#1k words or less

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | april 12 Amortentia | words: 683

DARLING, GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIL (not jail but a hospital, same thing really). I missed writing and maybe some of you missed me so here’s a cute one. enjoy;3

tw: alleged poisoning, swearing

"Have you seen that green shirt Regulus wore to the party last week? He looked so beautiful in it,” James mused, laying down on the floor next to Remus’ bed. “And his hair, oh Merlin, his hair...”

“What the fuck, Prongs?” Sirius snapped at him, sitting straight on Mooney’s bed. Oh, right, he forgot his best friend was in the room.

James looked at Remus, a bit terrified, hoping the tall boy would come up with something to save his ass. With the smirk Remus gave him, James knew he was doomed.

“Oh boy, are you okay, James?” The taller boy asked with feigned concern. “Pads, I think someone poisoned him.”

At the comment, Sirius’ face turned from pissed to concerned.

“What? With what?” he started, running to James to check on him.

Remus hummed, looking at the two of them with a mean grin.

“Some Slytherin must’ve added amortentia to his tea in revenge for the last prank,” he said, acting as if he were terrified. “We should take him to Slughorn; he probably has an antidotum.” With that, Sirius picked James up and led him out of their dormitory.

Padfoot looked determined to help him as they walked to the dungeons, while Remus kept sending him amused glances. In response, James just farrowed his eyebrows, mouthing  you’re dead to his friend.

When they finally reached the potions professor’s room, Sirius started banging on them like a madman. Not even ten seconds into it, the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked, looking at all three of them. James could see his eyes softening as they reached his own, and he smiled gently at Regulus, the younger boy's cheeks turning slightly pink.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, reminding James of his presence.

“Well, I’m brewing a potion,” Regulus started. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”

Sirius frowned at his brother, and he pointed at James. “Can you see him? He’s looking at you like you’re the world’s eighth wonder; somebody poisoned him with amortentia!”

Regulus and James locked eyes again, the younger boy smirking this time.

"Oh, really?” he started, still looking at James. “What gave you the idea?”

“Well,” Sirius began, “he started rumbling about how pretty you looked last week, and how he likes your hair, and other shit like that!” That was just Sirius being dramatic, but Regulus seemed more pleased with every word. “Is Slughorn here? We need to fix him right now!”

Regulus shook his head, turning to face his brother. “He went to Madam Pomfrey; he should be back soon," he said with a pause. “But maybe you should go back to the dorm; it's almost curfew. I’ll take care of that moron.”

James looked at Remus with pleading eyes, hoping this time his friend would actually help him. Thankfully, Moony seemed like he had enough of torturing him for one evening.

He grabbed Sirius’ shoulder, turning him so they stood face-to-face. “He’ll be fine, honey,” Remus said gently, leaning closer to Sirius’ ear. As the black-haired boy’s eyes widened, James assumed the two of them would be taking advantage of the free dormitory. Good for them, James thought. Just don’t destroy the room. Again.

“If he starts being insufferable, give him a sleeping drought or bind him; I don’t care. Just... be safe,” Sirius said to his brother, getting a dismissive yeah, yeah in response.

As the two Gryffindors left them, Regulus pushed James into the room, slamming the door behind them.

“So, amortentia, huh?” Regulus asked with a teasing smile, putting his hands on James’ chest. The older boy grabbed him by the waist, pulling him closer.

“Yeah,” he began, rubbing his hands up and down Regulus’ sides. “I think Barty wanted to get back at me for turning custard creams into Canary Creams.”

“Perhaps yes,” Regulus said, nuzzling at James’ jaw. “And you think I’m pretty? Evan must’ve helped him with the potion if you talked so nicely about me,” James chuckled as the younger boy grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

[regulusunset]

eyeliner — @jegulus-microfic — word count: 836.

(and i find myself running home to your sweet nothings)

The mist from the shower escapes behind him as James exits the bathroom, and he blinks at the blurry figure of Regulus leaning over the dresser mirror. With affection tightening in his stomach and terribly nearsighted eyes, James approaches.

His fingers loosen the towel around the back of his neck and he narrows his eyes before moving forward and sliding his arms around the pearly waist. James traces with his thumb the J he knows is tattooed on his hipbone, and his lips find their way home to the crook between Regulus' shoulder and neck.

“Hello,” He says, his voice just a faint murmur. The skin under his fingers tingles and James smiles. “What are you doing, hm?”

Regulus snorts.

However, his back remains relaxed, no hint of rigidity attached to his shoulders. He keeps bending over doing James doesn't know what in his face, because he's not wearing his glasses and frankly he's too happy only enjoying the scent of sandalwood on Regulus' skin.

"Makeup,” He responds, and seems focused. James hums, his nose on Regulus’ black curls. His fingers squeeze the flesh of his hips. “Don't you dare.”

James leaves a kiss on the back of his neck. “To do what, angel?”

Regulus flinches at the nickname, pleased and as embarrassed as James knows he always is when he calls him that.

“You know it, James.”

His fingers easily find the waistband of Regulus' pants, and he rests his cheek on his bony shoulder. “I'm just offering moral support for whatever you're doing.”

“Makeup,” Regulus replies again, and James knows his ears are red. He doesn't wear his glasses, but when he leans in to get a better, closer look at Regulus' face, he blinks. “We're going out today because we promised Dora, and we're not going to lie in that bed until we get back.”

James' fingers pause, but his smile doesn't falter. He is particularly interested now in the moles that furrow Regulus' left cheek, a decidedly large one on his jaw that he is accustomed to worshiping as a believer in the Faith.

“But we don't need to lie down so I—”

“No.”

“You didn't even let me finish.” James snorts.

It’s only when Regulus shifts slightly in his embrace to leave what James thinks now is a black pencil because of the shape on the dresser that they embrace face to face.

James blinks several times and inhales. “Oh.”

He can see Regulus' framed face.

The pale skin and the mole under his shiny and sticky lips, probably from the gloss. His grayish eyes have longer lash windows than before, and are surrounded by a soft black line.

His breath catches.

Regulus hums. “I know what you meant,” And despite his verbal refusal, he wraps the back of James' neck with warm touch. “Because you’re touching me like you want to eat me.”

The blood in his veins warms pleasantly and his mouth goes dry.

“You're beautiful,” James blurts out quickly. Lost in thought, he finds home again in his waist. He adds, amazement underscoring the fervor, longing and desire: “And I want to eat you.”

The blush dusting Regulus' cheeks makes him want to bite him. Bite it on the cheeks, bite it on the neck, bite it on the chest, arms, stomach and along the legs. Bite to show his love, to show that he belongs to James; his to kiss, his to adore, his to protect.

That’s it, love. Stay here between my mouth and my arms, where I can have you and protect you, his heart seems to sing.

“James,” Regulus whines, his voice almost pleading and his gaze as soft as butter, despite the dark, sexy contrast of the eyeliner. “Jamie.”

