#i think i just rather enjoy the boyishness of this one. sigh

[kongkhoi]

"are you an instrumental guy? let me put you on instrumental." "i'm an instrumental guy if i don't have to listen to you sing."

tsukihiel - "ok, i'm an instrumental guy"

[luveline]

coworker!james is fueling me rn thank u miss jade!! can i pretty please request a coworker!james drabble in which someone at work, a higher-up of some kind or someone visiting from another company being kind of cruel to reader, and jamie discovers that maybe there are several people who have just not been very kind to her, and she doesn’t really understand why he’s upset for her? please and thank u

—Why is James so upset? And how do you calm him down so quickly? fem, 1.2k

The horrible heat of the first week of British summer time finally breaks. It was an eventuality. Nothing good ever lasts for James —he must’ve been enjoying it too much. The sun is gone, the clouds are grey, and the office radiators pump a meek heat into the room.

The dreary skies outside depress him. “I miss the sun,” he sighs, putting the tips of his fingers together and bringing down his hands, base of his palms apart to stretch the sore inside of his wrists. They pang. 

“Sunny again next week,” Remus says reassuringly. “Just in time for your review!” 

“Please don’t remind me.” 

“I must remind you, Jamie.” Remus stands up, and he gives James a loving squeeze on the shoulder, voice close to his ear, “Because you need to pretend you like your job, at least for the next few days. Come and get some coffee with me.” 

James waves his hand. “In a second.” 

When James met Remus, Remus couldn’t take touch. Didn’t like it or want it, couldn’t accept so much as a compliment, but things change, and years of knowing one another makes squeezing and pinching easy work. Remus flicks him without cruelty and exits the nook, leaving James on his own. 

He glares at your empty seat, confused. When did you leave? 

Doesn’t matter. Coffee. James is in desperate need of coffee as Remus recommended to warm up. He exits out of his desktop and shucks his suit jacket back on, taking a hand to run through his knotted hair as he walks. Past the desk banks of the account managers and the reception bank to the hallway that runs into the break room and adjourning kitchen. The office is a weird maze but the worst part is having the big ‘conference’ room right next to the break room, so the people inside working can judge you for eating, and vice versa. 

The conference room door is propped open. 

James recognises you from behind, your hair and tight shoulders. He should recognise the stress, having caused so much of it. 

“It’s just not good enough.” 

“I know.”

“You coast by, doing half the work of your fellow accountants.” 

“I… I was sick for a week, I know it affected my turnover. But nothing went unfinished, sir.” 

“No, because your colleagues picked up your slack.” 

“Sir, I– I promise I work hard.” 

Your voice is so oddly unlike yourself, a tone James is unfamiliar with. He’s arrogant and agitating and has no business interrupting, but he knocks the conference door anyways. 

“Hi, Mr. Vida. How’s it going?” James asks.

“James, it’s fine. We’re just going through L/N’s review.” 

James pulls one of those boyish smirks that men often share when they should be grimacing instead. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hangs on like he has something else to say. 

“I think we’re about finished.” 

Mr. Vida is a predictable man. He ushers the woman away to make room for the man. His misogyny is unsubtle and unfortunate, your expression laced with hurt as you gather yourself and stand to leave. 

“Not looking forward to mine,” James says easily. You round the door, and he sends Mr. Vida a suck-up smile before he goes. He should stand up for you in a way that matters, but he’d felt it imperative to remove you from the situation, rather than escalate. 

He’s on your tail, coffee forgotten as you scurry back to the desks. “Hey,” he says, finding himself in a half-jog to keep up, “wait, wait, are you okay?” 

You slow. “I’m fine,” you say, so mildly perplexed that he doesn’t think for a moment you’re playing it cool. 

“He was getting a little heavy with you.” 

You frown in agreement, but otherwise move on, rolling your chair back with your foot to open your desk drawer. “I guess so. He’s like that.” 

“Is he? I’ve never had him that mad at me.” 

“He’s not that bad.” You pull a blister pack of painkillers from your drawer and pop three out in a row. “Have you met his boss? Oh, have you ever spoken to the manager of the account managers from the Brussels office? She sucks.” 

James doesn’t have the wherewithal to pretend he wasn’t following you. He stands with his hands vice-like on the back of his chair. “What did they say to you?” 

“Who, Mr. Vida’s boss? Or the Brussels manager?” 

“Both.” 

You sit and fish a bottle of water from your bag. “I actually filed a successful grievance again Mr. Vida’s boss, he kept calling me sweetheart. I know,” —you wince— “that’s a bit much, but it was really obvious he was looking down at me, so.” 

“And the Brussels manager?” 

“She emailed me thinking I was much more involved with the lab than I actually am. She kept calling me stupid.” You take one of your tablets and wash it down with a swig of water. “But,” you add, smiling at him, “I did manage to solve her problem.” 

“What do you mean, she called you stupid?” 

Your smile slips. “She called me a bunch of stuff. Professionally, you know, but she kept asking why my foresight was so sorely lacking. You know what they’re like.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Nobody’s ever called me stupid. Or sweetheart.” 

You smile genially. “Perks of being a girl. Or stupid.” You laugh at yourself softly.

“You’re not stupid.” 

You sober at his solemn tone. “I know,” you say. “I’m just joking.” 

“Nobody should be talking to you like that.” 

“I know, James, but what am I supposed to do?” 

He doesn’t know. What can you do? Nothing. What can James do? What should he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

Your frown deepens. “It’s not your fault. It’s really fine.” 

“It’s not fine. It’s not, though, it’s–”

“James?” you say. 

“What?” 

You stand up. You stand close to him, looking into his face. “Don’t be upset,” you say, mirroring his softer tone, “it’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.” 

“Well, luckily this time I had you to come and rescue me,” you say. “But it really is fine. I can look after myself, even if I shouldn’t have to. Okay?” 

Your hand finds his arm. You squeeze his wrist and his entire torso lights up, everything, his chest, the backs of his shoulders, like goosebumps but warmer and with a softer fuzz to it. Your eyes meet his, an encouraging smile playing on a pretty mouth. For the first time that day, he feels pleasantly warm, like he’s had that first hot sip of coffee. 

The pads of your fingers are so, so soft where you catch his bare skin. 

“Okay,” he says instinctively. He’d say the sky was red if you asked him to, in that moment. 

You rub the back of his thumb with yours before letting him go. You sit down and finish your drink, and it takes James a good two minutes at his own desk to remember he’s not the one who needed comforting. 

He opens his emails to write a formal complaint against Mr. Vida for poor work conduct. He doesn’t think twice about hitting send. 

[fujoshirat]

Shouto Todoroki proposes with a fucking house (Be careful what you wish for ♡)

It was a Thursday night, chilly November air nipping at your nose as you walked out of the theater with your love. Shouto wanted to watch the new All Might movie, and who were you to say no to a date with your lovely boyfriend?

He seemed to enjoy it, the way his eyes lit up every time he saw his idol appear on screen. A boyish, childlike wonder present every time his eyes sparkled, he was so cute!!—wait a minute, that’s not the point!

The main point comes after this scene: after getting hot chocolate from a food stand with Shouto, you both sat down on a nearby bench. Sipping the much-needed warm drink, you let out a soft sigh.

“Isn’t hot chocolate so delicious, Shou?” Your boyfriend nods, small smile on his face as he watches your cheery expression. The cold brought a faint pink hue to his cheeks, making them rosy. He seemed contempt in the quiet moment, something you were used to with him.

But then, his gaze turned contemplative. Scooting a bit closer to you, he asked, “Can I ask you something?”

You look up at him curiously. “Sure, what’s up?”

His kissable lips pressed together firmly, like he was hesitant to say what was on his mind.

“How… do you feel about marriage?” The question caught you off-guard, and you nearly choked on your hot chocolate. “M-marriage?!?”

He nods shyly, though his expression was serious. “Yes, what do you think about it? I’ve been thinking, and… it’s something I want with you in the future—if you want that, too.” Your heart had melted at his honesty. You and Shouto have been dating for a while now, and sure, you didn’t mind marrying him, but you didn’t expect him to bring it up so casually.

Heart pounding in your chest, you turn your eyes from your drink and face him. Your breath hitches when you see his earnest expression. “Well, I wouldn’t mind marrying you, Shouto. And if we were to get married someday, I don’t want anything super fancy! I’m not into those huge diamond rings and over-the-top proposals, which all seem like a huge waste of money and a silly way to “show” that you love someone.” Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes widen at your statement, processing your words. “You wouldn’t want a ring?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, I’d want a ring. Just nothing extravagant, you know? I’d rather have something permanent.” Your boyfriend tilts his head confusedly.

“Permanent? What’s more permanent that a ring?” ‘Good question,’ you thought. Before Shouto brought it up right now, you never really thought about the specifics of marriage. Thinking for a moment, you decide to tease the boy and grin mischievously.

“A house,” you say proudly, half joking-half serious. No way was anyone in their right mind going to propose to you with a house oh how wrong you were babe. “I mean, it’s not something that sits on your finger until you break it or you lose it or you get too fat from aging or childbirth. It’s a place where memories are made, and…” You gently cup his right cheek with your hand, soft smile on your face, “hopefully if we do get married, it will be good memories.”

Shouto stared at you for a few seconds, as if you had just revealed the meaning of life itself. The man had already told you about his rough childhood a few years back, and you had already met his family a while ago. You knew what he feared, and you knew how to comfort him and make everything okay. Nodding slowly, Shouto gently touched the hand that was caressing his cheek. “A house,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You didn’t think of it much then. After all, it was just a silly, offhand comment that would never actually happen…

...right?

You had laughed off your “wish” not even a few minutes after you said it, and continued chatting about the movie and basking in your boyfriend’s company.

But Shouto? Shouto took it to heart. And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job.

That’s why, exactly one year later, on another chilly November night, he drove you into a quiet, fancy neighborhood that you definitely had no business being in.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You both had just finished a pleasant, fancy dinner in the heart of the city and were driving back to your shared apartment. Perhaps Shouto was just taking a detour to tour the area. Perhaps Fuyumi-san was interested in moving out to a nice neighborhood with her boyfriend? As your mind drifted away in a daydreaming cloud, the black BMW M850i pulled up to the sidewalk and came to a stop. The warm hand caressing your thigh gently squeezed it, and Shouto put the car on park. “My love,” he spoke, voice smooth and low, “Would you like some fresh air?” You quirked a brow curiously but nodded and unbuckled. Your boyfriend came around and opened the door for you, holding your lower back gently as he guided you to the sidewalk.

Curiously, you looked around at the beautiful houses around you in wonder. They were a mix of traditional and modern. It almost reminded you of Shouto’s own household, though these ones were obviously new and had a better, modern architectural design to it.

Intertwining his fingers in his, he looks down at your figure and smiles softly. “This is a new neighborhood that I wanted to show you. It was recently completed in July.” His voice was calm, a soft smile on his face—with a hint of something that you couldn’t identify. Something… deeper.

You tilted your head and looked up at him curiously. “It’s beautiful, love, but, why are we here?”

And then,

Shouto got down on one knee—

a gasp,

and pulled out a small velvet box—

another gasp,

and opened it—

revealing a delicate diamond ring.

It was simple, elegant, and exactly what you had in mind one year ago.

But before you could say anything else, he pulled something else out of his pocket:

A small, silver key.

Your jaw drops, mouth hanging wide open, as small tears prick at your eyes. Shouto smiles softly at your expression, gaze never wavering. “I remembered what you said last year and-”

“Shouto. Himura. Todoroki. You didn’t!”

He chuckles, your knees feeling week as you stared at his amused yet sincere expression.

“I did.” Warm liquid falls down your cheek before you know it, yet all you can focus on is the man in front of you.

“I know that you said you wanted something permanent, and I want to give you something permanent too.” He glances at the house that you both were in front of, and then back at you. “It’ll be a place where we can build a life together, a place where you will always be safe, a home where you will always feel loved.” Your heart cracks even further at the sound of his voice, honest and genuine and vulnerable and raw.

“My love for you is permanent, Y/N, and if you’ll have me, I want to share this with you, forever.”

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to find words. “Shouto, hic are you— sniffle this—this house—” “I wanted you to have both a ring and a house.” Your boyfriend says that with full conviction in his voice, honesty and sincerity evident.

“Will you, L/N, Y/N, marry me?”

You nod furiously and desperately wipe some of your tears,

“Yes! God, yes Shouto!” Your new fiancé wastes no time scrambling up to his feet and sliding the ring on your pretty ring finger. Gently, he pulls you into his arms and tenderly wipes some of your tears.

“You’re sniffle incredible,” you murmur in his chest. Shouto laughs, but he is cut off by the second half of your statement. “And incredibly terrible!” He blinks, confusedly. “What? Why?”

“Shouto!” You chastize him with a huff, using your sleeve to wipe away snot that’s probably gross (Shouto doesn’t think it’s that gross). “Why would you spend 60 million yen on me!?!” (approximately $400,000 in USD)

He blinks again, confused, as if you had said something silly. “I’m a pro hero,” he says cooly, shrugging as if that and the amount of money he spent was no big deal (it really isn’t a big deal to him). “I’ve been saving, and…” Gently, he holds the hand with the ring up to his lips and kisses your knuckles gently, making your knees buckle and your cheeks even rosier.

