#so tuck that drawing idea away for later hehe

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

huh, you seems lonely, why not have a fake version of you, mod?

(Wha, I'm not lonely! There's no need for- Wait, who is that...?

YEEEEEOOOOOWWWWUUUHHHHHH!!!!!!!

HHHHHHUUUWWWWOOOOOEEEEEY!!!!!!!

[tiredassmage]

I can’t NOT send in ❛ you’re a weapon, and weapons don’t weep. ❜ for agent feels perhaps 👀

FINALLY. I FINISH IT! Perhaps a day late for Star Wars day(s) celebrations, but you know how Alucren is about talking about his feelings. Once again, them having issues actually talking about anything didn't end up using this word for word, but the shape of it's there. And... frankly a lot of indulgent intimacy, hehe. :3

Shoutout to the namedrop of my friend's blorbo, Taizi. Let's get these agents the idea of therapy and some supportive poly relationships, amiright?

[hit 'em where it hurts // sentence starts]

Deckard sighs soft and warm as Alucren presses his lips against his throat, dragging fingertips through the short hair of his nape.

Here, Nine is at a special, intoxicating kind of ease - one hand formed against Ellery’s hip and the other cradling the back of his head, encouraging Alucren’s introduction of teeth and rewarding the move by tilting his head back into nails digging gently into skin. By now, he knows Nine’s smiling without looking for it.

He smooths his hand along Nine’s spine, fingertips following the curve of skin down towards subtle implants. Nine sighs into the gentle pressure, content enough, it seems, to remain placated by Eleven’s lips over his pulse.

Ellery frowns as his fingers splay carefully over the implants, tracing the faint hints of scars he knows remains, no matter how masterful the work of droids in removing them. The texture’s rougher than the tanned skin around it, than the brush of Nine’s hand against his over his waist where he’s anchored his fellow Cipher back against his chest.

Dark emerald eyes fall away from the steady rise and fall of Nine’s chest to the murky, soft shadows cast in the cloak of Odessen’s night across the room. In this, he’s come to see that the skeletal fingers of Imperial Intelligence still whisper around their throats - the common tattered, lace thread tying them together that Deckard tugs on between the half-familiar dance of briefings and deployments, in the half-held breath of hallways and half-clouded eyes meeting silently over a desk.

He was an idealistic bastard at the best of times, their Nine… Always so concerned with not letting another choke on the decaying dust and rot that he prefers to line his own throat with it than remain idle.

Alucren swallows and tucks his chin into the crook of Tyr’s neck, tracing the outlines of those implants. It’s not the first time he’s seen them. Nine has bared plenty more than flesh to him, dragging him this far out into unknown and - to them - unmapped regions of the galaxy.

Sometimes, what Nine never wrapped words around said more than that which he did. Alucren wonders almost idly if it’s one of the reasons he was a better agent. Even a latecomer transfer as the war had reignited like himself had heard some of the whispers, the stories… Even a stubborn bastard like him had at least once seen the few extra lines across Keeper’s fair features.

And yet all the younger man had for him tonight was patience. Surely, some days it was shorter than others, but…

“Deckard…”

Tyr hums softly in acknowledgement. Alucren closes his eyes as Nine tilts his head slightly, just enough to brush his chin against his temple.

“What was it like?”

The draw of Tyr’s fingers against his knuckles slows to a stop. “Mm. ‘Fraid you’re gonna have to specify a bit more, darling.”

Alucren’s hand stills against his back as he turns to brush his lips briefly along Nine’s jaw. A moment later, he’s passing under Nine’s steady, watchful eyes. The urge to flinch nearly rushes up his spine.

Nine’s good at that - seeing all of him. Tracing fully down from the furrow of his brow, the aging lines Taizi tells him to stop fussing about, and not missing a single note in the depths of his eyes. It’s been damned infuriating at times. Alucren has yet to figure out how to swallow being so utterly disarmed.

Tyr’s eyes fall after only a few moments. It could’ve been hours, for all he takes from it. “You know I live with it,” he says quietly.

“Part of the job description,” Ellery supplies.

“Sure,” he says.

“Sure.”

Alucren’s chin settles against his shoulder again. Tyr pulls the hand from his hip away, draws it in front of him so he can watch as he traces over their fingers.

Living. It isn’t so simple as that. Taizi had told him… on Marr’s fleet to abandon his side, to go, flee, to live. Too much smoke had been in his lungs to discern the sting in his throat from the mauling of his chest.

In five long, lonely years that were as restless as the tempests over Dromund Kaas, Alucren Ellery had learned he’d never quite learned what living really was.

“Hell of a thing to live with…”

Tyr nods slowly as a frown begins to pull quietly across his lips. He turns Alucren’s hand over carefully in his and traces fingertips carefully along his palm, then up along each finger in slow succession. Alucren’s gaze falls to watch.

“They don’t talk about that much in Academy.”

“Did they send you?” Tyr asks.

Alucren’s head shakes faintly against his shoulder. “Not really. No time for it, with the war and all. Just some… accelerated program.” He weaves his fingers with Deckard’s and squeezes carefully. Nine lets him. “Suppose you gave them a run for their credits.”

A faint whisper of a sharper exhale clears Nine’s lungs. One corner of his lips barely flickers up for a fraction of a second - so slim Alucren’s half-content to believe it the blink of his own eyes at the edge of his vision.

“I think you’re skilled enough at that yourself, Eleven.”

He doesn’t imagine much, if anything, in that training explored the intricacies of the political fallout when an agent has to stand against the very head of their sphere, the very entity supposedly in control of their orders. There’s plenty in the handbooks for Minders about internal security. There’s regulations for these things between agents. From the most wet-eared recruits to the Minister of Intelligence, they all shared a duty to report security risks.

There was a time, Ellery imagines… There was a time he might’ve held a blaster to this man’s temple.

There was a time he might have - would have, likely - pulled the trigger himself on their infamous Cipher Nine.

He closes his eyes and tightens his arm around Nine. One hand against skin and metal and their linked ones over that heart of his.

Tyr’s chin nestles against the top of his head. He can feel the unspoken inquiry in the draw of Nine’s thumb once more against his knuckles.

Nine could talk a lot about Imperial Intelligence. Eleven usually balks on the matter.

He’s not sure he could’ve done what Nine did. He’s fairly certain he can’t do what Nine does now.

“How?” It’s hot and muffled against Deckard’s skin. It’s easier to hide than find the words for the hollowness in his chest, for the shape of the tremble in his arms, racing through his blood. “How did you..?”

Tyr inhales slow and carefully and releases the breath as a weary exhale. Their hands tighten around one another again. He’s not looking, but he’s sure his knuckles must be paling, constricting around Nine’s calloused, warm hands.

“Ellery…” Softer.

He turns away, not yet willing to cede the stinging in his eyes even if dodging it won’t obscure it.

“All I had were orders, Nine. A weapon, preferably in both hands.” His next breath shudders through him. “And no use for tears for what's given in the line of duty.”

“So they tell us, hm?” Tyr murmurs.

Quiet falls between them again for a few moments before Tyr presses his thumb a bit further into his skin. “Think I can have my hand back, love?”

Alucren inhales sharply, eyes turning from hiding behind his shoulder back to him only to find a soft, gently amused smile draping easily across his lips. Alucren’s knuckles are indeed pale around Tyr’s hand still in his grasp. He clears his throat and flexes out his hand.

Only for Tyr to reach out and take his chin before he can turn away again, pressing his lips carefully to Eleven’s temple.

“You’re here now, Ellery,” he says. “It’s alright. I promise.”

Alucren ducks under the arm he opens, pressing into the crook of Nine’s neck as he turns to face him. Now it’s Nine’s fingers at the nape of his neck, gently drawing lines up and down through short hair.

Living was very different from surviving, he’s learning. And even Ciphers have plenty of uses for tears.

[shangsclaws]

Betrothed

Includes: Fujin/Shang Tsung x reader (and shang being a huge bitch lol)

Summary: Shang Tsung is visited by a talented and seemingly innocent artist, who is actually a spy working for the storm brothers. The snake takes quite the liking to them, but Fujin had eyes on them 'first'.

Note: i know i said i was taking a break but i finished writing this a few mins ago and had to post it >.< still on that break tho! hehe

/

Shang Tsung eyed the soul phylactery with quiet intrigue, not quite admiring the gear, but more the artist who had gifted it to him. Yes, he liked it, he answered their sheepish question, and he would very much like more.

It wasn’t so much that the artist was shy, but rather terrified. Shang Tsung was a dangerous weapon if nothing else. Why did they ever agree to this?

The artist grinned crookedly to the sorcerer, bowing with their hands tucked neatly in front of them. They were glad he enjoyed it.

The snake chuckled.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, dear. I keep people like you around, you know.”

Around? Perhaps he meant to say alive…

“Artists are free from my cruelty. Or their creations, rather. Things like this are hard to come by these days,” the snake began, setting the phylactery down onto the nearest tabletop, “so long as you continue your work, then I’ve no reason to be rid of you.”

They blinked, nodding and saying nothing. The poor thing was unsure whether to be thankful or to cry. Or to run.

“Come with me, my dear. I haven’t had a visitor like you in ages.”

/

“This is ridiculous, brother.”

“We instructed them to alert us should they come into any danger. They know how to contact us. Calm your nerves, Fujin.”

“Calm my nerves..." Fujin echoed under his breath, exasperated, "it’s been hours. We’ve heard nothing.”

The thunder god merely sighed, knowing full well what was on his brother's mind.

"Set your preferences aside, Fujin. The information we gather through them will be vital to-"

“I am leaving," the wind god interrupted, beginning his pace out of the sky temple.

"Fujin-"

"Their life is more important than all this damned information."

/

The singsong jingle of his armour could have entranced the little artist then and there. Shang Tsung walked two and three paces ahead, head held high enough to practically greet the storm brothers above, reeking of a pleasant Outworld musk. If it wasn't the clanging of his belt that hypnotized them, then it was the scent that the sorcerer left in his wake. Was it his hair? His clothes?

He said he'd bring them to the courtyard.

"I've been looking for a replacement for my other craftsman," he began, raising his voice slightly as he did not turn to face the artist, "they died by means unknown to me."

Shang Tsung stopped squarely in the centre of the courtyard, as if all the stars aligned in that spot of his island, turning around finally to reveal a placid grin. "I'm glad you look just as delightful as your work, dear. Simply refreshing." He complimented.

"Admittedly I cannot say the same about my last one..."

The snake's eyes left the artist's at last — any later and he would have relished their nearly bloodshot cheeks — before the whole island began to shake. A rumble, akin to the distant chuckle of thunder, followed. "Take my arm," he told the artist hurriedly, "quick."

Drawing near, the visitor took the sorcerer's arm into their own. Their heart began to race at his scent, the proximity of his hardened bicep to theirs, until a violent flash of green suddenly suspended itself in midair. The ground shook violently now, ghastly and pained groans sounding afterwards, before the artist realized that Shang Tsung was in the midst of summoning his entire well of souls. They held him flush against their chest, warry they might fall from all the shaking.

When the chaos had ceased, Shang Tsung looked to the artist teasingly.

"You can let go now."

"Oh," they muttered, "...right."

Adorable.

Shang Tsung took a step forward, gesturing his hand towards the souls suspended in midair before them, "I have these many souls I'd like to be stored in your phylacteries. By when, I've yet to set a date..."

The snake drew closer, taking their right hand into his own, "...although I'm sure these fingers are hardworking."

The sorcerer bowed, his coal black tresses spilling over his shoulders. His lips fell gently upon their knuckles, whilst his eyes, dark and severe, never deterred from theirs.

Was he sizing up his next victim? And must he do it so endearingly?

"Sorcerer!" barked an airy voice suddenly, interrupting Shang Tsung's gesture, "move away from them!"

Fujin's unmistakable stature stood a few inches from the two, his crossbow trained imposingly at the still bowing snake. Shang Tsung straightened his posture, letting go of his visitor's fingers to fall back to their side.

Hands tucked neatly behind his back now, the snake's brows pulled themselves taught. "I can never have nice things, can I?"

"Step back. Now."

The snake sighed, bearing his palms as he raised them to the level of his eyes. Two steps backward were all he took.

"Are you alright?" The wind god began pacing towards the artist, still trying to comprehend how Fujin arrived so silently, "did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," they informed him, now further baffled by the hand that he placed on their shoulder. Fujin squeezed, as if to assure them that things were alright. Or perhaps to give himself his own peace of mind.

The artist had never seen such worry in his eyes before.

"Raiden's ideas are always ridiculous," he muttered silently to himself, before turning back to the sorcerer. "You will do no business with them, Shang Tsung. They work with me."

"Work," the sorcerer scoffed lowly, "you look at them as if they're your betrothed. Are you not aware of how incapable you are at lying, demi-god?"

The artist blinked profusely, "betrothed?"

Fujin struggled to find the words for a moment, a panicked expression washing over his hardened features. He quickly shook his head then, either to rid himself of his racing thoughts, or out of denial of the snake's observations. "You are speaking nonsense."

Shang Tsung's chin tucked into his neck slightly, a teasing and devilishly amused grin gracing his face. He had discovered something he clearly wasn't supposed to have.

"Have you any...unspoken feelings, demi-god?" He prodded.

"...none, Shang Tsung," replied the wind god venomously, “and that should never concern you."

A grin turned to a blatant smile, the snake tilting his head tauntingly. "Then why the nerves? I might have laid a finger on them, but I didn't hurt them?"

Fujin remained silent, the snake seeing his opportunity to continue.

"...I only kissed their fingers, Fujin."

A frightening mixture of embarrassment and bloody hostility had presented upon the wind god's face. The artist was too terrified of his expression to even bother putting two and two together, tensed as they waited to hear what Fujin had to say next.

Without a courteous warning, Raiden's brother summoned a wind beneath the artist. They yelped, shocked by the sudden sensation of their feet off the ground. "We are leaving," Fujin hissed finally, summoning his own wind beneath him.

They moved swiftly away, up and up from the island and towards the sky temple. But, before the artist could notice the blood red flush upon Fujin's cheeks — was he furious or… or what? What was he? — the sorcerer let out a bellowing laugh.

"He's worth nothing, my dear!" The snake jeered from below, the sound of a loud smile in his tone, "at least I'm more well spoken than that coward!"

masterlist

[atinymonster]

drunk baby monster

ateez 9th member.

when jiyu turns twenty and chaos ensues during her first time trying alcohol.

inspired by a lovely anon’s ask hehe ✨✨ and this all happened on jiyu’s birthday this year (march 15th)!! i had midterms around the time so i totally lost track of jiyu’s birthday 🤧🤧

⚠️: mentions of alcohol

➴ taglist: @banhmi07, @jiyeons-closet, @jaeminpeachy, @mochibabycakes, @euphoriamingi, @marsophilia, @studioreader, @goddessofdestructionbeast, @dkdlwhs12

➴ masterlist

Jiyu warily eyed the soju bottle in front of her before her eyes flicked to the men sitting around her on the couch.