Oh, and how much James loves the honey that drips from his mouth when he calls him like that.

“Yes, angel?”

His lips touch.

“We have to go.” Regulus gasps a little, his chin craning to meet James' mouth in a hungry kiss.

Any part of James' body that Regulus touches with dancing fingers burns.

He sighs, nibbling on his lip.

Regulus tastes like a strawberry and has lipstick smudged in the corners. He doesn't dislike that. He finds it certainly endearing. “Yeah, sure, we are leaving now. Just let me tell you how beautiful you are tonight, hm? Black looks so good on your eyes.”

A chill runs down Regulus' spine.

James' hair is slightly wetting both of their clothes, but neither of them seem to care at all about that detail.

“…Thank you.” It's just an affectionate murmur, but it warms James' soul from the inside out.

Well, it's common knowledge that James Potter is screwed; destroyed and united at the same time under the feet of Regulus. An unspoken agreement between lovers; the earth dependent on the moon and the stars to exhale all the air from its lungs daily.

He's in love and wants to rip his boyfriend off of those damn tight pants and to kiss his eyeliner until the next day.

“Any time, love,” His hand playfully pats Regulus' ass. “By the way, have you seen my glasses?”

The sound of Regulus' laughter echoes in his chest.

[noasmirrorball]

@jegulus-microfic | day 7: headache | nsfw, trans regulus | word count: 646

Regulus comes home from work with the biggest headache humanly endurable. His head throbs and for a second he even thinks it’s because he hasn’t really eaten anything all day.

The only thing dragging him throughout the day is James waiting at home and the sudden hope he might be able to change his gloomy mood. To his own surprise, the second he opens the door James is dozed off in their bed. Peacefully snuggled under a fluffy blanket with only a shirt on.

Regulus doesn’t hesitate to crawl under the bedsheets with him. He takes James’ hand and wraps it tightly around him.

“Reg?” James mumbles as he cuddles closer and pushes a slight kiss against the crook of his neck. “You’re already home?”

“Got off early, not feeling good.”

At this James only hums.

“Nap with me a bit, it’ll make you feel better.” His fingers intertwine with Regulus and it has his heart beating every damn time. Every possible emotion is put into his chest and set alight by no one else than James Potter himself, being this gentle with him. He always is. “I love you, baby.”

The whole bed smells like James - a scent so divine it makes him fold in no time. Sweet like honey, with a decent amount of spice. Sugar over coating his entire body. That’s how it feels being with him.

“I love you, too.” Reg tells him eventually.

James’ fingers brush through his hair, comb through his curls in order to make him go entirely pliant underneath the warmth of his hand. It works wonders, what his hands can do. They travel slowly over his skin, mapping out every inch as if he hasn’t seen everything a thousand times before.

That’s simply what he does.

Making him feel special even after all those years.

“I have a headache.” Regulus says then, quite breathless. “A strong one.”

Curiously, one hand grazes his nipple over his shirt. James chuckles at the sharp intake of breath.

“You know what helps with that?” He bites at the skin of his neck. “Releasing dopamine.”

Oh, his heart is pounding rapidly in his chest. All his bones ache and perhaps he’s not wrong. Maybe this is exactly what he needs after an exhausting day. James repeats the exact same motion before the hand wanders down his stomach.

“This okay?” And Regulus only nods, curving his body right into James’. The hard-on pressing against his butt coaxes a whine out his throat.

Hesitantly, his fingers dig under the waistband of his boxers - brushing between his folds and coating the wetness on his fingers. His body is shaking before he even recognizes the feeling, the warmth spreading through his muscles and relaxing them. The headache slowly washes away by the mere pleasure of this.

James takes his time, gradually teases his entrance and doesn’t even bother to push one finger in.

“James-“ He’s begging already by how lazily James continues to tease him. “Please.”

He rubs over his clit one time, sending a shudder through his body before finally pushing one finger in. It’s ecstasy how much of a whiplash he suddenly experiences. One hand digging into his pillow and the other nearly breaking James’ fingers off by holding him exactly into place.

For a second he re-adjusts for James to have better access.

“God, baby.” James cusses loudly, the second finger dipping in quite easily. There’s no resistance with how wet Regulus is. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

It doesn’t take long to push him over the edge, James is skilled and knows exactly what he’s doing. Two fingers finding a perfect slow pace inside of him while his thumb brushes over his clit repeatedly.

Regulus is ecstatic about it, head thrown back as he mumbles ‘I love you, i love you, i love you’ all over again. A complete mess. The headache absolutely forgotten.

[regulus-books]

Locket - 960 Words - @jegulus-microfic

warnings: blood, war, arguing, slight depression blink and you'll miss it.

"You have to be pulling my leg!" James says, his face turning a shade of red, his eyes glossing over and his lips are bitten to the point of being stained red with blood. His hair has become matted, no time to brush it in worry that he'll get called in the middle of doing it. His skin, oh his lovely skin. It's turned yellow and red and blue with bruising, around his eye, cheekbone, chest. Regulus is lucky enough to be the one to kiss away all the pain on those bruises.

"James. You have to listen to me," Regulus doesn't want to go. He wants to stay with James, Sirius, and Remus. He wants to cuddle up with James, comb out his hair himself, and then run his fingers through it. He wants to mend the relationship between his brother and his husband, he doesn't want them to be fighting anymore. Remus wants to go out and listen in on the werewolf's pack, Sirius wants him to stay. Remus called Sirius selfish and needy, but stayed regardless.

"How could I listen to you, when you are spitting nonsense? Reg, I have been in love with you since I was 17, I need you. You can't leave me! You could die!"

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I make my own decisions, I have already had people control me my whole life, and you will not be one of them, no matter how much I love you! I will go, I will destroy this locket," Regulus holds up the locket so James can see it, "and I will come home. Fin de histoire!" Regulus slips the locket back into his pouch, walking to the kitchen to grab some bread, and other small foods.

"Please, Amor, you know I didn't mean it like that. I just want you to come home to me. I want to get married, and I want to have a family. You want those things, don't you?" James' pleading look makes Regulus reconsider. He does want those things.

"Jamie..." Regulus doesn't know what to say, especially when James rests his hands on his hips, "Jamie, this is something I need to do. If I do not there is no chance we can do any of that, because we will be dead. I love you, more than anyone in this world. I have to do this. I have to, please understand, Soleil," Regulus' hands cup James' cheeks, wiping away the tears that fall, "I will be okay, I promise. I promise you I will come home, and we can have a family together. It's going to be okay." Regulus let's James cry into his arms, he lets his cuddle him all night long, and he lets him kiss him before he leaves.

fiveish months later

Regulus doesn't know why he's nervous. It's his house, he lives here too. He stands outside in the sunny weather for what seems like days before it creeks open. The gash on his cheek has dried up, no more blood seeping through it. He's met with kind, brown eyes in the crack. The door opens the rest of the way, and there is Remus Lupin, standing true and tall. "Oh my God." Remus lunges forward and throws his arms around Regulus.