“You’re worth it, my love. This ring, the house, nothing can compare to how happy and loved you’ve made me.” Tears well up in your eyes once again, threatening to spill over as your heart clenches. “That’s so unfair,” you murmur, voice cracking. Shouto’s lips quirk up into a smug smile, almost like a smirk, showing his blatant amusement.

“What is, darling?”

“Being this perfect,” you mutter, tears streaming down your cheeks again. Shouto laughs and presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, but you deserve everything, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you know it.” His eyes widen when you let out a whiny sob, burying your face into his warm chest. His left hand gently rubs circles on your back as he chuckles. A cool autumn breeze blows by, ruffling your hair. Shouto sees you visibly shiver and strokes your head.

“You must be cold, would you like to go inside?”

He watches your puffy yet beautiful eyes sparkle, and Shouto can’t tell if it is from your tears or happiness. Yet, he understands that the answer is both when you interlace your hand with his and use your free hand to unlock the door to the brand new 60 million yen home with a brand new diamond ring on your finger in the brand new luxury neighborhood with your brand new fiancé and soon to be husband. ♡

[maeedrg]

SICK GOJO x READER

ᯓ★

Part 1 : gojo x sick reader (it can also be read without part 1, as a standalone)

Synopsis : in which after you being sick, the all mighty Gojo Satoru catches a cold too. Nursing him back to health is quite a challenge, even more for The Strongest ! Him ? Being vulnerable ? Nah.

Words count : 4.6 k

Warnings : fluff, smut, afab reader, slight angst, comfort, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes !

݁ ⊹ ���୧ ˖ ࣪ . Enjoy . ⋆ 🩹 ⇅ ˖

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡⋆⋆ ｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆

“Nah, I’m too strong for the germs to actually get to me.”

That’s what your stupid boyfriend said when he kissed you multiple times when you were sick. This idiot insisted that because he was The Strongest, he couldn’t catch a cold. And here you are, with the All Mighty Gojo Satoru sulking like a kid to take his medicine, determined that he could use his rct to heal himself. Well, it didn’t work like that.

You were standing in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch, legs sprayed in his usual manspreading way, head turned on the other side of the water glass filled with medicine. You grunt, shaking your head and frowning at his antics.

“Satoru…” you start to say, moving the glass in front of your boyfriend, clearly losing your patience.

“Nuh-uh,” he sucks his lip in between his teeth and activates his infinity the moment the glass was about to touch his lips.

You sigh deeply. He was clearly toying with your nerves, and you were tired of playing this little game anymore. You make a noise of fluster, and now put your hand on your hip like a parent would do when scolding their child.

“Gojo Satoru !” you hiss.

“Uh-oh, the government name…” he whispers sheepishly, tilting his head to look at you through his blindfold.

“Yeah, the government name. If you don’t take your medicine, I’m going to be really mad. I’m not playing with you,” you insist, glaring at him up and down. To be honest, you felt like you were dealing with a little brother, rather than your grown ass adult boyfriend.

A smirk forms on his pretty pink lips, showing you this boyish grin that he always had when having fun. He taps his thigh with his long finger, eying you.

“You look sexy when you’ mad, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, clearly not buying his flirting attempt. You even scoff, squeezing tighter the glass in your hand.

“Satoru, stop play-” you get cut off the moment his large hands wraps around your waist, bringing you with ease towards him. He makes you stand in between his legs, his head buried in the comfort of your chest as his arms now hug you tightly to not let you have any room to escape.

“I’m fine, I told you. I can heal myself. I’m not as sick as you were last time,” he says, lifting his blindfold up to allow you to look at his left blue eye staring right back at you.

“You took care of me for one week, and you were the first one to scold me when I lied to you about not being sick and saying I was okay. Don’t you think you should do the same as well ?” you narrow your eyes, fighting back the growing heat in your body at the way he looks at you.

“I’m not lying, I'm confident, that’s different. And I sure as hell will not faint like you did. I’m The Strongest, baby. That’s not a cold that will take me down,” he insists, grining at you wider now.

“Your confidence will kill you one day, ‘toru. And you say that you can heal yourself just right, yet I don’t see any improvement concerning your cold.”

“That’s because-”

“If you don’t take the medicine, that means that you don’t love me,” you cut him, clearly not wanting to deal more with his bullshit. Satoru looks at you chocked, in his usual dramatic way.

“What ? Come on baby, that’s manipulation !” he retorts, hands clenching harder on your clothes to bring you even closer, if that was possible.

“No, that’s called love,” you correct. Your boyfriend sulks, not pleased by this turn of events. Like a pouting kid, he grabs the glass of water and gulps it down in one go. His face distorts in a grimace at the nasty taste, and he puts down behind you the now empty glass.

“Happy now ?” he groans, forcing you to sit back on his lap as he towers back over your frame. You gently caress his head, touching his white snow locks in this tender way that he loves.

“Yeah, you did good.”

“You should praise me more often,” he smirks, before kissing your forehead and making you stand up with him as well. He spins you around and acts all strong by lifting you in his arms, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Yet you could see the slight frown on his forehead, his headache acting up. But he quickly puts back his blindfold on, like a mask to hide to the world how he really feels.

“Now, let’s sleep, I wake up super early tomorrow,” he exclaims as he carries you back to bed, teleporting into your shared room and plopping you down on the mattress in a soft thud.

“Don’t go and do the same mistake I did, If you aren’t feeling well, take your day off,” you whisper softly to him, using this tone of voice that shows seriousness and intimacy. He climbs on top of you, sliding under the covers and bringing you closer to his warm body. You could feel it, even through your thick pajamas.

“Nah. The Strongest can’t rest too much, the world needs him,” he dismissed as if it was nothing, shutting you up by a big hug that almost knocked out your breath.

“And I need him to be healthy too. I can do your missions for you, if needed.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You know I love you, but there is no way in hell I’m letting you handle my work. That’s not your duty, that’s mine,” he scoffs as he looks at you through his blindfold, keeping it up even though it was night time.

“Satoru, you help me with my missions too sometimes. What’s the point if I can't return the favor ?” you lift yourself on your elbows, refuting what your boyfriend just said.

“Because I’m Gojo Satoru, nobody returns my help. That’s not your job, it’s mine,” he answers with a tone that makes you understand he will not change his mind.

���We already had an argument because of it last time, I’m not having it again. You know I hate how you overwork yourself. You have the right to be vulnerable too, you are not a goddamn machine !” you got pissed, not in the mood to have again a stupid discussion about something that should be normal, even more when it’s been years that you are dating your boyfriend.

He should know better than treating you as if you were another one of his fellow coworkers that saw him only as a weapon or the annoying teacher, and nothing more. Satoru stays silent, deciding it was too late to change your mind, or to continue down this path. He sighs and softly makes you lay back down on the bed.

“I know, alright… I promise I’ll be careful tomorrow, yeah ?” he ends up accepting softly.

“You better.” He chuckles at your words.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

In the morning, you woke up alone in the cold sheets of your bed. You vaguely remember Satoru kissing goodbye the top of your head, leaving for his long day lasting mission outside of Tokyo. Even though you were half asleep at this sweet moment, you remember how he was coughing slightly, clearly trying to muff it down to not wake you up, or to gaslight himself that he was fine.

The day went on, the only information you got from your boyfriend was some texts through the hours. He was updating you about how his boring mission went on, and that he was fine. Yet, he didn’t call you. Weird, you thought. Satoru didn’t want you to hear how his voice was groggy from the cold, and his unstoppable coughing.

He grew moody, his headache making him irritable. The only thing he wanted right now was to be back in the warmth of his bed, and your arms. Satoru couldn’t accept the fact that his cold was getting to him. No way. It wasn’t a silly sickness that would knock him down. No curse or curse user ever managed to, aside from a certain short black haired man that was now dead from his hands. He couldn’t just accept defeat like that ! So he stubbornly did exactly what he didn’t want you to do last time : continue his mission even though he wasn’t feeling well.

He successfully managed to exorcize the curse, quickly even. But not as quick as he was used to. He frowns, even more pissed off. The man was not in the mood right now, and Ijichi didn’t dare say anything when he saw the cold walk Satoru had when returning to the black car. The aura emanating from him was scary, no, terrifying ! It would be a death wish to be on his nerves right now, and Ijichi knew that better than anyone else. The poor man could have fainted from stress when trying to survive the mood of The Strongest, bringing him back to the campus.

Great, Satoru still had work to do. He didn’t even bother going to Shoko, or go to annoy Nanami like he loved to do after a long mission. Even Yuji and Nobara were hiding behind a pillar of the campus, spying on their teacher no matter how Megumi told them not to. After all, they never saw their great teacher looking angry before, or even being sick ! It was comical to them, seeing the white haired sorcerer with both a blindfold and a black surgical mask on his mouth. We could barely see his face.

Satoru wasn’t dumb, he obviously noticed his three silly students following him through the campus. But for once, he didn’t have the ounce of energy to indulge in their little game like he used to.

“Do you think he is acting, or is he really sick ?” asks Nobara, frowning her brown eyebrows and looking at her pink haired best friend.

“I heard him coughing, and being moody, Ijichi looked scared as hell ! Maybe he is on his periods…” mutters Yuji, nodding to himself as if it was the most logical answer. Megumi facepalm, not even knowing what to answer to that statement.

“That’s not how it works, you idiot. Do you even know how periods work ?!” half yells and whispers the teenager girl, slapping the back of his head.

“Uh, of course ! Isn’t it every full moon ?” he confirmed, and she wasn’t sure if he was being serious in his answer or just joking around.

“Do you think I’m a damn werewolf ?!” snaps Nobara.

“Well, last time I saw how your legs were hairy and I-” starts to mutter Yuji, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Yuji, shut your mouth,” sighs Megumi, clearly losing the patience he was supposed to have for the day.

“Great, now we lost teacher Gojo ! He disappeared, all thanks to you !” groans Nobara, shaking her head as she looks at the now empty hallway of the school.

“Hey, it’s not my fault !” Yuji frowns, turning his head towards her.

“Who disappeared ?” Satoru suddenly appears behind the group of teenagers, arms crossed over his chest.

“GAHHHH !” screams the brown and pink haired friends.

“You brats should learn how to spy better.” He sighs saying that, coughing a bit behind his mask.

“That was Nobara’s idea !” quickly says Yuji, pointing at the girl to make himself be the victim of their shenanigans. In reality, it was both their idea, and the poor Megumi was forced to tag along.

“They were worried about how you were doing…” explains the spiky blue haired one as his two friends were fighting in the background.

“Awww, is my little ´gumi worried about me ?” coos Satoru, dropping his moody act for one second.

“...” Megumy stays silent, rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Nah, nothing too bad. But I would be way better if y/n was here,” continues Satoru, sliding his hand in his white hair, trying to stay nonchalant. It was a damn lie. He was sweating, and his normally pearly skin was flushed from the warmth of his body. Thankfully, his blindfold and mask were hiding that.

“L/n finished the day already,” explains Nobara, straightening her hair after punching Yuji.

Satoru was even more annoyed. He still had to do paper work in his office, meaning he would be home very late. It was already time for the sun to set, and he was yet at the beginning of this horrible long work. He sighs, and after a few more words, he leaves to do his work.

Hours pass, and it’s at 11 A.M and a half that Satoru enters back your shared apartment. Without a care in the world, he took off his mask, just wanting to breathe. Hell, even his blindfold is now on the floor ! No matter how his headache was getting stronger, his sensory issues got worse and overwhelming with his cold, so he needed to get rid of these suffocating tissues.

His face was red and his forehead wet, his eyes were hazy, and he took off his shoes in a kick. He almost falls doing that, finally letting him feel how sick he was, dropping the mask of his fake bravado once he is in the safety of his home. He breathes heavily, and spots you standing up from the couch, looking worried.

“Satoru !”

You don’t even have the time to react or to do one more step, that your boyfriend is right in front of you and pins you against the wall, head falling on your shoulder and slowly leaning towards your body.

“Missed you so much, baby…” he slurs out, closing his eyes and having a hard time articulating his words.

You support his body, even if he was twice your figure, and quickly check his forehead. Fuck. He was burning up ! His hazy eyes flutter open to look at you through his long pearly lashes.

“Oh my… let’s get you to bed, alright ? I’ll take care of you,” you whisper to him, but he doesn’t answer, and instead starts to do open mouthed kisses on your neck, sucking the skin. A shiver runs down your body up and down.

“Need you, please,” he whines. After succeeding in acting alright all day, he just wanted to crumble in your arms and get lost in your scent. God, you didn’t know how to react at first. But you snap yourself out of this growing heat in your stomach, cupping his face in your hands. He stares right back at you, and then down at your lips. They looked very, very tasty right now.

“Baby, let’s get you to bed first. I’ll bring you medici-” you get caught off by his lips smashing against yours, his starving cold hands slipping under your pajamas to feel you better. You open your eyes wide, not expecting him to do that. This idiot is giving you all his germs, and there is no way that you will get sick again !

