO STRADDLE HIM AND TICKLE THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF HIM HE WANTS TO LAUGH WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i died

he also loves it when you cling to him. in any way. hands around his neck, around his body, around his arms - it does not matter. he wants you to quite literally climb him like a tree. he loves it when you snuggle into him and when you refuse to let him go. and when you hold his hand and try to stop him from leaving. he's not going to go. it doesn't take a lot for him to give into you. he's folding immediately. he doesn't want to go either. he loves it when you're needy. he loves it when you whine. he loves it when you tease him. he might pop a boner. at everything you do. he just loves you sooooooooooo muchh!!

18+ HE IS INSATIABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE IS THEE LOVERBOY!!!!!! i think he does like to get a taste of you every single day, no matter whether it's actually having sex or it's eating you out or it's just making out or it's entertaining you with his beautiful slender fingers or it's dry humping etcetcetc. he wants to touch you, he wants to feel you - it's a must!!

i already said it but he loves intimacy!!!! like yeah ofc he likes his freaky sex as much as the next guy (he most definitely likes it more than the next guy) but he loooooves when he can just be in the moment with you!! he's always savouring you - holding your hand when his burying his dick deep inside you, he's snaking his arm around your body as he grinds into you from behind. he's licking and nipping at your skin because he just can't get enough of you. he's sucking on your tongue, he's pressing your hips down against his, he's kissing every fucking inch of your body. i truly think he wants to eat you and he wants to devour you and he wants to merge the two of you together forever<33

okay i have officially melted away... i am a puddle of love Goo... ily nonnie

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[sir-walton-goggins]

Make Me Feel Human

A short fic about making Arthur Morgan feel loved because, oh boy does he need it. Gn reader, no use of y/n. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

------

The best thing about going on a food run with Arthur was that at least you could finally be alone together. You two always came back with plenty of meat and two big, dumb smiles on your faces.

Taking a break from hunting, you guys retired in the tent you had prepared to fool around a bit.

Arthur took your hand and led you inside, sitting you on his lap before kissing you, over and over and over. Small kisses peppered all over your features, then slow, passionate kisses turned into a full on making out session. He loved kissing you so much he would've stayed there all night doing just that. The small breaths you took in between kisses, the happy sighs that exited your nostrils, the small moans of enjoyment you made were music to his ears. He just missed you constantly and wished he got to do that more often. So he had to make it count when a chance like this presented itself.

You gently cupped his jaw as you introduced the tip of your tongue into his mouth, expecting him to suck it as he usually did, but this time he surprised you: he slid part of his tongue inside, making you jolt with surprise. You gladly followed his lead, enjoying this new development in how comfortable and bold he was becoming with you. At the beginning, he was almost afraid to touch you. Now, Arthur kissed you like he was hungry, his low pitched moans making your stomach burn with desire. You wished he was more vocal in these situations because you loved his voice, especially when he spoke softly. He only did that with you, so not nearly enough. You ran a hand through his long hair, and he hummed in approval. He loved it when you touched his hair: when he needed to unwind at night, he would gingerly ask to lay on your lap so you could play with his golden locks.

He trailed off your lips for a moment, leaving kisses on your chin and jaw before stopping to admire you. You smiled and tucked a shorter strand of hair behind his ear.

“What?” he chuckled, sensing you had something to say. He knew you well.

“You’re just so handsome.” You trailed your fingers along his shaved cheek. Arthur knew you liked him best when he was smooth shaven and his coarse facial hair wasn’t mercilessly poking at your sensitive skin, so he happily obliged if it meant you would kiss him more.

“Nah” he scoffed, “the only beautiful person in here is you.” And he was back on your lips, but you pushed him back playfully. The cowboy looked at you in confusion, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Are you saying I have bad taste, Morgan?” you provoked him, attempting to look outraged but unable to wipe that sarcastic smirk off your face.

Arthur struggled to answer, visibly torn between stating his alleged ugliness once more and insulting your taste.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

You leaned in again, hovering your lips on his and watching his eyes flutter shut. How beautiful he looked when you were about to kiss him, his features finally relaxed and his eyebrows slightly tilted upwards. He caught you off-guard when he suddenly closed the space between your mouths, sucking fervently on your bottom lip and sinking into you with his whole body. You could feel his heart racing against your chest now, pumped from all the love he felt for you.

“What is it you like ‘bout me anyways?” he murmured softly against your lips. His cheeks were as red as freshly picked cherries and you couldn’t tell if he was blushing of if he was just hot.

“I… like… your eyes,” you laid your lips on his eyelids in between words and Arthur sighed blissfully.

“Your nose,” you pecked the tip of his nose and he smirked, amused by your little game.

“Your chin,” you focused on the hollow just underneath his bottom lip, making him release a shaky breath.

“Your scars,”, the two pink marks on his chin were given your attention too, along with the few small cuts around his lips, under his eye and across the bridge of his nose.

“Your wrinkles.” He kept his eyes closed as you kissed every place where his tanned skin folded: the sides of his nose, his forehead and his temples.

“Everything about you is beautiful to me. You don’t even have to try, Arthur.”

Arthur thought he was going to cry. Nobody had ever made him feel like you did, so loved, so cared for and… well, not as ugly as he saw himself. Your eyes, your voice… there was no way you didn’t mean what you said, and he had a talent for recognizing bullshit. He felt his eyes glazing over and blinked quickly to fight back some tears. He didn’t know how to react to praise, as he was usually the one doing it.

Sensing his internal turmoil, you hugged him tight. He hid his face in the crook of your neck and let a lonely tear roll down his cheek.

“Thank you” he whispered against your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For making me feel human.”