"Bonjour, Lupin. Miss me?" Regulus grins, wrapping his arms around the taller man.

"Of course, I did. We all did!" Remus let's go and checks Regulus out for wounds, only finding the few.

"Um, as much as I'm happy to see you, Remus where's my boyfriend and brother?" Remus wordlessly grabs Regulus' hand and drags him inside.

"Be gentle with James, he's been a little unsteady since you left." Remus walks away, leaving Regulus at the door of his bedroom. He grabs the golden door handle, twisting it and pushing the door open, trying not to be too loud.

"Sweetheart?" Regulus starts, shaking in nervousness.

"Go away, Sirius, tell Moody to get someone else on the mission. I have to wait for Regulus." James says, his face buried in his pillow.

"Jamie?" Regulus whispers, coming up behind him on the bed, placing a gentle hand on his lovers back. James slowly turns at the sound of Regulus' voice, a tear already falling down his face.

"Regulus?" Regulus nods, rubbing the hand up and down, "Are you real?" Regulus can't hold it in anymore, tears start to stream down his face silently.

"Yes, baby. I'm real. I'm here." James sits up and hugs Regulus tightly.

"Fuck, I missed you so much," Regulus and James don't get out of this position for what feels like years, James dampens Regulus' torn shirt with tears, Regulus' running down James' bare chest. "What did this to you?" James asks, stroking the recently closed gash acrossed Regulus' face.

"An Inferius, but it's okay, it barely hurts anymore."

"You were gone for nearly five months, I thought... I thought you were dead, Reg."

"Im not, baby, I'm here. I'm alive. I thought about you every single night. I thought of you, and how amazing you are, how loving. I thought about how good of a dad you're going to be. I thought of you. Now we can get married, we can have a family. How does that sound?" Regulus strokes James' face, remembering each little crevice.

"It sounds good. Really, really good." He smiles softly.

"How are Sirius and Remus? Over themselves?"

"Over themselves." After the war, James and Regulus get married, and have a baby with bright grey eyes, tinted green like Regulus', tan skin, freckles, and dark curly hair with a streak of blonde that Regulus assumes is from his side of the family. They love until they are very old, and they live happily.

[moonsiemoon]

september 5 - prompt: train - 833 words

@jegulus-microfic

James leans his head against the cold window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the rain pour down. The road to Hogwarts is long and they just departed. He couldn’t sleep for a minute last night because of excitement. Because he hasn’t seen Regulus for a whole month and now they’re breathing the same air James is about to burst from the thrill but he tries to play it cool. He mumbles that he is sleepy to his friends sitting with him in the compartment and closes his eyes slowly. 

James is almost asleep when he hears the door bangs open. He jumps in his seat, eyes wide open. He glances at the door and sees him. His beautiful baby, standing by the door, bewildered look on his face. He looks lovely, like he always does. His black hair, which has gotten longer during summer, is tied behind his head. His eyes find James and they stare at each other, unable to look away. James tries really hard to not jump on him right here, right now in front of his friends. In front of Sirius. Regulus looks at him with such yearning in his eyes that it kills James inside. They break their eye contact with the sound of Sirius, pulling themselves together.

“This compartment is occupied, as you can see,” Sirius says sternly, looking at Regulus and then rolling his eyes with an annoyed sigh. “Don’t stand there, your idiot friends are not here.”

“Yes, I-” Regulus starts, his gaze now fixed on Sirius. “Yeah, I’ll leave.” He says and leaves them alone hurriedly.

James’ eyes are still fixed on the door, where Regulus was just a second ago. He calms himself before he stands up and runs after his lover. He has to endure the deprivation of Regulus just a little more. He spent a whole summer without him, even unable to send a letter. 

“- like I don’t understand him. He doesn’t say a word to me for, Merlin knows how long and he just burst into here, standing there like an idiot. What was he even shocked about? He’s so weird, it drives me crazy.” James hears Sirius rant about his brother. He just nods his head, unable to form a sentence, unable to think anything besides that he just saw Regulus, he saw him, he was just there and he couldn’t even touch him. It’s like he slipped away from his fingers.

As James goes mad with a poker face, he locks eyes with Remus as Sirius continues to rant about his brother even though no one is listening to him. James and Remus have an understanding. They are not as close as him and Sirius, and Remus have an obviously different relationship with Sirius, even though they choose to stay oblivious. But they understand each other and can communicate with looks only. Remus was the first and only one of his friends who understood there was something going on between him and Regulus. They didn’t even talk about it, but they didn’t need to.

Remus nods at the door turns to Sirius with a smile on his lips and whispers something in his ears that makes Sirius smile shyly. Sirius whispers back to him and Remus looks at James and nods again. Sirius will be distracted for a while before he decides to search for James.

James stands up and leaves them, Sirius probably isn’t even aware that he left. He quickly walks through the corridor, his heart thudding rapidly. He knows Regulus likes to travel alone to the Hogwarts, so he searches for the empty compartments. 

He opens one of the doors with the hope of seeing Regulus in this one, and there he is. He looks up from his book to eye James, licking his lips. James closes the door and walks to Regulus swiftly, and Regulus is already on his feet to welcome him with his lips. They kiss softly, there is yearning in their kiss. It’s not like their kisses where they pant into each other mouths, with hard, desperate bites. No. There is time for that. Now they just kiss with longing, craving. They just need to have one another close, nothing more. 

Regulus breaks the kiss to breathe and sits down, tugging James along with him. James holds him as they sit, Regulus fits perfectly in his embrace like he was made for him, and him only.

“Baby,” James whispers into Regulus’ hair and he kisses his neck softly. “You have no idea how much I missed you.” He breathes and Regulus looks up at him, his pupils blown and there are tears in his eyes.

“I think I have a hunch,” He chuckles and wipes his tears away. He smiles to himself, the cutest smile James has ever seen, and tangles his arms around James. James takes him to his lap and caresses his cheeks, playing with his hair, kissing his beautiful face. Regulus closes his eyes and lets James hold him.

[xiaq]

Publishing is weird. Especially when you're used to fic. Because you write this thing. And then a year later you cut it in half and edit it for publication. And then a year after that, the first part comes out. And then a year after that the second part comes out. And you finally decide to sit down and read both of them through after a bit of distance except then you're immediately going "look at this glaring plothole, why did you use so many en dashes, stop saying the word 'like,'" except, unlike Ao3 where you can just go...make adjustments as needed, you're stuck with everyone seeing your writing's flaws.

And now I'm being overly critical about the things I'm currently writing because god forbid I'm making mistakes (not recognizing them) that I will someday kick myself for once I have further matured as a writer.

I guess the good news is that I'm writing at all? But that bad news is I'm a neurotic mess.

[stvharrngton]

Hii kyrie!! Hope you are doing very well!!