“Don’t care,” Satoru purrs, slipping his tongue inside your mouth sensually. Your error was to moan the moment he grabbed your ass with a possessive hand, allowing him to make out with you. The first seconds you cave in, melting in his embrace and unable to resist the sweet taste of his lips. You squeeze your thighs together, but he parts them with his knee, pressing it against your crotch, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The moment you feel it, you snap back from the situation and hit his head. Satoru lets out a groan, and you break the kiss, grabbing his wandering hand.

“Satoru, I said we're going to bed, now,” you exclaim, glaring at your tall boyfriend that was crushing you with his weight.

“Good, I want you in bed,” he smirks through his hazy state, ignoring his headache and body screaming from soreness.

“Not for sex,” you quickly correct. He pouts, doing his puppy eyes to you. You shake your head.

“Satoru…” you repeat. He sighs and then uses the last bit of energy he has to teleport you both in your shared bedroom.

Once inside, he falls back down on the mattress, and you swiftly roll on the other side to not get smashed by his tired body. You sit back up and help him lay on his back, wiping his sticky hair from his forehead.

“I come back, ok love ?” Knowing Satoru, you don’t let him have the time to answer before he could have the chance to grasp you back in his arms, quickly leaving.

You take the medicine he needs, a cold and wet towel for his forehead and body to wipe away the sweat. Once you are back, you force him to drink the pills. After some protest that lasted barely a few seconds, Satoru having no strength to fight back, you put the cold and wet tissue over his forehead.

“Are you hungry ? I’ll cook you something warm,” you ask softly, sitting to his side as you open his shirt to take off his dirty cloth.

“Don’t leave me, stay,” he shakes his head, grabbing your wrist surprisingly strongly. Your eyes soften, and you look at his glossy blue eyes from the sickness.

“Toru, I need to leave if you wanna eat.”

“Forget about the food, if I eat, I’ll throw up. Just keep taking care of me by staying here, yeah ?” Satoru shakes his head, adamant on keeping you by his side no matter what. You indulge him and end up nodding.

You softly finish to take off his shirt, without some of his tired help, and wipe the sweat from his flushed torso. He lets out a moan, glossy stare right back at you.

“Baby, If you continue like that, I’ll want more…” he whispers, fingers digging into your wrist.

“Satoru, I’m cleaning you up. Stop being a perv for one minute,” you answer, shaking your head.

He doesn’t answer, just feeling your touch on his burning skin that was cooling down thanks to the wet towel. Once you are finished, you help him take off his pants, and socks, and pass the towel around his limbs. They weren’t dirty, so you quickly finished. Once you are done, Satoru pulls you swiftly towards him.

“I’m cold,” he complains.

You bring back the covers over him, snuggling him inside. Yet, he still complains.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructs you. You frown, not understanding why he was asking you that.

“Satoru that’s-”

“I need warmth, and your naked skin against mine is the best solution to warm me up. Or maybe you are a bit too dumb to know this basic fact,” he explains, his voice meaner than he intended. His bad mood from being sick really made him harder to deal with, but you decide to not let it get to you. For once, he was fully vulnerable in front of you, so there was no time for a silly back and forth.

You take off your clothes without any hesitation, but keep your panties on. The moment you finish slipping off your pants, your boyfriend directly smashes you against his chest, long arms draped around your waist. His face is buried in your neck, inhaling your scent as it was the only thing he could smell. His leg brings you closer, and he sighs of pleasure at your warm skin rubbing against his.

“Maybe you should wear a mask, love,” you whisper.

“No, I can’t breathe with it,” he retorts at the second, shaking his head as his sigh caresses your skin and makes you shiver. You bite your lower lip, you were hoping that you wouldn’t be sick again because of him. That would be … repetitive.

He butterfly kisses your neck, the warmth of your body additioned to his making him even more hazy. Your scent was addictive, and he felt like he was intoxicated. Maybe his cold acted like strong alcohol. You could feel his growing erection against your stomach, his hips suddenly grinding softly. He didn’t even realize what he was doing, he simply was chasing down a desire that was growing inside of him.

“Satoru…” you whisper as you fluster, Satoru turning you around so you are laying on top of him. He brought your hips against him, so that you were now straddling your boyfriend right where he wanted you. It bucked perfectly against your heat, and you took a sharp breath when his mouth was trailing down to your breast.

“Baby, you are sick. You should rest,” you continue, but his mouth was already on your nipple, sucking and tongue twirling around it mindlessly. He didn’t even answer, hips still grinding against yours, making your panties grow wet. A wet patch of precum formed on his boxers, and his eyes looked up at you. He smirks while sucking your second nipple, taking it in his mouth like a lollipop. His blue electric eyes, wet from his sickness and desire, don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

“Told you, I don’t care. You should help me warm me up, I’m still so cold…” he mutters, his teasing grin making your walls crumble.

You bite your lower lip, and gasp the moment he frees his cock with his other hand, and slips it in between your wet folds and the tissue of your panties. The contact makes your eyes almost roll back in your skull, and at the same time he gently bites your nipple and grabs your ass tenderly like some soft meat to massage.

“It’s cold too, and if you really, shit… don’t want to share my germs, I’ll refrain from kissing your lips again, hmm ?” he stats in between groans, now grinding his dick against your cunt in this soft and passionate way that could make you beg him to smash his hips against yours at any given moment.

“It doesn't work like that-” you cut yourself in the middle of your sentence the second a moan slips through your lips when his tip tease the entry of your hole.

“Who fucking cares in the end… please, baby ?” he asks, whining, his lips parted as he catches back his breath. His hair sticks to his forehead, and he lays his flushed cheeks against your shoulders in a plea. Fuck, your logical side and rational thoughts crumble, leaving only need and desire to have more.

“Ok, b-but, let’s go slowly ? You're still feeling sick,” you end up accepting, and a flash of something appears in the eyes of your boyfriend when you pronounce your words.

He bites your shoulder, and slowly slides into your dripping cunt. Inch by inch, until he buckles his hips against yours once your hole swallowed him to the balls. He moans, you do too, yanking your head back. He takes the opportunity to let his tongue travel up your throat, kissing it as he softly and slowly chases down pleasure by moving his hips. He digs his fingers in your back, bringing you impossibly closer.

If he could, he would have been fucking you to death, but God, slow and soft sex was so freaking good as well. He didn’t have the single energy to move too much, lost in a cloud of pleasure, and sickness. He whispers your name like a mantra, and his tip kisses your cervix passionately.

“Shit, so so good. Ahhh…,’ he babbles, groping slightly harder your ass to lift you more easily so he could make you plop back down on his length. You gladly help him by doing half of the work, moving your body in sync and rolling your hips up and down.

“Right here,” you suck in between your teeth these words, riding him slowly. He continues to hit your sweet spot languorously, making your head spin. He kisses your ear and breathes heavily inside of it, soft moans escaping his mouth at how good it felt.

Sweet sex was on another level with Satoru, both of your bodies are connected on a deeper level, making it impossible to think about something else rather than the love and desire that radiates from him. It was slow, but so enjoyable. Each second was marked by soft kisses, meaningful thrusts, and wandering hands caressing each other’s skin.

Satoru wanted to kiss your lips so badly, but he restrained himself, instead latching on your tasty buds, sucking your nipples until they were sore. Or either biting you, leaving the mark of his canines on your skin, a way to distract himself when pleasure was too strong that he just wanted to cum. But no, no. He always managed to make you cum first, that was his own personal rule. He couldn’t cum until you did.

But tonight, his vulnerable sick body and groggy state, made him unable to control it properly. After some minutes, it made Satoru cum thick ropes of white inside your twitching walls that were squeezing him just right. That resulted in you following him the second after, nails scratching his back to try to ride your high. He falls back down on the bed, heavy breath and beating heart in sync with yours. Your boyfriend was beyond exhausted, and your soft flesh and warm body against him didn’t help.

“I love you,” he whispers into this quiet moment of vulnerability, before he literally passes out.

You look at him lovingly, kissing his cheek. After some minutes, you slide off of him, making him lay comfortably on the bed, and clean his body from the sweat and the rest of cum. He always did it for you, so now it was your turn to take care of him. Once you were done, even changing his wet tissue on his forehead, you cuddled him back before falling asleep. You were exhausted too, after all.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

“Baby, that was so embarrassing ! I never pass out like that after sex !” your boyfriend whines as he swallows his medicine. It was already 11 A.M, and you managed to force Satoru to take his day off to rest and to nurse him back to health.

You chuckle softly, caressing his cheek as you take back the glass of water in your hands.

“Satoru, there is no need to be embarrassed. I’m the one that usually passes out after sex, and yet I don’t get all shy about it.” You smile at him, resulting in his sulking to falter.

“Maybe, but I usually never do. You even cleaned me up, fuck, that’s humiliating, even more for my ego…” He pouts.

You nudge him as you sit back on the bed next to him, looking at his bed hair and you suppress a laugh.

“Of course I cleaned you up ! You always do it for me, so yes, I return the favor. And it’s normal, Satoru. I do it because I love you,” you softly explained.

He huffs, before he brings you under him, suddenly caging you in between his body and the mattress.

“Then lemme show you how much I love you too, and fuck you ‘til you pass out this time.” He grins, licking his lip. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Nuh-uh. You are on a sex ban until you are completely healed, Satoru !” you firmly said, and he looks at you as if you stopped him from eating sweets for a whole year. That was a tragedy !

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO !”

It took three more days for your boyfriend to finally be back on track, and he obediently took all his medicine this time, being extra serious in his healing. You wonder why…

THE END

For more : Y/n’s goodbye letter Gojo x reader

[harleyquilt]

JinMao ficlet:

Some time in the future, when they become a fully fledged couple, it's not uncommon for the two of them to take a bath together. Jinshi was actually much more flustered about this than Maomao was the first time they tried this, but after the more intimate times they have spent together, sharing a bath isn't as embarrassing as it once was.

Jinshi, being the pampered boy he is, expects Maomao to help him wash his hair, and though she grumbles, she does do it. She lathers soap and oil into his long strands, and it actually reminds her of how she would help wash her older sisters' hair back at the brothel. She thinks about when she should next visit them.

Jinshi, meanwhile, finds her touches to be especially soothing, and he leans back, tilting his head up to look at her. He has this boyish charm to him, a small smile on his lips and eyes that seek out hers, quietly asking her to coddle him. Maomao, however, is not one to spoil, and she instead responds by dumping a damp cloth over his face.

"I don't want the soap to get into your eyes." She says, while he splutters and leans forward again, pouting.

She moves his washed hair over his shoulder and goes on to scrub his back. She moves her hand over his broad shoulders, before going down the length of his back, observing his toned muscles. She remarks that they're stiff, and she wonders if she should suggest an oiled massage. Not from her, of course, but from the eager courtesans back in the Verdigris House. No no, he would just have Maomao do that, too, she thinks, keeping the thought to herself.

"You've been working too hard again." Maomao then says, both of her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's not good for your health."

"Says the girl who enjoys digesting poisons." He retorts, turning and taking her hands. Maomao looks away, pursing her lips. "This is plenty replenishment, anyway."

He pulls her forward, embracing her, and wide-eyed, she looks up to Jinshi, her body pressed against his. He kisses her forehead, the tips of her ears growing warm, and pulling away, he gives her that cheeky smile, like he has just won something. Maomao tuts, turning her back to him.

"Please wash my back, master Jinshi." She says, holding out the cloth for him.

"You know I don't like being called that when it's just us two." He grumbles, dunking the cloth into soapy water. "It's just Jinshi here."

Maomao doesn't respond, but the thought does make her heart clench. Even after all this time, even while bathing together, there was something far too intimate about addressing him without any honorifics. Perhaps in doing so, it would be acknowledging the true depth of their relationship, and it's in moments like these that Maomao is reminded that she still hasn't completely accepted this reality yet.

Maybe a part of her expects him to move on, marrying some noble and focusing his energy on creating an heir. Except, as time goes on, Jinshi's focus only ever remains on her, and she's forced to accept that she really is the only one he wants. Wasn't that strange? Wasn't it wrong? She's not sure, not anymore. Though she would rather not admit it, his attention wasn't completely off-putting.

"What're you thinking?" Jinshi asks, moving aside the towel from her back and swiping the cloth gently over her skin.

"Nothing, really."

"Hm?" Jinshi continues to scrub her back, shuffling forward. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Jinshi frowns, dumping the cloth back into the water. "Turn around."

"...no." Maomao looks over her shoulder. "I can wash the rest of my body myself."

"I wasn't--" His cheeks grow red. "I just wanted..." He turns his face away, clearly embarrassed.

Maomao sighs and shuffles around. "What is it...Jinshi?"

His blush deepens in colour. "Oh, well..." He straightens, taking a deep breath. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He takes her hand and holds it between his. "I will always be on your side, Maomao."

Her eyes widen momentarily. "I really wasn't thinking of anything..." Maomao mumbles, lowering her eyes.

He holds her hand so tenderly, and it's hard for her to understand why, even now. But whatever the reason, it's clear that he cares for her, always doing gestures like these to convey to her the importance she holds in his mind. Truly, their relationship is not something she thinks she will ever fully comprehend.

"Maomao..."

"Yes?" She lifts her eyes.

"I'm...cold." Jinshi confesses. Whatever firmness he held moments before gave way to a rather pathetic expression, knocking Maomao back down to reality.

