#tw: profanities

[erinawritesheadcanons2]

Hey Author, can I request Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz with Headcanons of S/O Running Away from Abusive home? Thank you

- Lilith

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, and Ganz Helping S/O Running Away from Abusive Home

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Hello, there Lilith. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Warning: Angst, Gore, Violence, Profanity, Mention of Abuse, and Mention of Illness, and Mention of Self-harm.

Gender: None

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Horror Sans

Horror Sans doesn't hesitate when you ask for help. The moment he realizes how bad your situation is, he’s already making plans to get you out. "Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ ya there. We’re gettin’ out. Tonight."

He doesn’t care about the consequences. Laws? Authorities? None of it matters to him. All he knows is that you’re suffering, and he won’t let it continue.

He’s surprisingly good at sneaking around. Despite his large frame and heavy steps, he knows how to move quietly when the situation demands it. Your abuser never hears him coming.

If things get dangerous, he won’t hold back. He won’t start a fight unless absolutely necessary, but if your abuser tries to stop you from leaving… well, let’s just say they won’t be standing for long.

He already has a safe place in mind. Whether it’s a rundown cabin, an underground hideout, or just somewhere far away from your past, he makes sure there’s a place you can rest without fear.

You will never go hungry around him. Horror knows what it’s like to starve, and he refuses to let you feel that kind of pain. No matter where you are, he makes sure there’s food on the table.

He keeps weapons nearby—just in case. Even if you’re safe, he doesn’t trust the world to stay safe. If anyone dares come looking for you, he’s ready as he already sharpen his axe.

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(Y/N) flinched as the glass slammed onto the table, the sharp sound cutting through the suffocating silence of the dimly lit dining room. Your father loomed over them, his face twisted with fury, his hands gripping the crumpled report card like it was a personal insult. “A D?” he spat, his voice a venomous whisper before it erupted into a full-blown roar. “You got a damn D in math? After all I’ve done for you?!” His hand clenched, and for a terrifying moment, you braced yourselves for what might come next.

Before he could step any closer, a sudden crack echoed through the room. A presence that is dark and imposing loomed behind you. Horror Sans stood behind you, his massive form filling the small space of your living room, single glowing eye locked onto the man who had been tormenting you. His grin stretched wide, jagged and unsettling, but there was no amusement in it. Only warning. "Havin’ fun screamin’, old man?" Horror’s voice was low and gravelly.

The old man spun around, his rage momentarily replaced with shock at the sight. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, but there was a waver in his voice. He wasn’t used to being challenged, much less by something like this. Horror took a single step forward, his heavy boots making the floor creak. "We’re leavin’," he stated simply, his voice calm, too calm for his liking. "Sit. Down." Your father snarled, pointing a trembling finger at you.

It was his final command, the last attempt to control you. But before you could even flinch, Horror took another step, his full height casting a shadow over the man. The room felt smaller, suffocating. Your father wasn't used to being the one afraid, but the sheer size of Horror, the raw, inhuman presence of him, made him hesitate. Horror tilted his head, eye socket narrowing as he let out a low chuckle. "Didn’t hear me the first time, huh? I said, We're leavin' this place."His grip on the axe tightened.

Your father’s hands curled into fists, his face twisting with rage, but Horror didn’t wait. The moment the old man lunged, Horror’s axe was in his hands, the dull side of the blade resting just beneath his chin in a silent warning. "Try me," Horror murmured, his glowing eye flaring. "Please. I-i'm sorry" Your father’s breath hitched, his bravado crumbling as he took a step back.

And then, in an instant, the world around you vanished. The living room, the screaming, the suffocating weight of expectations—gone. When you opened your eyes again, you were somewhere else entirely. The air was damp, cold, the scent of old metal and dust filling your lungs. You were in an abandoned warehouse, far from home. Far from him.

Horror turned to you, his expression unreadable, though his grin had less malice now. "Yer safe," he muttered, kneeling beside you. "Ain’t nobody gonna hurt ya no more." His massive hands, so used to violence, moved carefully as he scanned you for injuries. A bruise on your wrist. A faint red mark on your cheek. His fingers ghosted over them, his grip tightening in quiet fury. "Bastard's lucky I didn’t do worse," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I-it's okay, Horror. Thank you so much for saving me," you smile at him.

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Killer Sans

Killer had always been sharp, noticing the smallest details. When he saw your bruises and the way you flinched at sudden movements, he knew something was wrong.

Even before you told him anything, he started keeping an eye on your house. If he noticed the lights still on late at night, heard yelling when he passed by, or saw you flinch when your phone rang.

Killer didn’t just want to rescue you. He wanted to make sure your abuser regretted ever laying a hand on you. He’d steal their keys, rearrange furniture just to mess with them, leave unsettling notes on mirrors like, You’re being watched. He wanted them paranoid.

Killer didn’t do sappy, but he did do distractions. He dragged you on random outings in the middle of the night like rooftops, empty amusement parks, abandoned diners. "We’re making up for lost time, babe. C’mon, let’s go cause some mayhem."

Killer had ways of erasing monsters and people—at least from records. He hacked into systems, messed with addresses, and ensured there was no trace of you left behind. If your abuser tried to find you, they’d be met with nothing but dead ends.

He never said it out loud, but he didn’t need to. The way he stayed close, the way he glared at anyone who got too near, the way he always had one hand near his weapon. It was all a silent promise to keep you saved.

If someone even slightly raised their voice at you, Killer was in their face before they could finish their sentence. "Try that again," he’d say, tilting his head with an unsettling grin.

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The air was thick with tension, the kind that suffocated and lingered long after the shouting stopped. Killer had been lounging on your bed, arms folded behind his skull, lazily flipping a knife between his fingers. It was supposed to be just another night of hanging out, just the two of you. But then—CRASH. A scream tore through the silence, followed by the sharp sound of something shattering. His grip on the knife tightened.

Your mother’s voice rang through the house, dripping with venom. "You ruined everything!" she shrieked. Another crash. Another pained cry. Killer’s easygoing smirk faded instantly. He teleported out of your room in an instant, appearing at the top of the stairs just in time to see you crumpled on the floor, clutching your side, gasping in pain.

His sockets darkened, his grin sharpening into something dangerous. Without hesitation, he pulled back his arm and flung his knife. The blade zipped through the air, slicing just past her cheek and embedding itself into the wall with a deadly thunk. She froze, eyes wide with terror. Before she could even process what had happened, Killer tilted his head, a smirk curling at his lips. "Try that again," he purred, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. "I dare you."

Your mother let out a strangled scream, stumbling backward, hands shaking. "M-Monster!" she shrieked before turning and bolting toward her room, slamming the door behind her. Killer rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Unoriginal," he muttered before turning his attention to you. He crouched down, carefully reaching out. "C’mon, doll. We’re getting you outta here." Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his arms around you and teleported in a flash of light.

The old warehouse was dark, abandoned, and silent except for the distant dripping of water from a leaking pipe. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. Killer lowered you onto a makeshift seat, his grin softening slightly. "Stay here. I’ll be right back. Don’t move, got it?" You barely had time to nod before he was gone.

Back at the house, the chaos began. Killer materialized in your mother’s bedroom, eyes gleaming with mischief. With quick, efficient movements, he stole her keys, tossing them into some impossible-to-reach corner. He grabbed a can of red paint he found in the storage room and smeared it across her mirror, leaving behind streaks that resembled dripping blood. He grinned. "Ooh, creepy."