So maybe this is a strange request and it's totally fine if you don't make it, so don't feel pressured love !

So I've been told thru all my life in various types of ways that I'm not pretty or pretty enough, so that has made me so self conscious and I'm just you know aware that I'm not pretty, so I would like to know how do you think steve would react to reader feeling that she is not pretty enough even when she is in a relationship with steve.

It can be smutty or not, what ever you decide is perfect to me love!!!

Ok, bye ily <3

hi my love <3 i'm sorry you feel like that i just know you are super pretty and our stevie would think so too 🥺 i went for smutty i hope that's okay!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy on praise and pet names <3

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The mirror sat atop your vanity, specks of dust decorating the glass. The reflection staring back at you was one you’d pondered over a thousand or more times, fingers prodding and pulling at the skin of the face in the mirror. Smoothing over the freckles and blemishes, rubbing at the circles below the eyes.

The reflection was yours, your face, your eyes, your hair and your nose. Your features that you’d come to think about more often than not. When Steve found you sat in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and a pair of soft cotton shorts his brow furrowed.

He called out for you when he walked into your quiet home, “Baby?” bottom lip jutting out when he was answered with silence. He reached your bedroom with a quiet knock on the door as he called out your name. Steve entered your room timidly when he was met with your figure in front of the mirror.

“Baby?” He asked quietly, “Everything okay? You never answered me.”

Steve came to stand behind where you sat, hands gentle and warm on your shoulders as he watched your face in the mirror. Your expression blank, like your mind was busy with a hurricane of thoughts. The words that spilled out from your mouth hurt Steve like a knife to the chest.

“Steve, am I pretty?”

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape with his brows pinched together. He leant in next to you, so his chin was on your shoulder, his face next to yours staring back through the mirror. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips sweet and gentle on your skin.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, baby, you know that.” Steve watched you carefully in the mirror as your eyes raked over your body, your lips downturned into something sad, “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough-” you sighed, lips pursed together as you tried to ignore the feeling of Steve being so close to you, “not pretty enough for you.”

“What?!” Steve protested, turning his head to face your profile, “that’s crazy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re beautiful, hm?” Another kiss pressed to your cheek, “So hot and sexy, my sweet girl,” his voice was lower this time, lips encasing the shell of your ear, “how ‘bout I show my girl just how pretty she is, huh?”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps, heat rising up your neck as Steve’s words went right to your core. His lips travelled lower, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he pressed sweet kisses on your neck.

“You got the most beautiful eyes, baby,” Steve started, his hands moving to hold your waist, “so dreamy and your nose? Shit, you got the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

His lips followed the curve of your neck to your shoulder, a hand dancing up over your stomach, ghosting over the material of your bra and to your face. Steve let his thumb swipe over your plump bottom lip.

“And baby that smile of yours,” he groaned lowly when you sucked his thumb between your lips, “makes me weak at the knees and I wish I could set your laugh as the sound on my alarm clock.”

You hummed a laugh at his cheesy compliment, Steve sporting a wide eyed grin in return. “See? You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, tone low and rasp as his fingers found the material of your bra again, working their way round to the clasp.

The contraption dropped to the floor with one fell swoop, freeing your breasts from their confines. Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool air hit your skin, nipples erect and Steve’s for the taking. His large hands cupped your tits, gently squeezing the flesh as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You mewled quietly, a soft little whimper tumbling past your lips as Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth, lips coming to your ear once more, “And these pretty tits are so perfect, can’t get enough.”

Teeth nipping at your neck, hands still caressing your tits, Steve ushered you up from the chair, pressing your body into the vanity desk. He pressed himself into your back, the soft material of his shirt scratching at your body, the bulge beneath his jeans felt against your ass.

Steve kept one hand pressed to your chest, the other wandered down your front, a quick squeeze to your hip as he slid his fingers between your ass and his front. Pushing your shorts to the side, Steve ghosted his fingers over the lace covering where you wanted him most, the small wet patch beneath his fingers making him take a sharp intake of his breath.

“And this pretty little pussy of yours,” Steve cooed, fingertip teasing at your entrance, “she’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. The feeling of his finger barely pushing into your hole driving you insane, your body white hot all over and he was just getting started.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Steve encouraged, “tell me what you want, use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the dirty words he spoke, feeling your arousal poole at your core. You pressed your ass out into Steve’s hands, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his finger. Steve chuckled cruelly at your actions, teasing as he removed his finger from your cunt.

“Steve, please,” you begged, “anything, baby, please just touch me.” You pleading never went a miss with Steve, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped to his knees.

Fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts and panties, the material soon dropped to the floor around your feet. Steve peppered kisses up the backs of your thighs, his large hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pulling and squeezing. Steve pulled you apart, revealing your pussy to him.

Wet and ready for whatever Steve was going to give you, he groaned at the sight of you. Slick covering your pussy, smeared across your plush thighs. He pressed a single kiss to your hole, lips pouting as he gripped your ass.

You moaned loudly at the gesture, eyes fluttering closed as Steve began to move his lips and tongue in tandem. You felt him groan from behind you, the vibrations rumbling through your pussy, your thighs clenching involuntarily. The sounds that filled the room were pornographic, dirty, filthy. Slurping and sucking, licking and kissing.

If there’s one thing that Steve Harrington knew how to do, it was eat pussy like his life depended on it.

Steve grabbed harshly at your ass, his palm coming down against your cheek, a yelp echoing off your bedroom walls. Steve groaned into your pussy at the noise, his cock straining beneath his jeans at the pretty little gasps and whimpers that were serving as music to his ears.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Steve cooed, “so fuckin’ good.”

You fell to the desk below you, unable to keep yourself up any longer. The pleasure coursed through you like lightning, a sharp flick of Steve’s tongue over your clit sent you over the edge.

“Uh uh, baby,” Steve uttered, “keep those pretty eyes on that mirror.” One hand left your ass, the distinct sound of the metal of Steve’s belt clinking, the leather slapping against itself, “Want you to see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You wailed as Steve never stopped the movements of his tongue, your slick totally covering his mouth and chin you were sure. Eyes shooting open, gaze fixated on yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were hazy, your lips red and bitten. The sound of Steve’s denim being shoved down his thighs rang loud in your ears, the jostle of his wrist as he fisted his cock felt as he buried his face in your pussy.

The beginnings of your orgasm rocked your body, your cheeks heating up as your jaw went slack. The muscles in your stomach and thighs began to clench, your moans and whispers of Steve’s name turned into incoherent mumbles. A jumble of praise and ramblings of how good Steve was making you feel the only things you could muster.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–” you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the vanity, “please, don’t stop, baby.”

“That’s my girl, come on, baby, let it go,” Steve groaned, palm slapping against your ass as he sucked and licked at your clit, “keep those eyes open, honey.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your body hot and cold all over, your eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stared at yourself in the mirror, watching yourself cum with your boyfriend’s face buried inside your cunt really was a sight to behold.

