#I manifested that my hair would dry quickly and now it does!

[shaneru-is-new-to-shifting]

BRO I MANIFESTED FOR THE FIRST TIME!!

[pretty-toru]

boyfriend quiz ᰔ gojo satoru

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. fem!reader. established relationship. mentions of sweets. making gojo think every question he answers is wrong on a quiz you made up.

“Baby, let’s take a little couple’s quiz together, hm?” 

Satoru had just stepped into your shared bedroom after a hot shower. The ends of his hair still damp from towel drying and his cheeks just a tickled pink from the steam as he takes long strides toward you, crawling into bed and stealing some of your warmth from under the covers. 

“Hmm, why do I have a bad feeling about this~?” There’s a boyish smile on his face as he holds you close and nuzzles your neck softly, feeling like his head’s up in the clouds the moment he’s wrapped up in your scent. “But alright, I’m game! Let’s go, I’m ready. What’s the first question?”

The white tufts of your boyfriend’s hair delicately grazes your nose and you press a tender kiss to the top of his head. “So, imagine you’re at our favorite bakery, what do you buy?” You start with an innocent question, leading him to believe that there's no right or wrong answers but he suspects there's a trick up your sleeve.

“That’s a fun one! I’m at our favorite bakery, right~?” He ponders carefully for a moment. “Well, of course, I would want those delicious pastries, those yummy cakes, and those fresh breads! And while I’m there, I should grab a few of your favorites too!” 

You almost forget just how incredibly thoughtful and caring Satoru can be. How you’re always on his mind and he spends a lot of time thinking about you no matter his whereabouts. You know this because it usually manifests in forms of gifts and trinkets—some sweet, some odd, some over the top, but they’re all very near and dear to your heart. 

“Wrong.” You shake your head gently, forcing an exasperated sigh that tells him you’re disappointed and upset he managed to get the question wrong. But really, you’re just messing with him, making him think his answers are somehow incorrect in this one-sided game of yours. “You weren’t supposed to be there without me in the first place.”

“What do you mean, Angel~? Why can’t I be at the bakery without you? Even if I’m getting you something, too?” There’s a glimmer of confusion behind his cerulean hues, yet his earnest smile still remains and he’s a bit at loss for words but continues to indulge you. 

“Next question—” Satoru quickly plops an affectionate kiss on your cheek before you continue, hoping to remedy your crestfallen face. “You have now left the bakery, what’s the next thing you do?” 

“Easy. The next thing I do after leaving the bakery is be with my favorite girl, and share all the delicious things I got. I want to be with you, no one else.” 

There he goes being so sweet again! He’s making this extremely hard for you not to openly swoon over him and smother his face with so many kisses, and he can see the way you’re biting the inside of your cheek trying to suppress your smile that he’s getting to you. But you shake your head again, “Wrong! You’re supposed to pick up the strawberries from the market like I had asked you to.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right! I forgot all about the strawberry you wanted~” Satoru gasps loudly and runs a stressful hand through his hair. He then laughs and playfully rolls his eyes that he somehow answered wrong for the second time now. “Fine, I’ll go pick up the strawberries.” 

You couldn’t help the quick kiss that lands on his cheek for being so utterly cute and adorable as you giggled along with him. “Okay, next question—a girl approaches you and she looks like she wants to hug you. What do you do?” 

“Hm, who is she and why does she look like she wants to hug me?” He tilts his head to the side as he considers the situation. You feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s merely seconds away from getting a curveball thrown at him. Even though you know kind of partner he is, you’re quite curious as to what he’ll come up with. 

“Well, what do you do~?” You gently urge him for an answer. 

“It really depends, Angel. Are you the girl then?” His lips curl into a smirk, and he looks at you almost too knowingly like he could read your mind. But you know that even his Six Eyes can't do that. 

You hate that he was able to figure it out so easily. He watches as your face lights up into your perfect and gorgeous smile, with your head falling onto his chest and face burrowing in defeat. All of his answers were simply too sweet and considerate with you in mind and you can feel your heart swell with so much love and adoration for him.

Your muffled words come up to reach his ears, “How’d you know to answer that I was there with you? You’re too smart for this. But yes, the girl is supposed to be me.” 

“So you approached me, and you wanted to hug me, right~?” He strokes your hair softly and offers an amused chuckle. You slowly lift yourself off him to meet his soft gaze, nodding. “If you want a hug, you always get a hug, sweetheart.” 

Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice to have his strong arms coil around your figure, locking you sweetly in his hold that makes you feel completely safe and secure in his warm embrace. Then, a lingering kiss to your forehead just before he releases you but you can feel the faintest waver in his loosening grip that he never wants to let you go.

“Okay, one last question?” Your weight dips on the mattress beside him, tucking yourself in the nook of his arm and resting your head on his chest. He hums contently when your body always seems to fit so perfectly with his as he brings you closer to him like he can’t get close enough. ”What are we doing next?”

“Well, we could go home, eat the baked goods and the strawberries. After that, maybe snuggle while watching a movie and take a long nap together. How’s that sound to you, baby?”

You briefly mull over his words, and you can’t remember the last time he truly took some time off and enjoyed himself without restraints. So you’re determined to plan a fun and romantic getaway because even your loving and goofy boyfriend deserves a much-needed break to experience the small joys and pleasures with you every now and again.

“That sounds like our perfect next date.”

[avocado-writing]

Hello, hope you're doing okay! 😊

About that good omens requests 👀 how about reader finding out Crowley has been living in his car so they offer for him to move in? At first it's all awkward but they quickly fall in a weirdly domestic routine?

Would also love to see Aziraphale's reaction when he finds out the two has been living together. 😀

notes: avo don’t mention bakeoff in a fic challenge level impossible

pairing: crowley x reader

rating: T

Day 1:

“Your car?! Crowley, you can’t be serious.”

He’s certain he’s told you about his living situation. Well. He was certain. You’re looking at him now with such horror it’s like he kicked a puppy in front of you, and he wonders if perhaps he let it slip his mind. 

“I don’t have the flat any more, do I? Where else am I meant to go?”

You open your mouth to retort and then realise… where can he go? Aziraphale’s? God, you love the angel, he’s one of the best friends you have — but he is a bit obtuse when it comes to social things. And you’re not sure Crowley actually has any money, so he can’t rent anywhere else to live. 

Well, no matter. You shan’t let it stand for a moment more. 

“You’re moving in.”

“What?!” he looks appalled. You put your hands on your hips. 

“I’ll have no complaining, Crowley. That car is not a home. You’re coming to live with me.”

You’ve been with Crowley for a couple of months now. This is perhaps expediting the process of a relationship - the moving in stage usually takes a bit longer - but you’re pretty sure this constitutes an emergency. He is, for all intents and purposes, homeless. 

Besides, having a live-in boyfriend might be nice. He could make you tea. 

So that evening finds the two of you unloading his few possessions from the car and finding space for them in the flat. He takes a long while to work out where the best place is for his house plants, but eventually the two of you are left sitting on the couch surrounded by your joint belongings. 

“Would you like a room to yourself? The spare is my office at the moment, but I can always move my desk into my bedroom.”

“Do you want me to have a room to myself?” he asks, arching an eyebrow over his sunglasses. 

“Well, no, I want you to share the double with me—”

“Then there’s no conflict of interest, is there?”

You smile and he kisses you. 

Day 2:

It doesn’t feel strange, waking up with him next to you. He’s slept over a couple of times at this point. What does feel odd is the way he doesn’t head off as you start to make breakfast, instead he asks to borrow a towel and use the shower. 

He doesn’t even have any bloody towels, you think, but acquiesce to his request. 

He spends a lot of time in the shower. You’re not sure how hot he has it running, but by the end of the affair steam is leaking out from the gap between the bathroom door and your stone tiling. When he emerges with the towel wrapped up on his head, it is with a billow of clouds. 

“Have you turned the extractor fan on?” 

“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from drying his hair. He hasn’t manifested anything on his body, so he’s smooth as a Barbie doll - it’s a bit disconcerting just having him stand there like that. You try not to look at the featureless mound. 

“Extractor fan!”

He sighs and moseys back into the bathroom, walking into the wall a little where his glasses have fogged up. 

As you watch your flat fall foul to condensation, you consider that this might take some adjustment. 

Day 3:

“Bake-off tonight.”

“Must we?”

“We must.”

Crowley groans and flops onto the sofa. It occurs to you that you’ve never actually seen him sit. He’s always flopping, like everything is constantly far too much effort for him. 

“Please, it’s a show made with the sole purpose of torturing me. It’s so… twee.”

“Well buckle in, matey. We have ten weeks of it.”

“Ugh.”

“You can go and read in the bedroom if you prefer.”

“Fine. I will.”

But he doesn’t move an inch and complains throughout the whole program. However he does swing his legs up onto yours for comfort. 

Day 7:

You’re falling into a routine. 