Then, just for fun, he rearranged the furniture, flipping chairs upside down, shifting the bed slightly to make it feel off, and setting the TV volume to max before unplugging it. For the finishing touch, he grabbed a notepad from the counter and scribbled a little message in sharp, jagged handwriting. We know what you did. He stuck it to the fridge, right on top of one of the pictures where she still pretended to be a good parent.

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Dust Sans

Dust Sans isn't stupid. He notices the way your body tenses when certain topics come up, the way your eyes dart around like you’re waiting for something or someone to strike. It’s subtle, but to someone like him, who has lived in fear before, it’s obvious.

He doesn’t ask right away, though. He just observes, lets his suspicions build until the truth is right in front of him. You try to hide the bruises under long sleeves, the cuts that are a little too precise to be accidents, but he sees them.

The night he acts, he waits for the perfect moment. The second your abuser turns their back, Dust teleports straight into your room and grabs your wrist. "We’re leaving. Now." His voice is calm, but his grip is firm.

If your abuser tries to stop him, he gives them a very clear warning. The glint of his knife, the way he tilts his head, the eerie way his grin slowly returns. It’s all a promise. A deadly one.

He takes you somewhere isolated, a place no one can find. An abandoned warehouse, a run-down cabin, maybe even the edges of the Underground where no one dares to go.

Dust doesn’t know how to comfort people. He’s used to violence, to survival. But for you? He tries. He watches, making sure you’re eating, making sure you’re sleeping.

He doesn’t believe in words. He believes in actions, fixing things for you, making sure your space is warm enough, bringing you food even if he just tosses it onto your lap with a muttered, “Eat.”

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The night was heavy with anger and exhaustion. You stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, your parents' voices ringing in your ears like thunder. "Selfish!" "Ungrateful!" "Stingy little brat!" Their accusations hit like sharp knives, cutting deeper than any physical wound. All because you had worked hard, earned your own money—yet instead of handing it over to them, you had dared to spend it on yourself. A simple meal.

A dull, chilling voice cut through the noise. "Tch. What’s going on this time?" Dust had been upstairs, listening. He never liked your parents, never trusted them, but now, hearing the raw hatred in their voices, he felt something snap. He teleported downstairs in an instant, appearing beside you with his usual blank stare, his hands twitching, magic sparking faintly. Your parents barely acknowledged his presence, still too focused on tearing you down. "Ungrateful. Useless. Stingy." Your father spat the words, sneering.

Dust just stared, unmoving, unblinking. Then, finally, he stepped forward, placing himself between you and them. "We’re leaving." His voice was quiet, eerily calm. That was the only warning he gave. But instead of fear, your father laughed. A cruel, mocking laugh that sent something dangerous crawling up Dust’s spine. "You think you can take care of (Y/N)?! You?!" He scoffed, waving him off. "Fine! Leave! You’re both worthless anyway!"

Dust’s grin stretched too wide, dark and twisted. "Gladly." And then everything levitated. Chairs, dishes, picture frames, all of it ripped from the ground in a silent storm of fury. Your parents barely had time to scream before the objects crashed into the walls, shattering into pieces. Dust didn’t touch them, but his message was clear. He grabbed your wrist, teleporting away before they could react, leaving behind the house.

You landed in darkness, surrounded by towering trees and the whisper of the wind. An old, abandoned cabin stood in the distance, broken but still standing much like him. "This place ain't much, but… it’s better than that hellhole," he muttered, leading you inside. It was small, dusty, but safe. He flicked his wrist, summoning a dim glow of magic to light the space.

Then, without a word, he rummaged through his pockets before tossing something in your direction. "Eat." A small, slightly stale piece of bread landed in your lap. You looked up at him, surprised. Dust rarely showed care through words, but his actions spoke louder. He slumped down beside you, his grin gone, replaced by something quieter. "You’re safe now." His voice was low, steady, final. "And I’ll keep it that way. I won’t let those bastards touch you again."

The weight of the night settled in. Everything had changed in an instant. The fear, the anger, the uncertainty. It was all still there, but so was he. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone. And somehow, despite the eerie silence of the cabin, despite the worn-out wood and the chilling wind outside, you felt warmer than you ever had before.

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Ganz

Ganz had always noticed the signs. The way you flinched at sudden sounds, how you hesitated before speaking, and the way your eyes held exhaustion far beyond your years.

You had tried to hide it under long sleeves, but when he caught a glimpse of the marks on your wrist, something inside him snapped. He wasn’t the type to get openly angry, but his grip on his scarf tightened.

The moment they tried to strike you, he stepped in. He didn’t have to lift a finger, he air around him became suffocating, filled with magic so thick that even your abuser took a step back. He didn’t need violence. His presence alone was enough to make them freeze in place.

Ganz never rushed you to talk. If you wanted to tell him what happened, he’d listen. If you didn’t, that was fine too. He wasn’t going to pry into your pain—he just wanted you to heal at your own pace.

If nightmares came, he was there. He never judged you for waking up in a panic, nor did he question it when you curled into yourself, trembling. He simply sat nearby, a quiet, steady presence to remind you that you weren’t alone

If you ever doubted your worth, he shut it down immediately. "You deserved better than that place." His voice was firm, almost stubborn.

Ganz had a way of making you feel safe without words. Sometimes, all it took was a hand on your shoulder, a quiet hum as he fiddled with his scarf, letting you know he wasn’t leaving.

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The soft glow of the moon barely reached your room, its silver light casting faint patterns against the walls. You lay curled up on the bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, trying not to let the weight of your parents' words crush you completely. They didn’t even look at me. They didn’t even care. The echo of their dismissive laughter when you mentioned your competition still rang in your ears. "Why bother going? You’ll lose anyway." Instead, they had left, their attention solely on your sister’s ballet rehearsal, as if you didn’t exist at all.

A familiar distortion in the air made you lift your head slightly. A soft hum of teleportation magic crackled for a moment before a figure appeared at the foot of your bed. Ganz. His usual sharp gaze softened the moment he saw your tear-streaked face, his scarf shifting slightly as he let out a slow breath. Without a word, he sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn’t ask what happened, he didn’t need to. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes that held a silent question: Do you want to leave?

You hesitated, but only for a moment. The answer had always been inside you, buried under years of neglect, waiting for someone—anyone to remind you that you had a choice. Your lips trembled as you whispered, "Take me with you." Ganz nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile touching his expression before vanishing just as quickly. He didn’t say Are you sure? He didn’t ask What about your family? Because he knew. He knew they weren’t your family. Not really.

Packing didn’t take long. You barely owned anything that felt worth taking. A few clothes, a notebook, a small trinket from someone who once cared. Ganz stood by the window, arms crossed, watching with a quiet patience that spoke louder than words. When you were finally ready, he reached out. His fingers were cool against yours as the familiar pull of teleportation magic wrapped around you, and in an instant, the room, the house, the pain was gone.