Your body writhed against the table as Steve continued to lick at you all soft and slow, drawing out your orgasm until you were crying at the overstimulation. His own fist had since slowed, pumping his cock at a fragile pace, teasing himself like you often would.

When he finally removed his mouth from your pussy, you exhaled a sigh of relief, body slumping against the wooden desk. The quietness of your bliss all but lasted momentarily as you heard Steve groan from behind you.

Fingers still wrapped around his stiff cock, eyes glued to your sticky pussy as your juices mixed with Steve’s saliva dribbled down your thighs. You stuck your ass out for him to see, as if inviting him to slip inside you.

“Steve–”

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as he spoke, “I gotta– shit, I gotta see your face when I cum, please?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you spun around, Steve still on his knees, gaze fixated on your lower half. The boy shot up in a flash, hands immediately cupping your cheeks, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hungry, fervent, Steve having worked himself up into a frenzy.

He picked you up from where you stood, your legs wrapping around your waist, arms slung over his broad shoulders. Steve laid you down on the soft sheets, hands reaching to rid himself of his shirt, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers.

His larger frame towered over you, soft kisses peppered all over your flushed face as his forehead came to rest against yours, his gaze flickered down between your bodies as he pushed himself inside you, cock in hand.

Steve moaned loudly, all high pitched and pretty. A gruff ‘fuck’ trembled past his pink lips, giving himself a minute to billow in the feel of your warm pussy around his cock. The stretch of Steve’s cock was one you had grown to love, the initial sting a sinful pain you craved.

It wasn’t long before he was bottoming out, hips moving hard, cock stroking deep inside your walls, “Fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last long, shit–”

“Oh, Steve,” you breathed, skin dewy and hot, Steve’s cock stroking your special spot just right. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his tailbone as he rolled his hips into yours over and over again, desperately chasing his own climax.

“My sweet girl,” the boy moaned, a throaty rasp, his hair wild, “you’re so pretty,” he babbled, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. My beautiful girl. So good f’me.”

Steve’s word vomit of praise was endearing, you were sure tears would be lining your lashes if he wasn’t fucking the breath out of your chest right now. He grappled your hands away from his shoulders, fingers interlocking as he held them at the side of your head, lips falling into place with yours as his hair began to fall out of place.

He was on the cusp, you knew that, could tell by the words he was moaning, the way he squeezed your hands so tight, how he kissed you as if to stop himself from wailing out your name.

He fucked his cock into you harder, deeper. You moaned his name into his mouth as he kissed you, a sweet gasp only spurring him on. You felt him twitch inside you, thighs clenching as he whined, “Oh, baby, oh fuck—,” gaze fixated on your fucked out features, “gonna cum, shit—“

As soon as Steve felt your walls clench around his length he was a goner. Hot cum spurting from his tip, pairing your walls as he groaned out your name. Curses fell from his tongue like a chant as his orgasm washed over him.

Chest heaving and breath heavy, Steve whined as he rode out his high. Eyes squeezed shut tightly as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the soft skin of your neck.

He hissed and grunted as soon as he pulled himself away from you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Steve pulled you into his chest, thick ringlets of hair matted with sweat as he lay spent.

Steve let his lips rest on your temple, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he spoke,

“Prettiest girl in the world, baby, y’hear me?”

[simplydnp]

idk why this matters to me but in the last few months they've been acknowledging so many things I never ever thought they would. pinof and the touching. the phude multiple times. dapc slime (ok they had merch to sell for that one but still)

no but actually. phil literally said 'i thought we weren't acknowledging it' about the phude and now they just bring it up all the time.

pinof reacts... i still can't believe we're in a post pinof-reacts universe. how did that happen. i was changed permanently--like something shuffled in my dna when i got the notif for pinof reacts 1. this is not a physical reaction but a chemical one that cannot be undone. for something that was so... sacred. and integral. to their existence and history. pinof wasn't generally talked about unless it was pinof time. and even then it was 'it'll be up soon' or 'we just posted it' and then Never talked about outside of that. especially not the first one! we freak out about the We Know You Know in the newsletter but it's Always been like that with pinof 1. so to see them--new (& natural 🥺) hair for them both, in a house they bought and built together, in the first few months of giving the gaming channel a second chance--reflect on how it all began? absolutely devastating. and to lean into moments and discuss them in new ways. in territory previously not breached! the 'they're toUching'?!?!? the '11 hour fuck session'!?!? the '£9000 champagne'?!?!? like hey we're not supposed to talk about that, dan and phil might see!! shhh!! but they're the ones saying it!! absolutely wild.

in a way, it had to happen. especially with where we're at now (them literally selling merch of them holding hands). in order for them to move beyond that... mindset? i guess? that a lot of fans had, they had to defang it. i really see it as one of the biggest walls they've broken down in the way they communicate with us. the 'hey. it's okay. we've seen it. it's not a big deal. we will absolutely make fun of you for it though. but we're good.'

i'm just really curious whose idea it was. (lbr it was probably phil given dans not a react kinda guy. but i'd be lying if i said i didn't want to be in the room where it happened when they talked about actually doing it or not, and what it would mean) (big ad revenue thats for sure 🤣 get it kings)

i will never be able to get phil's 'they touched' out of my head and at this point i wouldn't want to. it's absolutely earned. and i guess it makes me a masochist to enjoy the psychic damage it inflicts on me, but such is life i suppose.

the crafts mention really surprised me! i had contemplated a few different scenarios in how they'd go about it, and i'll be honest i feel like they could've committed to the bit a little more but they're forgiven. like what about glitchy interstitials! cuts to the merch website. found footage inserted between sections! i recognize they don't want to 'scare' their usual audience wirh sudden cuts to intense/graphic content but my immersionnn. absolutely shattered by 'oh we have new merch now btw'. cmon boys you love to lie to us. say theres merch up but you dont know where it came from. just that we should buy it 👀 or idk, something clever. and i recognize i may sound like a spoilt brat bc i just got a 14 minute long masterpiece of an unexpected dapc revival, but my immersion. i mean i already bought the merch before they shilled it anyways so it didn't influence me regardless 🤣

ultimately we really are in a new era. even beyond just the revival. i think they're really finding their stride--not only in their content (evidenced by a semi-regular schedule) but also creatively, in doing what they want to do, how they want to do it, and truly not giving that much of a fuck anymore. and i'm really happy for them. phil talked a bit about this in his 'rating my icons' video, where he's kind of decided he doesn't care what people on twitter think, and how it's been good for him, and i think we're seeing that reflected in not only his content, but also the gaming channel. they play what they want. they say what they want. and it's just fun. dan going on the record to say he's really enjoying it makes me so happy to hear, because literally december 2022 he believed he'd disappear after WAD. and now, instead, he gets to play games and make stupid jokes and smile and laugh multiple times a week, and he's really happy about it. he gets to be silly and goofy and crude without having to Stress about it. i keep saying it but they're so settled now. and as someone who's followed them through big changes and turbulent times, getting to see them happy after everything... it brings a lot of hope. and i know theyre millionaires. but there's something to looking at someone you fell in love with 15 years ago the same then as you do now. but instead of it being something scary, something you have to hide, something that feels like it can consume you and everything you have--it gets to be something beautiful. and regular. and embraced. you've read this far you get to listen to me wax poetic about them.

we've been thoroughly boiled and maybe, just maybe, it's warming our hearts too.