“I know I asked this at least ten times already within the last half an hour, but are you sure this is a good idea?”

Wooyoung whined, shimmying closer to her before giving her his best puppy eyes. “You have us in case something goes wrong!”

“What do you mean if something goes wrong?!” she asked, not feeling at all reassured for this first experience.

She trusted them, she really did, but did she trust herself or her unknown alcohol tolerance level? No, she really didn’t.

“If you don’t want to try, don’t feel pressured, Ji,” Seonghwa reassured, patting her head.

“No!” she denied, slightly startling herself with how loud she was, “It’s not that I don’t want to try it, as embarrassing as it sounds, I’ve always wanted to try drinking soju the day I’m of legal age,” she sheepishly explained what used to be a childish wish of her’s.

“But I’m just embarrassed about what could happen when and if I get drunk...”

There were endless possibilities of what drunk her could potentially do—she could accidentally fire off embarrassing Universe private messages to ATINY, or just drunkenly interact with ATINY in general, or she could babble about the most random things in the world while crying or laughing, and the list goes on.

And she just knew Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang were ready with their phones to record the momentous occasion and not let her live it down for the next few years.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve all done some embarrassing things when we were drunk at least once in our lives,” Hongjoong reassured with a chuckle. Despite turning twenty, Jiyu was still such a little baby to them.

“It can’t be like Yeosang hyung where he started texting the group chat about how much he loves us before texting out the ponytail song,” Jongho reminded, snickering at the horrified and betrayed look said man gave him.

“I thought we all mutually agreed to forget that ever happened!” he hissed.

“That actually did make me feel better though,” Jiyu admitted, ignoring Yeosang’s pleas about wiping that memory from her head.

Sighing, she reached towards the bottle before slowly filling the shot glass. “All right, if I do anything embarrassing, please do me a huge favor and just forget it happened. Otherwise it’s moving out of the country for me.”

San snorted at how dramatic she was. Surely she wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing; it was Jiyu they were talking about—the one member that sometimes acted like the oldest despite being the youngest, and the one that often times held the few braincells they all shared.

But he had never been so wrong.

They found out she had a decent tolerance level, but that was where she went wrong. At some point along the way, she overestimated herself and had gotten just a tad bit too tipsy.

“Okay, we’re taking these away,” Hongjoong stepped in when she started giggling and hiccuping in the middle of her sentences. Taking the two soju bottles and shot glass, he and the other six were shocked when she started to whine.

They’ve never heard that sound come out of her mouth in all of the time they’ve known her. It was like a child whining when their mother took away their favorite toy.

“Someone please tell me they got that on recording,” Wooyoung stifled his laughter as he watched their maknae be reduced to a giggly mess at the hands of too much alcohol.

“I got it!” San proudly chirped, having been recording since her fourth shot. “She’s so going to kill us for this, though...”

“Did I ever...mention that...Seonghwa gives the best hugs?” she slurred, falling onto said man and hugging onto him.

Seonghwa had no idea how to handle a drunk Jiyu—he just returned her embrace while the others hooted, laughed, or just awed at how different she had become.

“So she’s a cute drunk,” Yunho concluded, chuckling when she started playing with and petting his hair. “You never see her like this on a daily basis.”

“It’s endearing, yet freaking hilarious,” Yeosang snorted, swatting her hand away when she started to reach for her phone. He had been in charge of keeping her away from the device since she didn’t want to accidentally drunk call or text anyone, especially ATINY.

Suddenly, Hongjoong gasped before shooting up from his spot on the couch. “We still have schedules and practice for Kingdom tomorrow! Why did we let her drink tonight of all nights?!” he whisper–shouted.

And that’s where they all knew they had royally screwed up. Schedules for the next day had completely left their minds when celebrating their maknae’s birthday.

“It’s okay! Maybe if she drinks enough water, she’ll just...flush it out of her system,” Yunho offered before standing up and running into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Meanwhile, Jiyu started to develop little hiccups, something the boys found extremely adorable despite their earlier panicking. The red flush across her cheeks also added to the cuteness.

“And have I ever told you guys,” she started, slightly tripping over her words due to her hazy mind, “I love you this much!” Dragging out the word ‘this’ she proceeded to draw out a huge circle with her arms before falling back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“I shouldn’t be thinking this otherwise Jiyu will actually slap me into next week, but we should get her to drink on our days off a little more,” Wooyoung snorted as he tried to help her sit upright before steadying her.

“I got water!” Yunho announced, coming back out and carefully handing her the glass. “Alright, please hold with both hands so you don’t spill, baby monster.”

The two older ones couldn’t help but grow soft at how adorable she was, holding the glass cup with both hands like a little kid before bringing it up to her lips and drinking up the water.

“It’s hard to believe she turned twenty,” Seonghwa commented, adoring eyes watching the way she placed the cup back onto the table before looking around for someone to hug.

“Yunyun!” she called out to the group’s giant teddy bear, holding her arms out and looking up at him expectantly. Yunho had no complaints—he enjoyed hugs from her, as well as giving her hugs.

“We need to get her to bed soon. Hopefully she can sleep off the hangover, too,” Jongho noted, seeing as it was way past the time they should be sleeping during promotion weeks. They had to wake up again in a few hours, and yet here they were, one tipsy while the others were watching over her.

“One of us should sleep in the spare bed in her room tonight in case she needs something,” San suggested. Yunho volunteered considering how tight she was holding onto him.

“Yay! Sleepover with Yun!” she cheered before letting out a small hiccup. Yunho giggled and patted the girl’s head.

“Alright, take these water bottles with you and let’s tuck this baby into bed,” Hongjoong handed Yunho three water bottles, and they all brought her to her room to coax her to sleep.

“Please don’t have a hangover tomorrow, baby monster,” Wooyoung teased, poking her forehead before bringing the comforter up to her chin. “Otherwise you’ll really be a baby monster tomorrow...”

Snuggling into the cool comforter, Jiyu pulled it up farther so it covered her mouth. “Who’s...baby monster?” she wobbly asked.

“You are,” Yeosang answered, discreetly plugging the charger into her phone and leaving it on the nightstand. “A twenty-year-old baby monster.”

Leaving her phone on the nightstand would prove to be the worst mistake Yeosang could’ve made that night when Wooyoung’s horrified shriek woke everyone up a few hours later.

“Guys we’re so screwed! She called Sunwoo, she’s actually going to kill us for not stopping her!”

[dourpeep]

Got a neat idea while making tea this morning and deciding what cup to use! I have a small collection of mugs going on hahaha. But this also serves as a bit of practice for very short characterizations of other characters!

A Cup-le of Memories

Summary: The cups you have and the many fond memories that come with them.

Contains: Kazuha x Xiao x Reader, various other characters, fluff, modern au, memories

The three of you, in your little (Kazuha argues that it's "cozy") shared apartment's kitchen, have quite the collection of cookware. But your favorite has the be the assortment of mismatched mugs tucked away in the cabinet to the right of the sink.

A collective effort made by you, Kazuha, and Xiao whenever you go out, really. Always finding ones that are best fitting, pretty, or...questionable. But even so, each holds a dear place in your heart with the memories they hold and the ones you're sure they'll bring. You reach for a cup, thinking of your two loves and your group of very dear friends.

Who should you pick today?

Everyone—everyone who visits is assigned a cup.

The first you hover over is a rounded pale peach mug shaped like a cat-blob. Venti found it hilarious, after the initial look of shock and offense.

"My first time visiting your apartment and this is how you thank me?? Some friends you are-"

As soon as Kazuha offered to switch it out, the cup was swiftly pressed against his chest, protective. "No, no it's mine now."

It’s hard to not see the knowing smile that spreads over his features every time he visits for a drink.

Hm…maybe not.

Venti was going to visit later anyway to get some input from Kazuha about lyrics and return Xiao's guitar.

It'd be best to keep it up here and ready to be used for when he arrives.

Your hand pulls back, only for a novelty-shape to catch your eyes. You hold back a snort.

Oh, definitely one of the cups fitting under "questionable" and undoubtedly the only one that wasn't chose by the three of you.

"Hello again!"

The chipper voice of a certain ginger-haired man echoes down the hall, hair tousled and decorated with a pair of sunglasses. Still in beachwear, Childe (a long-time nickname according to him) strolls down the hallway accompanied by two of his work-but-not-work friends. They stay behind waiting for him to finish up.

"I just had something I wanted to drop off, Xiangsheng always mentions your mugs so I figured this would be perfect!"

In his hand, a mug in the shape of a lady's torso wearing a polka-dot bikini.

The cup ended up becoming Childe's on the rare times that he visits.

But speaking of Xiangsheng-

His is pretty fitting.

Xiao reaches into the cupboard, taking a short time to pick out the one the three of you found just earlier that week. It's simple, elegant--a brown ceramic mug with a clean glaze to provide a shiny finish.

"Thank you, truly."

The man holds the cup now filled with a fragrant tea, hot and steaming.

True to the tradition, Zhongli refuses to use any but the cup designated as 'his'. Remembering this makes you feel a little guilty for thinking of using it…after all, Zhongli visits often as well so it’s weird to use the cup right?

Onto the next cup, then!

Ah, the Hard Rock cup. Really, it originally was from the Hard Rock Cafe…but the “cafe” part has since been rubbed off very diligently. The apartment smelled like acetone for days.

No one really used the mug so it tended to sit and gather dust sadly in the back of the cabinet. Nothing really wrong with it, it just ended up not fitting anyone so far. Though you’d try to use it now and then in the mornings, you did favor some of the other cups…

“Hey, lemme see that one there.”

You look at Xinyan, brow knitted in confusion. “But you have a cup?”

“This’n is mine now! I have an idea-“

You laugh, remembering the way that she sat, cross legged on the kitchen floor and vigorously rubbing at the cup until her own nail polish was rubbed off from the chemical and a sizeable pile of sad, mushed cotton balls lay before her.

Not to mention her victorious cry of 'It's done!'

Putting the cup back, you sigh. Maybe not that one either, then. Standing on the tips of your toes, you stare at one of the two that are in the front of the others. Oh! You remember this—a handmade yunomi. Definitely a little lopsided and maybe not-so-safe to use considering that it wasn’t glazed properly, but…

Kazuha’s in a rush today, it seems, muttering something about an extracurricular he took and that one of his projects was coming out of the kiln today. Excited, he slipped his shoes on and was out the door with a very quick kiss.

It’s not until lunch that he returns, beaming proudly. Setting a plainly colored cup on the counter, he awaits your judgement. The cup itself is cute, with a careful imprint of a maple leaf on the side that’s colored in with a rusty red color.

“I made myself a cup. The professor allowed the class to have a free project for the final, so I thought it’d be something that I can use often.”

He still does use it every day.

The other, placed carefully beside it always draws a chuckle from you and your partners.

Oh. This was the cup- the perfect cup for your somewhat stoic, somewhat grumpy, but very soft partner.

Giddy, you swipe it off the shelf and hurry to the checkout.

He’s less than enthused, which is hilarious when you’re beaming so brightly and Kazuha is so so very close to loosing it. You nudge the cup closer to where your other boyfriend is sitting down at the table.

“Number one…” Xiao’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Grandpa.”

Hehe. Never gets old.

Even with his initial response, Xiao took the cup in stride and takes every opportunity to use it. Tea, coffee, cereal, soup—the possibilities are endless with a mug. You wonder if it’s because you’re the one who picked it.

It’s been a while since you’ve decided to have a drink. At this point, you could just close the cabinet and go without, but you can’t lose your dedication now.

So, you push aside a few of the mugs in search of a specific one—just the one you’ve been looking for, now that you realize it.

Brushing over Venti’s cat cup, Childe’s bikini cup, Zhongli’s deep brown mug, Xinyan’s “hard rock” cup, Kazuha’s diy, and Xiao’s (frankly fantastic) grandpa mug, you smile and relish every moment these hold.

But ultimately, your hand closes around a simple, white mug.

Cheap, yes, and a little plain...but nothing beats the pixelated picture of you, Kazuha, and Xiao wrapped in each other's arms, the mug still just as pristine as when you got it despite so many washes.

[binniesthighs]

hellooo i have read your Han fic and it's so gooooooood you really know how to portray the one and only Han Jisung omgggg. can i ask for a seventeen smut? if it's okay with you. since I'm into Jeonghan these days i really want to know how will Jeonghan react if you two arw bffs since high school then one day things changed, both of you began being so touchy and flirty then he challenges you if you can resist him omgggg like he is so cocky and confident aaaaaah BYE-

aweee thank you so much! I love love love writing for the one and only Han Jisung!! thank you so much for your patience as well anon I’m soooo sorry that this took me an age to get out, but I hope that ya like the product hehe 💕

yjh was here | reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: friends to lovers, bit of a comfort fic, bestfriend!jeonghan, cockyandflirty!jeonghan as we love him, lowkey mutual pining, mingyu, wonwoo, soonyoung side characters, coworkers au, mentions of food and mild food dares, mentions of alcohol+getting drunk, mentions of divorce (past), marking, reach-around teasing (r receiving), fluffy unprotected sex, body praising, spicy truth or dare, cuddles

Word count: 4.4k

Yoon Jeonghan had a habit. It wasn’t the worst of habits, but it was the kind that would clutter up your life. Often, you would wonder why he would do it, and why he hadn’t stopped: not even after you had mentioned it so many times.

It had started in high school. High school, that eternity away now. Luckily, your past was riddled with memories of him, and all of the little things that you had shared together; lunches, late nights studying, throwing littler paper wads at eachother from across the room. He would pull at the tie around your neck that was a part of the school uniform just to get a rise out of you. Jeonghan would nap during class, and you would be the one to wake him up with the flick of your finger. On cold walks to school, he would lend you his scarf, and on hot summer nights you’d stay out searching for snacks until sleep drew your eyes down, and he’d let you lean on him the whole walk home.

yjh was here

He wrote it on the first exam you had ever failed in your whole life.

Conversely, he had gotten nearly a perfect score. He was annoyingly good at everything he did. That, or he was just really good at cheating his way through things. When you thought about it, it was likely the latter that was more accurate.

At first you thought it was a joke. It was as if he was taunting you for failing miserably at mathematics II. You were never good at math anyway.

The second time he wrote it was when you had fallen asleep in class. It wasn’t a common occurrence. He’d call you a baby for being scared to fall asleep during class for fear of being startled awake by the teacher. However, this was the week that had been the longest for you: the week that everything fell apart.

Even into your mid twenties, your mother still would never tell you why your father had left that week and you never saw it fit to prod more.

He had written it on a scrap piece of paper after getting you a strawberry milk and leaving it for you on your desk.

yjh was here

Since then, he had taken the opportunity to write it everywhere he could manage. Suddenly his little scribbles filled up the margins of your notebooks; on post-it notes--he’d even etch it onto the skin on your arm in soft blue pen ink. Later, when the two of you had gone on to college, he would sneak into your dorm to write it everywhere he could find. No matter how many times you would erase it from your little whiteboard by your desk, he’d always manage to write it over, noticing immediately that it was gone.