The sanctuary was quiet, hidden deep underground where no one could find it. A small fire flickered in the corner, casting soft orange glows against the stone walls. The scent of cinnamon filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, your lungs didn’t feel heavy. But as you settled in, Ganz's sharp eyes caught what you had tried to hide the bruises on your arms, the faint outlines of past injuries you never spoke about. He stared for a moment, his fingers tightening around the edge of his scarf, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he stood, walked over to a small table, and returned with something warm wrapped in cloth. "You’re safe now. That’s what matters," he murmured, handing you a cinnamon bun. The warmth seeped into your fingers, grounding you, anchoring you to the present. He sat beside you once more, the silence between you no longer heavy, but comforting.

He finally spoke again, voice low but steady. "You deserved better than that place." There was no hesitation in his words, no doubt, just truth. A truth you had been too afraid to believe until now. As you took a small bite, the sweetness melting on your tongue, something inside you cracked. Not from the pain, but relief. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone.

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[aidensm8]

Finally got the motivation to draw another part of Chapter 3. Logan is a mood.

[theloveinc]

OlderDad!Bakugou who gets a haircut and his baby doesn't recognize him and he doesn't want his dad to pick him up 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bakugou has a cry in the bathroom and you have to spend the rest of the night consoling him.

Also Hiiiiiii, miss u, hope youre gooooood

head in my hands bc of this, just thought abt bakugo growing out his hair a little bit right after baby's birth...takes him months to go and get a real haircut cuz he doesn't wanna burden you more than he already has and by the time he's okay with the thought (but only for "AN HOUR MAX," is what he says), he has a mullet thing going on and all this scruff on his chin🥺🥺🥺

so he gets home with his regular ol' haircut, maybe a little shorter just to account for ... not wanting to go again so soon, and baby's HOLLERING bloody murder as soon as they see him and refusing to be taken out of your arms, doing that thing where they're flipping their face back and forth to dodge a kiss...

it's so tragic bc not even a little cheek nuzzling helps to calm them bc bakugo's CLEAN SHAVEN and smells like aftershave instead of like dad when he tries!!!!!!

and after, you watch him kinda sulk into the bathroom, thinking like aw yeah thats a bummer but also pretty funny, too (esp bc the haircut does look good🫣🤓), AND HE DOESN'T COME OUT FOR LIKE an hour???

....until you finally have to ask him if he's okay in there and you're opening the door to him sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed and red cheeks a little streaky with tears...

LJFKASDJFADSJK it's the cutest, most sad sight you ever did see!! ofc Bakugo tries to deny it, but the way he tears up again (after you're done assuring him he did nothing wrong) when his baby finally realizes it's him and smiles (and then how he refuses to give them up again until bedtime) has his ass. EXPOSED.

(i love and miss u more than air, earth, water, dirt + HOPE YOU'RE GOOD TOO BESTIE ILY)

[taiga-atetheluck-boom]

missing him while he's on tour ~ stray kids fake texts

members: bang chan

genre: comfort, fluff

warnings: pet names, seperation anxiety, crying, profanity

a/n: for some reason it's not letting me reorder the pics so read the one on the right first

work made by me, reblogs are appreciated but please don't repost.

dividers made by me, please don't use or claim as yours.

post date: 2/7/25

queue post date: 2/9/25

[aloesarchives]

Father's Day Special(JJK Oneshot)

Tags/Warning: AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Domesticity, Fluff, Unhinged Crack(Especially near the End), Mention of Balls but not Smut(I promise), JJK OC(but not main X Reader)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

Reader Pronouns/Usage: (She/Her), Mama, Mom, Doll, Baby

So I know I'm three days late for Father's Day but I couldn't help but write this out. It's been busy and absolute hell with getting ready for Uni. But by July, things will slow down and I can focus more on getting shit down and stop procrastinating. I hella miss writing, I needa get back into the grove of it.

Also, forgot to mention, this fic was based on a true event. Dramatization was an all time high but loosely based on an interaction I had with my own mom lol

“What do you think Dad wants, Megumi?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. I thought Mom was hard but it’s actually Dad.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he never buys anything new. Even if he does, it’s either meant for the house or us. Dad still wears the same black t-shirt since we were kids. He doesn’t have expensive taste either. No cologne, no wrist watch, no shoes, nothing.”

Tsumiki and Megumi feel more empathetic to Toji than either right now. Father’s Day is tomorrow and the two are out trying to get their dad a gift. But just like Toji, they feel stuck on what to get him. With you, their mother, it’s more subtle and personalized. Tailored to your taste and personality, seems hard at first but gets easier once getting the smaller details. Is it more on the pricier side? Yes, but you are their mother and do so much for them that you deserve anything and everything good to come your way.

But Toji, he’s a different story.

Growing up, the two saw how laidback their dad was. No putting much effort into keeping appearance or staying with the latest trends. They learned early on that Toji only dresses decently, or at least looks presentable, because of you. Outfit coordination was all on you, you always picked out Toji’s outfit or had the final say on what he’s wearing. Obviously over time, he’s learned the art of dressing himself up but he always asks you for the final say.

Anyhow, clothes are out because Megumi and Tsumiki know Toji wears them until they are rags. He still wears the same basketball shorts around the house since they were babies.

They’re teenagers in high school now.

Toji’s old shirts and shorts just get converted to loungewear and home clothes. Some of them have holes but Toji seems to care less about them. Toji also has no expensive taste or an interest in creating one. He believes you pay for the quality but that’s on certain things like a wrench or drill. He never understood the whole throwing your money to look high class. Pointing out that things can stick out like a nail and look out of place. He grew up in a family with money, he knows.

Then Toji literally has everything he needs. That’s what the kids always hear.

“I have (Y/N), my kids, a nice house with space to work, food, and my equipment. The hell I need anything else when it’s all right ‘ere.”

People’s dreams and aspirations are different. Having a family is a common one many have. But Megumi and Tsumiki could clearly see the fond and tender nature their dad somehow exhibits, and it’s only exclusive to the family. They didn’t think much of it until they asked you. Upon explaining Toji's life up until meeting you, Tsumiki and Megumi finally let it sit why their dad acts the way he does.

“Your Papa…didn’t expect to have this type of life—To have a home, a wife and kids. He’d never imagine himself to get this because he didn’t think it'd happen to him, especially how he grew up. But it did and he never took it for granted since. Your Papa has treated me beyond the means of well over the years, it’s only fair I do the same for him. I’m not forcing you two to follow suit. But at the very least, try to understand your Dad and his circumstances. That’s all I ask of you two.”

With that, no wonder they’ve never met anyone from Toji’s side besides Maki and Mai. That and an explanation to your fierce protectiveness towards Toji at the mention of his “family”. So here Megumi and Tsumiki are, along with their litter sister Mayumi, concocting an idea on what to get Toji. They were going to call you but ditched the idea to not inconvenience you as you were busy yourself. Currently in Shibuya walking in one of the shopping districts, they searched high and low for anything that would make a decent Father’s Day gift.

Tsumiki threw up some ideas but Megumi shot them down because it’s not practical for their Dad.

“Megumi, at this point, we can’t get Papa anything! What do you have in mind that Papa will actually use?”

Megumi thought for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve got nothing, Tsumiki. I’m drawing a blank here.”

Tsumiki sighs before looking around again. Meanwhile, Mayumi’s curiosity was becoming impulsive. She wanted to look at anything and everything as long as her pretty little eyes laid on it. Holding onto Megumi’s hand, she tries to keep pace with her older siblings in the busy street. However, after walking for a few minutes, Mayumi came to a stop as she stared at one of the stores. Feeling his arm be pulled back, Megumi looks down to see Mayumi staring off.