She sighs. "I'll fetch your robes, master Jinshi."

[alexanderlightweight]

oooh its prompt day! can I ask if you have anymore to the amnisiac alec one?

it has been a while but here is the next part of that fic! I hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

-

all my fears forgotten

I know amnesia fics are often meant to be angsty but i actually really hate those. So i’m sorry to anyone expecting that but this is indulgent and soft af.

—

Alexander lays against Magnus, carefree and with a boyish grin on his face as he watches the birds fish in the water from their floating pavilion.

The boat is maintained and moved by magic and all they have to do is lounge and Alexander is the most relaxed Magnus has ever seen him.

However eventually, as most things do, the mood changes.  No less content but a different flow nonetheless.

“I miss something, my muscles ache in this movement.” Alexander does a familiar motion and without hesitation, Magnus snaps his fingers, summoning Alexander’s bow and quiver.

Of course, Alexander must have forgotten to summon even his own bonded weapons.

The thought makes Magnus glad that it was brought up now, in the peace of this lake and protected by a hidden realm rather than when in danger.

Not that he’ll let Alexander ever be in danger, but the world does keep trying its hand.

Magnus helps Alexander slip on and tighten his finger guard, shows him how to string his bow even as Alexander’s muscles relax at the familiar weight of his bow and the power it takes to string.

“Can you use magic to make me targets?” Alexander bats his lashes playfully at Magnus and it’s... it's delightful.

Alexander hesitated to ask Magnus for anything of late and Magnus has been too tired to figure out how to explain, when Alexander was still struggling to understand what separated him from the Institute.

Truth be told, it’s a relief for Magnus to be able to sidestep over this particular conversation. Not out of avoidance, but because he doesn’t think Alexander was at a point of separating himself from his duty to that degree just yet.

Alexander had been doing much better in his personal value of self worth, but it had still been tied to what he felt he owed the Clave in some twisted repayment for his parents' sins.

It infuriated Magnus then and it infuriates him now.

However it’s easier to ignore the urge to create a rain of ash when Alexander is like this, at ease and without a concern for anything other than what they’ll both enjoy.

“Won’t you lose the arrows?” Magnus asks, just to be sure because he still doesn’t think Alexander remembers how to summon any of his weapons.

Alexander blinks at him carefully and then smiles, slow and sweet like sunwarm honey.

“I’ll dive and get them. It’ll cool me off after.”

It’s said so sweetly, as if it’s a completely reasonable thing to do and considering Alexander is saying this without any memories beyond the basics then... Magnus supposes it must be a shadowhunter thing.

“Alright darling, as long as you let me tag you. Just in case I need to fish your lovely self out of the water.”

Magnus kisses the fingerguard protecting Alexander’s skin and gets a deep chuckle before Alexander presses gentle kisses to his forehead.

“That’s fine. Better safe than sorry.”

Alexander seems so serene like this, Magnus wishes there was a way to preserve this peace for his love. Because whether by his own memories coming back or watching Magnus’, Alexander will have to learn more of what is going on at some point.

For his own safety, and he’s already agreed of course. Even if he’d wrinkled his nose and sighed in defeat when they’d talked about it. Alexander is enjoying being reintroduced to the world by Magnus and apparently, he’s a bit sad of how many things he won’t need to relearn if his memories return or Magnus shares his own.

Which is incredibly sweet, but alas there are dangers untold and Magnus cannot stay away in this realm with Alexander forever, no matter how much he wishes he could.

Still, they have a little longer to remain like this, in bliss.

Magnus flicks his finger and eight spinning orbs shoot into the sky, moving at random and each with a fist sized gem contained by hellfire.

Alexander’s eyes light up with delight and Magnus laughs, carefree and full of joy as he readies his bow and notches an arrow.

Magnus leans back in his chair and summons a drink with a contented sigh.

“Have fun, Alexander. The hellfire will ensure that even if you hit the gems, it will take several strikes before any true damage is done.”

“So unless it’s a direct strike, it will take several.” Alexander’s eyes are busy, tracking the arcs of fire across the sky.

“It’s at random, Alexander. You can’t—” even as Magnus speaks, Alexander makes his shot.

The sound of a crystal shattering fills the tranquil lake and Magnus watches with delight and pride as the gem shatters and drops, the hellfire conquered from a single blow.

He leans forward, laughing as his fingers tangle with Alexander’s quiver and yanks him back to kiss him eagerly.

 “I do love it when you prove me wrong.” Magnus purrs against Alexander’s mouth and there’s a satisfied laugh against his lips before Alexander finally kisses him back.

Properly and with a smugness that carries over to the confidence of his kisses.

--

AN:

alec out here really wishing he doesn't need to get his memories until after Magnus has shown him everything personally because it's much more interesting and likable that way.

magnus is suffering okay, he has to the responsible one because he knows what the world is like and its very upsetting. he took would like to just introduce the world over to Alexander before he has to show them the mess of life

-

magnus: darling for the sake of your pride i'm letting you know you won't be able to... oh... you're a sniper. that's hot

alec: he practically dared me to. he didn't believe in me! I definitely showed hi-mmf. oh okay kisses. I am pleased.

[falling-star-cygnus]

thinking about Charles’ earring

there’s NO WAY he got away with just the one right? like, considering his time period and his dad and his just- overall circumstance?

SUMMARY: Official boyfriends Edwin and Charles relax on their couch, a thing scarcely big enough for one of them but just right for a snug cuddle, after a long case. It’s nice, it’s them, but as the pale boy’s hand wanders down to the shell of his boyfriend’s ear and further still to the lobe, he finds something peculiar. Something he hadn’t noticed before..

ao3 fic: here please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!!!

•-•-•

This was nice.

Charles thought it was, at least, the feel of Edwin’s hand in his curls and the steady thrum under his cheek- born from his boyfriend’s [boyfriend’s!] smooth voice. So, unbelievably nice. And just for him.

Who would’ve thought it, Charles Rowland on the receiving end of gentle affection instead of the giving. Not Charles, that’s for sure.

Their position was comfy, as far as comfort for ghosts go, and he found himself hoping he’d never have to move. His head was pillowed against Edwin’s chest, his arms lazily strewn on either side of his waist- the Edwardian’s legs bracketing both sides of his hips.

One of them was bent upwards, the one not against the back of couch, to prevent a tumble down onto their floorboards.

Which was slightly mortifying and slightly sweet, when one considered that that very thing had happened last week. All embarrassment he feels at remembering such a mishap fades away under the gentle scratch of Edwin’s nails upon his scalp, though.

Like a breeze over light dust.

Charles sighs contentedly, relishing in the feel of his boyfriend’s [and that title will always make him giddy] ungloved hands and burrowing closer to it.

Edwin pauses, and then repeats the motion, “I take it you like that, then?”

“Mhm. Don’t stop, yeah? Please? Unless you’re getting tired of cuddling.”

He can practically hear the Edwardian’s fond eye roll.

“Do be serious, Charles.”

He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face, boyish and so so pleased, “My bad, then.”

Like all good things, however, it must come to an end. Edwin’s hand meanders down his head, thoughtless and nice, to the curve of his ear- still reading from the book held above them.

It traces over the shell next, and maps out the old cartilage hole that had never quite closed up, right down to the clunky clasp of his gold star earring.

He tugs at it, playfully- teasingly- and.. and…

Charles flinches.

He doesn’t mean to. Logically- as logically as he can be really- he knows that Edwin would never hurt him, knows it deep in his now nonexistent bones. He’d never.. never do what- well.

He just wouldn’t. So there was no reason for his chest to be clenching up so suddenly. For him to be so scared.

Edwin’s hand backs off, just as his voice does when he registers the muffled mip of discomfort his boyfriend makes.

“Charles?” he ventures, worry coloring his tone.

“I’m alright,” Charles is quick to throw out, quick to assure, “You just caught me a bit off guard, yeah? No worries.”

That slender, pale hand cautiously comes back down- slowly, as if attempting not to spook a wild animal- and gently traces its knuckle down the apple of his cheek. Feather light.

"I'm terribly sorry," he murmurs, brushing so so tenderly over that same ear, "I hadn't thought- ...oh."

And there it is.

It was a small thing to notice, near impossible really unless you were that close or that touchy [although Edwin typically was neither] but Charles' earring sat just slightly too right- just slightly too close to the edge of the lobe for what was typically recommended.

"May I?"

Charles really rather he didn't. This was usually the part where he would pull away, after all, when he would skitter off to wherever would worry people the least and wait them out.

But this was Edwin. And he'd made a promise to start talking about these things. Sharing. So-

He nods.

These things were easier with his nose buried in soft- er, probably soft- fabric anyway.

Edwin's fingers apply just the barest hint of pressure to his lobe, to the split that ran down its center. Almost reverent. Far too gentle for what Charles deserves.

His dad- obviously his dad, it was always his dad- hadn't been pleased when he'd shown up with only the one pale silver stud, which he'd got through.. admittedly less than safe means, looking back on it. How he wished that was the reason he'd been angry about. Worry.

Sometimes the salt of the sweat on his palms still lingered on Charles' lip- from where hands much crueler than Edwin's had held him down and ripped it clean out.

Clean in- well a subjective sense, anyhow. Those meaty digits had held the clasp closed when tearing it out, either on purpose or uncaringly, so.. it was safe to say the stud hadn't remained silver looking for very long when it was left in a puddle of his own blood.

He hadn't let that stop him from getting one, though, clearly. Went out the next day, sore and determined, and got himself the one he wore now. A star on a hoop and a chain to match.

Gold went much better with red anyway, he'd learned.

"Fascinating," Edwin says, almost playing with the disconnected pieces in morbid curiosity.

Still, though, Charles nestles closer. Like he could make himself a new home in Edwin's ribcage and soak up all this affection like a greedy sponge. He lets his boyfriend examine him, lets himself think he could deserve this reverence one day- in it's terrifying entirety.

"You think so?"

"Oh, Charles.."

With the book long abandoned, the Edwardian has a hand free to tip his lover's head up. And his eyes.. they boast of nothing but adoration.

"That was never in question."

[shidouryusm]

little universe - gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: in the last hours of dusk you realise how much Satoru means to you

word count: 1.4k

content: soft satoru, way too soft reader, fluff.

a.n - im too disgustingly soft for this towering paintbrush. I will kiss his eyes a thousand times

The summer sky casted an endless blue, painting the skyline with her depth. Somewhere in the distance, the silence of this passing hour was cut by the songs of cicadas. and in the midst, you see Satoru. sitting on the porch, propped against the door.  a hand resting against his cheek as his eyes reach the infinity of the blue ahead of him. 

“toru?” your voice prompting him to break the unsaid staring contest and look at you. You bring your hand, raking through his hair, it’s muscle memory for you at this point. His hair, slightly damp from the shower earlier,was flattened over his forehead, tufts of it covering the cerulean eyes. His hair felt like light clouds drifting through your fingers,holding a softness in it that makes you wanna play with it forever. 

Satoru hums, feeling your touch. a sweet smile playing along his lips as he watches you take a seat beside him.

“you planning something devious? sitting like that.”, gojo laughs– a small breathy laughter, escaping his nostrils. his lips curving into his one sided smile upon your words.“can’t a man enjoy the simplicity of the nature. must I always be doing something”

“well, you aren’t exactly the type to…meditate under the nature, 'toru. it’s natural for me to conclude you’re probably plotting” you slash your hand against your throat “– world destruction or something nefarious like that. I'm not opposed at all though” you shrug your shoulders.

Gojo laughs again, a bit louder this time. his childish chuckle mixing with the buzz of the cicadas. A swarm of giddiness runs down your spine at his unadulterated boyishness. 

“Is this what you feel about me, darling? well, that’s saddening”, his large hand wraps you around your shoulder, pulling you against him, your body flush against the sides as you encircle your arm around his waist, you feel his thumb rubs small circles on your shoulder. Satoru presses a small kiss between your eyes before resting his cheek against you. An act of sheer comfort and tranquility. 

Silence veils over you both once again as you watch the blue sky deepening her shade, encroaching the night’s call. The colour of it resembling your lover’s eyes inadvertently making you look at them.

His eyes holds depth you can’t bring yourself to fathom. eyes that have witnessed acts you wish you could reverse time and undo. eyes that have seen through the uglies of the world that sometimes all you want is to wrap your hands around and protect them.

Yet these eyes hold unbounded beauty. eyes that conveys infinite promises to you. eyes that have never left the glint of mischievousness.

Eyes with so many layers of blue that you could sit down and point them out. Eyes even beautiful than the spread of the sky above and eyes that has left you falling more and more for him every passing day. 

“thinking something about me, sweetheart?” his drawling voice brings you back. His eyes are narrowed at you, eyebrows raised, as he brings his face closer. His nose brushes against your temples, small breaths tickling the skin, while he plants a sudden, sloppy and a rather wet kiss on your cheek. “you wanna go in for some–”

“Toru, that is vile. did you just smear your spit on me” you scrunch your face, touching the damp spot on your cheek where he kissed.

“Why you’re acting like I don’t do it every nigh….HEY OW OKAY SORRY” you pinch his sides with your arm that was wrapped around his waist. Glowering at him before resuming to lean against his chest, “sit here quiet and nicely.” 