You wake up, perform your ablutions in the bathroom, then start on breakfast. The sound of the kettle lures him out of bed and into the shower. He spends so long in there you don’t bother making him a drink, instead you wait until he deems it fit to emerge and he reboils the leftover water. He takes his coffee black and the two of you chat about your plans for the day. 

Unfortunately you have to work. You have a pretty well-paying job so the slightly increased energy bill and thoroughly increased water bill aren’t too much of an issue, but it does mean you can’t spend as much time with him as you’d like. 

At least the flat is always spotless, though. To be fair to him he is an efficient housekeeper. There’s always a new configuration for the plants, too, as if botanical feng shui is all he does while you’re away. 

It’s nice. It’s… domestic. And it’s utterly Crowley. 

Day 30:

His belongings are mingling with yours now. Combined bookshelves with his new purchases. His record player set up on your side table with a mix of records. He has a special blend of tea which sits right next to your earl grey, and a single black mug which stands out against the rainbow of your collection. 

At night he wraps around you and tangles his legs with yours. His hand slides onto the plain of your stomach and you thread your fingers through his while he feels you breathe. 

He no longer wears his sunglasses around the flat. 

It is wonderful. 

He still claims not to like Bake-off. 

Day 45:

“Crowley? Why can I smell burning?”

You know he’s opening his mouth to lie, deciding against it, and instead making the choice not to say anything at all. Bracing yourself, you walk into the kitchen. 

“Oh! Crowley…”

“Not a word,” he says, trying to finish the decoration on the chocolate cake. It stands three tiers tall and, though the kitchen is a mess and he is somehow covered with buttercream, you can tell he’s actually pretty proud of himself. One last squeeze of the icing bag and he’s done, triumphant and grinning at his creation. 

“Why all this?” you ask. He shrugs. 

“You said the cakes looked good on Bake-off last night. Figured they couldn’t be that hard to do.”

“And do you still stand by that assessment?” you wipe some icing off of the tip of his nose. 

“Just eat the bloody cake.”

You laugh, and you do. It’s delicious. But not as delicious as the kiss he gives you. 

Day 64:

“You’re living together?!”

You peer up at Aziraphale from over the top of your novel, then exchange a glance with Crowley.

“Well, yes.”

“For a couple of months now actually, angel.”

“You never told me!”

You’re certain you did, but don’t object. He’ll get all persnickety if you do. 

“Did you not think it was strange we always took the Bentley ‘home’ together?” is what you say instead. “And that we always arrive at the same time, too?”

Aziraphale fumbles for words and comes up empty. He settles on:

“Hmm. Well, I expect to be invited over for dinner.”

“Of course. Crowley will make dessert.”

The angel’s eyes light up, and Crowley looks at you as if you’ve cursed him. 

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@specter-soltare@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@willbedecided@cool-iguana@this--is--music@ilyatan@lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels@night-affiliate@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat@chaospossum@belilwen@rex-ray@hunterispunk

[koqabear]

Whatever She Wants

☆Song suggestion: Everything She Wants, Wham!

Summary:

Throughout your life, you were able to get by with the mindset that if you don’t give up, you’ll achieve whatever you want. Your current goal wouldn’t know what flirting was if it hit him in the face. Minor setback. 

Hueningkai x fem! reader

Genre: idiots to lovers, Hueningkai is BIG and STUPID but god does mc want him!! fluff, smut

Word count: 12.1K (a third is just straight up smut.) 

Warnings: Hueningkai is both built and tall af, extrovert mc, introvert/shy hk, mentions of food and alcohol, mc is bold!! Yeojin from loona is our wingwoman this time, our boy is explicitly called Huening or Kai, unofficial dom/sub dynamics(?), mentions of a single parent/ unideal life situations (doesn’t go into detail), petnames (baby)

Smut Warnings: soft dom!mc, sub!servicetop!hk, grinding, hk is inexperienced, and whiny, dry humping, face riding/sitting, oral (f&m receiving) multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hair pulling, deep throating, orgasm control, (edging, forced orgasm) raw sex (mc is on birth control!) riding, creampie, hk is pussydrunk!!

Notes: I don’t care how tall you are, Huening will be taller. He is meant to be an absolute colossal unit in this story, use your imagination!!

Hueningkai has been told he’s handsome all his life. 

Through his mother, constantly doting and praising him— “Look at my handsome boy, so charming!”— his aunties, endlessly shocked at the growth spurts he receives and the deepening of his voice— “You’ve grown well,” they would say, squinting up at him in exaggeration; they would always turn to his mother, nodding in approval as they spoke, “He’s grown into quite a handsome man.”— and through many more faceless people he’s encountered in his life. 