“Mayumi, what are you looking at?”

Tsumiki also stopped when she noticed her two younger siblings weren’t behind her. Crouching down, she wanted to see what had caught her baby sister’s attention.

“Is there something you want to look at, Mayumi-chan?”

Mayumi looks at Tsumiki before nodding and pointing to the store that has captured her attention. Megumi and Tsumiki look to see that the store that has captured her attention was Uniqlo. Surprisingly enough, this was a clothing store that mostly made up Megumi AND Toji’s wardrobes. Tugging Megumi along, Mayumi walks into the store with a mission. The two look at each other with curiosity, wondering what their little sister was so dead set on finding. They watched as Mayumi’s eyes scanned the racks and shelves, head darting up, down, left, and right. Megumi makes a decision to let go of her hand to see what she’ll do. Upon feeling her hand’s release, Mayumi speed walks away to the Men’s side. Megumi and Tsumiki made haste to not lose sight of her. Now it’s their turn in trying to keep up with her as she continuously searches for what she’s looking for.

Megumi starts to panic when Mayumi seemingly vanishes before him. He swore he only took his eyes off of her for a split second, and now she’s gone. He was close to going into search party mode when he spotted Mayumi standing before one of the shelving displays. Letting himself breath again, he walks over to where she was before picking her up.

“Mayumi, you can’t run off like that! You know you’ll get lost and separated from Tsumiki and I. You have to make sure you can see us close behind before going on your own.” Megumi lightly chastised her. Though, he never could get mad at her no matter what she did.

Mayumi pouts slightly at Megumi, understanding what she did was dangerous.

“Sorry, Gumi-Nii. Didn’t mean to do it to you and Miki-Nee…But! I found Papa’s Father’s Day gift!” Mayumi excitedly exclaims, pointing to the rack.

Megumi looks to see what she means and by then Tsumiki caught up to the two. Tsumiki also follows to see what the two were staring at. The section she was pointing at was the Men’s section for underwear and socks. Tsumiki chuckles while Megumi becomes both confused and a little embarrassed. Mayumi squirms in Megumi’s arms, signaling him to let her down. Once safely on the ground, Mayumi grabs a packet and holds it up to her siblings.

“Mayumi-chan, why do you think this can be a gift for Papa? You think Papa would need this?” Tsumiki gently asks her, hoping to understand what she meant.

Mayumi nods quickly, continuing to hold up the boxer packet.

“Yes! Because Papa needs new ones!”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other surprised before Tsumiki looked back at Mayumi.

“How do you know, Mayumi-chan?”

“Mama said it when she was folding the clothes after drying them! This was when Papa was out with Uncle Shui! She said why does Papa keep wearing his underwear even though they have holes in them. I saw what she was talking about because Papa does have holes in his underwear! So, why not get Papa new underwear?”

Tsumiki found this amusing and a bit funny at Mayumi’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Megumi had a furious blush painted across his face. He didn’t expect their shopping trip to go this way. Let alone, the deciding gift was the most plain and not so well-thought out of. Though Megumi felt his embarrassment burn his entire being, he’s not complaining about the gift choice. He knew it was a practical gift for their dad, especially knowing Toji’s track record when it came to clothing.

As strange as it is to admit, Megumi couldn’t deny that a go-to gift to give to any guy is a pack of brand new underwear paired with a fresh pack of socks. He knew there’s nothing you could do wrong with that combination. He even witnessed it firsthand when Yuuji was way too excited when he got a box filled with pairs of socks and boxer briefs for his birthday. And knowing how lax Toji is, Toji probably would like this more than anything. So Megumi stays quiet and lets the girls handle it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Mayumi-chan. We should get some of these for Papa so he doesn’t have to keep wearing his old ones.”

“But I don’t know Papa’s size…Maybe Mama knows! We should call Mama, Miki-Nee!”

Tsumiki nods while pulling out her phone, hitting your contact. The phone buzzed once before your voice was heard on the phone. Mayumi decides to talk on everyone’s behalf and ask for Toji’s underwear size. After a bit, Mayumi hands the phone back to Tsumiki and the two of you talk. Once hanging up, it was settled.

“Gumi-Nee, Mama said Papa only wears black and dark blue boxers! And also said Papa is a size large!”

Since he didn’t want his sisters to look awkward, Megumi took it upon himself to take the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks to check out. The socks were a last minute decision but again, practical for someone like Toji. After Tsumiki gave her half of the total to Megumi, he bought them and left with his sisters. After getting home, Megumi decided it would be best if he kept the gift in his room to not raise any suspicions if Toji had any.

“So, did you three buy your Dad his gift?”

Mayumi runs up to you and fervently nods while pointing at the Uniqlo bag Megumi’s holding. Megumi gives you the receipt for tax purposes and so Toji doesn’t see the price for it as he’ll definitely take it. You grinned while looking at the receipt, something Megumi and Tsumiki believe would be akin to playful or mischievous.

“Nice job, you three. Now, go change and clean up a bit for dinner. Your dad will be home soon.”

Speak of the devil, not even five minutes later, the front door is opened and a gruff “I’m home!” can be heard. Toji was already home. Hearing his voice, Mayumi dashed to where he was and was immediately picked up by him. His iconic DILF chuckle and the giggles of your youngest child can be heard getting closer to the kitchen. Something you never get tired of hearing and hope to hear more of every time.

“Glad to hear you had a good day, Princess. Now go with your sister to change and freshen up.”

Mayumi nods before being put down, dashing towards Tsumiki who then holds her hand as she takes her upstairs.

You were finishing cleaning up the dirty dishes when you felt a warm presence on your back.

“How are you doing, Doll? Looks like you got dinner all figured out, didn’t I tell you my food prep made things easier?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the feeling of your husband wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Toji wants to be all over you no matter the hour.

“Yeah yeah, don’t let that ego get higher than it already is…But thank you though, Hon. It cuts down cooking time by a lot. I appreciate it.” You tenderly answered before giving him a simple kiss on the cheek.

Wearing a victor’s smile, Toji pulls away. Crossing his arms with his chest all puffed out as his pride builds up.

“If that’s all that takes for some of your kisses, I’ll keep on doing it. Only for you, Doll. Glad it makes things easier for ya.”

Even though it said because of his pride, there was an undeniable softness on his features many would believe was impossible for him to make. But here he was, doing exactly that like it was any normal day at the Fushiguro household. The fondness he exhibits to you is both a blessing and a honor because you knew you were a part of the few people that bring it out of him.

Smiling back, you mirrored your loving softness on your face as well.

“It does, Toji. Now, go change and shower. I don’t know what Shui and you did today but you smell like outside. I don’t want that in our bed so go upstairs and shower, Hon.”

Toji smirks but nods at your command. Taking himself upstairs to wash away the smell. Dinner goes on as normal. Silent but pleasant as it lets everyone decompress from the day. Toji does the dishes since you cooked dinner and the kiddos clean up the kitchen table. Everyone retires into the night without issue and Toji has his arms wrapped around you as you sleep on top of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. when you heard voices coming from downstairs and the slight clanging of metal. You groggily blinked the sleep from your eyes while feeling the sun brightening up your room. Hearing Toji’s faint and calm breathing, you knew he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. After successfully slipping away from Toji’s grasp, you were able to change into your home clothes before going downstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen, the sight before you was a pleasant surprise.