[siriuslygay1981]

Barty shifted to the side, his heart beating rapidly. He felt shaky and like he might throw up. Clearing his throat he let his eyes jump to where Evan sat next to him casually.

He looked fucking beautiful,like always. His blonde hair was ruffled by the wind, his face slightly flushed. Barty watched with no little amount of affection as Evan closed his eyes and smiled.

"I love you." The words were out of his mouth before the words even formed in his mind.

The leafs around them rustled, the wind pushing against them. Bartys mouth open and closed, his stomach forming a black pit.

Fuck.

"uh.." Evan said awkwardly

"oh-" it felt like the word was punched out of him. Breathless and full of pain.

"yea...no YEA i-i was just- mm I'm going to..."

His limbs felt weird, his whole body felt out of place, his cheeks were warm with embarrassment. He cursed himself out mentally as he scrambled up and ran to the castle with a crumpling face and a breaking heart.

He didn't hear the faint call of his name too busy berating himself, he wiped at his face angrily and forced himself to keep going.

Way to go, ruin another friendship you idiot

__

Evan sat at the lake dumbfounded.

What the fuck.

He stared at the spot where Barty bolted from, his eyebrows pinched together. His heart thudding against his chest wildly, he pushed his hair out of his face as he tried to process everything that just happened.

What the fuck.

[palestporn]

Gamzee: What those horns do tho

"So, uh, horns," you say, like a chill motherfucker who hasn't been throwing looks at this growly little motherfucker's head since you met him this morning.

"I've heard of them," he says, sass-mouthed little emperor with his tiny horns tossed like a challenge. Starts off toward the next block, and goes and takes the crown off his horns and peels his shirt off like it ain't no thing. You knew he was a solid little armful, but damn.

"Damn," you say, out loud, and he turns back to look at you like he's about to ask what's up and then sees you getting a full motherfucking ogle on and goes reddish at the ears and horns again.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, and waves off your looking at him. "So, horns?"

Oh shit, right. "Horns," you say back, and hurry on up to come after him. Are you supposed to take your shit off too? Way they trained it, if the emperor wants one of them touched he touches and if he wants their skin out he says so.

...Karkat turns away from you to fuck around with folding his shirt up, and shows you the whole length of his back, bared at you. You get kinda motherfucking stupid about it. Damn.

When you step up on him from behind him and put a hand real careful on the side of his neck, he goes tense and then eases slow--when you tilt back his head a little bit, he lets you.

"Out at the yellow, shit's about texture, I got told," you say, and just rest the blunt tip of a claw to the blunt tip of a horn. there's a little edge of ridge up and around; you can click the flat of a claw up along where it fades away, real light and slow. With his shirt off and his weight resting back on you, you can feel him shiver. "Gotta play nice if there's not a lot to get your grip on of, but you can rattle the fuck out of 'em if they're longer."

"Like yours," he says, intending at some shit. You had it shown at you how it feels to lock horns, not slamming against like a challenge but shifting around and clicking and catching together. Goes all down your posture column, like sparks. He's not got the horns, but you felt how strong his fronds are and he's sure the fuck got claws.

...Focus, motherfucker.

"Like mine, yeah," you say, and make distraction at yourself about how that might feel by sliding your grip on down and getting the heel of your frond right into the base of his horns.

You knew he'd like it, on account his ancestor's shit's been mapped and marked a hundred sweeps. But it still makes you feel like the emperor your own damn self, when he goes "Hhha, fuck," all shaky and sways back hard against you.

"Down at the red," you say, and press just like how you got taught, deep and slow, smoothing down his shaved-down hair along how it lays, not against it. "Gotta give some motherfucking pressure."

He says "Oh, fuck," again--and again, like it's about all he can think to say. Breathes slower, leans harder, grasps back and grips at you behind him. "Oh, shit."

"Gotta push harder than you figure," you say, for all your voice sounds cracked and not yours. "Head conciliatrix smacks the shit outta your knuckles if you go too light--feels like you're gonna hurt a motherfucker but if you get in there real good--"

You press again and he makes like to curse and only lets out a whine like pleading instead, crooning under it in his rattlebox. Bites it off embarrassed a second later, but holy shit. Fuck.

"--That shit'll undo knots all the way to the motherfucking ground if you do it right," you finish off, and for a beautiful miracle of a second you don't think about being pissed, or scared, or ghosts or emperors or any other bullshit. Just how he goes loose in your grip, barely keeping his feet. "Motherfucker, you sound so fucking good."

"I'll pay you back with interest," he croaks out, brave show but wavery. "In the evening. We need to sleep. Hha, shit. C'mon, 'coon."

"Tonight" again, huh? Lotta shit happening tonight. Who fucking knows how your life's gonna shake up by this time tomorrow morning.

You think you can just about motherfucking live with that.

[-END-]

[START OVER]

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | march 27 birthday | words: 780

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY!!! i had fun writing this one so i hope y’all have fun reading;3

tw: walburga appears, suicidal tendencies (it’s brief and probably not many of you will think of it that way but still)

Regulus wasn't the type to make grand romantic gestures; it was always James.

For example, when he took Regulus on their first date—not just a meeting in the middle of the night at the Astronomy Tower, but a real date—James’ found this beautiful meadow in the Forbidden Forest, near the Black Lake. Regulus thinks it must have taken the other boy at least half a day to get the place ready, because when they arrived, there were Christmas lights hanging in the trees, a record player was standing next to one of them, quietly playing some Elvis song, and in the middle there was a warm-looking blanket with candles, flowers, steaming food, fruit, and something that looked like a bottle of elvish wine. It is safe to say Regulus was in complete awe.

The other time was just a few weeks later, when it was Regulus’ birthday. James did not buy it, but he made him a little crooked silver ring with antlers engraved on it. When the younger boy asked how exactly he did it, James just shrugged and said, ‘Dad thought me’ like it was the most obvious answer in the world. And, okay, they were wizards, so it wasn’t the hardest thing for them to transfigure something into something else, but when Regulus later tried to reverse any spells cast on the ring, nothing happened, which meant not only did James make it himself, but he also made it without any magic. What a guy, that one.

When James and Sirius came to Grimmauld one night that summer to rescue Regulus and Walburga caught them, threatening to kill all three boys, Potter straightened up, holding his wand out in front of her confidently.