“so mean.” you hear him mutter before tightening his hold on you, bringing you even closer. You smile, feeling his head resting against you again, as he releases a contented sigh. 

A waft of wind blows through the front porch. You watch the overgrown lawn swaying along the rhythm. There’s a sense of vulnerability in this moment, with the lingering hues of the fleeting blue hour. You and him. Unprotected yet so shielded within each other. 

Satoru’s heartbeat echos through your ear. The constant murmurs of his heart that is too big for his own good, sends your thoughts to an overdrive. 

His cheeky persona has always masked the care and love he harbours for the younger generation. His countless attempts have always wanted to set apart the world from the raw ugliness that he had to endure. His growth over the years has set himself on the pedestal of “the honored one”. A beacon of hope. The strongest of the Jujutsu world. A one man army to fix every twisted mess of Jujutsu.

But to how many is he Satoru? A raging sweet-tooth who takes drink orders, unimaginably sweeter for a normal human. A guy with a palm-in-the-face dressing sense. Someone who will mess up the bathroom in the mornings.Someone who will purposely use your shower stuff because it feels like you’re with me always. Someone who will pout and jut his lips to get something they want, too endearing for you to stick to your uptightness. Someone who purposely spoils a movie for you if he watched it ahead.

Someone who displays all the pride in the world while mentioning his students as if they are his flesh and blood,often treating them with whatever they demand. Someone who has a laughter ringing like a dulcet, and someone who is just…purely Satoru. 

You raise your head, facing him as you cup his cheek. A little sudden to surprise him but nonetheless melting into the touch. Your thumb rubs the rosy apple of his cheek, while his lips press a quick kiss to the inside of your palm. 

“don’t you get tired, toru?” your voice dripping with earnesty, your eyes pleading him to say yes just so you can say take some rest. 

Your insides points accusatory fingers to the world to make them see him as him. To let him take a break. To let him be his old self.

“I certainly do. I just wanted some sexy time with you and you turned me down. Im tired of being heartbroken all the time, baby”, satoru feigns sadness, closing his eyes with mocking despair. You shake your head, knowing he would avert it. 

 “Toru, you know what I’m talk-”

He stops you mid sentence with an abrupt small kiss, his lips tentatively hovers over yours before completely resting them. His large hand palming most of your face, tucking a hair behind your ear. 

The kiss, unlike every other, held unsaid words. As if your toru understood what you meant and conveys the answers wordlessly through shared lips and breaths. 

He pulls away, tucking your head against the crevice of his neck,his hands tangled in your hair, “I have you, my sweets. You may be a little obnoxious, leaving my heart into pieces, but having you is enough for me. more than enough if possible” his soft voice resonates in your ears.

Your throat feels lumpy at his words, arms tightening their hold on him. His admission filling a gap in your heart you never knew you had. You understand what he meant. The world may be oblivious to this side of his, but you aren’t. 

The vulnerability that he pours out to you singles you out from them. The rest may anchor themselves on him, but he rests on you – forever will. A piece of his youth has still remained and it is cradled safe in your hearts. Away from the world, forming a makeshift universe – holding just you and him.

He may be the strongest to the world but he was Satoru to you. The messy haired teenager you somehow managed to fall in love with. The haughty second year who grew into an individual filled with love bigger than the sky and compassion touching ends of the universe. It was your Satoru amidst the “honoured one”

“Well, you’re stuck with me now, no matter how much obnoxious you find me. You dug yourself a hole with this one”, a kiss plants against his chest, right where his heart is. right where the unbroken universe of yours resides. 

“Oh did I? how unfortunate of me”

As the last light of the fleeting evening hides under the blanket of nightfall, you make a promise to safeguard this Satoru away from the broken world. 

oh to kiss this dumbass between the eyes and keep him in my pocket

oh tagging @stsgluver because baby said so

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

oh hello, I am here for my first beloved hype fic: someone who cares! prompt: "do you remember when we first met?"

I'll leave the rest to you and your gigantic, perfect brain <333

Lex!! 😍 Thank you so much for all your support and for giving this little universe so much love. These two were the starting point of my Steddie obsession AND of my fanfic journey, and they'll always hold a special place in my heart. Hope you'll enjoy their wedding day!

Perfect, somehow

Rated: G

Words: 986

Tags: No UD AU; Modern AU, Steve is Dustin’s dad; Established relationship; Wedding day; Eddie Munson is a sweetheart; Steve Harrington needs a hug

Notes: Set in the same universe as Someone who cares

Steve is staring out at the rain and the soggy decorations dangling sadly from the branches of the apple tree when he hears the bedroom door open.

“Hey Robs,” he sighs, fiddling with the flimsy zipper of the dry cleaner bag. “Do you think it’s too late to reschedule the whole thing? I know Eddie will be disappointed, but-” 

“Disappointed?” says a voice behind him. A very familiar, very male voice that is distinctly not Robin’s. “I think the word you’re looking for is fucking livid, honey.” 

“What the fuck?” Steve yelps, whirling around so suddenly he nearly topples. “I told Dustin to get Robin!” 

Eddie shrugs - or at least Steve thinks he does. It’s a bit hard to say with only his head poking into the room, the rest of him still hidden behind the half-open door. “She’s downstairs talking to the caterer. Can I come in or what? Dustin said, and I quote, Dad looks like he’s about to puke on his ugly-ass shoes.” 

Steve’s gaze flicks down to his tan leather slippers. He bought them especially for today, to have something to go with his cream suit. 

“It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” he mutters. 

“Yeah right,” Eddie snorts and steps into the room. The mumble of voices from downstairs dims as he shuts the door behind him. “Except from what you just said, you’d rather not have a ceremony at all.” 

“That’s not true,” Steve blurts. “Of course I wanna- … oh shit, you look amazing.” 

Eddie smiles - the boyish and dimpled one that was one of the first things Steve fell in love with - playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. Black, just like his shirt and tie and pants. His hair has been tamed into a braid, the first stubborn strands already escaping and curling around his face. 

“Thanks,” he says, black leather shoes nervously scuffing on the bedroom floor. “You only get married once, huh? If you still wanna. Marry me, that is.” 

Steve groans. The dry cleaner bag, still clutched in his clammy hands, crinkles as he flops down on the bed. 

“Of course I wanna marry you. I wanna marry you so fucking badly, you have no idea!” 

Eddie’s brow wrinkles. “Then what’s the problem?” 

“What’s the problem?” Steve blurts, gesturing frantically at the curtain of rain behind the windowpane. “I wanted this to be perfect, and now? Weather forecast says it won’t stop raining until tomorrow, and even if it did, the yard’s a fucking mud field. And as if that wasn’t enough, the fucking dry cleaner ruined my suit jacket.” 

He unzips the bag, shaking the mess inside at Eddie’s face. Those pretty brown eyes grow large. 

“Whoa,” Eddie mutters. “Please tell me you demanded your money back.” 

Steve doesn't reply, just continues to stare at him with the same glum expression. Eddie’s eyes go soft and he huffs a laugh. 

“Hey,” he says, plucking the bag from Steve’s hands and tossing it over a chair. Then, he plops down on the mattress beside him, knee to knee, and links their fingers. “Do you remember when we first met?” 

“Huh?” Steve blinks. “Yes, of course, why do you-” 

“I was one failed rent payment away from sleeping on the curb,” Eddie interrupts him, smile wide and happy. “The power company had cut me off weeks ago, and besides, I had pawned my laptop, so I hand wrote my application for that job you'd posted. Not that I thought I'd get it, but I was sort of grasping at straws, y’know?” 

His smile is warm and fond when he looks at Steve.

“That apartment building of yours was so fucking fancy. And then you barged out of that stupid, pompous penthouse and I thought shit, not only is he filthy rich, he's also disgustingly hot on top? Gimme a break, that's just unfair.” 

Steve scoffs, heat prickling at the base of his neck. “C'mon now, I was a mess. My father was breathing down my back at work, I felt like I was failing as a dad. The bags under my eyes were probably reaching my knees.” 

Eddie laughs, loud and carefree and Steve loves him. Loves him so fucking much, wants to spend the rest of his life listening to that laugh. Still can't believe he'll get to. 

“Okay, one: you looked like a fucking dream, baby. And two: I think we can agree we both weren't in the best of places, each in his own way. Right?” 

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, agreed.” 

Eddie's fingers squeeze his, the touch warm and familiar. The shape of his hand. The warm metal of his rings. Skulls and crosses, and the plain silver one Steve gave him on the day he proposed to him. “And still here we are, huh?” 

Steve takes a moment to let this sink in. Here they are. The man he loves and him, with the family they chose downstairs, ready to build a future together. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Here we are, I guess.” 

“So, what d’you say?” Eddie hums, lifting their entwined hands to kiss Steve’s knuckles. “You wanna get married?” 

Steve can't help it, he laughs. “Hell yeah, let's do it.” 

“Yesss,” Eddie cheers, jumping off the bed and punching at the air. “Let's fucking go!” 

Then, he starts unlacing his shoes. He's taken off his socks and is rolling up his pants before Steve finds his words again. 

“Erm, Eddie? What are you doing?” 

Eddie, just in the process of shrugging out of his suit jacket, shoots him a toothy grin. “What we do best, love. I'm making it work.”

They say their vows ankle-deep in mud, with the wind blowing rain under their umbrella and ruining their hair. It's nothing like Steve ever imagined his wedding day to be. It's all he never knew he wanted. 

And damn if that isn't its own kind of perfect. 

More celebration ficlets!

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Of Wonders and Witches: Chapter 4 (Zagreus x Reader)

Sorry for the delayed update y'all. School and work have been kicking my ass lately. Enjoy!

Previous chapter Next chapter

Miraculously, Zagreus managed to fight his way to the surface again, empowered by Aphrodite’s many boons. They all left him feeling a little lightheaded, and his clothes feeling a little too constrictive (particularly in his trousers, but he was trying very hard to ignore it). Luckily by the time he made it to Y/N’s cottage, the effects had worn off enough that he could tuck it away in the back of his mind.

Y/N sat outside wrapped up in her signature green shawl, brush in hand in front of an easel. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and her eyes lit up. Oh gods, she had a little smear of blue paint on her cheek, how adorable. “Zagreus!” she called, and his name had never sounded sweeter than when she said it so excitedly like that. She stood, ushering him through the door. “You’re back so soon! I didn’t think I’d see you again for another few weeks, at least! Though this is far from an unwelcome surprise.” She gathered up her painting supplies and quickly put them away before joining him on the recliner.

A boyish grin spread across his face. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well, my lady. I simply couldn’t stay away for long. By the way, you have a little something right… here.” He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, wiping away the paint smear. Or, at least he tried to—instead he only managed to smudge it even further across her face. He bit back a laugh. “Pfft, oh dear. My apologies: it seems I’ve made it worse.”

Her bottom lip stuck out a bit in a little pout, a dark red blush on her cheeks. She licked her thumb and rubbed the paint off of her face, though there was still a little residue left behind. “Did I get it?”

“Mostly. What were you painting, just out of curiosity? I didn’t know you painted.”

She got a playful smirk on her face. “A woman can have hobbies, you know. And to answer your question, I was painting some of the crows that flock around here. There’s not many animals in these parts, and even fewer birds. But the few there are help keep me company,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. She ducked her head, not meeting his eyes. “…It’s a little silly, but painting them helps me feel a little more connected to them.”

Zagreus shook his head. “No, that’s not silly at all.” He looked at her for a moment, willing her to look back up at him. “…Do you get lonely living out here?”

“…The crows keep me company well enough,” she repeated after a long moment of silence. She let out a soft sigh and nodded her head, looking very much like she was trying to convince herself of that. She fiddled with her hands in her lap, her voice lowering to a murmur, as though she was divulging a secret as she continued, “However, truth be told, it has been rather nice to have a visitor who can talk back. Before I met you, I don’t think I’d had a real conversation with anybody in a… in a long time.”

That information made his brow furrow. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you live here? This can’t be the most hospitable place in the world for a mortal. Why choose to be completely alone like this?”

She sighed again, but this one sounded almost resigned. She finally looked back up at him with a melancholy smile. “The choice may have been mine, yes, but I had few other options. You’ll find that not many take very kindly to having a witch in their village, even if you mean no harm. I could have tried to keep it hidden, but there would always have been the risk of being found out, and I wasn’t willing to put my safety in jeopardy in that way. It’s simply easier to stay removed from society. Besides—” Her expression brightened some. “It’s very tranquil out here, gives me a lot of time with my thoughts. And I like the chilly air—there’s nothing like a brisk walk to rouse the spirit. And, well…” She looked back down at her lap, a small smile growing on her lips. “…Now I get to see you from time to time. So it really isn’t so bad.”

That shy little smile on her face as she credited him for helping alleviate her loneliness made Zagreus’ heart flutter. She was so cute, so endearing. If the Fates were right (and they always were), he would not be at all upset about having her as his wife one day.

He returned her smile with one of his own. “Well then, it’s a pleasure to be of service, in that case. Oh, and by the way—” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of ambrosia he’d brought for her. “This is for you, since you seemed to enjoy the last vintage I brought so much. This stuff is even better, I swear. I thought perhaps we could share it like last time?” he added hopefully.