There was Tsumiki and Megumi, wearing aprons, and using the kitchen while Mayumi was drinking her juice from her sippy cup. Albeit very sleepy but that changes when she hears footsteps and sees you walking in with a warm smile on your face.

“Mama! Gumi-Nii and Miki-Nee are making Papa breakfast! I’m here for moral support!” She excitedly whispers to you as you hold her up.

You look over to see your two eldest working away prepping their Father’s Day breakfast. You hum while inspecting their handy work, peering over their shoulder to see.

“It smells good, you two. Though, I’m surprised you’re able to get up at this time, Megumi. Normally, you would sleep in until another two hours or so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the rice balls he’s making, but his tone is less irritated and tense compared to most mornings.

“Well, I feel bad for letting Tsumiki do all the work in cooking. So I woke up earlier than normal to help out. Plus, Mayumi woke me up and asked me to help Tsumiki make breakfast because she couldn’t.”

Mayumi’s soft giggles were paired with your own. Softly patting his hair, you offer Megumi a grateful smile.

“I’m happy to know you helped out, Dear. Good to back up your sisters.”

You pat Tsumiki's shoulder comfortingly to not let her lose focus on her cooking.

“Call for me if you two need any help.”

The two nod before you make your way upstairs with Mayumi, making your way to your shared bedroom where your husband is sleeping. Mayumi writhes and squirms in your hold, begging to be let down to wake up her Papa. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she quietly and firmly opens the bedroom door. B-lining towards the bed with you following suit. She climbs up onto the bed and crawls to where Toji was sleeping peacefully. Your youngest stares for a few moments at her Papa before gently pounding his chest.

“Papa…Papa…Wake up!”

After a few tries, Toji stirs a bit before blinking slowly. Toji motions his head to face the culprit that woke him up from his restful sleep. Seeing Toji waking up, Mayumi beams down at him along with you softly smiling at the side of the bed.

“G’morning, Papa! Happy Papa Day!”

“Morning to you too, Little Lady~.”

He takes Mayumi in his arms while steadily sitting up. Her sweet sequels and giggles echo throughout the bedroom as Toji kisses all over her face and tickles her sides. Grinning down at his youngest daughter, he carries it when his eyes meet yours.

“Morning, Beautiful~.”

The morning rasp and gruffness in his voice made you want to scream at the sky while death-gripping the ground below. You desperately thanked any and all divine pantheons for blessing you with such a man. But alas, you couldn’t allow yourself to fold so easily. Especially in front of Toji, knowing you’ll never see the end of his teasing and salacious, but consensual, advances. You just light-heartedly roll your eyes while shaking your head, but your smile never ceases.

“Good Morning to you too, Handsome~. Happy Father’s Day. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Toji temporarily sets down Mayumi as you pass him a shirt to wear since he was wearing his gray sweat shorts. He picks up Mayumi again before making his way out and into the kitchen to satiate his morning hunger. Just like you, he reacted with surprise seeing a fully set table before him. But this is Toji we’re talking about. So the most we’ll get out of his reaction is his eyes which went wide.

He was about to ask if you made all the food as you passed by but you tilt your head to the side and he sees Megumi and Tsumiki cleaning up the kitchen.

“They helped you with making breakfast, Doll?”

You shake your head while taking Mayumi in your arms to place her in her chair.

“I didn’t even touch the kitchen this morning. They were in here this whole time.”

Sitting down, it finally clicked with Toji. He just grinned as he took his usual seat at the edge of the table. Once everyone was seated and began eating, so did he. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type. But he couldn’t help himself in allowing this particular feeling to wash over him. If he went back in time to tell his younger-self that he’d become a husband and a father of three kids, he most certainly knew his past-self would scoff and think he’s a liar. Toji won’t lie because he has a hard time believing it himself sometimes. Even after almost two decades of being married to you and 15 years of being a father, he’s in awe of how his life ended up to the present day.

Sneaking glance as he eats, he sees his two oldest kids having their usual sibling conversation. 16 and 15 years old, first and second years in high school. It would only be a few years until they would graduate high school.

‘Geez, they’ll be legal adults in less than five years…Fucking shit, man…’

Toji then sneaks glances at you, which he sometimes catches your gaze as well. There was a certain feeling of your smile every time you sent it his way. But it was not until he reminded himself that your particular smile you always gave him was of contentment. But not in a sense of bare minimum, no. Toji knew it came from utter satisfaction and gratification in this domestic life you two shared.

No, the life you two created together for each other.

Watching you interact with your children just fills him with life’s satisfaction. He thought it was impossible for someone like him to experience something like this. But here he is, sitting down eating breakfast with his family in their home on a Sunday morning. Damn, he didn’t blame you for giving him that smile because he gets it.

After eating and cleaning up the table, Megumi said he forgot something in his room and went upstairs to get it. Meanwhile, Toji was reading the morning paper while simultaneously listening to the news that was live on the tv. Mayumi was chilling in Toji’s lap with her Cinnamoroll plushie because she had nothing better to do. Meanwhile, you were teaching Tsumiki how to use the coffee machine and the set up for Toji’s usual.

Once Megumi came back with the familiar Uniqlo bag, everyone shifted their attention to Toji and gathered around him. He looked confused by the sudden change in behavior. Placing his paper down, he suspiciously eyes everyone.

“Okay, something’s up. Did I do something I don't know about?”

You shake your head at him, making it clear he wasn’t in trouble. Mayumi jumps off Toji’s lap, pattering over to Megumi who hands over the bag. She races back to her papa with an eager smile on her face, holding the bag up to him.

“Oh, what’s this, Princess?”

“It’s from Me, Gumi-Nii, and Miki-Nee! We got you a present for Papa Day!”

Feeling both astounded and touched, he takes the bag from her before ruffling her hair. Mayumi lets out a little squeal before running towards Tsumiki who picks her up. The bag was small, specifically eight inches by six inches. But what’s inside filled the bag up to its capacity so Toji was intrigued to see what his kiddos got him. He shakes the bag for good measure, causing Megumi to become impatient.

“Dad, just open it up. I promise you we didn’t put a spider or a cockroach in there. This is your real gift from us.”

The man chuckles out loud, shooting a grin his son’s way which made his impatient grow.

“Alright alright, I hear you, Megs. I was seeing if I could guess what you bought for me. Nothing wrong with checking things out. Reel yourself in kid.”

Megumi groans out causing his sisters and you to giggle at this usual interaction. Eventually, Toji opens the gift and reaches inside. His eyebrows furrowed and pushed themselves together, trying to figure out what he was touching. Suddenly, his brows released themselves from being tensed as he pulled out the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks. It was silent, a little too silent. For a second, Megumi and Tsumiki held their breaths while you anticipated his reaction.

Then, out of nowhere, a hearty laughter filled the kitchen as Toji held them in his hand. Amusement was all he felt looking at the packs in front of him. He let out a content huff, holding up one of the boxer packs.

“Wow, this is how you give gifts. You guys are just like your mama, you all have gifting skills people dream of.”

“Wait, you actually like it, Papa?”

Toji let a bemused look pass over him before it went back to amuse.