Today, you had noticed that he had slipped it into your legal folder, among other more boring and business-y things and you had no idea how it had gotten there. It must have been sometime the day before, as he had written it on a napkin from the catering company.

yjh was here.

In all the many years that he had followed you from place to place, you must have amassed hundreds of his little notes. You kept the ones that he would give you at work tucked away in a desk, often forgetting that they were kept there until you would stumble upon them, tugging a little smile at your face. The rest of them you kept at home in a little box in your closet, even deeper away, never really knowing why. The act of simply having them was satisfaction enough, in fact, you never really minded a little clutter.

☆彡

With eyes drooping, you scratched away on your yellow note pad, writing a string of nonsense words that sounded important from the presentation. The red setting setting sun reminded you that it was your least favorite time of day: the time where the last work hour of the day would appear to stretch into twenty. Under the table your scratchy cotton work-pants felt even more scratchy than usual. Somewhere above you, the penetrating white fluorescents buzzed like flies.

With a little tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting next to you as he always was. Compared to him, you felt as if you looked like an utter mess. Just as he was annoyingly good at everything, there was never a day that he came into work looking less than perfection. Today it was a tweed two piece with a pressed shirt underneath as well as a navy tie adorning his beautifully slender neck. Around his face befell his deeply dark strands of hair which pricked the edges of his rounded wire glasses.

“This is so boring.” He had mouthed to you, adding a pout to the end of his sentence.

You formed the sound on your lips, “Shhhhh”

“I’m just saying!”

“Pay attention.”

You turned your head back to pretend to care about what your boss had to say. Every fifteen seconds or so you would nod your head to make it appear as if you were diffusing the information he was giving out.

Another tap on your shoulder and Jeonghan displayed his pen to you to draw your attention to the margin of your quarterly report print out.

you look really beautiful today, he had written

“Stop it!” You accidentally hissed, garnering the attention of your nosy and equally bored coworker sitting across from you.

This time you mouthed out the words, “No I don’t.”

“~yessss~” Jeonghan curled out his words with his tiny creeping smile

Your knee bumped into his under the ginormous desk.

“Pay attention, ‘Han.”

“Is there something you would like to add L/n?” Your supervisor’s voice cracked in the silence of the room.

“N-no sir.” your head bowed in repentance.

He elder man tsked in a little sound with his teeth. “I know that we’re getting to the end of the day folks, but let’s just get through this all so we can get home...”

Jeonghan’s tweed pants made a little screeching sound against the fabric of yours when you bumped him again under the guise of the desk.

“Screw you.”

Your friend met your remark with a wink, biting the cap of his pen while his eyes wandered down to show you another little message:

yjh was here

and I’m excited for tonight

☆彡

Wednesdays were customary somaek nights where each of you and your coworkers would gather in your cruelly tiny apartment with their own separate dishes for all to share and forget about the troubles of the midweek. As the year was winding down, it was these nights that would get you through the week. With the bodies of the five of you in your tiny living room cramped around your low-set table, you had almost forgotten that the heating in there barely worked.

With each of your coworkers entrance, they would bring in the smell of autumn with them, and the chill of the air outside. On each of their long coats, bits of leaves would cling to the edges of the fabric. Each Wednesday there would be a royal mess to clean up after, but it was Jeonghan who would often stay after to help you. The two of you would end up in your cruelly tiny kitchen, throwing soap bubbles at each other’s faces drunkenly with socks sliding all over the wooden floors. Jeonghan would write another note to stick on your refrigerator, then he would take you by the hands to twirl you around to some unbearably cheesy sounding OST.  

Perhaps it was the way that your head would get fuzzy from the soju and beer, but you loved the way that he would twirl you; it was almost like a waking dream.

“Nobody worry! Nobody! Worry!” Soonyoung burst through your door, case of beer in hand. “I’m not late, I’m actually early! Don’t you know that it’s trendy to appear an hour into the party?” When Soonyoung spoke, he had a habit of speaking with his whole chest.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu whined, popping in another strip of galbi.

“You don’t enjoy our presence, ‘Gyu?” Wonwoo’s mouth upturned into a teasing grin.

“N-no,” The biggest man babbled, “It’s just that...Wednesdays are somaek evenings.”

“--Then I am here to help you out my friend.” Soonyoung plopped himself right down on the floor with the poof of his blond hair popping from his beanie. “Ahhhh this all looks so delicious.”

“You better pay me back.” You griped while serving him a plate of the assortment.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Y/n?”

“Nearly every time I do something for you? You still owe me from the last time we went to karaoke.

“--And for covering for your ass last week...some hangover that was, huh?” Jeonghan scooched over his leftover rice to you.

Soonyoung scoffed while twirling his bottle of soju in the air, the admiring the little tornado swirling inside. “-Was worth it though. We always have fun don’t we?” In his affection, he threw his arms around you and Wonwoo beside him.

“-Food’s gonna get cold.” Wonwoo poked his finger in the general direction.

With his full glass raised in the air after a minute of preparation, Soonyoung lead you all in a toast, cheeks already rosy. The second that your glasses collided, liquid came downpouring to the table, but none of you seemed to mind. Before you could bring your drink to your lips, you caught yourself having a moments pause, watching all of your friends before you. If you could have, you wished you could fold up little moments like these as well to put in your drawer to see when you would feel down.

Jeonghan caught your wistful sigh, sending you a wink. In many ways, you knew he must have known your thoughts.

Under the table, his hand brushed up to your crossed knee, letting his hand linger. He let his hand rest there for a moment, as if he was soaking up your essence in the moment. He had never done it before, but his thumb gently rubbed at your knee, and it felt like a waking dream.

☆彡

The night had ticked on, and you and grown more tired than you had expected by pass of the clock hand. As the night would normally progress, drinks would be had, then each of you would take turns updating the others on what you had been doing or working on. All of you would gather advice or support if needed. There had even been times when you would even provide a shoulder for one to cry on, although that didn’t happen most times.

Others, like today, the five of you would simply sit and enjoy each other’s presence with the window slightly cracked open to let the autumnal air cool your burning bodies. Jokes would be cracked every once and a while until yawns would escape your mouths. By then, another joke would be made about how you were all getting to old to be staying up that late.

Jeonghan played with your hair as you had leaned into him, swirling your final glass of soju in your wrist. While you were hot yourself, the heat from his body was still calming, and the way that his chest would rise and fall was a bit like a lullaby.

“I’m falling asleep, we should head out,” Mingyu clapped Wonwoo by the back.

“Another one for the books.” Soonyoung sighed, then rose up with a stretch of his arms, wrinkling up his white button up and loose tie.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” You shift off of your best friend, shuddering a little at the lack of contact, to close the door after them.

“I’m looking forward to next Wednesday!” Soonyoung beams with a little salute, then bows before shuffling away.

“What time is it?” You yawn out the words, rubbing your eyes.

“Too late. We still need to go in tomorrow, remember?”

Dirty dishes clink in your hands as you bring them to your sink. “We really should start doing this on Fridays.”

“I don’t wanna start cleaning just yet, can we stay here for a while?” Jeonghan spreads his arms out, beckoning you to fall back into him. You laugh a little at the motion.

“Why so touchy? We haven’t done this in so many years...I can’t remember the last time...”

You oblige him, nuzzling right up to his chest once more. He smells a bit of the somaek, but mostly of his usual scent: that cheap cologne that you had bought him about a year ago. You had mostly gotten it as a gag gift, but he had worn it every day since.

“Must have been in high school.” His words are long and breathy.

“How come we stopped?”

Jeonghan takes a minute to answer you, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Instead, he raises a hand to rub at your arm lightly, just as he had done with your knee.

“Dunno. We got older?”

“What does getting older have to do with it?”

You watch in the silence as his thumb continues to rub over the fabric of your long-sleeved button down.

“--Do you want to play a game?” Jeonghan says at last.

“A game? What do you mean?”

“For fun. I’m trying to find something to do so we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Okay,” You perk up slightly, still not removing yourself from his encircled arms. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Psh what are we, back in high school?”

“Seeing what we are doing right now, wouldn’t you say so?” The words escape Jeonghan’s mouth with a growing grin.

You ruffled to top of his head, messing up his perfectly primped hair. “...Fineeee. You going first or me?”

“I’ll go. Truth.” Jeonghan pulled you back into him, settling your back flush with his chest.

“Okay, truth: did you really mean it when you said that you liked Minji’s power suit? I know you thought it looked tacky.”

Jeonghan’s breathy laugh miffed up your hair. “I’ll say anything if it keeps me in the supervisor’s good graces.”

“HA. I knew it.”

“Which do you pick?”

“Mmmm-truth.”

“Not dare? You’re no fun.”

“I said truth!!!”

“Fine, fine.” His slender arms squeezed at your body to situate you better in between his legs. “When was the last time that you brought someone over to your place?”

“Yo-you mean like “brought someone” over?”

“You know what I mean.” In his voice you could nearly see his mischievous smile.

“I’ve told you about all of them so I don’t know why you’re asking. It’s been about a year.”

“A year? Really?”

“--Nope! You don’t get to ask any more questions. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeonghan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes wandered the room for his perfect punishment. “Ah! Take that soy sauce, the one with the wasabi bits in it...and drink it.”

Your friend sighed, but took the tiny cup in his fingers to down it all in one shot. He shivered a little and you could feel his face scrunch up, but he held his reactions back best he could.

“That was such a high school dare. You really haven’t changed.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Truth or dare Y/n.”

“Truth.”

“Ughhh truth again?”

“ ‘Hannnn--”

“Just say dare! I promise that I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fine then. Dare.”

“I dare you...to take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Your head snapped back to send him your deathly glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What? It’s nothing that I haven’t seen? Are you forgetting that we’ve been friends for nearly our whole lives? That and college you were someone who would go to parties and take your shirt off. Remember that?”

“...yes.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Fine then.” In one motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, jumping a little once you felt Jeonghan’s hands help tear it off your arms. You hesitated to lay back, but his arms made a decision before you could, and pulled you back into his chest. Now, it was the skin of his fingers on your bare arms that you were painfully aware of.

“T-truth or dare?” You squeaked out.

“Truth.”

“No fair, you made me do dare!”

“I already did a dare. Truth.”

From the other side of your room, your refrigerator clacked with the sound of ice cubes falling into their tray. On the door, dozens of multi-colored post-it-notes had been suck there with clear tape.

“...Why is it that you’re always writing me those notes? “yjh was here?”“

“Hmm.” He breathed out. “I had a feeling that you might ask me that one.”

“...And?”

“--Because I like to. And...”

Your anticipation hung tangibly in the air. You didn’t quite know it, but you had been waiting for his answer for so many years, you had lost count.

“...And I like seeing them around you. -Reminds me that I’m a part of your life. Kind of like how we exist together. They’re little reminders for you as well...to know that I’m around for you.”

“Jeonghan...” You wouldn’t have expected it, but tears singed the corners of your eyes.

“Truth or dare?” He cooed into your ear.

“D-dare.” Your voice shook, realizations flooding you like rain.

“I dare you to take off your pants. Can you do that?” His voice had dropped, low and gravely.

You nodded your answer, and took to unbuttoning your pants, shimmying them off where you sat on the floor. As soon as your bare legs were exposed, he had found a new place to rest his hands; you never would have guessed for them to be so beautiful-looking there.

“I choose dare.” He breathed onto your bare neck.

“I-I dare you take off our shirt too.” Your face felt furiously warm as you uttered the words and he did exactly as he was told. The sensation of your skin on his skin then sent your head spinning with just how close you had been in that moment, closer than ever before.

Jeonghan’s hands explored your bare legs with a touch as soft as butterfly wings. His light touches sent an aching pain to your sex as it had never felt so needy and neglected.

“Truth or dare my love?”

In an attempt to hide your frustration, you could only form the word, “T-truth?”

“Hmm...truth...” Jeonghan began to kneed into your legs, digging his nails in every so slightly. “Have you ever kept secrets from me?”

“Secrets? Why-why would I, I don’t-mmph-have any secrets to keep from you.”

“I think that’s a lie Y/n.”

Indeed it was a lie. You had kept secrets from him. Two secrets to be exact; one of them being near the precipice for the whole universe to see.

“I’ve kept secrets from you, you know.”

“What?”

“Do you dare me to show you?”

Your anxious breath caught in your lungs, full of confusion but even more excitement. Jeonghan’s hands crept slowly up to your hips.

He repeated, “Do you?”

“Ye-yes. I dare you to show me.” Your eyes had closed feeling his hands draw even farther up your body.

Your best friend surveyed your whole chest with his hands, swirling around as much skin as he could touch. He was careful not to tickle you, but rather give every ounce of your being his careful attention. For a moment, his fingers grazed over your nipples, but went to cradle your neck in his hands. He turned it to the side to expose the beating vein there, and placed the slowest and most tender kiss upon it. From the feeling of his fleeting lips, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Dare.” You managed with a dry mouth. “I dare you to touch me...anywhere you want...please...”

Jeonghan chuckled slightly into your neck. “I just had my turn, but...I’m listening.”

Your entire body keened under his fingertips, writhing messily between his legs. This time, he was careful in touching you nearly everywhere: your chest, your nipples--pinching them slightly--and down your legs, to your inner thighs where he traced up to your underwear, now wetting a little with your arousal.

“Tell me the truth.” He bit into your skin. “Am I one of your secrets?”

Your answer was given to him in the form of you forcefully tearing from his grip to push his legs together so that you could straddle them. The way that his shoulder blades flexed under your firm grip was dizzying. Your eyes fell to his lips: your secret.

“I dare you to kiss me,” You breathed onto them.

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Jeonghan was smiling as he pulled your lips into his, and he never quite seemed to stop. Every bit of your love for him spilled into his mouth where you found the comfort from him that you had craved for years. You had felt first kisses before, but nothing was quite like this one. With Jeonghan who you had known for so long, you were thrilled to get to know him in this new and different way, and you wanted to absorb every little bit of it: the way he would caress the sides of your face so gently, or the way that he would angle your neck to meet his lips. You would never have guessed to feel so complete with him like this, but it also made all the sense in the world. It was you that he wanted, and you that he wanted to stay next to through all those years. He had never let you go, and you had never let him either.

In between kisses, you found both of yourselves giggling hysterically.

“Are we really doing this right now? Are we...?” You bit a laugh into his lip.

“Yes. I think that we are.” He engulfed you in his grasp. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Y/n.

Jeonghan scooped you up, moving both of your bodies to the couch where he clinked with his belt buckle to remove his pants. “You really do look beautiful. Everyday. I’m not just saying that.”

You practically clawed at him to lay his body on top of yours, then wrapped your legs around his waist to align him with your own. In your unadulterated intoxication of him, you hopelessly grinded up into him, seeking some kind of stimulation from the mashing of fabric together. After a little scoff, Jeonghan’s hand cascaded down your body to rub at your throbbing sex, marveling in the way that you had soaked though your underwear just a little.