Her eyes widened, and a bright red flush bloomed on her cheeks. “Zagreus! Th-that’s not—that’s not ambrosia, is it?! I couldn’t possibly—bringing me nectar was already far too much! I’m afraid you’ll anger Olympus by giving this to a mortal like me!”

“What Olympus doesn’t know won’t hurt them, my fair maiden,” he said with a cheeky wink. He pressed the bottle into her hands, gently closing her fingers around it. “Take it, please. I insist.”

A deeply conflicted look crossed over her face—he could practically see her thoughts warring with each other. She sighed and shook her head, an exasperated smile on her face. “You really are too kind, Zagreus. Too generous as well. I fear it may get you into trouble one day, if it hasn’t already. Very well, I accept. But you simply must let me give you something in return!”

“Oh no you don’t, this is a gift not an exchange. You’ve already done plenty for me—need I remind you that you’ve saved my life twice now? Not to mention the lovely shawl you gave me.”

She huffed, a sight that made Zagreus’ heart melt with how adorable it was. “Still, those thing aren’t comparable with giving me a bottle of ambrosia. When next you return here, I’ll be sure to have a gift for you of equal value.”

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure what sort of value you place on literally saving someone’s life, but it appears to be quite different than in my book. But if that’s what it takes to get you to share this premium vintage with me, then so be it.”

Y/N’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. “Alright then, it’s a deal!” She stood and strode over to the cabinets with a little spring in her step, procuring two simple wooden cups. She poured the ambrosia into them, a slightly sheepish smile on her face as she sat back down on the recliner and handed one of them to Zagreus. “I’m afraid I don’t have any glasses befitting such a special treat, but I hope these will suffice.”

He grinned. “They’re perfect. Cheers.”

As she clinked their cups together, he began to feel that familiar feeling of dread settle in his stomach. What? No! This was even less time than when he’d been here last! He didn’t even get the chance to properly savor the look of rapture on her face as she drank her first sip of ambrosia, as he was too preoccupied with using all his energy to prevent being whisked back to the Underworld. “Say, Y/N?” he wheezed out through gritted teeth. “You…ugh, you don’t happen to have any more of that potion from last time, do you?”

She looked at him with confusion for a moment before her eyes widened with realization. “Oh, yes! Just one moment!” She set her cup down and quickly hopped to her feet, rushing back over to the cabinets. She opened a drawer filled with vials of different colored liquid, combing through them while mumbling under her breath. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she pulled one out, it swirling with the same orange-red liquid the previous potion she’d given him was. “Aha! Here it is.” She rushed back over to his side. “My apologies, it completely slipped my mind.”

“Not… your fault,” he gasped out. He took the vial from her hands and downed it all in one go. Instantly he felt his strength start to return to him, his place in this realm feeling more secure. He let out a deep, relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Her brows were furrowed as she looked up at him, concern etched across her face. “I’ll try to work on making the effects more potent, I’m sorry this is all the time I can give you for now.” A twinge of resigned sadness colored her expression. “…I suppose you have to go now, don’t you?”

His heart broke seeing that disappointed yet understanding look in her eyes. But he shook his head—despite his need to speak with his mother, he also needed to warn Y/N. “No, not yet. I… need to tell you something.”

“Me? But I thought—aren’t you trying to see Lady Persephone?”

“Yes, I am, but this is just as important.” He took both of her hands in his and looked directly in her eyes—the warmth of her touch surprised him, especially given the frigid environment she lived in, but he tried his best to push it from his mind and focus. “Y/N,” he said, his voice solemn, “the only reason I’ve been able to escape from the Underworld at all is because the Olympians are aiding me. They think I’m trying to join them on their mountaintop, so they’ve offered me their strength. They don’t know that I’ve already made it to the surface before. I have protection against their gaze, but I fear that they may discover the truth through you. I know we have only known each other for a short time, but… I have come to care for you in that time. I could not bear it if something terrible were to befall you. I don’t know if me telling you this will do any good, but I had to warn you. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to shield you from them.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide with disbelief. But then he saw her expression shift to one filled with resolve. “I see. Thank you for telling me this, Zagreus. I… appreciate your candor. And I feel similarly about you. Our friendship has come to mean quite a lot to me in such a short time. I don’t know if there’s much I can do, but I will search through my grimoires and see if there isn’t some sort of enchantment that will shield me from their sight.”

Zagreus let out a long breath, relieved. He figured that most would panic upon being told that they were potentially at risk of receiving the gods’ wrath, but it appeared that Y/N was different. Ever coolheaded, she took the news in stride. He marveled at her fortitude—he may have been able to fight his way out of hell itself, but he doubted that he’d ever come close to having such inner strength. “Good, good,” he said, nodding to himself. “Let me know if you find something. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I can convince Nyx to give you her blessing as well, if she’s not already stretched too thin.”

Despite the circumstances, a small smile appeared on Y/N’s face. “Thank you, I appreciate your concern. No matter what, I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Now go, if you leave now you might still have some time with Lady Persephone.”

He nodded, his chest filling with determination once more. Even if he died again on his way to his mother’s garden, he at least had to try. But before he released Y/N’s hands, he brought one of them up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

He took a moment to relish the flustered look on her face, her cheeks dark and her lips slightly parted in surprise. He couldn’t hold back a grin at the sight. After a minute, she cleared her throat, but her voice still sounded a little shaky as she said, “Th-think nothing of it.”

He stood, still grinning widely. He gave her a little faux bow. “Until next time, my fair maiden.” And then he was off once again, headed towards his mother’s garden, the sight of Y/N’s flushed face imprinted in his mind.

[jam-packed]

hiiii no one asked but pt 1 of a billion to my last unicorn au where marc is not a unicorn it will be marcnaia but not u gotta be patient im sry. anyways intro ily

about 1.3k

Casey sighs as he and Enea step carefully through the loose, winding path the forest grants them. They had been looking for a viable lake to fish at for a while, and despite the beauty of the greenwood that surrounded them, Casey knew this was not the place for them. It is far too quiet for comfort, Casey thinks, far too peaceful for him to truly enjoy—he is quite a modern man, as he considers. The trees stand tall and foreboding but plentiful and lush; the ground without leaves or brambles—not a prickle of snow has seen the ample soil beneath them—each blade of grass stands just tall enough to tickle the hairs on Enea’s naked ankles; each critter and creature they saw met them with curiosity and childlike wonder but leaving enough distance where Casey would not have to prevent Enea from taking something home; the birds sing sweet melodies into their ears, each note seeming to lead them closer and closer to where they would like to be; and Casey gets the lucky remnants of delicate and decadent speckled fur in the corners of his eyes—bright specks flitting in his vision to-and-fro.

Casey puts his hand on Enea’s shoulder, forcing his attention from the beauty enveloping them. “We must look elsewhere, Enea. This is no place for us.”

“What do you mean?” Enea’s eyes sparkle as he asks, mesmerized by the twisting leaves in the reaching branches above them, shining sparse but angelic light onto the two—kissing each curl on Enea’s head and spinning them to gold.

“There is magic here, my friend, learned slight by those that dwell in the cerval’s forest.”

“Cerval?”

“You are too young to have seen one, Enea, for the one here is lone in this world.” Casey declares, looking into the deep brush of the forest, where two bewildering moon-slit eyes follow him intently; he knows better than to stay here now. “We must think better than to fish here, lest we remove the world of any more magic.”

“Tell me of it, since I have not seen one—not heard of one,” Enea pleads with shining eyes, his boyish charm much more apparent now than even when they first met those fair months ago, in a small pub far from where the sun sets on them now. “Tell me, Casey.”

Casey hums, feeling tiny, near minuscule ants crawl up his calf with no care, and he grants them such privilege. “My great-grandmother—maybe even great-great-grandmother—told my mother, who told me, of her meetings with one. It came to her, rather than her to it—as most seem to do—and–”

“Did she capture it?” Enea’s voice trembles slightly.

“Of course not, dearest Enea. She simply sat near it, with the barest of a smile upon her lips to perhaps bring it close to her, and it did. It laid its head in her lap and licked the small sprouts of blood that flourished from her hands, healing the cuts that may have wounded her. Then it fell asleep, bringing her along with it—she only woke when she found it had gone, leaving her clothes barren of blemishes and bruises.”

“What did it look like?”

A smile floats onto Casey’s face. “Its eyes reflect the moon, and its fur is as soft as a well-loved cat’s.”

“Where did they all go, my love?”

Casey shrugs, his face flaring from the title Enea bestows him with. “Things change. There are things greater than us that haunt the Earth—it is no place for grand creatures such as he.”

There is a pregnant pause from Enea, bare of his usual thoughts and questions and mistakes in his speech that Casey finds ever so endearing. He looks around the forest for what they both come to know will be their last, the floral air kissing him sweetly. “Yes,” Enea says, determination set on his brow. He adjusts the rod and bag that lay upon his back, taking deep steps into the forest floor as if running towards the outer world beyond them. “Yes, let us fish someplace else.”

They reach the forest’s edge quickly—the blinding eyes following each move with careful precision—and Casey turns towards the poor creature, knowing its presence despite his decided lack of vision about it. He frowns as his voice cracks on his tongue, teeth clicking together reluctantly with each word.

“Do not leave here, dear wolf, for the world out here will ensure your end; keep in your forest, keep it lush and bright, with each creature protected by your grand stead—for no other can do as you do, for you are the last.” Casey can feel his eyes fill with salt and glistening pity. “I wish you luck, my friend; beware of men and girls that will only become bitter, old, and silly.”

The two take their leave, their packs full of nets, rods, bait, and gear gone along with them, and the cerval wolf’s gaze falls from them with a slow, dreary sadness. “Is it true?” He asks the forest he habits, his voice hoarse and crackling from disuse—it would frighten him if he allowed himself fear. “Am I really all that is left?”

He does not prance like the deer that follow his horrified sprint. He throws himself to the ground, twisting and crying in the dirt and gravel, biting at his tail and bowed legs for some poor sense of comfort. 

“How selfish they all are!” He growls through his mournful yelps. “My brother, my beloved brother! How could I live if he has left me, too?” The sprawling roots and sagging blades of grass hug at the poor creature’s shivering and solitary bod. The cerval drags itself up to lay by the river bed, its water akin to a mirror—clear and unwaning—if the pitiful beast had ever seen the latter to compare the two. He weeps once more, his tears mixing deep into the minute waves that come from the small waterfall nearby. He takes a drink, kissing the surface of the water with his speckled fur and padded nose, only to replenish himself of the tears he lost so he may start anew.

The heavens fall to darkness, the only light coming from the moon and stars shining through the trees’ fair leaves and branches overhead, and the heart-rending wolf has stayed in its tragic state for—to him—what felt like days. “Maybe,” he thinks out loud to the fish beneath the quivering ripples of the river beside him, “maybe I am to leave this place. What do men know? I could find them with ease, with pride. I am a great beast like no other; men tremble before me, and thunder calls my name—it would be with great ease, yes.” He swats at the brown trout taunting him from below, catching one by pulling it to the edge—where the water and soil meet in hopeful embrace—lifting it with his claws and peering at the poor thing with deep, bright, curious eyes. “Or maybe I should stay,” he concedes, pushing the rather dull trout back into the glistening waters. “I cannot really leave.” He stands to walk the river’s stream. “If I am truly the only one, I cannot leave for selfish reasons as they all have.”

He laughs to himself, “The forest will make fun, they will make me cry on return, and I will never leave again.”

“Yes,” he decides. “I will not leave. There is no possibility for it.”

[distant-velleity]

Be Mine

Summary: Promise Day has rolled around for Twisted Wonderland. Or: three shorts for Valentine's Day with my OCs. Word count: 800+ A/N: Hiiii. I wrote these last night on a last-minute whim. Please enjoy them until White Day comes around <333

Tagging: @thehollowwriter @kitwasnothere @nahelenia for the sillies :))

~

[I]

As soon as Yu opens the front door, there’s a fanned-out hand of face-down playing cards offered to him.

“Pick a card, any card,” declares Ace.

“It’s too early in the morning for any of this,” Yu complains, rubbing the remaining sleep out of his eyes and proceeding to lightly tap the rightmost card.

With his free hand, Ace takes that card and flips it over. He whistles softly but appreciatively. “Ace of Hearts? Good choice.”

“Isn’t that—”

Ace flicks his wrist and, with a burst of magical sparkles, a bouquet of fresh roses replaces the card before Yu can even blink. 

“Happy Promise Day, Yu,” Ace announces, bearing a devious but still endearingly boyish smirk. “I got up bright and early to give you these, so we’d better stick together today, got it?”

Yu doesn’t even realize that his shocked expression has become a disbelieving smile. “You goof. Waking me up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’d be the first to give me anything.” He laughs and takes the bouquet gladly, hugging it to his chest. “I appreciate it a lot, Ace. I promise, today’s a day for us.” 

Ace slings an arm, casual and warm despite the chilly February air, over Yu’s shoulders. “Glad to hear it. Now, how about breakfast over at Heartslabyul? Trey said he’d whip up something nice for today…”

“Oh, absolutely.”

-

[II]

Cute date locations… Things to do with your S/O… “This is a sign to take her/him to …”

Santiago sighs and keeps scrolling. It’s not that he isn’t interested in his feed, but rather that he has no use for it. After all, who would he even do cute couple things with—

“Santiago.” 