"Leave them alone; if you want to kill someone, try me." As he said this, the woman raised her hand to cast the killing curse, but James was faster; with one smooth gesture, he had her stunned and bound. After they disapparated, landing in Potter Manor, both Blacks started shouting at him for his recklessness and stupidity, while they hugged him tight.

Regulus could talk about every amazing thing James did to prove his love for hours—there were so many. But when it came to his own grand gestures, the list ended at one: when he sent Avery and Mulciber to the Hospital Wing with the skin melted off of their faces after throwing two Bludgers at James at the same time. So, he made exactly zero romantic gestures for almost a whole year of dating James.

Fortunately, the 27th of March was approaching, and with it, his boyfriend’s birthday.

On Friday morning, while the whole Great Hall was having a rather loud breakfast, Regulus scanned the Gryffindor’s table to find—aha!

Spotting that bright smile on the other side, Regulus pulled out the big box he had hidden beneath the bench and sent it flying through the whole room with one flick of a wand. Everyone was looking at it in almost complete silence, waiting in anticipation to see where it would land. Regulus stole one glance in the direction it was going and noticed three different expressions: James looked like he would burst out crying any second, Sirius' face twisted into something between admiration and disgust, and Remus and Peter looked like one was having the time of his life and the other was about to choke from laughing.

As the package landed carefully in James’ laps, everyone went so quiet you could hear a fly buzzing. The Gryffindor opened the box with shaky hands, looking right back up when he saw what was inside. His mouth kept opening and closing while looking at Regulus. The whole student body turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on James’. Still to this day, Regulus has no idea what got into him at that moment, but he stood up and strode to James with a smug expression.

Reaching the birthday boy, Regulus leaned forward, took his face in his hands, and kissed him softly on the lips; James immediately reciprocated. The kiss was nothing like what they shared in the broom cupboards, in the Come-and-Go Room, or even at the Astronomy Tower; this one was the best of all of them—slow, sweet, and, oh, so full of love.

When they parted, Regulus could finally hear the whispers echoing throughout the room, making it seem as if someone had locked him in a hive. He didn’t care. All he cared for was the handsome man in his hands.

“Joyeux dix-huitième anniversaire, amour de ma vie,” Regulus whispered against James’ lips, feeling the other smiling broadly. Yeah, he thought, this one counts as romantic.

translation: happy eighteenth birthday, love of my life

[celestie0]

girl the fics i read always involve gojo cheating so kickoff is a breath of fresh air 😭

imma make him cheat now just cuz u said this (IM JUST JOKING KICKOFF GOJO WLD NEVERRR 👎🏼👎🏼👎🏼 BOOOOOO 🍅 i would literally kill him if he ever cheated on reader 🙄)

[june-again]

TIGHNARI: # something tremendous.

word count. 1k. genre. brainrotted scenario. potentially platonic or romantic.

overview. life at the akademiya was never what you wanted it to be. you didn't just want to read and report, you wanted to learn, to experience. all it took was sitting through one of tighnari's lectures to spark this into a brand new life.

author's note. i planned to entirely trash this fic, but at the request of @duckymcdoorknob , i finished it and am now posting it. perhaps not the best example of my plot-generating potential, but if you just wanna hang out with tighnari for two minutes, this lil fic is for you.

Tighnari’s goal had always been to train you, to do his duty as a Forest Watcher and instructor to pass on his knowledge to yet another rookie in the rainforest. As for taking you on as his apprentice, he hadn’t exactly foreseen it, but it was necessary and reasonable. The fondness he grew for you, unlike that which he’d had for anyone before you, however, was far from what he might have predicted.

He met you on one of the days he requested to give a lecture on a Forest Watcher's duties, after which you approached him with a question. An innocent question, indeed, but not a common one. “Master,” you said, “is there any chance you might teach us about more complex herbal medicines in future sessions?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps I must clarify. You do realize, young scholar, that my specialty lies in botany and ecology, not pharmaceutical sciences, don’t you? Anything I may have mentioned during my talk was only to illuminate differences between species, as well as highlight practical uses of common ones.”

“I realize this, yes,” you said, “but your knowledge already surpasses that which I have accumulated during four years of study.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded briefly. “I studied medicine at the Akademiya, but found it all a bit cold and detached. As interested as I am in the subject, I cannot learn under such underwhelming conditions. Friends referred me to you and your practices, advising me that if I didn’t like libraries and desks I would be better off in the rainforest cleaning statues of bird feces.”

Tighnari lightly sucked air in through his teeth at this. “Your friends may not have meant well by such counsel.”

You tilted your head, as if such a thing hadn’t occurred to you. “Perhaps not. But I cannot believe that, because of how I enjoyed your lecture.” You shook your head, smiling assuredly. “No, I am quite sure they knew this would be best.”

“And you are interested in herbal medicine?”

You shrugged. “It’s what I have the most background in. But… really, I feel as if I could be interested in anything, if I were to learn it from you.”

Such a comment of flattery—of interest—was hardly rare, but there was something grappling about the way you had sat through his lecture, hanging on every word as if it might change your life… The Forest Watcher scrutinized your expression, looking for any hint of ill-intent. Satisfied to find none but a sparkle of curiosity, he laughed. “Alright, then. I suppose we’ll meet again soon.”

“Master, you haven’t answered my question!”

“You’ll find out the answer soon enough.”

The following morning, you found an envelope addressed “to the young scholar,” below which was your name, and inside, a succinct letter requesting your presence that afternoon for an “herb-securing excursion.”

From there, you went from a new pupil to an apprentice… to a dear friend. You managed to shed the title of “young scholar” quickly enough, as your remark upon how similar your ages most likely were had been met with an obliging “you may be right” — but you did not escape, nor intend to escape, the seniority he held over you. You remained a humble and dilligent apprentice, striving first to learn and second to lessen his workload in ways that you could.

Once, a quarrel broke out between the two of you because of this secondary habit of yours. He was just arriving home, the sun barely disappeared behind the hill, and you were tending to the greenery just outside his hut.

“As my apprentice, I know you take on as much as you can to learn. But you must stick to your own duties.”

“You’re tired, Master,” you pleaded. “I see it every day when you finish with everyone, when you finally drop your mask at the doorway of your own home.”

“It means I’ve worked myself hard enough. It isn’t something for you to be concerned with.”

“I just want to help, Tighnari. I just want to repay you somehow.”

Tighnari’s chest tightened and he gazed at your earnest expression. People like you were the people that made it worth it. People like you were the reason he could hold it together, and love his job. “I think that means you’ve learned all I can teach you.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

“Would you like to take on a full Ranger position? I won’t pester you so much anymore, and you will be able to declare your own responsibilities. Gandharva Ville is in need of a nurse.”

You drew your mouth into a line, processing. He was offering you a position, but at the same time… “Are you trying to get rid of me? You’re going to station me in the village and forget about me?”