“Wow. This is how you feel about me?”

“Do you want me to say sorry?”

“No--it’s just...I wish that I had known sooner.”

Your lust brought his lips back to yours as you kissed him over and over and over, trying to make up for all of the times that you wished you had done before. His touch on your sensitive skin sent you mewling onto his tongue.

“Can I make you mine now?”

As for your response, your widened legs told him exactly what he needed to know.

In one swift motion, he had tugged off his own briefs, letting free his deliciously hard cock, sparkling at the head with his pre-cum. Looking at him like this, all for you, was like a walking dream.

Jeonghan gathered spit from his tongue to glide over his dick, then teased your impatient entrance while he watched your face contort into the most beautiful shapes he thought he had ever seen. He entered you slowly, letting each of you take in the moment as if you could forget it the next. Once you were together, his brows twitched a little as his closed eyes focused only on you. He filled you up perfectly, as if you were made for him--which you had convinced yourself that you were. Jeonghan buried his face in your neck to suck into the skin, marking you as his.  

Your orgasm built much quicker than you had intended, and soon you were begging him to make you cum--which he gladly did. Your heels dug into his back upon your release which gathered more heat between your two bodies. Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you into your own overstimulation and leaving you to melt under him.

“Jeong-han.” You gasped out his name through your teeth as your body quaked from the snap of his hips.

“oh god,” He uttered, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, then smashing his lips back into yours. “you’re so good for me my love...so good...”

Jeonghan let out little grunts as he came and filled you deeply with the warmth from his cum. As he throbbed within you, you knew it really was him you were made for. He lingered inside your walls as your bodies shook together with the aroma of sex fogging the air. After a while, it didn’t take long for both of you to be laughing contentedly into each other’s mouths once more.

Your best friend reached for your hand to bind all of your fingers to his. "No more secrets.”

☆彡

“Do you want the sweatpants from the top shelf or the rack?” Jeonghan called to you through your cruelly tiny apartment. “Wait...i-is this...?”

Once he had returned, in his hand he held the aged strawberry milk carton with the little cartoon fruit on the side and the scrap piece of paper wrapped around it. In the other was your little box of notes.

yjh was here

“I can’t believe that you’ve kept it this long. Why--”

“--I’ll tell you why...it’s my second secret.”

Your best friend cocked his head. “...Second?”

“Ever since that day, I’ve known, Yoon Jeonghan. I love you.”

☆彡

if you’ve got to this point, hehe hello I’m Ro, I write for skz and svt, and I’d love to write some more svt! If you’d like, you can send me your asks

[omgrachwrites]

Domestic Bliss - Remus Lupin

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Request: ‘I saw the requests are still open so I think I'll give it a try hehe~ I have been having on my mind Remus and reader getting married right after Hogwarts and Remus trying the reader's cooking (maybe not using magic) for the first time and gets super emotional. (in a good way) Super mega floof if it is possible ❤ Absolutely love your drawing btw, have a wonderful day❤’ @krismeunicornbaobei

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff!

Words: 1260

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, @krismeunicornbaobei​, I hope this is okay! Hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

Married life was amazingly blissful for you; it was like a never-ending dream that you never wanted to wake up from. You’d never been big on marriage while you were growing up – until you met him – so all of your friends and family were rather surprised when you had announced your engagement to Remus. You had married Remus about a year ago, pretty much straight after you had left Hogwarts. You knew it was young to get married but you supposed when you met your soulmate, you just knew. It was very clear that Remus Lupin was your soulmate; you felt it in your heart.

Unfortunately, Remus was a morning person, he always had been, even in school and it was the polar opposite of you. Almost every morning, at an ungodly hour, Remus kissed your forehead before going out for his morning run. Every morning he chuckles with a deep rich sound as you groaned and rolled over and fell back asleep. When you finally got up, Remus always had breakfast made and he was grinning at you from over the newspaper, and you ambled over to the gorgeous man to pull him in for a deep kiss.

Today was a remarkably cold day – but your husband had still gone out for his morning and afternoon runs – and you wanted to do something different, Remus was usually the one who cooked but you wanted to give it a go. It was difficult and you couldn’t help but think that you were making a mistake. Remus came through the back door and wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his cold nose in your neck.

The sudden cold made you jump and squeal, “Merlin!”

Remus huffed out a deep laugh against your neck as he pressed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, “no, it’s just me, my darling,” he teased and you heard the grin in his voice.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle as you turned to face him, placing your hands on his chest. He looked gorgeous, his hazel eyes were bright as he grinned at you and cupped your jaw gently, his cheeks and his nose were red. His curling brown hair was damp where the snow had melted in it. You smiled as you stood up on your tiptoes to pull him into a deep kiss.

He pressed his forehead against yours and he noticed the contraption behind you on the counter, he pulled away from you slightly as he raised an eyebrow, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You sighed, biting your lip, “I was trying to make your favourite beef stew for tonight, muggles use this thing,” you gestured to the pot behind you, “a slow cooker.”

Remus nodded as he smiled, “yeah, I know what a slow cooker is, my question is this. How come you’re using a slow cooker and not magic? Magic would be so much easier for your first time cooking,” he asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and he kissed your cheek.

You sighed as you looked away from him, feeling pretty silly now as you focused on the snow that was slowly drifting past the kitchen window, “I wanted it to be a little bit special because we’ve been pretty busy lately.”

Remus pulled you into his arms as he buried his nose into your neck and your fingers wound themselves through his thick hair, “oh, my Y/N, that is just the sweetest thing,” he pulled back to grin at you and he pressed a kiss to your nose, chuckling when you scrunched up your nose in response, “I love you so much, let’s just have a relaxing day then, that’s the beauty of using a slow cooker, you don’t have to keep tending to it.”

You laughed as you lightly trailed a nail against one of the scars on Remus’ cheek, making him shiver, “I love you too but this afternoon can’t be too relaxing because I still have to make chocolate brownies for dessert.”

Remus blushed as his handsome face lit up, “you don’t have to do all of that,” he mumbled and you smiled, he was so adorable when he was flustered.

You pressed a kiss against his pink chapped lips, “I want to, Remus,” you whispered against his lips, “let me run you a bath, you must be freezing.”

“Only if you get in with me,” he smiled cheekily as he kissed to the top of your hand and let you lead him into the bathroom.

After a leisurely bath, filled with millions of bubbles and scented bath salts, Remus tended to the fire in the living room until it was crackling merrily. You rested your head in Remus’ lap as he read a book, stroking through your hair as he read a couple of passages out to you, leaning down to kiss you every so often. Sunday’s were made for moments like this, you loved him so much. You were very thankful to McGonagall for pairing you two together for a project in Transfiguration.

When it was time for you to make the chocolate chip brownies, Remus hand insisted on ‘helping’ you. Soon enough, you regretted letting him help because you realised his idea of helping was by eating half of the chocolate chips and stealing giggled filled kisses from you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Later on that evening Remus helped you set the table and he poured out some Butterbeer for the two of you. You were nervous about what the food would be like, it smelled delicious but you just hoped that it would taste the same. As you placed the food on the table, Remus took your hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, his eyes shined with love as he smiled at you.

“All of this looks amazing, Y/N.”

You smiled as you sat opposite him, taking his hand from across the table, “let’s just hope it tastes amazing,” you smiled tightly, feeling nervous.

As Remus put the first bite of stew into his mouth, you heard him groan and when you glanced up at him you noticed him closing his eyes as he nodded his head, “Merlin, that is so good,” he opened his eyes and grinned at you, “I literally want to eat this every day.”

You laughed as you took a spoonful of the food and even you had to admit that it tasted pretty good, the garlic and chilli flakes dancing across your tongue, “I’m glad you like it,” you glanced back over at him again and blushed when he gave you a lopsided grin.

“I can’t believe that you would do this all for me,” he smiled, making you giggle, it was just food, “this is just the best thing, I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Remus,” you smiled.

Both you and Remus cleared the dishes in record time and he put them by the sink as he took you by the waist, “I’ll clean the dishes later, you cooked so I’ll clean,” he smiled, pressing a kiss against your lips.

To eat dessert, you and Remus curled up on the couch, with a glass of red wine. Remus’ moans were almost pornographic as he scoffed down a couple of brownies.

“Damn, Y/N, if we weren’t married, I’d ask you to marry me from the way these brownies taste.”

You laughed as you kissed his cheek and wiped a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his lips.

-------------------------

@krismeunicornbaobei @smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black

[aalissy]

Rebellion

Day 2 of Adrienette April is finished! Yaayaya!! I hope you like this chapter! I know I had a lottt of fun writing it hehe. Lemme know what you think <3. Also, I cannottt waitttt to watch Truth later!! I’m soo excited :D 

AO3

“I’m sorry guys,” Adrien sighed forlornly, plopping into the small group’s usual seats in the library, “I can’t make the movie premiere tonight.”

“It’s alright, dude,” Nino patted him on the shoulder, “We get it.”

Alya nodded, her eyes filled with a look of understanding and sadness, “Of course we do! Besides, there’s always next time, right?”

Marinette merely gave a quiet sigh, leaning her fist on her cheek as she glanced away. It really wasn’t fair! Adrien hadn’t been able to make any of their recent meetings. Surely there must be some way to get him out of the house so that he could spend quality time with his friends.

Regardless of Marinette’s melancholic thoughts, Adrien seemed to perk up at Alya’s comment, “You’re right! There’ll always be another time to hang out with all of you.” 

Leaning off of her fist, Marinette’s gaze was automatically drawn back to Adrien as he beamed brilliantly at them. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she looked at his smile. Even upset, Adrien could always see the bright side of everything. 

After finishing that comment, however, he seemed to deflate and muttered quietly to himself, “Assuming my father actually lets me go out of course.” With a quiet sigh, Adrien glanced down at the desk and began to draw small patterns with his fingers, “You know sometimes I wish I was rebellious enough to sneak out. Then we could all hang out together no matter what.”

“Well, I can always help with that,” Marinette murmured back at him unthinkingly, still lost in daydreams of Adrien’s blinding smile aimed directly at her.

“You would?” He breathed over to her and her gaze snapped back to him, finally fully aware of what she said.

She could feel her face turn a decidedly dark shade of red as she squirmed uncomfortably. Why?! Why did she just say that?! Marinette began scolding herself in her thoughts. Adrien was totally going to think she was insane if she told him she was going to sneak him out. Opening her mouth, she prepared to babble her way out of what she just said when Alya cut off her panic.

“Of course she would!” Her best friend practically shouted, looking embarrassed when the librarian glared over at the four of them. Clearing her throat, Alya continued at a much quieter volume, “What I mean is, Marinette is the best at getting in and out of places unseen.”

Marinette blinked quickly, looking over at her best friend in confusion, “I-I am?”

Nino chuckled, shaking his head fondly, “Dudette, I swear you disappear and then reappear in the middle of broad daylight sometimes. It’s crazy.”

Her face flushed even more and she tucked a stray strand of hair back into her pigtails. That was because she had to sneak off to turn into Ladybug. Her friends had noticed that? She thought she had been subtle. Stuttering quietly, she murmured, “S-still, I-I’m not that good.”

Marinette felt a hand cover hers and she blinked quickly, lifting her head up slowly to see Adrien smiling softly over at her. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and she felt herself relax as she looked into his beautiful, emerald green eyes. He squeezed her hand gently and she was both surprised and proud that she didn’t promptly pass out.

“Do you really think you can help me?” He murmured quietly.

She nodded over at him dreamily, “Yes, anything for you.” Both Alya and Nino snickered quietly and once Marinette realized what she said, she quickly yelped. Yanking her hand out from under his, she stammered, “I-I mean, of course I can!”

“Do you think you can help me sneak out tonight then?” Adrien’s smile only grew wider.

“Mhm,” Marinette gave him a determined nod. A plan already began to form in her mind as some of her Ladybug confidence came to her, “You have a garage right?”

Adrien nodded back at her about to open his mouth to speak when she cut him off. She leaned her face closer to the center of the table, gesturing for him to do the same as she lowered her voice. He followed her lead, tilting his head closer to hers with a curious look brimming in his eyes. 

Marinette tried to calm her racing heart and flushed cheeks as she realized this kept their faces only a few inches apart. Ignoring the knowing looks she felt Alya and Nino sending them, she began to delve into her plan, “Do you think you’ll be able to sneak down to the garage later tonight without getting caught?”

Adrien licked his lips and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep her eyes focused on his. Allowing herself a small moment of weakness, Marinette let her gaze drift down to them before quickly returning when he began to speak. 

Praying that he didn’t notice, she nodded her head as he said, “Yeah. My father and Nathalie usually sleep pretty early. It’s my bodyguard that I need to worry about but I can probably bribe him with some figurines if he catches me.”

“Great!” Marinette beamed at him, leaning her head back and away from him before she could be too tempted to capture his lips in hers, “We have our plan then. If you can sneak down to your garage and meet me at 7:30, I’ll sneak you out of the mansion.”

“Uh, Marinette,” Alya’s voice broke through her daydreams of sneaking him out to go on secret dates with him, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked at her best friend, “Like what?”

“Like the giant gate outside the Agreste mansion. How are you going to get in?”

“Leave that to me.” A smug smile tugged at Marinette’s lips as she patted the purse at her side softly. A little Ladybug magic and she’d be right in. If she could convince Tikki of course.

Adrien’s voice brought her attention back to him. “It’s alright if you don’t make it in, Marinette. Knowing that you’d do this for me is more than enough.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she bit her lip shyly. Marinette quickly lifted her head back up, though, her bright, blue eyes shimmering brightly, “I won’t let you down, Adrien! I promise!”

The smile that he gave her just then lifted her spirits entirely. She would do anything to keep that look on his face. Even if it meant she had to disobey the rules a little. Marinette felt her own dreamy smile light up her face before Nino’s voice made her tear her gaze away from the boy in front of her.

“Think we should actually start studying now?” He chuckled, “Because I seriously need to if our test is going to be as hard as Mlle. Mendeleiev says it is.”

“Good idea,” Marinette giggled, flipping through her textbook so she could continue the notes she was taking, missing the last, adorably soft look Adrien shot her. 

The group’s study session went by rather quickly, probably because Marinette was internally panicking about breaking Adrien out later that night. It was when she finally got home and made it up to her bedroom that she really began to freak out, though. Marinette had changed into a darker set of clothes, hoping that would help her blend in with the night sky but a profound sense of unease still ate away at her.

She anxiously paced back and forth on the floor, tugging on her pigtails as her previous fantasies turned into horrific nightmares of them getting caught. Could she actually do this or was she just going to get them both into terrible trouble?

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” Tikki’s head poked out of the purse, watching her holder curiously while she paced a hole in the floor.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tikki,” Marinette wailed, “What was I thinking?! If I get Adrien in even more trouble then I’ll never be able to see him again.”

