#i really need to write smh

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: by the fireplace, replica / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

notes: pink pepper (top), chestnut accord (heart), vanilla (base)

description: embers of burning firewood, billowing smoke and flushing warmth

disclaimer(s): N/A

wc: 1.06k

warning(s): big fat super domestic makeout!!!!! slightly touchy so ig suggestive?? not sure but i think ushiwaka might be a little ooc at times oops... IDC this took THREE FUCKING REDOS im TIRED

Wakatoshi has always wanted a fireplace. The prospect of burning firewood crackling in a dimly lit room seeming like some infinitely gentle blanket is what he confesses to you in bed with his back pressed up against your chest, your hands squeezing and massaging at the knots in his shoulders.

"It would be nice, I like the smell of firewood." His head tilts back to meet your gaze, and you giggle, fingers pressing meitculously into the flesh of his back. The mattress dips when you squeeze a spot, just in the curve that connects his neck and his shoulders, as he finally loosens up with a content sigh, the tension in his body released in an instant.

"Fixed it?"

"Fixed it."

Wakatoshi smiles, leaning back into you until his entire body is sprawled on top of yours. He takes your hand, wrapped around his torso, and holds it tight against the little area of his chest that his heart occupies. His hair is a mess of olive green on your chest, disheveled as you run your other hand through it, pressing your fingers into his scalp and rubbing strands against each other between the pads of your fingertips. His heart beats steadily beneath your palm, and he sighs in satisfaction.

"What would you ever do without me?"

He breathes out a chuckle at your question, bringing your hand from his chest to his lips. His thumb plays with your knuckles, and your hand in his hair crawls down to his jaw, fingers tracing nothings into his cheek instead. You feel Wakatoshi's weight shift, rolling around to press his chest flush with your torso, his head resting in the dip of your ribcage. For somebody who wants a fireplace for the smell of firewood, he sure encapsulates it already, toasty spices and woody chestnuts filling your senses when he pulls himself up for a kiss.

Wakatoshi's father once told him what his name meant, to be young and to be sharp. Wakatoshi trains and plays with a wildfire in his eyes, smashes hits through opposing teams with blazing flames coursing through his body. Scalding passion, burning diligence, so hot that surrounding air burns away into suffocating smoke.

Yet his lips meet yours like the crackling of wood in a fireplace, nibbling at you softly like occasional sparks that fly out when things run a little too hot. The burning sting of his hands hitting leather volleyballs is nothing but a dull glow of warmth that emanates from his palms, spreading to your face from his fingers that push strands of hair from your forehead. His droning exhale sends tremors through your body, and when he parts his lips against yours, you can feel his fingers rolling and rubbing at the hem of his shirt that drapes over your frame.

Greedy, wanting more, like the radiating heat of fire that spreads across a cold room.

Your waist takes the shape of his palm when his hand slithers its way beneath your shirt, drawing circles into your skin. His knee presses into the mattress between your legs, holding himself up just enough to give your chest room to heave up and down in rhythmic rises and falls. His hand squeezes the flesh of your waist, the cold promise ring on his finger sending a jolt up your body. It pulls a sharp inhale from you, and rips a stutter from Wakatoshi's throat. The kind of stutter that begs for your lips to stay on his, and for your heart to push even harder against his own, until he's sure that they will never separate. A feverishly lovesick stutter, so much so that the heat of Wakatoshi's fire is spilling everywhere, with nothing to contain it.

When your hand joins his beneath your shirt, two rings come together with a metallic clink as your fingers meet Wakatoshi's, holding them tight between your knuckles. They follow his hand to the grooves of your ribcage, his thumb pushing gently into the underside of your chest. When he swallows the sigh of his name that escapes your lungs, Wakatoshi thinks that this must have been what he was made for. His fingers were made to swipe lines and etch shapes into your skin, his legs made to trap you in his embrace, his mouth made to press against yours for as long as you please.

He almost whines when your head pushes upwards, before detaching from him to breathe. Your other hand pulls his head towards you, his pulse pumping into your palm as you press your lips into his jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He hums at the sensation, lowering his body onto yours as he nuzzles his face into the pillow beside your head. Your fingers run through his hair, relishing in the softness of the strands that slip between your knuckles. His chest is flush against yours, head turning to press his nose against the side of your neck, where his mumbles send tingles down your spine as your hand shifts to hold his head close to you.

"Can't live without you. I love you."

In the darkness of your room, all that remain are Wakatoshi's soft exhales into your pulse as he drifts to sleep, one arm inside your shirt and the other laid above your head. You absentmindedly push a kiss into his head, and he shifts in his slumber, his lips curling into a serene smile. Beneath his eyelids, fleeting images of you pass by. The first time you cry out his first name instead of his last, the first time his lips learn of yours, the first time his blazing sharpness is mellowed out for something gentler. He watches you like some vintage film, shoved into the depths of his heart, not to be seen by any other eyes but his own.

"I love you too, Toshi. So much."