Just a word from a familiar melodious voice, and then a small box is placed on the desk before him with an impatient tap. It’s black with a velvety sheen to it, and tied together neatly with a golden ribbon. 

He blinks once, looks up at Chrysos, and blinks again. “What—”

“Dark chocolates with raspberry filling,” Chrysos says, quickly, as if he doesn’t want to leave any room to doubt himself. “For Promise Day.”

Santiago isn’t sure what he should be more amazed by—the fact that Chrysos remembered his preferences (of course he did, it’s Chrysos) or how the merman hasn’t just bolted or made a threat of violence yet.

“You’d better enjoy them, I made them myself with guidance from Azul,” adds Chrysos, his skin looking decidedly more flushed by the moment. 

“You… Holy shit, Chrysos,” Santiago marvels. It’s not an exaggeration to say he would probably just reach up and kiss Chrysos right now if there weren’t personal and societal obstacles in the way. “This is… I mean… thanks.”

A pleased little smile makes its way onto Chrysos’ face, and Santiago thinks—

…Maybe there is someone I could do all that ridiculously cheesy couple stuff with.

-

[III]

“Azul,” calls Jade, “someone would like to see you.”

Occupied as he is with the White Day menu for next month and improved Promise Day recipes for next year, Azul barely gives the summons a second thought. “Tell them to come again later. I’m busy.”

There’s a pause, and then Jade peeks back in again. “I’m not sure you’ll want to keep this one waiting. He did schedule something with you.”

That gets Azul to look up from his work. Mentally, he files through a list of names, recalling distantly that he had been excited for something last night and yet he’s blanking now—

“It’s fine, Jade. No need to negotiate with him.” Davis steps inside, looking surprisingly cleaned up for someone wearing the Savanaclaw uniform. “Overworking again, huh? Still, sorry for taking up your time, Azul.”

Azul remembers now, with embarrassing clarity, why he’d been nearly bursting at the seams with anticipation last night. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures. “I was just about to take a break.”

“...Right,” replies Davis, somewhere between amused or skeptical, or being both. “Uh, anyway—” He looks over his shoulder to make sure Jade has left, which he has. “—I didn’t want to make a scene earlier, so I’ll give it to you now.”

From behind his back, he brings out a small vase with two lavender-blue roses in it. They glimmer faintly.

“They’re a species of rose native to the Queendom, but I experimented and used a bit of magic to create a variant with this color,” Davis explains, looking less tense the more he gets to talk academically. “Botany isn’t my specialty, so they’d normally wilt pretty soon after blooming, but I enchanted them to stay fresh for longer. So, if you want, you can keep it on your desk—”

“Of course,” says Azul immediately, not even giving him room to trail off. “They’re lovely, Davis—and you cultivated them yourself? Truly a man after all three of my hearts.”

He doesn’t realize how cheesy that sounds until after he says it, at which point he’s almost certain there is blood rushing to his cheeks and tinting them blue, but he keeps going with a half-confident smile. 

“If I were you, I would prepare myself for White Day. After all, I never let a debt go unpaid or my thanks go unknown.”

[khazadspoon]

Black Sails

An Interaction between Jack and Silver perhaps?

I don’t think I’ve ever really written these two together in the same scene? Interesting.

————

One thing Jack truly enjoyed, besides being with Anne or having respect, being told he was good at his job and actually doing his job, was knowing things. He liked secrets, knowing something other people did not. He enjoyed talking with someone and thinking ‘I know more than you.’

Perhaps it was a power thing, holding something over an adversary and waiting for the right time to use it. But mostly, he thought, it was just that he enjoyed knowledge.

And, most likely, he was vain and a little bit selfish. He liked having things other people did not. Anne’s trust, for example, was something few people had. Jack had it in spades. Yes, Charles trusted him at times, but that came and went. When he did have Charles’ trust it was a little like Anne’s - a sweet, heady knowing.

Now, sat with a man-turned-myth, he felt a little of that feeling. He had met John Silver before he had become ‘Long’. He’d seen the man with shorter, more carefully curled hair, beardless and youthful, all his limbs intact. He knew that Long John Silver was not quite as intimidating as the story of the man made out. Most of the time at least.

“And what do we get out of this?” The man asked, crutch leaning against the table. His voice was calm, the dismissive tone carefully curated. Here was a man who valued story and myth almost as much as Jack.

“You get an equal partnership-” the word provoked a raised eyebrow and Jack raised his hands, “an almost equal partnership, if we are to be honest, and a connection in Nassau you didn’t have previously. Surely that would be amenable to your captain.”

Invoking Flint’s name was always a dangerous game. The man was rarely present, he was unhinged and as changeable as the sea some claimed he controlled, but his echo was always there. Background noise that ruffled collars and whispered in the ears of men who were too afraid to speak his name.

“I’m sure it would. But I’m not bringing this to him without details.”

Jack sighed, a little dramatically, and reclined in his seat. The tavern wasn’t full but there were plenty of people milling about, waiting for anything that would bring a bit of excitement to their day. “I haven’t got all the details. I will, once Max gives me more than her dismissive French attitude, but once I do…” He smiled, crooked and disarming, the smile that had made plenty of others give him the benefit of the doubt. Silver, it seemed, wasn’t immune to it either.

John appeared to ponder the idea. A partnership, not entirely equal but still beneficial, and stroked one hand over his rather unimpressive and patchy beard. He nodded slightly and picked up the metal flagon. He took a drink. Jack watched as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the details only men like them, seconds to their more impressive masters but still giants in their own ways, could see.

“Alright. I’ll relay the information. The… offer. If Flint accepts I’ll contact you. If not,” he shrugged, the gesture somewhat dismissive but full of unspoken words, “we’ll have to see what can be done.”

“You and I both know any foothold on this island is precarious.”

“Indeed we do.”

“And if Captain Flint wishes to remain important here, he’d do well to listen.” Jack took a mouthful of his own drink and let his words leave their mark.

Long John Silver, with all his hidden depths of secrets, was not as unknowable as his legend would make out. Jack could see his mind working, could see his intrigue and his interest as clear as day. This was a man Jack could work with. Flint was another matter, but between the two of them he knew they could bring the man round.

“I can’t promise anything.”

A laugh, one Jack hadn’t known he would make. “When can we ever make promises we know we can keep?”

He watched a genuine smile take over John’s face. There was still a boyish handsomeness there, despite the lines and tired bruises on his face. Jack could appreciate that. “Never. Not really.”

“Then we have an understanding.”

“We do.”

They didn’t shake hands. It wasn’t that kind of deal, not a firm thing, not one that needed physical affirmation yet. But in time he thought it would. Written or shaken on, it would.

[copiaslilrat]

Riding in the Shadows Behind You: Chapter 6

See the master post for Tumblr links to the other chapters. Read on AO3 here.

Eros is certain they've died and gone to Hell when they wake up in Copia’s arms the following morning.

They wake before he does, just as the sun is beginning to poke over the horizon. They would both need to get ready for work soon, but Eros wanted to spend a few more moments in bed to admire him. He is still very much deep in sleep, his breathing slow and even, his face relieved of its usual signs of stress. His normally tidy hair is mussed from sex and sleep; rogue strands of hair droop onto his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. Copia may not need sleep, but he seems to be enjoying his time with it.

Eros readjusts slightly, and Copia’s arm tightens around them. He stirs, but his eyes remain closed. His voice is heavy with sleep. “Are you trying to escape from me, mio caro ?”

“Oh, yes,” they murmur and rolls over to face him. “Being in your company is absolutely dreadful.”

Copia’s eyes open and he gives them a lopsided smile. “Well, that is too bad. It would seem that you are stuck here with me for all of eternity.” He punctuates each word with a small kiss on various places on Eros’s face, eliciting a fit of soft laughter from them.

“Well, one of us has eternity, at least." It had sounded like a joke in their head, but it was less so when they said it aloud.

Copia’s expression falls as he gives them a sad smile. “Let us not think of such things right now. Even if I was not a vampire, I already have many years on you." He kisses their nose. "You have a lot of catching up to do, cuoricino .”

Eros nods, sad but understanding. Copia senses their lingering disappointment and pulls them closer into his warmth and gently rubs their cheek with his thumb. “How did you sleep?”

They smile and melts into his touch. “Amazing. I don’t think I ever want to sleep without you again.”

He hums thoughtfully at this. “You do not have to if you do not wish it. There is always plenty of room for you in my bed.”

“The offer is tempting, but I don’t think Sisters Harlowe and Rosaleth would forgive me if I stopped coming back to my dorm after finally starting to talk to them.” They nudge his nose with theirs and flash him a grin. “Maybe we can settle on spending most nights together.”

“Mm, that sounds like a perfect compromise.” Copia smiles and kisses them.

As per usual, a simple kiss between them auickly evolves into something more, and it’s not long before their hands are roaming to very distracting places and Copia’s fangs are brushing against Eros’ lips. They playfully run their tongue over their points, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but Copia still shudders at the feel of hot flesh beneath them.

“As much as I would love to have a repeat of last night, we do have to go to work today.” Copia runs a hand through their hair. “I have to go be a Cardinal, and you have a Papa to appease.”

Eros sighs heavily. “Oh, Satanas , Terzo. He isn’t going to let me hear the end of this, is he?”

Copia laughs. “No. He’s rather proud of himself for pairing us together for that ritual preparation. After some subtle nudging from myself, of course.”

“Ah, so that was you.” Eros playfully pokes his chest. In the throes of sex last night, they hadn’t noticed, but he does actually does have “666” tattooed on his chest. The numbers spiral around each other, just beneath his collarbone. They run their fingers absently over the mark, which is grown over with curls of soft chest hair.

“Eh, well, what can I say? It was love at first bite.”

They groan at his joke. “Alright. I’m getting out of bed. I’ve had enough of you.”

“You love me, caro .”

Eros looks over their shoulder at him with a soft smile. “Yeah, actually.”

They shower together, exercising extreme amounts of restraint to not get sidetracked by each others’ bodies, and part for their respective work days with a goodbye kiss.

---

As soon as Eros enters Terzo’s office, his head snaps up and the filthiest, most shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

Eros sighs. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, come now,” Terzo teases. “Let me have just this one, per favore . ”

They resign, knowing that he would not let this go. “Okay, fine.”

“IIIIII fucking knew it!” He slaps the top of his desk. “You piccoli timidi are very cute together. I am glad that everything seems to be working out.”

Eros rolls their eyes and sits down in the chair across from him. “ U h-huh. Thanks. So what can I help you with today, Papa?”

His shit-eating grin makes a return, and Eros already knows what’s in store for them. “Research,” they say at the same time with vastly different levels of enthusiasm. They accept their fate with a polite bow of their head and rise from their chair.

“Sibling Eros?” Terzo calls after them as they leave his office.

They turn to face him. “Yes, Papa?”

His smile is genuine this time. “Thank you for everything that you do for myself and the Ministry. And...for making mio fratello feel happy again. I have known him since we were bambini , and he has not been himself since, well...you know."

“Of course, Papa.” Eros’ hand lingers on the doorknob, unsure if they should ask the question that they want to. “What happened to him?”

“Ah.” Terzo’s gazes becomes unfocused as he thinks on it, similar to how Copia’s had. “It is not my story to tell. I am sure he will tell you when he is ready. It has only been a few years since it happened; the wounds left behind are still very much fresh, hm?”

Eros nods. “I understand. Thank you, Papa.”

“Of course, bello . If you need me, I will be here in my office.”

---

Eros was deep into reading about the medical and toxic properties of hellbore when someone’s hand rests on their shoulder. They startle—not normally fond of being touched without permission—but immediately relax when they see who it is.

“ Mi dispiace. I did not mean to frighten you, Sibling Eros.”

“No harm done, Cardinal.” Using formalities feels weird considering their relationship, but they suppose that being so casual in a public space during work hours would also feel weird. Regardless, Eros can’t help but smile at Copia’s surprise visit. “Is there something I can assist you with?”

“ Sí . Will you follow me, per favore ?” His tone is professional and his expression unreadable.

Curiosity piqued, they stand from the window seat they had been reading in and follow Copia. He leads them out of the library and into one of the less-frequented hallways in the abbey. Most of the doors lead to meeting rooms or supply closets.

“In here, per favore , Sibling,” Copia gestures to one of them.

Eros opens the door to find a mostly empty supply closet. “Cardinal, what–“

He swiftly pushes them inside and closes the door. He pins Eros up against it in the same breath. “I do not have much time, but I have not been able to stop thinking about fucking you all morning and I need you, amore . Desperately.”

Eros inhales sharply before pressing their lips against his. Copia presses his body firmly against theirs, not breaking the mood for a moment as he deftly unwraps their cincture and unbuttons their cassock just enough to access their trousers.

He pulls back, slightly breathless as he works on their belt. “Are you okay with this, caro ? As much as I would enjoy worshipping and loving on every part of your perfect body, I am afraid that we do not have the time or the comfort of doing so.”

“I am more than okay with this,” Eros breathes out.