Her kwami placed a small hand onto her cheek, giving her a gentle smile, “It’s going to be just fine, Marinette. You and Adrien have a plan, remember? And you have me by your side.”

“Thank you, Tikki,” she sniffled quietly, nuzzling her kwami as Tikki giggled quietly, “You’re always here for me.”

“Of course I am,” she beamed at Marinette, “How else would you be able to get into Adrien’s mansion?”

The designer smiled sheepishly, tapping her fingers together nervously, “So you don’t mind helping me break in, then?”

“Well,” Tikki seemed to frown slightly, “I wouldn’t say I don’t mind... but I understand how important this is for you and your friends.”

Marinette nodded happily, nuzzling her kwami back to her cheek once again, “Thank you so much, Tikki!”

“Though you had better get going, Marinette! It’s almost 7:30!” 

Marinette yelped, immediately scrambling away from her kwami as she threw her trapdoor open without even checking the time or waiting for Tikki. Luckily, the small creature had managed to sneak into her purse before she saw her parents. 

Once Marinette had blown both of them a kiss, she tore off onto the streets, hoping that she’d have enough time to meet Adrien when she said she would. When she slowly began to approach the mansion, however, it began to look even more menacing and intimidating than it usually did. Instead of letting herself panic, Marinette instead took a slow, deep breath, pushing her legs to run a little faster.

Ducking around the side of the building, she hid in the shadows. Carefully looking around her surroundings to make certain that no one was near them, she opened her purse and gave Tikki another small, thankful smile. The kwami quickly phased through the gate’s lock, fixing it quickly before going back to her holder. 

“It’s done,” Tikki whispered before ducking back into the purse that Marinette quickly zipped up. 

Taking another deep, calming breath, she examined the space around her before tip-toeing over to the front gate. Pushing slightly against it, she half-expected that it would remain locked. To Marinette’s surprise, though, it creaked open quietly and she dashed her way through the front entrance of the mansion. 

Hearing the sound of a garage door opening, she bolted towards the sound. There she saw a sneaky, mischievous looking Adrien who had also dressed for the occasion in a set of dark, black clothes. Marinette felt her heart melt as they made eye contact and he shot her a bright smile, waving over at her. She gave him a nervous grin back before ducking into the garage.

“You actually did it,” he breathed out when she greeted him, “How?”

Marinette blushed faintly, shrugging her shoulders, “I-I um, managed to disengage the lock.”

“You’re amazing,” Adrien murmured back at her, causing her blush to turn an even deeper shade of red.

With a quiet, embarrassed giggle she tapped her fingers together. Remembering where they were, however, Marinette looked around, wondering how they would be able to close the garage door. Clearing her throat to snap both her and Adrien back to their situation, she asked, “Once we leave do you have a way to close and open the garage back up?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded, taking her hand in his as he led them outside to a little keypad on the side of the wall. Inputting a code quickly, she watched as the garage began to close. Adrien turned back to her with another small grin, “My mom’s birthday.”

“Perfect,” Marinette beamed at him, feeling butterflies as he beamed back, squeezing her hand in his. With another last, nervous glance around their surroundings, she turned to him with determination gleaming in her eyes, “Ready to go?”

Adrien gave her a quick nod which she returned before they ran out together, hand-in-hand. He needs to be rebellious more often. Especially if I’m the one who’s with him when he is, Marinette thought to herself, looking back at him as she tugged him forward. The movies that she usually went to with just Alya and Nino were going to be a hundred times better and it was all because of him. Adrien made everything better. 

With that last thought, they turned the corner and the Agreste mansion was out of sight. Slowing her pace down, Marinette turned to look at Adrien with a shy grin. She loosened her hand in his grip, thinking he wanted his hand back but his grip on hers only seemed to tighten. Her heart stumbled in her chest and she felt herself practically swoon before Adrien spoke up.

“I just wanted to thank you again, Marinette. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it, but once again you proved me wrong,” he smiled down at her, his eyes glimmering with warmth.

“I-it was nothing, really,” she said shyly, “Besides, I couldn’t let you down.”

“Right,” Adrien squeezed her hand and she thought for a moment before squeezing his back.

Jerking her head forward, Marinette spoke up, “We should probably start heading to Alya and Nino, though. We don’t want to miss the movie and we definitely don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Adrien simply nodded, tugging on her hand as he began leading her forward.

Best night ever! Marinette gushed to herself, gazing adoringly at the boy who was still holding onto her hand. Everything was absolutely perfect and she still had yet to see the movie. Pushing away any last nervousness, she tightened her grip on his hand and followed him to the theatre.

[daonepiece]

Hey you precious little cute artist chwan! Its me from heaven! You know the cause of this. That Sanji art... how could you make it so freaking amazing? Do you know how people will die seeing it? Have you ever wondered how creative you are? Do you even know how blessed we are to have you in this community? I blushed like an idiot looking at him.

Talking about the Sanji art, why was it so perfect? I need you to explain for making him exceptionally Gorgeous. The concept... how did you get the concept of All Green and now you are making it my obsession. How did you come up with it? Damn that was so creative. I became crazy over that Idea. Im in love... in love... with you and also Sanji. Thanks for making that art. From next time don't forget to keep your signature. I don't want people to steal your art.

Eeeeeeee you keep spoiling me afhjkas hehehe what am I gonna do I’m about to explode >///w///<

So, you wanna talk about thought process? I’d LOVE to! Please prepare to hear me gushing about it. It gonna be veeeryyyy looonggg   ( ◕▿◕ )

Since Sanji was the first one to be designed, I was nervous at everything *wobbling novice sea witch at your service 👍* The first step is to choose what kind of fish. I like marine life but I didn’t like them that much to know more than a few common name. Initially I thought of dolphin, since they are very smart, and also a lil perv... And they blow clouds of water when they surface to breath, like someone’s smoking! So I started doing research to select a fitting species.

But while I was reading through various dolphin descriptions, two words caught my attention: FAST SWIMMER. I was like, wait who’s the fastest in the ocean??? So my research had come to a swift turning point, I abandoned the dolphin list to go through articles of “fastest fish in the world” instead. That’s where I found out about the Black Marlin. Things clicked in place even faster than Sanji’s Diable Jambe 😆

The second step is to choose what he would wear, I just knew it had to be a white poet shirt, because Sanji. 👀 Took a few more look at the royal family attire and I was like, “yup! poet shirt and waist band, flowy flowy in the sea, seal the deal!” (you can see that in the initial sketch) This soon went through more changes, but at later stage.

The third step is to choose the vibe, setting, pose he’d be in. 3 words stuck with me whenever I think of Sanji: sadness (you could say he’s feeling blue, you know?, blue! 🤓), curiosity, and dream. So here we had pre-timeskip Sanji, maybe even a bit younger, the viewpoint going up, Sanji looking up too, like how one kept wondering about the strange world above but couldn’t go there, stuck in the depth of the ocean. Adding a book because he’s definitely a nerd! It’s supposed to be a cookbook or the encyclopedia of devil fruits. The fourth step is lining. Troubles ensued! Lots of! The pose was haaarddd and I just couldn’t get the shirt hem to look right, it didn’t flow like I wanted, the tail design seemed bland, also his hair bang wanted to make me an enemy... I struggled, and the clock was ticking fast! So of course I did what an impatient one like me always do: Change the hard part. I got rid of the flowy hem, decided to tuck it neatly in a leather-like band, eased up the pose, switched to post-timeskip design, enlarged the fins for dramatic effect, in the first place there were a line of diamond shape running along his tail (the part that helps a fish sense water pressure and stuffs, if I remember correctly), I turned that into Sanji’s swirls as well. The chosen book in the end was “Noland the Liar” because I wanted to slip in a mer!Noland and see if anyone would notice hehe.. Strings at collar and waist was added last as an attempt to balance the amount of black and white on character. Background was simply a bunch of water flows and bubbles, I tried to portray a fast current, hushing our boy to swim away, back to safe home. The final silhouette and line of action wasn’t as nice as the sketch’s, but I’m not picky. *laziness will overwrite everything*

Finally, we crawled to the step I dreaded the most: coloring and shading... The tone was dark blue, giving of an even more ominous feeling I suppose? The next was this agonizing process of making the first thing to caught your eyes is his face, or better, his eyes, but definitely not his butt. TT_TT The black area was so strong, at one point I considered giving the (now blue) sea a plain black filling to neutralize the effect.

While taking care of the treacherous background, I pondered what Sanji’s All Blue would be, now that mermaid’s diet doesn’t include fish... 😂 Like, as a vegan cook, Sanji would want to get his hand on all kind of vegetable available in both world, sea and land? Then we must have the myth of a place, home to every plant possible? What’s the name?? All Green??? Yeah, All Green sounds legit. When the piece was finally done, I uploaded it so fast I forgot the extra step of slapping on watermark! XD

Annnnd that’s that! That’s the whole process I went through drawing mer!Sanji. Thank you for hearing me out > 3 < 💖

[bellesque]

EEP! I’ve been waiting for reqs to open since I syarted following you a few weeks ago! HOORAY! How about a one-shot where Tom is nervous about his first show of Betrayal but his gf helps him and supports him through it? And maybe they can celebrate after the show with some fluff and smut? Gracias and happy b-day 😄

Opening Night

(Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

Tom’s a little nervous about Betrayal’s opening night, and as his girlfriend, you’re more than happy to help him through it - and celebrate with him at the end.

Rating: Mature (wow a first, not E)

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, Pillow Talk, Smut, Tom Hiddleston yes he gets his own warning

A/N: The theatre enthusiast in me will always be a little sad that I never got to see this show but hey that’s what fanfiction is for right? Enjoy! (and again in case people get confused my birthday was a WHILE ago hehe)

TOM’S RUNNING LATE.

Not that you’re worried. Or that you blame him. From what your boyfriend’s told you, tech week has been significantly stressful and hectic. As Betrayal’s opening night inches closer, Tom has been all kinds of all over the place as of late.

It’s heartwarming to see him put so much love and effort into the production. Just as he does in every other aspect of his life.

You check the wall clock in the kitchen, wondering if it’s a better idea to leave dinner out on the table or keep it for the meantime. You know he’ll be hungry when he gets home, and you don’t exactly want to serve him cold chicken. You send him a quick text asking where he is, and hear his text notification from outside the door.

It opens with a quiet click, and Tom grins at you as he steps inside. “Just arrived,” he says, holding up his phone. “Sorry, darling, we were running late tonight. There were a few points we really needed to get right.” He gives you a chaste peck on the lips and then another on your forehead.

“I figured.” You head back into the kitchen and take out two plates as Tom makes for the bedroom. “Rehearsal was okay?”

“Alright,” he calls. “We hit a few snags with the sound, but that’s what tech week is for, isn’t it?” He’s pulling on a white shirt when he steps into the kitchen with you. As you set his place at the table, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Come shower with me,” he whispers.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across your lips. You giggle as he presses a kiss to the base of your neck. Just when you’re about to turn around, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you laugh at his sheepish expression. “Someone’s hungry,” you tease.

Tom gets a teasing glint in his eye. “For—”

“Some chicken, I hope,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. Tom laughs, that adorable peal with his eyes crinkling and his tongue poking out between his teeth.

After dinner and clean-up, you and Tom take a shower—together, as he so kindly asked. Once you settle in your pajamas, the pair of you climb into bed.

You expect him to fall asleep right away; after all, it’s been a long day for him. So it surprises you when he falls back against his pillows, wiping a hand down his face and sighing.

You know that sigh. It’s the one that comes out when his mind is running a mile a minute. When he’s got a lot of thoughts, but somehow nothing to say. You study his face and you prop yourself on your side, your head resting on your elbows. “Hey.”

Tom glances at you. “Hi, darling.” He smiles briefly.

A pause. You reach out and pluck his hand that fiddles with his beard away from his face. “Penny for your thoughts, mister?”

He laces your fingers together and brings your intertwined hands to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. “Just about the show,” he answers, resting your hand on the spot above his heart.

The steady beat of it doesn’t fool you, though. It’s not unlike him to try and brush off his nerves, make it seem like it’s no big deal so that it doesn’t worry you. “You know you can talk to me,” you say gently. “Safe space. Always. We can share the burden, Tom.”

He sighs, his thumb drawing circles over your hand. “Opening nights are always… you know, the critics will be there, you don’t know how the audience will react, generally speaking. You can only guess how people will like it. If people will like it.”

“They will,” you reassure him.

“I hope so.” He exhales again. “There’s also the concern of whether or not they’ll be able to follow it, if we’ve presented it in a clear way.”

“I’m sure everyone knows it’s in reverse chronological order.”

Tom glances at you with a reminiscent grin on his face. “Remember when we watched The Last Five Years?”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s different. You’re telling two stories in reverse order from each other.”

“Not as different as you might think.”

You hum. “Well, it’s very likely people who are coming to the show have a good idea of what to expect. Done their research and all that. And hey, that’s not your problem, right? If they don’t get it. You’re there to perform, to bring Robert to life.”

“Darling, you know—ah, but that’s actually another thing, see. Robert. His character. You know with Pinter, there’s a lot said in the unsaid. Got to make sure the pauses, silences, it all has to speak without speaking. If the tone isn’t right, even in those pauses, the integrity of the scene is, well, in a way, compromised. There’s not much to go on, so it’s a big job for the actor. Everything needs to have that emotional weight. Purposeful, you know? Even if it’s Charlie and Zawe’s scene. Can’t lose that emotional momentum, or else those big impactful moments don’t land right. Er—darling?”

You’ve gone quiet beside him, letting him speak so freely from the heart. Seeing his passion, the depth of his thought for this role, fills you with admiration and affection. “I’m listening,” you promise, at the same time he says, “I should stop talking about it.”

“No!” You tighten your grip on his hand. Tom squeezes back. “No, please, I love that you can share this with me. I love hearing you talk about theatre like this. I do,” you reassure, laughing goodnaturedly at his half-skeptical face. “I’m glad you’re talking to me about it. Things are always less daunting after you say them out loud.”

“That’s true, isn’t it?” His eyes are soft when they’re locked on yours. He shifts, lying on his side to face you, and you lay your head back down against your pillow, arm tucked under your chin. “You do know how to cure a man’s stage fright.”

“You? Stage fright?” He chuckles when you wrinkle your nose. “Impossible.”

“More likely than you think, love.”

You shift forward to kiss him sweetly; just a short one, you think, only he deepens it and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck. You pull away slightly breathless, see Tom’s eyes scanning every inch of your face, and you stroke his cheek. “Okay. Bedtime. Tech week isn’t over, in case you forgot.”

Tom groans as he rolls onto his back, and you pat his pectoral. “Absolutely grueling,” he mutters.

“You’ll be fine, big booty.”

Tom twists to face you, hand sliding over your waist. “Now if you say it like that, I don’t think sleep is in the cards for the both of us—”

“Sleep.”

 --

“Hey. You’ve got this, okay?”

You cup a hand around your boyfriend’s jaw, tiptoeing to reach up and plant a kiss on the opposite cheek. “You’re ready. You’re gonna do great.”