“Oh yeah, I sure as hell love it. I keep forgetting to buy some and your mother has been on me for God knows how long about getting new ones. You rascals killed two birds with one stone for me. And socks too? Now that’s being generous to your old man.”

The two were finally able to breathe since they second guessed themselves.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!”

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Toji gets up to give Megumi and Tsumiki his love squeezes. Tsumiki giggled while Megumi begrudgingly accepted his dad’s affection. Though, he doesn’t resist or push away when his dad hugs him.

As this was happening, you wore a grin that stretched wide with eyes that shone with mischief. Toji catches your expression, fully knowing something is brewing inside.

“Babe, you’re making that face. Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hon~.”

Oh, there’s definitely something now and Toji’s gonna get it out of you.

“Don’t be so coy, (Y/N). You got that grin plastered on your face and eyeing me like that, you got something to say. I see those little gears in your pretty head of yours moving.”

You were trying to hold in your laughter. Key word was try though. The moment you made your thoughts be known will cause endless oxygen-depriving laughter from you. But you needed to say it in full. No stutters, no mistakes, no slang, dead set on getting those words out. You can’t fumble yourself right now.

“I’m just saying, I have been telling you to get new ones for years! Some of your underwear have holes in them! You have to get new ones every five to seven years, Hon!”

He playfully scoffs.

“Doll, just because they’re old doesn’t mean I need to throw them away after a few years. If they can still do their job in covering up my junk, I don’t see why I need to get new ones. I only needed to know one because of you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you still held your grin and waited for the right moment to strike.

“Hon, you don’t understand. I’m not saying you need to buy new ones after a while! I’m saying some, as in most, of your underwear are worn down to the bone! You have to put them down, Toji!”

“Babe, again, if it still works, it still works. Yeah, some of my underwear have holes in them but they’re still wearable. Not my fault they have holes in them! Plus, I never wear tight-fitted pants, so I don’t get how my underwear chafes when I wear joggers, sweats, and cargo pants!”

Bingo, everything is in position and there’s a clear pathway. You can’t mess this up when you have a clear shot. Crossing your arms still grinning, you stare down your husband.

“Oh but it is, Toji! The reason why you got holes in your underwear is because your balls are rough! If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck about them. Don’t you even notice when you fold the laundry?”

For a few moments, the silence fell over the Fushiguro house. Toji was bewildered, taken aback by what you said. You were one to never be crass in front of the kids or in general. Thus, this was the closest thing to you being vulgar.

For the teens, they stood still and frozen in place. However, for different reasons. For Tsumiki, she was stunned. Heavily skilled in the art of not being or feeling awkward. She’s not bothered or offended by your words. Rather, she didn't expect you to say something like that when they’re around. She knew it was bound to happen, just not with this conversation and those words. For Megumi, he was straight up flabbergasted. Never in a million years would he hear something like come out of you. Given, you’re known to have sufficient self-control when it comes to speaking in such a manner. Reserving that language for anyone 18 and over, and their dad. Right now, he’s growing frustrated because now he knows what people mean with you and Toji’s marriage has top tier chemistry. Megumi slowly realizes that both his parents are rat bastards and of equal humor. Noting that you were better at keeping it under wraps while his dad bore no filter at all. Meanwhile, Mayumi was just existing and cuddling her plushie. Becoming oblivious to the whole matter as her toddler brain couldn’t comprehend the words being used. But it was a good thing, much to both Megumi and Tsumiki relief.

“Did Mom just—?”

“Say what I think she said…?”

With their minds broken, the two were trying to process what just happened. You said it, made it be known. Something that probably should be said when they’re not present or only with their dad. Thinking about how you said them too: saying them with your chest, locked-in, hyper-focused, 10 toes down on the ground, no stuttering whatsoever. It looked like you were thinking about this for a long time and needed to get it off your chest.

To which you did, and successfully as well.

Just when the teens thought they were in the clear, they were thrown another curb ball. This time, it was from Toji.

“Doll, why are you complaining about them now? You never did beforehand, how do you think I gave you Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi? You took them and everything else. I’m not letting you throw me under the bus like this.”

Silence came back as soon as it left. If the two thought your words were absurd, their dad’s beat it and took your place with his own. Now Megumi’s petrified because he didn’t know what else would come out of either his mom or dad’s mouth. Fearing the embarrassment and possible vulgarity to over take what the two of you said prior. He didn’t want to hear nor wanted to know anymore. Just when he was about to drag his sisters away to leave you and Toji to your own devices, he sensed something that made him stay.

All at once, the silence was broken by you and Toji bursting out in laughter. You were holding onto his shoulders, gasping for more air to put in body but it was futile as you continued laughing even harder. Toji has his arms crossed but his sturdy broad frame shakes as he can’t restrain his uncontrollable laughter. The kids watch on, once again thinking this was finally done.

But the next thing they knew, they felt a gust of air pass by them followed with another. In a turn of events, you were being chased by Toji throughout the Fushiguro Estate. Yet, your laughter and squeals that were accompanied by your husband’s playful threats made it known this was all fun and games for you.

It went on like this for several minutes. Your two teens would’ve cringed but let it pass over when they noticed Toji carrying you over his shoulder from the house towards the large Saucer Magnolia tree in the garden. Plopping himself on the grass with you in his lap, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Now, Doll, where’s your present for me? I don’t see it.” Toji says, feigning hurt as he whines fakingly.

You roll your eyes at his performance. Though, instead of a grin, a smile was all that was left. Highlighting the blissful expression you wore.

“I know you, Toji. You just want me to baby and give you all my attention.” You huffed lightly.

“Yeah yeah, but you’re still gonna give it to me. You won’t deny me, Baby.”

Shaking your head, you let yourself be at your husband’s mercy. Indulging himself in your warmth in presence. It was a peaceful moment until you heard a little giggling coming closer. Both of you look up to see Mayumi running this way followed by Megumi and Tsumiki who held a blanket to be laid on.

Toji unravels one arm to catch his youngest and sits her on his free thigh across from you. You never noticed until now how beautiful and relaxed Toji is. While he was known for his laid back personality, you knew it’s from not wasting his energy on matters that don’t concern him. The reality was, Toji used to be tense and rigid. Forcing to stay on guard whilst putting on that lax facade. It wasn’t until he met and married you was when his stiffness and strained body began to disappear from his body. He was relaxing, loosening himself up because of you.

Although your shared life with him wasn’t easy and had its share of hardships, you felt honored Toji allowed himself to rest and find comfort in you. To see him finally have a sense of peacefulness after knowing what he’s been through, you only wish to love, care. and protect him for as long as you’re on this plane of existence.

Seeing how much contentment he has in interacting with his children and you, he was undeniably beautiful and sublime both physically and mentally. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you immerse in the loving family atmosphere you’re grateful to be a part of. Mayumi rambling and talking Toji’s ear off while your husband entertains her. Meanwhile, you watch your two older children talk and spill the gossip in their school lives to each other.

You wallowed in this domestic bliss, savoring it as there will be nothing else like it. You’re not the only one as Toji joins in basking in this domestic bliss as well. He would never say this out loud, but he didn’t think he’d live this long. He thought he’d died young due to his reckless and careless behavior, getting himself into deep shit that would ultimately be his grave. The voice in his mind reminds him that this may be a one time thing, that he’ll never get this in the next life. But he pushes that thought away to deal with it later. For now, he’ll be present here with you as you both happily entertain your little Mayumi and her current interest.