He grins mischievously as he works off their trousers before dealing with his own. “ Perfetto . Now try to keep quiet, sì ?” His gives them a lopsided grin as he cups their face in his hands. “I would hate for anyone to hear us being so… unprofessional .”

Eros grins and bites their lower lip. Both of them know that nobody would actually care if two Ministry employees were fucking in a coat closet; it happens multiple times on any given day. They brush their lips against his. “You’re asking a lot of me. You know exactly how hard it is for me to keep my mouth shut when you’re fucking me, Cardinal .”

He inhales sharply at the emphasis on his title. “Oh, Satanas . You are a vixen.”

Copia’s lips hungrily land on theirs again. Still firmly pinned up against the door, he supports Eros’ weight with his hands on their hips, and they wrap their legs around his waist to open themself to them. Copia meets little resistance as he slowly eases his way inside of them, letting out a satisfied growl as he does. Eros’ eyes roll back in their head as they bite their lower lip in an attempt to stifle their moans, but their effort is futile as they can't stop themselves from whimpering anyway.

Copia rests his head on the door beside theirs. He's struggling to control his breathing and his own groans as he fucks them. “Sei così perfetto per me, mio amore. Cazzo.”

Eros’ legs tighten around his waist as their climax quickly approaches. They are still trying their best to play along and be quiet, but the rhythmic slamming of their body against the wooden door doesn’t leave much to the imagination if someone happened to be passing by.

“Fuck, Copia, I want to feel you come inside of me. Please! Fuck! ” Eros cries out as they abandon their oath of silence.

Copia places a finger against their lips. “Shh, mio principe . Be a good boy for your Cardinal and keep quiet, and I will give you exactly what you are asking for.”

His words alone were enough to give Eros that last nudge over the precipice. Copia gives a small, satisfied chuckle that his words had such an effect on them before increasing his pace, fucking them through their orgasm while chasing his own. He rounds on his own release and he gives one final, deep thrust, his body shuddering as he finishes inside of them. He groans their name against their jawline, his breath coming out hot and heavy as he languidly fucks them for a few more strokes before pulling out.

Eros laughs softly and attempts to smooth his hair back into some semblance of order again, their own breaths coming out in soft pants. “Feel better?”

“You have no idea.” He sighs. “You are irresistible, caro . I think you truly have bewitched me.”

They grin and capture his lips in a kiss. “Oops.”

“Mmh, please do not apologize for that.” Copia run his thumb along their lower lip before kissing them back, letting his fangs playfully brush against it.

He sets them down on the ground and held them re-dress, and then Eros helps him do the same. Copia gives them two quick kisses before reaching for the door. “I am sorry for having to leave so soon. Are you okay? Do you need anything from me before I go?”

“I’m doing wonderful. Thank you for always checking in with me.” They reach out and ghost their hand over his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course.” He smiles and gives them one more kiss before opening the door. “ Tí amo, mio caro. ”

“I love you, too,” Eros replies, reciprocating his smile. The words feel foreign in their mouth, but it feels so right to say them.

They give Copia a few minutes for a head start before exiting the closet and reutrning the library to wrap up work for the day. Back at their makeshift study area that they had set up in a window seat, they give a determined tug to their cassock and settle back into it. trying very hard–and being mostly unsuccessful–to not get distracted with thoughts of what tonight would have in store for them once they are alone with Copia, in a proper bed and all of the time in the world.

[nomdepen]

"I believe I would've still adored you. Acne and all." And she means it, even if it didn't play out in such a fashion. Pen had always been drawn to boyish charms and she couldn't imagine that Ben was any less charming in his youth. He might not have been as masculine as she enjoyed him to be now, but she would've had an attraction to him if they'd crossed paths in their childhoods nonetheless.

"I don't believe I was much different then than I am now. Perhaps a bit more shy, if you can imagine such a thing. Philippa and Prudence have changed quite a bit since we were girls, but me... I think I've always been rather queer." Turning her face up towards him, she smirked. "We would've certainly made a peculiar pair, you and I."

"Sheepskins?" Her brows furrowed and she shook her head at the notion. That was a lesson for another day, she decided. Her brainpower had been fruitfully spent tonight and she was satisfied enough with what she learned for now. Until the next lesson, where she would aim to be just as diligent.

"Good." She nodded, pleased to hear such affirmations. Pen had already indulged in sin enough for one lifetime, she supposed, so to continue it in her marriage wouldn't be very wise. Besides, she'd have all the time in the world to redeem herself in God's eyes. She would devote herself to Ben and she would make sure to partake in such sacred and holy endeavors as often as he allowed. "Naughty boy, you have enough time to ponder such things later." Pressing a kiss to his lips, she sighed contently. "I expect a full report on which ones you decide on."

We should get you home. Playfully, Pen whined, wrapping her arms around him greedily. She didn't want to return home, even though she knew it was inevitable. Rae could only cover for her for so long. If her mother managed to notice Pen's absence, God only knew what she'd think was happening. And chances are, she wouldn't be far off in her guesses.

"When can I see you again? As much as I would like to be a dutiful wife and abstain from seeing you again until the wedding..." She nuzzled into him again, memorizing the way he felt so that her nights apart from him may not be spent entirely lonely. "I fear I am not strong enough to be apart from you for three entire weeks. I could not survive it. Especially not now."

Pure magic?

Benjamin blushed fiercely at her words, visible embarrassment dancing behind his eyes as he laughed. "Although I consider myself lucky that you believe such lies, I also can't imagine why you'd put me on such a god-level tier." He chuckled. "When I was a boy, I was called lovely monikers like 'duke of limbs' and 'carbuncle-arsed moppet,' because I was tall and gangly, and had quite the array of acne. In short, I was a catch."

Chuckling, he nuzzled into her open palm. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to imply you weren't a lady. With my education, and my willingness to impart said education, I suppose I take for granted what information is readily afforded to me."

Penelope blinked up at him, a certain understanding dawning over her features as she murmured, “Your seed... So, what you’re saying is that the more often we do this, the more likely I am to be with child?”

Benjamin offered a lopsided smile, nodding in response. "Yes," he affirmed. "Though now that you've put it so plainly, I feel rather foolish for the hands-on demonstration. I didn't have to touch you..." His grin grew boyish. "But I wanted to."

Penelope hummed. “I have a feeling we, as a human race, would be in grave danger of overpopulation if every time positively resulted in a child. But perhaps the gods of love and marriage will allow us a brief reprieve to spend our honeymoon as unladylike and ungentlemanly as we want.”

Benjamin laughed, leaning into her fond little nuzzle. "We would certainly be in danger, yes. I confess, there are certain methods to take for prevention -- lemons and sheepskins, to name a couple -- but I'm unsure if I wish to intervene with God's plan."

Penelope smirked, the expression causing his stomach to flip with yearning. “Even if they don’t, I confess I still wish to take part in said babymaking with you as often as possible.”

Benjamin flushed. "Well, that can certainly be arranged..."

“…It won’t be sinful anymore to say such things after we’re marred, will it?" she asked. "Because I’m afraid I might become a downright heathen if that’s the case.”

"Not sinful, no," Benjamin reassured, stooping to kiss her brow. "Hell, I'm sinning right now, because my mind's drifting back to those positions you oh-so-kindly granted me free rein with." He grinned. "At this rate, we'll never again leave our respective room...but I suppose all good things must come to an end." Concerned, he glanced over his shoulder at his casement clock in the corner. It presently read half-past eleven.

"We should get you home," Benjamin murmured, idly stroking her hair. "To remain much longer could risk far more than just the temptation to have you again." Here, his fond smile turned a touch strained. "But I will, of course, miss you quite fiercely."

[saetoru]

[ 𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 ] 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈.

“stop fuckin’ taking pictures—”

“i’d say this one’s a keeper,” you snort, holding your phone out for bakugou to look at. he reaches forward to snatch at the device, but you move it away just in time, snickering to yourself as you stare at his off-guard expression.

“quit it,” he growls, warning you with a glare. you don’t pay him any mind, hoisting yourself to sit on the bathroom counter as you swing your legs and watch him (attempt) to tame his hair.

“i can’t, it’s your first interview,” you say excitedly—he doesn’t really seem to extend the sentiment—and then you reach forward and pinch his cheek.

his eye twitches, and so do your lips.

“fuckin’ bullshit,” bakugou grumbles, “you know how productive heroes could be if they didn’t act like movie stars? bullshit.”

it’s the first interview since bakugou’s gone pro—and you’re just a little bit proud even if you don’t exactly admit it. you think it’s a good opportunity to make a name for himself (he believes otherwise) and he thinks it’s a waste of time (you argue he says that about everything) and his manager thinks he’s got no choice.

so—through a lot of grumbled curses—bakugou katsuki throws on his best shirt, sprays on his best cologne, and puts his best effort into doing his hair—which only springs back to its usual spiked mess in a few moments.

“maybe you should invest in a hair stylist. i don’t think i’ve seen your hair lay flat since best jeanist—”

“would you give that a rest?” he scowls, slamming down his comb and crossing his arms in frustration. his top buttons are undone, and his hair’s a mess, and now his hands are sweating, and he has to leave in thirty minutes—and it’s safe to say that bakugou is not having a good time.

this isn’t the hero stuff he signed up for. he clenches his jaw, and your expression softens just a little.

“c’mere,” you say gently, holding out an arm to gesture him over. he blinks for a moment, contemplates whether or not to trust you—it’s not like you’ve given him much of a reason to so far—before he sighs and slots himself between your legs.

“this is bullshit,” he mutters.

“you said that already,” you chuckle, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw. he feels honey trickle from your lips and seep into his skin, melting into the pent up rage and lulling it down.

you tend to have that effect on bakugou—and sometimes, you still chuckle when you remember the way kaminari’s jaw dropped the first time he witnessed your hand lay on the blonde’s chest and effectively quiet him down.

“well, i’m sayin’ it again,” he says gruffly.

“on the bright side, if people think you’re hot, they might make those fun little thirsty edits of you and i’ll get to enjoy quality content—”

“i’m calling my manager to cancel,” he interrupts, reaching over to flick your forehead as he shakes his head. you throw your head back and laugh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost miss the ghost of a smile on bakugou’s lips—one he’s clearly trying his best to fight back.

“i’ll make one for you, katsuki. don’t worry.”

“if you ever say ‘don’t worry,’ that’s enough reason for me to worry,” he snorts, and then his hands rest on your hips, your arms slot around his neck, and your foreheads meet. he’s down to twenty minutes until he has to leave, but neither of you really care as his lips hover over yours. “you’re so damn annoying.”

“and cute, right?”

“no.”

you pout, huffing a little at his denial, and this time, he laughs. and it’s a rather pretty laugh—boyish and charming and just a little gruff. not a lot of people get to listen to the sweet melody that is bakugou katsuki’s laugh, but you have it on repeat—and you don’t think it’s a song you’ll ever be getting tired of.

“i’m cute,” you insist through pouty words and a halfhearted glare. he smirks, biting your cheek playfully as he snickers.

“maybe just a little. that’s all you’re getting, though,” he offers as a truce.

“so you think i’m cute, huh?” you flutter your lashes at him teasingly, and for once, bakugou thinks his heart’s not strong for these stupid fucking emotions that stir up as you stare at him like that. it’s not something he’s used to—and it’s not something he can master.

but he thinks as long as you’re here, the stars in your eyes and the sun dripping from your fingertips, he’ll keep trying until one day he gets it right.

“sure, i do,” he agrees (a little too easily, you note), “i think you’re pretty fuckin’ adorable when you shut up.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head as he snickers at his supposed victory, and then with a touch as gentle as the gaze in your eyes, your fingers thread through his hair. you don’t try to tame the strands, just move them to lay smoothly in their usual direction.

“there,” you hum, “perfect.”

“pretty sure that’s not how hair looks when it’s done.”

“that’s how your hair looks when it’s done. yours defies the laws of physics.”

“name the first law,” he raises a brow. and bakugou’s never really taken himself as a guy who’s meant for love that’s gentle in that sickeningly cheesy way—he’s never taken himself for that weird slow dancing stuff his parents did in the kitchen, or the shameless kisses those annoying couples did in hallways, or those extravagant displays of love in those cheesy movies.

but all things considered, as he stares at his reflection in the mirror with his hair as good as it’ll get and your warm smile as your body curves against his, he thinks maybe he’s got his own kind of gentle.

the kind that comes in the form of you.

“i’d love to talk physics with you,” you press one kiss to the corner of his lips, and they almost tug into a soft pout (as close as a pout gets with someone like bakugou), “but you have to go.”

“do it right,” he says gruffly, but there’s an edge of pleading, bordering right on desperation in his tone.

you smile knowingly, and you give him what he wants.

“what, you mean this?” and then your lips meet his—fully this time, and he feels this sick, twisting feeling in his gut.

it’s the kind that screams at him to pull you into the kitchen and slow dance with you as you giggle like his parents did growing up. but for now, he lets you pull away, let’s you reach past his collar and button the top few buttons of his shirt as you smooth down the fabric with a soft, content little smile.

“yeah, that,” he mumbles, “keep doin’ that.” and then his lips are back in yours, and he’s down to ten minutes until he has to leave, but you don’t seem to mind as your arms tighten around his figure and pull him just a tad bit closer.

happy birthday you idiot i’m going to kiss your stupid lips