He takes your hand, kisses the inside of your wrist. “Meet me at the stage door?”

“As your number one fan amongst your many other number one fans,” you grin. “Now go. Do your thing. Break a leg, big booty.”

Tom leans down to plant a real kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, darling.”

“Backstage doing pre-show ritual things, now go!”

Giving him a gentle push and with his pleasant, uplifting laughter ringing in your ears, you watch Tom disappear into the theatre.

You’re so proud of him. Always have been, always will be. Everything you’ve said to him, every encouragement, affirmation—you meant it every single time. He’s talented at the same time extremely grounded, and he deserves to be reminded of his capabilities when he’s unable to remind himself.

You take your seat, Playbill in hand, and after a few idle minutes of scanning its contents and watching people file into the theatre, the lights dim and the curtain rises.

All throughout the performance, you watch in rapt attention. Only after the show is over and curtain call starts do you realize your brows have been knit the entire time. Tom takes his bow with a splitting grin on his face, and a few tears spring to your eyes. You’re so proud of him and the cast. The success of the night. Opening night. You cheer.

When you go out to stage door, you don’t come up front; instead you hang back, a little ways away from the crowd, and watch as the cast wave, sign Playbills, and take photos. You love seeing Tom in his element. Riding the silent high of a great performance.

His eyes scan the crowd until they land on you, and there’s an unmistakable twinkle in those baby blues. You light up, giving him a wide grin and a thumbs up, and he smiles back at you.

A private smile that seems to say, We’ll celebrate later.

 --

Dinner with the cast and crew is nice. Zawe and Charlie are welcoming and warm, and it’s not awkward for you to hang back and observe while Tom floats from circle to circle like a social butterfly.

But every so often, he casts a burning, wanting look your way.

No one else notices. No one else can see the clandestine and seductive I want you he says so loudly with his eyes. It’s reserved for you, and only you—and a thrill shoots down your spine.

You’ll have him later. Right now, you want him to bask in his moment to kick off Betrayal’s run right.

But damn, the way he looks at you weakens your resolve bit by bit.

He’s posing for a photo with his cast mates, and after the camera clicks Tom politely excuses himself and makes his way towards you.

“There’s my lady.” He kisses you on both cheeks. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you respond. He’s always been subtle with his emotions, but to you, it’s clear as day how excited and elated he is. “But you should get back.”

“Come with me,” he says, keeping your hand in his.

“I couldn’t—it’s your night—”

“And I’m celebrating it with the woman I love together with everyone else here. Ah, Peter—”

Tom moves to shake a crew member’s hand, tugging you along by your intertwined fingers. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the night. Instead you find yourself linked at his side. When you occasionally pull away his hand rests on the small of your back. You’re a part of his world; he actively makes sure of it.

“Are you coming to the after party?” a portly woman asks the pair of you.

You look at Tom in confusion—isn’t this the after party?—but he gives her an apologetic smile. “I’ve got plans with this one.” He raises your entwined hands.

You’re not exactly comfortable keeping him from the festivities when he should be a part of it, so you open your mouth to protest. “Tom—”

The woman chuckles, cutting you off. “Must be nice to be in love, hmm? See you tomorrow then!”

You poke his side. “Why’d you say no to the after party?”

“There’s only one after party I want to attend.” He leans in conspiratorially. “And there’s only one woman I want in attendance.”

He pulls away, eyes darkening at your flushed cheeks. He glances at your lips. “Do you want to come?”

And like a switch, your dirty brain turns on.

“When?”

“Now.”

You and Tom rush through your goodbyes as respectfully and as fast as two aroused humans possibly can. After a few more photos and a couple final victory hugs, you and he are finally on the way home.

Part of you expects that as soon as the front door closes, you’d get straight to it, kissing and groping like your lives depended on it. You’re ushered in first, and Tom quietly closes the door behind him.

And you both stand there.

“What a night, huh?” you say as you shuck off your coat. Bundling it up in your arms, you beam at him. “Happy opening, love.”

He strides towards you, and when he reaches you his hands run up and down your bare shoulders. “Thank you. Truly, darling. For always believing in me. Supporting me. Loving me. I mean it when I say I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

And then he’s kissing you. Delicately, slowly, like he has all the time to explore your mouth. The coat in your arms falls to the floor as your fingers find their way into his hair. The heat that once simmered underneath the surface begins to bubble and boil, your kisses becoming more frantic.

He trails his lips down your neck, and then he’s planting a line of kisses around your jaw. You manage to find your lost voice and gasp out, “Bedroom?”

He lifts you up and you squeal in surprise, his large hand cupping your butt. He lays you on the bed with a strong sort of tenderness and his mouth closes over yours again. The feel of his hard length against your stomach has you all types of flustered, and you sloppily try to take off his sweater.

Tom takes over, peeling off his clothing and sliding down the straps of your camisole. You sigh when you feel his mouth over your nipple, giving a tug at his hair that makes him growl. As soon as you’re both naked, bared to each other, he slides a hand between your legs, slipping a finger into you with ease.

“You don’t know how hard it was for me to control myself,” he husks, hitting a spot inside you that makes you inhale sharply. “All I wanted to do was bring you home, party be damned.”

“Tom,” you sigh, eyelids fluttering as you fold around him. “Well, we—hah—we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, kissing your throat, “the perfect celebration. Oh, darling, I love you.”

Your hand somehow finds its way down and you begin stroking him. Both your hips move into each other’s hands in sync, breathing becoming labored, as he whispers against your neck and your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers find your clit and you moan.

You wanted to be patient, draw this out—but you can’t. You need him. To feel him fill you, your every space and secret corner.

You guide Tom into you. Your pace is slow, controlled and measured, until you begin the crescendo to release. Tom kisses you fiercely, his hands roaming every inch of your skin, as he pounds into you until your bodies meld as one.

He thrusts a few more times, hard and purposeful, and you explode in shattering release.

He follows soon after, one hand braced above you, his eyes shut as he chases after his own pleasure. You rock your hips against his, coaxing, and them he cums with a shuddering breath.

There are no words that can articulate your adoration and affection for this man looming above you, his face slack with the pleasure of release, so you attempt to convey it with a searing kiss. He responds with equal fervor, his hands brushing your hair as you both come down from your high.

Moments later, you’re curled up at his side, slightly panting but entirely satisfied. Tom’s fingertips trail over your spine absently, pressing his nose into your hair from time to time.

“I am,” you start to say, breaking the comfortable silence, “so proud of you. You were great tonight. Everyone loved it.”

“Thank you, love. For your undying fidelity,” he says, switching his voice to the familiar antihero you love. You laugh against him, sitting up.

“The night is still young, you know.”

He strokes your arm. “Is it?” he teases.

“Mmhmm.” You swing a leg over him, your lips latching onto his throat before you whisper, “If you think the afterparty’s over, you’re wrong, my love—we’re just getting started.”

[lambvein]

Cheerful Host-part 9 (Reupload)

The past months have been hell on earth. A nightmare come true. These dumb fucking bimbos have been training me to reply to their every command whether it be to finger my pussy or fondle my nipples or bounce up and down to make my massive knockers bounce in public…but I wont give in to their orders!…unfortunately I have a bad feeling my decision to disobey will prove fruitless and harmful to me and my assets.

“Where are you taking me? Why are we going back to the mall, havent you embaressed me enough in that victoria’s secret earlier? What else could you sluts possibly want?” I spoke to the hive of bimbos in an annoyed tone.

Juggs responded “well a perfect bimbo needs a perfect makeover isnt that right ladies? And what better place to start than getting those already fat lips pumped up even more hehe!”.

“What?!?! No, please I already have ridiculously fake, plastic jugs and booty please I cant handle any more implants!” I begged the bimbos.

“Thats exactly the point silly billy! We, like already pumped up your tits and ass so now we need to top off this bimbo cake with some big, fat, fake dick sucking lips!” ariana spoke in a mocking voice.

I began to tear up at the thought of how goofy I would look with massive fake lips and how hard it would be to speak or communicate

“Please ladies, dont do this to me I will do anything…anything at all!”.

“Awe mega mountains thats cute, if we want something from you we will make you do it…speaking of which…play with us right now! Hands on your tits and pussy, girl!” Juggs demanded.

“WHAT!?!? Were in the middle of a fucking mall are you crazy?!?!” I whispered into my cleavage as to not seem crazy infront of the crowd of mall-goers bustling the crowded building.

“EXACTLY!” The bimbos all shouted at once.

I then began to feel the all too familiar feeling of my pussy and nipples swelling up…it felt…AMAZING.

“wont you play with us now, mountains…come on you know you want too” nicki spoke in a seducing, childish tone.

“Hurry up bitch, were not letting you go anywhere until you obey us!” Jugs shouted in the back of my mind.

I gave in to the feelings and dove my hands into my tight top and shorts and began to play with myself. My attempts to stifle my moans proved to be no help as every passing pedestrian either looked at me disgusted, whistled at me or copped a feel themselves.

“Hmmmm these horny guys grabbing a feel gives me an idea, mountains present your huge jugs to the next chick that walks by and beg her to feel you up hahahaha!” Juggs suggested, the other 59 bimbos controlling me all laughed at my situation and decided to pump up the sensitivity in my delicate areas.

The slightest brush from my tight clothes was enough to bring up an accidental squeal in ecstasy. Without hesitation I hefted my titties up to an approaching goth high schooler who had just exited the mall’s hot topic.

“Please, please play with my tits! I need release so bad!” I shouted at the young lady as my knees were shaking and my arms were swiftly giving out from attempting to carry my enormous knockers.

“What the fuck!?!? No way you dumb bimbo!” The goth hissed at me before storming off, dissapearing into the dense crowd of shoppers.

“Girls, please make this end. My shorts are soaking wet and im so tired from hefting my boobs around in everyones faces amd playing with myself for the past hour” I begged the bimbos.

Juggs replied “Okay fine mountains…we will save this for later when your makeover is done!”.

The bimbos all squealed at my suffering as they swiftly brought me back to my feet out of my puddle of pleasure and strutted me over to the mall’s lip injection clinic. The sluts strapped me down to a leather chair in the back of the store as a curvy nurse holding several needles appeared.

“Oh my god can we please talk abou…” my speech was cut off by the nurse pumping the needles into my face all at once.

The sensation of my lips filling to the brim with silicone felt terrible. It took several minutes to finish her injections and by the time she finished half of my view was obstructed by my now cartoonishly large top lip.

“Mmpppff mmppff mmpppfff!” I lost the ability to open my mouth enough to create words.

My lips have become too fat and heavy to be able to open my mouth. “Perfect! I have never done silicone injections that large before but I made a special case for you so you better enjoy it!” The nurse said to me in a cheerul tone as she grabbed a handful of my bottom lip to test its thickness.

“This is perfect! No more backtalk from miss mega mountains!” Nicki interjected.

The sluts all cackled at my inability to speak as I was lifted up off the leather seat and out of the nurse’s office.

“Next stop, a new wardrobe!” Jugs announced.

“Mmmmmppppfff!” I attempted to plead to the sluts.

“Silly mountains theres no point in rebelling. We just took away your one way of communicating with the outside world. You are all ours now” juggs said with a triumphant jiggle of my colossal titties.

“Now play with us…or else…” Nicki demanded.

I didnt hesitate and quickly stuffed my hands down my bra and worked my nipples as best as I could to satisfy the bimbos. Several people passing by either gave me a dirty look, blushed, looked away or hollered at me like some kind of dog. After several minutes and many awkward interactions we approached a lingerie shop I had never noticed in the mall before.

“Alright ladies GO WILD!” Juggs announced to her hive of sluts as I was forced to sprint into the sex shop as my big boobs hit me in the face several times.

The sluts selected several outfits: a christmas themed bikini, a sexy nun costume, a leopard print bodysuit, an obviously too small tracksuit, a latex devil outfit and a tiny pair of panties with an equally miniature bra to go with it. I was practically pushed into the change rooms by my swarm of sluts to the confusion of the clerk at the store and got a look in the mirror at my current situation. I felt like breaking down crying.

I looked like a cartoon character, I barely fit in the change room with my enormous caboose and fat melons attached to me and to top it off I now sported the biggest pair of fake lips I have ever seen, they reached past my chin and rested just below my eyes “MMMMMPPPPFFF!”.

“Like what you see, mega mountains?” Juggs taunted.

“MMMMMMPPPPPFFF!”.

“Yeah, we are all pretty sexy together arent we, I suppose you should be thanking us that there is no reverse spell to separate us…yeah…were one big bimbo together forever.” Juggs mocked as I stared in utter shock at what I had become.

“Ummm excuse me if you are done, like, pouting we have some outifts to try on” kim said in a spiteful tone.

The girls then reached for their first outfit…the santa bikini. All the outfit consisted of was a red mini bikini with a santa hat. The bimbos finished dressing me up and proceeded to put me in as many lusty poses as they could think of, it was so degrating watching my now ruined body being paraded around like this. Every single one of my private bits were on full display…my large and in charge nipples are easily distinguished from the tiny fabric of the bikini top, the bottom of the bikini served as nothing other than a string of cloth rammed up my ass and served no other use other than to split my fat pussy lips. After several minutes the bimbos decided to move on to my next outfit…a sexy nun outfit…compared to my last get up this outfit was actually quite conservative. The costume consisted of a regular nun’s cap and robe with the main draw being the large frame in which the purpose is to display as much cleavage as humanly possible and of course the sluts spared no time as they adjusted my boobs until as much titflesh was spilling out as possible. They became bored of the maid outfit rather quickly probably due to how much skin it covered. The next suit the bimbos decided to stuff me into was a leopard print bodysuit, after zipping up the suit my breath was sucked away as the suit hugged and pushed up all of my curves.

“MMMMPPPPFPFF!” I tried as best as I could to communicate to the bimbos that I couldnt breathe under all my titflesh but my begs were of to no avail as the sluts continued to pose me in any way they pleased without a hitch.

“Damn girls look at our tits! This cleavage goes on forever and ever!” Ariana spoke in a lustful tone to her fellow sluts.

My next outfit was an extremely tight tracksuit. My enormous junk in the trunk was tucked into the extra small tights resulting in a brought up squeal from the cameltoe being firmly set in whilst the tights run deeply into my own ass crack, next the track jacket was zipped all the way up resulting in my titties looking like beanbag chairs stuck in a suit.

“Ooooohh I like this outfit! And it seems like mountains is enjoying it as well. Look how much shes blushing!” Kim pointed out.

“I know what will really get mountains going” juggs said as she took over my whole body.

I felt my lips open as I was forced to speak into the mirror…wait how was she making me talk with my fat, fake lips?!?!

“Hey samantha…enjoying the ride? I sure hope you are because its going to get so much sweeter…we will never stop recruiting sluts to join our hive and you will never escape being the host of our hive. You will never be rid of your massive knockers, your big fat booty or us…so get used to it bitch because you are under new management. The bimbos management” Juggs finished her speech and returned to her respective consiousness in my jugs.