As for Megumi and Tsumiki, they can rest easy knowing they won’t have to hear you or Toji saying those appalling words again anytime soon.

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[izakayawadoko]

dwarf fortress is a game i guess

[comatosebunny09]

with a pretty bow on top | astarion a.

summary: you’ve never been particularly good at wrapping things. but you want to ensure your friends have the best gifts of all, including a certain snarky elf who’s difficult to please. genre(s): romance, fluff, modern au, friends to (possible) lovers warning(s): alcohol, profanity, mentions of blood, mutual pining notes: merry chrysler! i hope everyone has a lovely christmas! thank you so much for reading! screenshot credit

For the umpteenth time, the paper rips. 

And for the umpteenth time, you feel this is a lost cause. Deflate like a balloon, a sigh rushing past your lips.

You’ve never been particularly good at wrapping things. Usually had your mother or roommate to carry that burden. 

You routinely opt for gift bags. Easier to drop a present inside, dress it up with pretty tissue paper and a witty card, and go about your business. 

But you made a terrible mistake, forgoing the convenience store in your haste to get to your Airbnb.

It’s a tucked-away cabin in the woods. Secluded and ominous, shrouded by the night. The pristine blanket of snow building outside makes up for its creepiness. It’s nice to be away from the city, too, surrounded by people you adore. People who’ve filled the space between your ribs for years. 

On cue, their merriment reaches your ears, streaming from the kitchen. 

They’re hammered. You should be, too. But you want to ensure your friends have the best gifts of all. Wrapped neatly and tucked beneath the Christmas tree, waiting to be ripped open come morning. 

You huff, balling up another sheet of paper and chucking it. 

Errant pieces of tape litter your clothing. Strips of foil wrapping paper gleam in the light emitted from the fireplace. The ribbons you haphazardly cut shift in the ceiling fan’s breeze. Your battlefield. 

The medium-sized box sitting between your spread legs leers at you condescendingly. You fold your arms, nudging it with your foot. 

“I’m not your bitch,” you mutter, turning your nose up with a scowl. 

“Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend.” 

You start, your attention pilfered by the man wandering towards you. 

He paints an ethereal picture in the firelight, curls flouncing about and glowing like a halo around his head. A bottle of wine and two Bordeaux glasses greet you from between his fingers. He wears that effervescent smirk beneath round frames. Brow pitches up with amusement, gait flamboyant whilst the kitchen blurs behind him. 

You swallow, your lips trembling around a greeting when he plops down beside you. Cross-legged, scooting closer like a friend bearing gossip. Fills your lungs with the smell of brandy and cracked vanilla beans. He’s naturally corpse-cold, but the slightest bit of warmth radiates off his skin, permeating through the layers of your clothes. 

Must’ve fed on something viscous wandering the woods before he found you.

He brings you back when he pushes a glass into your hand. 

“I was wondering where you’d wandered off to,” Astarion purrs, his tone colored with alcohol. With your breath held in your esophagus, you watch as he pops the stopper off the bottle with a pointed tooth. Spits it out. “Mind if I impede on your party of one?”

Your lips twitch. Like you’d ever say no to him. “Course not.”

And no, you do not nearly jump some 50 feet out of your skin when limber fingers curl around yours, bringing the glass up for him to fill it. He catches your stare over the rim, scarlet spun eyes alight with mischief. You look away as heat branches up your neck. 

The dark liquid sloshes about as he fills his own glass. Fizzles, the sweet fragrance curling around your nose. “Finally, some good shit,” you breathe, taking a sip. Release a content sound as it bubbles on the back of your tongue. The burn of it washes over your nerves, loosening them.

Astarion scoffs, leaning back on the hand he positioned behind you. Adam’s apple bobs in your peripheral as he takes a swig. He redirects his attention to you, something of a pout occupying his lips. “Darling, you wound me. As if I would bring anything worse than that cheap excuse for booze you lot rave about. Four Loko, was it?” 

You snicker, nursing your glass. Turn the stem between your fingers, examining the hardwood floor beneath. 

Sure, he’s always had this thing with you. This way of squeezing himself beneath your skin where no one else could, turning you into some flustered mess. But you can’t deny you’ve missed his company. His eccentricities. His smell.

The years have dragged you all apart. Pushed you in different directions, your careers casting you out to sea. But like driftwood, you all floated back to shore. United under the same roof to celebrate Christmas and usher in the new year.

It’s a pleasant sensation, idling with the wine warming your veins.

The hum of his voice eases through your musings. “Mm, what’s this about?” Astarion queries around another mouthful of wine, signaling to the massacre at your feet. 

You shrink. An uneasy smile rounds your cheeks. “Yeah, about that. Kinda got carried away.” 

“Carried away? By the hells, it looks like you got into a fight with a pair of scissors and…lost. Abysmally.”

You snort. “Alright, alright. Take it easy. We can’t all be gifted with our hands like some people, Mister Art Teacher.” 

Your stomach plummets. Blood turns to ice. The double entendre hits you like a sack of coal. You bring your glass to your lips to mask your unease. To mask the shakiness of your limbs. 

Astarion exudes smugness, admiring his nails with a flourish of his fingers. “Well, these hands aren’t just made for sculpting works of art, my dear.”

You sputter, speckles of wine flying everywhere. 

Astarion chuckles, the sound of it smooth as velvet. Leans closer, his elbow brushing your thigh as he reaches for something in front of you. You stiffen, biting the rim of your glass. It’s almost like you two haven’t been friends for years. Haven’t seen each other bleed, cry, piss, for God’s sake. 

“Come,” beckons Astarion, taking up a roll of wrapping paper and plucking the box from between your legs. 

You huff a disbelieving laugh. “What are you doing?” 

He scoffs. Side-eyes you as if it’s as apparent as night and day. “Well, clearly, no one’s taught you the art of wrapping a bloody gift. I mean, look at this. A child could do better.”

Your shoulders touch your ears. Astarion’s disapproval is akin to upsetting your parents. Even after all this time apart, he still knows how to lay the insults on thick. 

It’s kind of comical how he grumbles like an embittered old woman, unraveling some of the paper. Still methodical in everything he does, positioning the box in the center. Concentration pulls his brows together. “Fetch me that tape.”

You give him an incredulous look. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you relent before doing as he demanded instructed. His fingers ghost over your hand in pursuit of the tape, and you bristle. 

Astarion goes into full scholar mode hereon, paper rippling around him as he cuts away. Moves like a butler masterfully laying out a tablecloth. No trace of inebriation lies in the shift of his fingers. It’s as if he hadn’t polished off a bottle of brandy before finding you. 

“Typically, wrapping paper comes with a template. A set of squares or lines you can use to gauge where you need to cut.” 

He gestures for the scissors. You scramble for them like a student eager to please their instructor. 

“Depending on how precise you want the wrapping to be, you must trim off as much excess as possible whilst ensuring you have enough left to cover your parcel.”

“Interesting.”

You angle yourself closer, sitting up on your haunches. The bulb of your glass grows warm, stained with your fingerprints. You nod, genuinely intrigued. Chin finds the pocket of his shoulder—an affectionate gesture amongst longtime friends. 