Wakatoshi is a wildfire, smoke and ash rising from his feet, sending people running from his blaze. You are the only person daring enough to be engulfed by his radiance, only to find that his inferno is mellow as a candle on a shelf, sweet as toasted vanilla pods, gentle as a paintbrush drawing outlines on a blank canvas. And although you're still open to getting the fireplace that Wakatoshi has always wanted, you think he's warm enough to beat out a fire any day.

author's note:

guys i really hope i did domestic ushiwaka justice because this took way too long to write up and i don't know why :( i legit had to rewrite like three whole times and i was about to smash my head into my laptop trying to keep going because im in a BLOCK it's super annoying BUT i needed ushiwaka brainrot and this was my take LOLOL

guys i love ushiwaka sm :(

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @akaakeis @iiwaijime @fiannee @afyrian @catsoupki

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[thatuselesshuman]

My ffavorite thing about writing is that I can write a story that's dark and pretty serious but then canonically have a normal cat that likes to drink whiskey and is somehow good at cards

[wikiangela]

gonna try to gif the rest of the cast from that video tomorrow bc i should've been in bed like an hour ago lmao I'm gonna be exhausted tomorrow

[the-clay-quarters]

there was name talk last night? :3c

Flint is Silverstein's original name, now used as his first name, chosen/given like all other clay men still haven't decided my hc on that oops. Silverstein was chosen with not too much thought, picked from various names he heard around the docks in his first days in London. He goes by his surname because he is a Professional, Thank You, and mostly talks to people on business terms.

Theodore Pembroke is her full given name, with Cordelia being picked up later on. She probably could have changed her surname on account of mostly abandoning/disowning her parents, but she had been called Pem/Pembroke most of her life already, even more so when she was experimenting with gender and names; it's her name now, not her parents'. She goes by all her names interchangeably :D

Vincent Bell is a slight bastardisation of their name in order to avoid issues raised by the english having to contend with foreign words. Their full name is Vícenç Creuer Libèl·lula, which loosely translates as Vincent Cross Dragonfly; double surnames from Spanish naming conventions. Their name is actually Catalan, not Spanish, as they (and their family) are from Barcelona and in the right company they will be Very proud about that fact. They only really go by Vincent and probably won't realise you're refering to them if you just use Bell.

(fun fact! spanish doesn't have ç or l·l and only has one direction of accent/tilde)

[wrylu]

i nEed to get my life together

[king-plutos-typewriter]

This was not meant to be a redraw, but I ended up sorta turning it into one! This is Rohan and Debbie Blane, the grandparents to my beloved OC Jude, at two different ages and art styles. Yup, Rohan has acquired an epic earring and Debbie now has a really cool hat.

Fun Fact: Rohan is a bit of a spotlight character in my little flash fiction story I wrote almost a year ago! It's from Jude's perspective (my sweet chaos child I will write another story for you soon.)

[withonly-sweetheart]

yeah i decided to scrap fairy tale event...

idk just lost interest? it sucks to be so excited for something and then just lose the inspiration for it like i can't even remember why i was so hyped for it

so shrugging @ myself rn wondering if i'll at least do smth for christmas...

[antiadvil]

send you a vibe!! 〰️〰️ hope you feel better soon 🫶🏻

thank you 🫶🏻 luckily the post-tit headache was just like 2 days and now i am back to normal headache 🫡 i really appreciate ppl checking in though 🥹

[knuxadowyuri]

long sigh i really am such a procrastinator THERES TOO MUCH TO DO

[edge-oftheworld]

help i'm listening to an orchestral arrangement of holiday by green day and i can't deal with it

[triglycercule]

i have so many completely stupid drafts on here. like wdym triglycercule you think nightmare's gang but its all just a bunch of killer varients is interesting. the gang would completely fall apart like that. "if the mtt had mr beast levels of money how would they spend it" ?????????? NIGHTMARE'S GANG REMINDS YOU OF GRU AND THE GODAMN MINIONS???? FRON DESPICABLE ME?????

and then there's like the 10 different random drafts about how much i love mttpoly and the mtt. and then the random 4 different ones about error and star sanses and cross because i dont even know at this point.

i gotta admit though i kinda cooked with the relative proximity of characters theory. "two or more characters which are depicted together in official/fan works frequently are likely to be good ships." yeah youre right triglycercule its called being a popular ship why the hell do you think its popular if its not good. see now this applies to ALL ships except mttpoly???? mtt are drawn together like 80% of the time and suddenly theyre not a poly 🤨🤨🤨 i say slander because people ship bad sans poly like its water in a desert. this is SLANDER

[electric-plants]

OKAY HERE WE GO

500 WORDS RIGHT NOW THATS THE GOAL

AND IF THATS TOO HARD THAN AT LEAST 300

I AM GOING TO ADD TO THIS FIC TONIGHT SO HELP ME GOD

[babacontainsmultitudes]

😌🏴‍☠️ "Misty Steppers" update soon (not tonight but soon). I know I haven't updated this fic since July. Heh. *Sigh*. BUT REAL SOON OKAY?

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

me: why don’t I remember some things

also me: OH YEAH L TAKES OVER FOR LIKE 87% of EVERYTHING