I felt like crying but my big fake lips only allowed me to hold a ridiculous duck face as I stared full view at my figure. Whilst I was distracted the sluts undressed me from the tracksuit and quickly suited me up into a hot red latex bodysuit and attachable devil horns. The slut squad stuffed my extreme assets into the bodysuit to the point of deriving severe discomfort from within the suit. “Perfect!” Jugs announced as she assessed the fruits of her labour by fondling my tight implants and injections.

“Yes, a million times yes! Lets roll girls!” Juggs announced to her fellow bimbos as I strutted out of the sex shop.

“Mmmmppppfff mmmpppff!” I tried conveying to the sluts my terrible discomfort due to the constraints of the bodysuit but my begs and moans fell on deaf ears as they kept bouncing me along like some kind of pornstar preparing for a shoot.

I looked absolutely ridiculous, I looked like jessica rabbit going to a bdsm convention.

“*ahem* we need some attention down here mountains, come on dont you know how to be a good guest?” Jugs spoke in a sharp, snarky tone.

I stuffed my hands down the front of my suit which only made my discomfort more extreme and began working my nipples to please the bimbo hive.

“Now don't you dare take your hands off your tits until we say so or you will feel the wrath of the bimbos” juggs hissed.

I continued playing with my mountains as I was forced to walk through the entire mall as if to display to everyone what I had become, this is so fucking humiliating. My face was burning red by this point which only further put my heavy makeup job front and centre. It took several minutes to exit the mall and by the time we had my pussy was ready to burst but the sluts refused to supply me release. With my new outfit pushing up my knockers and booty combined with my new fat lips I now felt even more embarressed to be seen in public. The people only see me as a bimbo now and now with my massive lips I cant even talk back…I am now a passenger to my own body at the horny hands of 60 bimbos, sluts, whores and strippers….wait why are we going back to the strip club!?!?!…

[angstmatsuscenarios]

How about an Ichimatsu sickfic? I believe that’s within the limits of the rules. I dunno, maybe he tried to play it off as nothing, but stuff happens? I’ll just leave the rest to you. I rly like this blog and I’m excited to see the ask box open again!

Sickfic is not only welcome but also my forte, hehe. Here is some Ichi sickfic for you, hope you enjoy!

Warning for a brief mention of needles (drawing blood, very brief and non-graphic) under the cut:

At first Ichimatsu didn’t give much thought to the fatigue and sore throat he’d been suffering through all day--it had been annoying, but he figured it was probably just allergies, and had kept his face mask on the whole day. He’d felt lousy for the past couple of weeks, and figured it was nothing too bad.

By that night, though, he felt worse--he’d had no appetite at dinner, and it took nearly all of his energy to follow his brothers to the bathhouse. The soak in the hot water felt good to his aching muscles, but the walk home was excruciating, his legs trudging along slowly and his whole body shivering even though it wasn’t that cold out. When they finally got back home all he could do was crawl into the futon the second it was laid out and curl up in his spot, burying his face deep in the blankets.

“Does Ichimatsu seem okay to you?” he overheard Osomatsu ask the remaining brothers. 

“He looks rather pale, and he’s shaking…” Karamatsu noted, a hint of concern in his voice. “Perhaps he’s fallen ill?”

“Then we should force him to sleep in the other room,” Todomatsu asserted. “What if he’s contagious?”

“Have some heart for once, Todomatsu,” Choromatsu admonished him. “He’s wearing a mask, and besides, when has splitting us up ever stopped us from catching each other’s colds anyway?”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay!” Jyushimatsu said with assurance. “But he looks tired, we should let him rest.”

“Fine...but if we’re all coughing and sneezing by the next morning, don’t blame me,” Todomatsu replied curtly.

Ichimatsu would’ve chimed in with a “shut up and die, Todomatsu” had his throat not hurt so badly. Instead he hunkered down deeper in bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep and hoping he’d feel better in the morning.

-----------

Mhhh….I feel horrible….

It was the first thought to flicker in Ichimatsu’s mind as he sluggishly came to the next morning. He felt truly miserable, it had been a long time since he’d ever felt this sick...if he had before, now that he thought of it. He was dripping in sweat and wracked with chills all at once, his throat burned more painfully than it ever had before, and he was aware of a dull ache in his side. Not to mention, he was exhausted.

He sat up, slowly, but that brought on a wave of dizziness that made him feel like laying right back down again. His temples pulsated with an awful headache, and he brought his hands up to rub his bleary eyes and will some of the wooziness to go away. It didn’t.

Dammit….guess it wasn’t just allergies after all….

He groaned, reluctantly crawling out from under the futon. He was alone in the room--he assumed his brothers had gotten up to go eat breakfast and had left him to rest. The thought of food suddenly made him feel nauseous, but as much as he wanted to just go straight back to sleep he knew he at least needed to get medicine.

He stood slowly, the room swaying and his head spinning. He shuffled on wobbly legs into the hallway, pressing his hand against the wall for support. Every step was grueling, requiring so much effort it caused sweat to bead up on his forehead. 

What...the hell...is wrong with me…?

He was close to the stairs, just a few more steps...he gingerly put one foot in front of the other, then again…

But suddenly his legs gave out on him, folding so that he hit the floor with a weak grunt. He leaned all his weight against the wall, unable to support himself, whimpering quietly as he rubbed the sore spot on his side. 

Something’s wrong...this isn’t just the flu, is it…?

“Ichimatsu-niisan!”

Ichimatsu had been so zoned out he didn’t notice Jyushimatsu thundering up the stairs until he was by his side, kneeling next to him with a worried expression on his face. 

“Are you okay? I heard a thud, did you fall?” Jyushimatsu asked, and although he wasn’t exactly shouting his voice was loud enough to Ichimatsu’s pounding head to make his ears ring.

“N-no...don’t feel good…” Ichimatsu managed to groan out a response, his throat stinging so badly it made his eyes water. 

Jyushimatsu frowned. “You look awful...look at your neck, your glands are really swollen. And you’re super pale…” 

Still rambling, Jyushimatsu helped Ichimatsu slowly back to his feet. Ichimatsu was just barely aware as his brother practically carried him back to the sextuplets’ room and tucked him back into bed. All the while he wore an anxious expression that was very unlike the sunny fifth son’s usual disposition.

“I’m gonna get Mom, okay?” Jyushimatsu said, lightly patting Ichimatsu’s head. “She’ll help you, she always knows what to do.”

Ichimatsu only managed a feeble moan in response, closing his eyes. He’d never been this miserable when sick before, and it scared him...even scarier was that he didn’t have the energy to be as scared as he probably should be. He could only hope his mother could help him, though he doubted he would be cured by her gentle touch and homemade soup.

What’s going on…?

----------

After hearing that Ichimatsu had nearly passed out, Matsuyo insisted on taking him to the doctor. He hated doctors, but he was so out-of-it that he simply put up with the poking and prodding and blood-taking without much fuss (that was a real sign of how sick he was--he didn’t put up a fight when he saw the needle, just turned his head in the other direction and kept his eyes shut tight when his blood was drawn).

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they received a diagnosis...but unfortunately, it was more serious than anticipated. According to the doctor Ichimatsu had mononucleosis. That explained why he’d felt so run-down for the last few weeks, and also why the glands in his neck were so swollen. The doctor went on to explain that it was the reason Ichimatsu’s side hurt, too--his spleen was swollen, a fact that thoroughly freaked him out, though the doctor said as long as he was careful not to injure his spleen and cause it to rupture the swelling would most likely go down sooner rather than later (the word “rupture” only induced more panic).  

There wasn’t much that could be done to treat mono, either--the most vital thing was rest. It could take weeks, even months, for someone to recover completely from mono, Ichimatsu discovered, and while it didn’t affect him too much since he had no job or school to worry about...the idea of being sick for so long was scary. He couldn’t imagine going more than a few days feeling this crappy, but weeks? Months?! Not to mention, it meant staying home and resting that whole time...he wasn’t much for leaving the house to begin with, but not be able to visit his cat friends in the alley, or join his brothers when they went to Chibita’s? He hated the thought of being excluded from all of that for who knew how long.

The doctor tried to be reassuring, insisting it was possible to have a speedier recovery as long as he took good care of himself, but all Ichimatsu felt was dread. It was awful news, he couldn’t even pretend there was a bright side to it. 

When Ichimatsu got home from the doctor, he’d found his brothers had set up a temporary room for him in the spare room. It wasn’t just that his mono was potentially contagious, but they insisted it would be easier for him to recuperate if he had peace and quiet while he rested. He wanted to call bull on that last claim, but was so tired that he just crawled right into his futon in his “new” room and went right to sleep without protest.

Days passed by. It wasn’t long before Ichimatsu started to feel bored and lonely. He felt marginally better than he had the first couple of days, but he was still nowhere near well, and the thought was depressing to him that he’d have a long time of feeling this way.  

He spent most of his time sleeping. He didn’t have the energy for much else. Sometimes his mother popped in to give him food (which he hardly ate—his throat hurt too much and his appetite was pretty much nonexistent), and other times one of his brothers would pay a quick visit (wearing a mask, not surprisingly). It was nice, but not the same as being with them like usual, and once they left he felt sad again. 

Gradually, though, Jyushimatsu began spending more and more time with him. He’d sit at Ichimatsu’s bedside for hours, playing a game or reading a manga or sorting his baseball cards—activities he didn’t always possess much patience for, being as active as he was. He made light conversation with Ichimatsu, though kept it to a minimum, knowing Ichimatsu wasn’t much for talking. It was the quietest and most still Jyushimatsu had ever been.

Ichimatsu was grateful for the company, but he felt guilty as well. Surely this wasn’t what Jyushimatsu felt like doing—this had to be cutting into his baseball time, which he treasured. Ichimatsu didn’t want both of them to be trapped inside all the time, not when Jyushimatsu was well and could do whatever he wanted.

“Jyushi,” Ichimatsu spoke up one afternoon, his voice rusty. Jyushimatsu had been poring over a baseball book, but perked up at the sound of Ichimatsu’s voice. “You don’t have to stay with me all the time...you can go outside and play baseball or whatever you want. I feel bad if you’re staying in all the time because of me.”

Jyushimatsu offered a bright smile. “But, Ichimatsu-niisan, I am doing what I want!” he insisted, crawling closer to his brother. “It must suck being sick in bed for so long. I wouldn’t want to be alone all the time if it were me. Besides, I have my most fun when I’m with you—even if you can’t do much now, I like being with you. And baseball isn’t the same without you there, either.”

“Really…?” Ichimatsu wasn’t so sure about that. How much fun could he be?

“Really!” Jyushimatsu nodded enthusiastically. “You’re my best friend, I’ll always stay by your side! And it won’t be like this forever either, sooner or later you’ll recover and we can get right back to playing! So just keep your chin up, okay, Niisan?”

Ichimatsu blinked, just a little surprised...not to mention touched. Jyushimatsu really did just want to spend time with him, even if that time consisted of doing nothing more than hanging out in the same room together while he slept. Jyushimatsu really was his best friend, and even though he still felt terrible that realization made him feel just a little better.

“Thank you, Jyushi...I’ll try.”

“You’ll be back to yourself in no time!” Jyushimatsu enthused with a grin that made Ichimatsu believe it. “Anyway, why don’t I read to you from my book until you fall asleep?”

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

With that, Jyushimatsu settled down right beside Ichimatsu and started reading, angling the book so they could both see inside. Ichimatsu wasn’t particularly interested in baseball facts and stats, but it was comforting being read to, and Jyushimatsu’s surprisingly soft voice soon lulled him into sleep.

It would take time for him to get better, but with Jyushimatsu by his side, maybe the road to recovery wouldn’t be as awful as it seemed.

[ionica01]

This is out of blue but... “You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU. Izuocha\Karmanami please?

Hey Adi! It’s been so long:) This was my IzuOcha week contribution for day 4: Domestic! You always give me the best prompts and ideas, hehe~!! I hope you enjoy!

People have vastly different ways of dealing with crushes. Most of them have some sort of crisis, phone their best friends and drive them insane with increasingly absurd poetic descriptions of how cute the object of their affection is, finding new metaphors for love as if, unless put into words, the feeling isn’t real. Others bottle it all up, stealing glances at the person they hold special feelings for, as if that will provide a model for them to paint over, a sketch on the otherwise blank canvas of their life, the start of an enriching work of art. For some, it’s just instinct, as if they’re touch-starved and they need to fulfill some animalistic urge.

Izuku, of course, knows all of this, because he has extensively studied how people deal with crushes ever since he realized he didn’t miraculously catch a cold every time he thought his roommate was cute. It’s also by overanalyzing all this data that he realized his way of coping with crushes is overanalyzing all the data.

This is the thought process that Midoriya Izuku has followed to reach the predicament he is in, and why, he discovers, studying with Uraraka is highly distracting. Because, if there is one thing all crushes have in common, is that the presence of said crush is the holiest blessing and cruelest curse at the same time, mocking all paradoxes known to mankind.

He tries - he really does - to be neither in the stealing glances category, nor in the poetic descriptions one. Unlike everything else Izuku has succeeded in, hard work fails him miserably this time around.

It’s not his fault that he’s already done with his assignment for All Might and that the light in the living room falls just so, the soft glow teasing Uraraka’s tousled hair and the loose threads of her flannel pajama, at least one size too big and definitely unironed. Her focused face is shaped as a pout, her teeth gingerly grazing the ends of her pencil as she taps her fingers to the desk and furrows her brow. It’s not his fault, but he isn’t innocent either, because it’s all Izuku can do not to lean over and poke the imperfect crease that makes her perfect.

Her sigh stirs him out of his contemplative state as she bangs her forehead against the table, raising her hands in defeat. Izuku allows a laughter to bubble out of him, even though it attracts a heavy “Ughhh” from his friend.

“Stop laughing!” she sulks, weakly throwing a pencil in his direction. Izuku dodges, eliciting another groan from Uraraka, who repeatedly slams her forehead against her notebook, as if urging the physics formulas to enter her brain and stay there.

“I have never been defeated by physical laws in real life, so why must theory take its revenge on me?” she groans, her lower lip jutting into an illegally adorable pout, one that Izuku tries his hardest to pretend he hasn’t seen, because it’s doing atrocious things to his heart. Treacherous thing, these feelings blooming inside him faster than weeds that bleed into perfectly planned gardens.

In an attempt to shift his focus from the thrumming beats of his heart, echoing loudly and clearly in his ears, he leans over her notebook and asks, “Magnetism?”

“Electrons are small, so why are they such a big headache?” she dramatically sighs, flapping her arms around her before eventually slumping on the carpet.

If theoretical physics is toying with Uraraka, then real life physics is poking fun at Izuku, because her oversized shirt isn’t supposed to ride over the edge of her pants and reveal a strip of her smooth skin, nor is her exhausting face presumed to be so endearing, the eyebags bringing out the sparks in her eyes and her pale face looking like porcelain in the light of her desk lamp.