Astarion tenses. You wince, flinching away.

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s quite alright, darling.” He clears some phlegm from his throat. Squeezes your kneecap, presenting you with a fraction of a smile. Dragonflies tickle the lining of your stomach. He resumes his lesson as if his muscles aren’t pulled taut. 

Your lips twitch. Seems Astarion’s not the only one capable of disarming those around him. 

You cant your head along the slope of his shoulder, watching him work with the curiosity of a child.  

“It helps to tape here.” Carefully, he layers a strip of tape near the edge of the box where paper meets cardboard. “So as to keep your paper from shifting.”

As Astarion leads on, you find yourself terribly distracted. Your vision ebbs and flows. Body buzzes. From his proximity or the wine, you’re unsure. It’s a pleasant sensation, nonetheless.

The cacophony of the cabin and your friends fade into a dull hum. Only the rumble of Astarion’s voice fills the wrinkles of your brain. He’s surprisingly nurturing despite how he outwardly projects himself to the world. Soothing as he speaks to you, gaze occasionally flitting your way to ensure you’re still with him.

Try as you might to focus, you find your lids drooping, your vision blurred around the edges. An inebriated smile teases your lips. You could fall below the inky depths of sleep like this, led into it by his voice. Still would feel perfectly safe on your descent, knowing he’d be there to haul you back to the surface. 

You sit up to take him in. To observe the furrow of his brows, the coil of his lashes. The gilded lenses perched on his nose like a librarian. His mouth pulls into a tight line while he focuses. Plump and petal pink. Skin’s still smooth and dewy, glowing in the firelight like he’s descended from heaven. His hands move seemingly of their own volition. Caught in a dance he knows all too well, still pretty and delicate-looking, untouched by time. 

You imagine what they’d feel like, clasped in yours. Thumb cruising over the grooves of your knuckles, pushing reassuring beneath your skin. How he’d look with a careless smile, whispering the sweetest supplications into the crown of your head.

Reality comes pitching forward, the moment ending too soon. 

You blink out of your reverie as Astarion slides the box toward you. It softly thumps against your leg. Expertly wrapped with a bow in its center and ribbons waterfalling down its sides. You stare in awe. You could never master something so intricate. 

“And that, my dear, is how you wrap a present.” Astarion pats your thigh with finality before leaning back with a sigh. Looks smug as ever whilst taking a sip of his forgotten wine. 

You smirk. Offer Astarion a half-hearted applause, and he eats it all up.

“I envy whatever bastard receives this, honestly,” he croons around the mouth of his cup. “I outdid myself.”

You chuckle. Your inhibition is thrown to the wolves. You eye the present, your body vibrating with anticipation. Maybe it’s the liquid encouragement urging you forward, loosening your tongue. Whatever the cause, you push on. 

“I mean, I’d hope he likes it. He took his time wrapping it, after all.”

Astarion casts you a sidelong glance. Snorts into his glass. Realization gradually descends on his features. It’s funny watching his face morph into something akin to a confused puppy.

You shrug, caught like a child rifling through a cookie jar. It takes a moment, but his brows finally lift with an unasked question. 

Seriously, they ask. For me? 

You reach for the box, pointedly avoiding his stare. The heat of bashfulness inhabits your cheeks as you carefully slip the box into his lap. Your hand lingers. Fingers tenderly grip the meat of his quad, stars dancing across the stratosphere of your eyes when you muster the courage to look at him.

“Merry Christmas, Starry.”

He sputters. Sits up. Glances between you, the box, and the clock perched above the mantle. It’s midnight. Tradition dictates you open one present at the cusp of Christmas day.  

Astarion laughs, something airy and pleasant. His hand closes over yours, and he squeezes. He’s beautiful like this. Youthful as he glances up at you, his mouth working around a reply.

“You cheeky little shit. Making me wrap my own gift. The gall.”

He acts offended, but you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Would you rather I have wrapped it?”

You both warily eye your shit attempts at wrapping his gift. 

“Fair enough,” he jests with a resigned drop of his shoulders. 

You share a laugh, the air between you charged with affection. Through it all, you note Astarion’s hand has yet to leave yours. Thumb kneads reassuring circles into the clutch of your hand. Your heart thrums a war cadence in your ears, blotting out the sound of his wine glass clinking against the floor as he sets it down.

He releases a breath. Observes you a moment longer with a warm smile on his lips. Shifts his gift onto the floor beside him. “Come here,” Astarion murmurs, saturating your vision with nothing but him as he leans closer.

You heed his request, and your lids lower, a pleasant shiver sifting through your bones at his glacial fingers at the nape of your neck. You have but seconds to appreciate the flutter of his lashes before he closes in.  

He fuses his lips to yours with such precision. Tender, supple. Just like you always dreamed they would be. He’s frigid, but he scorches you from within. Gently takes possession of your cheek, coaxing your lips to part with the slide of his tongue after your body relaxes. 

You grant him the entry he requests with an abrasive sound easing from your throat. Warmth pools in the chasm of your belly whilst your tongues intermingle and the maple taste of brandy pushes into your mouth. 

His voice vibrates in your mouth as he chuckles something satisfied. He breaks the kiss with a soft click, and you chase his mouth in pursuit of another. 

“Don’t be greedy, darling,” he husks with a teasing tap to your nose.

Your eyes cautiously slide open. Lips still pursed, head still swimming. “What was that all about,” you breathe into the space between your mouths. 

Astarion chuckles, all fangs and mirth. You follow his gaze skyward, a blur of forest green and red nestled between the space of your lashes. Slowly, the distortion works itself into discernable shapes. You laugh at the telltale plant dangling above your head. Held by him.

“Mistletoe,” he croons as if it’s the most obvious thing.

You giggle, your nose brushing along the peak of his whilst you draw him in to press your foreheads together.

The time eases by with you sitting together by the fireplace, your cheek resting on Astarion’s shoulder as you regale stories of a childhood once passed. Hardly notice when you’re beckoned to sleep by the pretty girls of slumber.

[all-14-ghostfaces]

the doodles

scary warning under cut!

[nando161mando]

[doyoueverjestjusters]

The star guardian, guardian of the stars

[askthechronoverse]

master apocalypse

Who even are you?

[nyaskitten]

Fuck my life dude, I was goin about my normal business WHEN A GODDAMN MERGEQUAKE SUCKED ME THE FUCK UP!!! NOT EVEN IN THE GOOD WAY!!! NOW I'M IN THE FUCKING CURSED REALM FUCK THIS SHIT FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU CLOUD KINGDOM FUCK YOU FSM !!!!

[admiraltusktooth69]

Incorrect Vox Machina #16 Allura: Why do they call you Cock-Knocker? Vax: Actually, there’s a funny story behind that. Vax: Ha, ha, you’re gonna love this. True story!

[gardenofdemeter]

vegans like you are why I eat meat

honestly go fuck yourself. do you realize how disgusting this is to say to someone ??? imagine if someone posted about disliking serial killers and cannibals and someone responded to it with a response like this. if you think killing and eating innocent living creatures is ok you’re a horrible person. sorry. at least cannibals and serial killers don’t kill innocents.

[blue-whale-cargo]

[hello-its-j10]

we love posting out of context stuff, right guys??? :D

this is just a little au that im not gonna elaborate on !