Tighnari shook his head, a green twinkle in his eye. “No, of course not. You would come along on our excursions. You would take on the role of tending to fellow rangers as well as anyone we may encounter who is in need of care.”

You gasped. “R-really? Tighnari, you mean that?”

He smiled gently. His soft ears flattened sideways, and you knew he was in earnest. “Yes. Now, leave my plants be, as I prefer to tend to them myself, and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll start tomorrow.”

You smiled widely at him, feeling relieved and elated.

“Hurry along now. Don’t gawk, Forest Nurse.”

You bowed out and walked along the path to the hut you were staying in. This was far from what you had expected your life to become; and he was far from the person you thought you would form such a respect for. You paused under a lampstand, and turned around once more to catch one more glance of him.

Tighnari was tending to his plants as he had said, leaned over to inspect the stem of a flower. He seemed to sense your eyes on him, and turned his head up the path. He sent you an encouraging, perhaps expectant, smile.

You briefly smiled back and turned back to your walk. Something told you that this was only the beginning of something tremendous.

thanks for reading! reblogs are always appreciated :)

[regulus-books]

wc: 162

warnings: piercing, needles (obvs)

"Hurry up, Ev!" Barty exclaimed, his lip in a clamp, Evan making sure they matched up.

"Stop whining like a baby! Hold still or they aren't gonna look good." Barty rolls his eyes and sits straight, his leg bouncing on top of Evan's knee. Evan carefully sticks the hollowed out needle into Barty's lip, removes the clamp and looks at it before slipping in the jewelry Barty wanted.

"How does it look?" Barty asks, tonguing it from the inside.

"Looks good. Stop fucking with it or you'll get it infected." Barty smirks, and waits for Evan to do the second one. When they're done, he shows Barty himself in a mirror.

"Hello, sexy." Barty smiles and winks at himself, licking over the piercings again. "Still like me, Rosie?"

"No, I've never liked you." Evan grins, washing his hands and throwing away the needles. Barty walks over, kisses him smack on the lips and groans. "Hurts, baby?" Evan laughs at Barty's satisfied grin.

masterlist

[flusteredfools]

Rough sketches of chibi FaeY/N (nicknamed Faeyn now) be upon ye! kept thinking about a lil bit of a role reversal with Faeful Hearts and so I might have to write a lil one-shot for the drabbles soon. If even just for myself. A Fa(e)te Reversal Au of an Au? XD

eventually I'll write up a lil short for each one and how they Meet Faeyn.

Lil sketches of Eclipse's Clover, Sunny's Blossom and Moon's Mouse.

[ladyryukyo]

benkei doesn't like storms.

as soon as kyoya hears the roaring boom of thunder creep closer overhead, he hurries his steps. the rain is coming down in sheets, kyoya flitting from one overhang to the next in a futile attempt to keep dry. around him, people are rushing down the streets with quick steps, umbrellas and jackets and bags held over their heads to avoid getting drenched.

it was a stupid idea to go out today, knowing what the weather report this morning said. it was even stupider to refuse the umbrella benkei had offered him when he walked out the door. but kyoya had been convinced he would be able to finish his training and get back home in time to evade the coming storm.

kyoya's fingers are clammy and the rain makes it hard to see. despite knowing the screen probably wouldn't cooperate, he is itching to get his phone out of his pocket and call benkei, just to see how he is holding up.

benkei doesn't like storms but what he truly hates is being alone during one.

it's still about a ten minute walk until kyoya arrives home. already slightly out of breath, he tugs his jacket tighter around his body, ducks his head against the rain pelting him in the face, and races along the sidewalk.

--

kyoya is late.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago and now the storm probably took him by surprise and is slowing him down even further. benkei has a stack of towels ready and waiting next to him on the couch, the door to the hallway open so he won't miss it when kyoya enters. the tv is on, volume low, some kind of kids show benkei doesn't recognize but he is too lazy to change the channel. he is looking through his phone more than watching the tv screen anyway.

no messages from kyoya but that doesn't surprise him. the one he sent him twelve minutes ago is still marked unread.

he flinches when another blinding shot of lightning brightens the gray skies outside, followed by the low rumble of thunder. benkei never really liked thunderstorms. the sudden bursts of lightning, the ominous sound of thunder. they've always made him feel small. when he looks out the window, it's dark outside again, the unrelenting rain flowing in streams down the glass. he shudders at the thought of being out there right now.

he wishes kyoya were here.

the sound of the front door being unlocked is drowned out by another crack of thunder, roaring and trembling through to benkei's very core. then the front door opens and benkei turns automatically to watch kyoya gingerly step inside, clothes and hair dripping wet, trying not to make too big of a puddle in the middle of the hallway. his presence alone makes benkei feel significantly better than before, some of his tension slowly unwinding.

kyoya looks up, pushing the wet bangs plastered to his forehead out of his face, and meets benkei's gaze. he is panting heavily, and shivering a little from the cold. benkei's stomach swoops with the realization that kyoya must have run the whole way home. to get back to benkei as fast as possible. to be able to keep him company in a situation he knows benkei doesn't feel comfortable in alone.

exhaling a disbelieving sigh, a little dizzy with the need to be close to him, benkei takes his stack of towels and offers it to kyoya who doesn't dare move from his spot right in the entrance, still dripping. kyoya takes the whole stack from his hands and sets it down on top of the shoe cabinet.

"thank you. were you waiting for me?" he asks, an unnecessary question because benkei always waits up for him, regardless of the weather.

"you're late," benkei says placidly. he drops one towel on kyoya's head, to muffled protests, and rubs his hair dry vigorously to show his displeasure. when kyoya emerges from the towel, hair adorably frizzy, benkei drops a light kiss on his lips.

"getting mixed signals here, ben," kyoya mumbles. the red on his cheeks was previously from the cold but benkei isn't so sure anymore. "are you mad at me?"

benkei snorts. "no. i'm glad you're here. i missed you."

"i missed you, too." it's been about six hours since they've last seen each other.

kyoya takes another towel from the stack and drops it on the floor, soaking up the puddle he left there. then he slips out of his muddy shoes and leaves them on top.

"i will go change now because i'm wet and i'm freezing," kyoya says, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "and when i'm done, we'll make tea and we can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. sound good?"

benkei bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too hard. "sounds perfect."

rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance, kyoya reaches for benkei's face, then jerks back when he seems to remember how clammy his hands are right now. instead, he goes for benkei's clothed shoulder, squeezes it warmly, and lingers there for a long moment.

"i'll be quick," he says lowly, breaking their eye contact first. he swallows heavily, hesitating, and then leaves.

benkei aches with the desire to catch kyoya's hands in his own and hold him, drenched clothes, cold skin and all. instead, he walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on, rummaging through the cupboards for their favorite tea.

thunder rumbles in the distance, but benkei barely hears it over the sound of his own heart beating steadily in his chest.