Izuku gulps and tries to focus on the words formed by her lips instead of the way they move, trying to process the meaning of what she’s saying instead of wondering what it would feel like to press his mouth to hers, to taste the oily fries they had for dinner, because they live up to the broke student legend and have midnight McDonald’s happy meals to keep them going during the exams.

To refrain himself, Izuku discovers that reciting all of the hormones that cause him to feel such physical attraction does the trick, and he offers her a hand to pull her up. “Tell you what,” he says as she bats his arm away dramatically. “You make it through this theory paragraph and I’ll pay for lunch tomorrow.”

She bolts back to a sitting position, eyes glimmering with the promise of an actual meal - for free. “You mean that?”

Izuku nods, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling at the delighted look on her face, the look that makes his heart thump faster than it should. “Deal!” she says, picking up the pen with newfound determination.

Uraraka has no idea what her puffed out cheeks and sudden “aha” moments that light up her face and made her hair bob along with her nods do to Izuku, no clue how his eyes drift from the page of his English assignment to her nimble fingers tapping the spine of her book, no hint that his mind is running through scenarios of how this evening could unfold, scenarios he has to shut down before they get too far.

He’s always been focused on the goal in front of him, but lately, he’s been wondering what it would feel like to make Uraraka part of that goal. She’s been his best friend since high school, yet somewhere along the line, his attachment to her morphed into something that scares Izuku, a feeling so strong it’s choking him and threatening to push him over the line painted by an invisible hand between them.

When she looks up from her notebook with uncontained glee an hour later and gives him an uninhibited grin, however, caution is thrown to hell. Izuku can’t bring himself to recite all the hormones again, neither does he seem to see the line he’s crossing at 100 kmph. All he sees is his hand, raising to her face to tuck the unruly hair behind her ear, but it doesn’t feel like it’s attached to his body.

The word, “DONE~” dies on her lips as her lips as her eyes widen, and a blanket of crimson coats her childish features. Maybe Izuku should have asked her, but it’s too late now, and he closes his eyes before pushing the accelerator pedal and crashing his lips into hers.

It’s really clumsy, and he finds himself wishing he had read more extensively on what do do with a crush instead of crushes themselves. He has twenty seconds before the adrenaline will leave his system, and he uses his time to run his hand through the knots in Uraraka’s hair, to breathe in the mango scented soap she uses and the strawberry chapstick that engulfs the faint oily aftertaste of fries, and to faintly hear her dropping her pen.

Her hands clutch around his shirt before he can pull back sheepishly, and her lips suddenly move against his with urgency. She’s even clumsier than him, bumping their noses and foreheads more than once, and drawing away with crimson stained cheeks and short of breath, but her earnest chocolate eyes stare into his with a sense of awe and wonder.

“Uhm,” he tries, suddenly unsure what one is to say after having kissed one’s best friend without any warning. Words weren’t created for the predicament Izuku is in, and he finds himself retracting his hand from her hair to scratch the side of his cheek, and feel it burning. He lacks data on this pivotal moment, and realized how poorly constructed his attack plan was.

“Waw,” Uraraka manages, more eloquent than him. “I-”

“I’m sorry!” Izuku suddenly blurts. She blinks at him blankly, and he elaborates, “I don’t know what came over me, and I shouldn’t have-” he cuts himself off, because that’s not what he actually means. “I should have asked you before.”

Uraraka seems mildly amused with his rambles and asks in her teasing voice, “And if I had said no?”

Izuku holds her gaze evenly, finding a challenge to be honest in her eyes. “I don’t really know. I would be heartbroken, but I would have respected your decision. Is it a no, though?”

“No, it’s not,” she admits with a shake of her head.

“Is it a yes?” he asks with a small smile.

Uraraka’s face breaks into a lopsided smile and she closes in the distance between them, humming in approval as she presses her lips onto his, this time slower, silencing the ticking of the clock on the wall as they explore the vastness of this new form of them together.

It’s new, and it opens an endless trail of questions in Izuku’s mind, new territory to analyze and map, but mostly, it makes him realize this is more than a crush, because with Uraraka running her hands through his hair, just as messy as his, and with his hands on her waist, Izuku find himself falling.

And it’s the best feeling in the world.

[meet-my-stories]

MLP|Cutie Mark Story|Novella White

This is a cutie mark story with 2,500 words. I accepted the request made by @segasister after they donated at my PayPal.  -My little pony (MLP) -Bullying -hella long

“Heading to school, mum! Be back later!” A small cat-like pony yelled over her shoulder to her mother, Eagle Shield. Her whiskers twitched waiting for the quiet ‘Okay be safe, love you.’ in return. The small cat-pony gently shuts the door to her home and head towards the school. She was running a bit later but at least she wouldn’t be noticed as she slips into the classroom to her seat. This thought makes her slow down just a bit more, it sucked being the only cat-like pony in this city. No one liked how she looked so she got bullied, often, but she had her mother backing her always.

Slowly trotting up to the doorway, she hears the other fillies shushing each other and quietly giggling. What could be so funny, she thought. Nudging the ajared door the rest of the way open, she is suddenly soaked and something hits the top of her head, hard, causing her to let out a cat like yell and hiss. Then the laughter erupted throughout the whole classroom. Not looking up, shivering and shaking holding back tears, she sees the bucket rolling away from her.

“Hah, Novella White? More like kitty kat wet!” Novella looking up, sees two boys get up from their seats and trot over. They weren’t the brightest but that didn’t make them any less mean.

One of them picks up the bucket smiling around it while the other splashes Novella with the puddle on the floor. She squeaks and backs up into someone else. Looking behind her, expecting another bully, seeing Sugar Song, the teacher.  

Frowning down at the three fillies in disappointment, “I see you three decided to clean the floors before class.” She says. Novella opens her mouth to protest but the filly with the bucket speaks around it, “Yeah, Novella tripped and fell into it while we were cleaning, right Novella?” The two fillies glare at Novella, silently daring her to speak the truth. Instead, she simply nodded and lowered her head, her cat-like ears slipping back in defense.

Ms. Song looks between the three of them, “Then I will make sure all three of you clean the entire floor after class. Now one of you clean up this mess and the other two go sit down in your seats. I have some exciting news to share with the whole class!” She walks away expecting her demands to be met.

The boys toss the bucket and a towel at Novella before going over to their own seats snickering at her. Picking up the towel between her hoofs she sits down and starts to dry herself off as Ms. Song starts the announcement.

Ms. Song pulls out a stack of fliers out of her saddlebag and gives a few to each pony in the front to pass back. “As you can see on these fliers, there is a story competition starting today! You may sign up after class at my desk and it ends in a few months. It is for all kinds of stories told through the paper, a drawing or writing either one. As long as you express your story on your piece of paper!”

Putting the bucket and towel away in the closet, Novella takes a seat at her desk in the back of the room, looking down at the piece of paper that lands on her desk. Her whiskers twitch as she reads over it and taking in the information Ms. Song says. Novellas ears perk up in wonder, should she sign up? This seems really fun to do and no one else would read her story so she can’t get made fun of it if it is dumb.

By the end of the class, she had to help the bullies clean the classroom while Ms. Song graded papers. Novella kept glancing at the sign in sheet on Ms. Song's desk not sure if she should sign up, what if she doesn’t win even 5th? The humiliation, the shame, oh don’t forget the bullying! Her mind was whirling with the negative outcomes that could come with it, but it came to a dead stop when she started thinking of the positives. What if she stopped the bullying when she does win? What if she even gets her cutie mark?! With that mindset, she starts to slowly walk over to the sign-in sheet when one of the boys stops in front of her.

“Are you thinking about signing up for that stupid contest?” Shyly fidgeting away, she nods and quietly whispers a, “well… yeah…” The bully lets out a quiet snort of laughter. “Like you could win anything, let alone write anything.” He flicks her horn, causing her to flinch away and rub her horn, “You can’t use your magick very well like everyone else,” he points at her flank, ”you’re a blank flank,” then he finally holds up one her paws, ”and you have wee lil fragile kitty kat paws. You might as well not even show up to the contest.” He turns away from her, lightly hitting her with his tail, going up and signing into the contest. As he does so he glares back at her, smirking. Novella looks down at her hooves, they are just like his, right?

By the time they were done, Ms. Song finished grading and followed them out. Novella quickly ran home, going into her small home and shutting the door with her hind hoof. “Novella?” Her mother, Eagle Shield, says from the chair in the main room. “You alright honey? Your home later than usual..” Novella timidly nods and slips her saddlebag off of her back, sighing. “I had to help clean up after class... Sorry, mom..” Ms. Shield looks surprised, “You got in trouble?” Novella kicks at the ground before going and sitting down next to her mother. “Well no… Some other fillies spilled some water on me while they were cleaning and I had to help them after class.” A quiet ‘oh’ came from her mother as quiet calm silence fall over them.

“What’s that coming out of your saddle bag? You got homework you need to do?” Ms. Shield walks over and dips down to snatch the paper out of Novella's saddle bag. Novella, feeling confused, looked up, “No I don’t ha-have school work-” It was the contest flyer. “What’s this?” Ms. Shield looked at the flyer, holding it up with her magic now, scanning through it. She perks up and looks at Novella. “Why didn’t you tell me about this Novella?? Have you signed up yet? Have you thought of a story yet, oh Celestia this is so exciting!” Novella giggled at her mother's overly hyper attitude towards this contest. “No, mother calm down, hehe.”

Novella getting up and looks up at her mother, “I haven’t signed up yet or thought about it really…” She looks down at her hooves, remembering what the young colt told her. Ms. Shield looks at her daughter, noticing her nervous habit quickly. “Oh, Novella, you have such a beautiful imagination. Why haven’t you signed up for the contest?” Using her hoof, Ms. Shield lifts up Novella's head to look up at her, softly smiling down at her shy daughter. Novella eyes welling up with tears from today she lets out a pitiful sniffle, “The kids said that cats can’t write... We have fragile paws…” Ms. Shields eyes widened in disbelief, what is up with these ponies and someone different?

She sits down in front of her daughter and holds Novella close. “It doesn’t matter if your ‘paws’ are fragile, you still have your imagination, your determination, your beautiful features. If you want to sign up for that contest then by Celestia sign up for it! Don’t let some snubs tell you what you can and can’t do!” She stomped her hoof on the ground next to them. Novella just nods into her mother's chest unsure how to react, other than be happy that her mother has her back. “Now you eat some dinner and head to bed, think up ideas for your story and I will come to school with you tomorrow before I go to work and sign up with you, alright?” Novella happily nods and goes off to do what she was told.

The next morning they did just as her mother said they’d do. Ms. Shield took Novella to school and signed in with her. While Novella nervously signed in, her mother talked with Ms. Song. The bullies came in after. At first, they were heading towards Novella, but when they saw her mother they went to their seats instead frowning almost pouting that they couldn’t tease Novella today. As if it was the highlight of their day.

During the whole class, she couldn’t focus on anything but what story to write. Should she do it on her mom or the teacher? Maybe a fairy tale based on a kitten princess? She doodled up some ideas and rough drafted a few times, till class was over. She rushed out and went to the library to get some ideas. They all had things similar to her ideas but she wanted it to be unique. Then she saw this dusty book in the back, she dug it out and it was the tale of the two alicorn sisters.

Then it clicked. She’ll write a story about the alicorn sisters! Novella couldn’t help but let out a quietly excited purr before quickly walking up and checking out the book, then dashes back home, ideas whirling quicker than ever.

Novella runs into her home and goes to her bedroom. She pulls out multiple pencils and pens and papers. Writing one idea then the next, late into the night till her mother made her go to bed. All weekend was the same, and the same throughout the rest of the next two and a half months. Novella lost some sleep and her mane was getting frizzy but she finally finished. Yawning and looking at the time she realized, turn-ins ended in an hour!

Without thinking about her appearance, she snatches her story off of her home desk and throws on her saddlebag and sprints to the school. She bursts into the classroom and drops her story into the turn in bin, her mouth dry and her mane worse for wear, but worth it. Novella turning around to take her seat sees everyone staring at her. Her throat closes up, her ears lay back against her messy mane, and her tail tucks in as she practically crawls to her seat. That will be more embarrassing than losing the contest.

The next two months was just full of the jitters for Novella, while the judges read over the stories and entries, she was nervous. It didn’t help that the bully bragged about having some famous author write his story for his entry. She was sure to lose now.

Here it is, at long last, judgment day. Novella shakes her head, her mane well braided her tail matching, her ears fluffed up with the rest of her pelt in nervous energy. No not judgment day, just contest day, the day that determines the rest of school for her. They had everyone that turned in their stories and art standing on stage. One side was the artists and the other was the writers, she was with the writers of course. Novella, of course, was with the writers.

Looking up as the judges came in, and there stood the very princess she wrote about. Everyone gasped in awe, Celestia herself was standing in front of all the fillies of the Elementry School of Manehattan. Her pelt color drained off onto the stage as she looked at the princess in great horror and fear. Celestia... The princess of all of pony kind… Read Novella's story... About her...

Novella wanted to run for it. Celestia, seeing all the little fillies expressions, giggled, “Now, my little ponies, we are going to call some ponys name and that some pony with go off stage.”

And that is how it went till there were only ten fillies left. Five on the artist side and five on the writer's side. Novella can’t believe she was still standing on stage, on the edge of fainting in front of the very princess that she wrote about. It did not help that the bully was standing right next to her smirking the entire time. Another one of the judges, Ms. Song from school, stood up and came on to the stage, “Now I will call your names one by one and you will come up and claim your prize.”

Ms. Song called the bully up first, “Onyx Armor,” here it comes... He got first place... Novella bowed her head as he went up to claim his prize, proudly strutting up, “, you got 5th place.” Novellas head snapped up faster than Rainbow Dash could make the rainboom, and Onyx just stood there in shock as the teacher put a dull green ribbon around his neck. “Congratulations, now please go join the rest of the class in the back.”

Names continued to be called and ribbons passed out, Novella was shocked again, name after name, ribbon after ribbon, till she was the only one on stage. Princess Celestia stood up and came onto the stage herself and stood in front of Novella. With a quiet and calm voice, Princess Celestia said to her, “Novella White, you, my little pony, won first place. The story you wrote about me and my dear little sister was beautiful. It felt like I was reliving my foalhood again... Thank you.” With that, Celestia put the blue ribbon on around Novella's neck smiling down at her. “Congratulations.”

Novella welled up with tears and thanked the princess and judges before running off stage excitedly bouncing around and purring. She won! She actually won!

“Whoa... Novella congrats on the prizes.” She stopped her miniature mental party to see Onyx standing there. She crouched down embarrassed and a little frightened. Onyx was never nice to her, what's different now? Wait, did he say prizes? Onyx stepped closer and pointed at her flank, she looked down at it waiting for his blank flank teasing but to her surprise, it wasn’t blank at all! It had the perfect cutie mark, an inkwell with a crown resting on top of it.