Maybe that’s why he turned out so stupid.

You’ve always been a high achiever— good grades, top of your class, excelling greatly in all sports and extracurriculars; only applying for high-quality jobs, even when still in high school, climbing your way to the top as you quickly became favored by everyone— it was a strategy you used well into your career.  

In short, you only wanted the best.

The best that, much to your dismay, currently manifested itself into the absolute unit that was Kai Kamal Huening. 

Your brain was quick to rationalize things; he was tall, handsome, and kind— the quick bare minimum checked off your list— but he was also much, much more than that. He was quick-witted and funny, one of the best lawyers in the firm you currently worked at as he always arrived early— a cup of coffee in his hands and his blazer already thrown across his forearm as he softly complained about how hot it always was inside. 

From your astute observations, he was fit. He had a good style and was well off, judging by the expensive suits that he always wore, always tailored to perfection— allowing you to catch the way his muscles rippled under his shirt whenever he would reach for the cabinets that were too high for anyone’s benefit— though you didn’t mind them that much now. 

He was well-spoken and charming, the compelling aura he always held to him enough to show why he was one of the top lawyers in your firm. 

Ergo, not entirely stupid. 

However, book smart and street smart are two entirely different things. 

“Huening,” You say, smiling softly as he turns around to face you, “a surprise seeing you here.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Anyone that worked at your firm knew that if they stopped at the coffee shop three blocks away before work, they were bound to bump into the man himself; the cup he carried into work every morning was enough of a hint. It was that same cup, however, that you spent days squinting at, attempting to decipher the name that his delicate fingers covered before you gave up and asked a mutual friend about; Yeojin only laughed at you, mocking you for an obscene amount of time before letting you in on the big clue. 

“He’s there every morning to order the same thing,” she lightheartedly scoffs, shaking her head before she continues, “Wonder how the hell he hasn’t gotten sick of it yet.”

So here you stand, taking a leap of faith as Huening’s eyes widen in recognition— you’re quite offended that it took him a moment to remember you at all. 

“Oh, hello,” it’s painful to hear how formal and reserved he is, the gorgeous lull of his deep voice enough for you to push past it as you continue to smile, “I didn’t know you came here.” 

“Well, thought I’d give it a try,” you say, tilting your head slightly, pausing as if in thought, “after all, I always see you with a cup from here. Figured it’s good enough if you stop by every day.” 

Your voice has shifted into that soft purr you always use on the people you like— victims of your trap as you lure them in, the perfect prey for you to pounce on and enjoy. His smile wavers for a second, and you try to fight back the way your lips want to quirk up as you notice his adam's apple bob nervously. 

Arms crossing, you take a step closer to him, looking up at him as you smile sweetly. Your scent fills his senses, floral and addicting as he looks down at you in confusion. The height difference sends your mind reeling.

“Maybe I could buy you your drink?” You say, sending him a coy smile as you continue, “As a thank you for showing me this place?”

He blinks rapidly, lashes delicately brushing against his skin as your words process in his mind. You feel elated, waiting to catch him in a flustered position, wanting to see what he looks like beyond that cool and collected character he always has. 

He takes a step back; you think you feel nauseous.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says, not a wavering ounce of nerves interlaced with his words as he sends you an apologetic smile. It’s his turn to order, and he takes another step away from you as he gives you a small bow, as though he were rejecting you— no, he was rejecting you. 

“Thank you for the offer though.” 

You can feel the heat rush up your face, a raging fire as it licks the back of your neck and leaves your fingers tingling. But you keep your cool, seemingly unfazed as you nod casually at his words; the pleasant smile on your face is stuck like glue for the rest of your time there, painfully aware of the fact that he didn’t bother even looking your way as you both waited for your drinks— even when they got announced at the same time and the two of you grabbed the wrong cups, all he did was swiftly switch with you and practically speed out of the building. 

In conclusion— you’ve had better coffee. 

❅ ❅ ❅

The concept of mutual friends is truly a blessed thing.

“So, what’d he say?”

After all, it was your one-way ticket to hearing the other side of the story.

“I didn’t want her to waste money on me, so I said no. Plus, my drink is pretty expensive.”   

You’ve never been happier to hear such a sentence— he wasn’t rejecting you, he was just dense!

“So he didn’t understand that I was flirting with him,” you say for the umpteenth time, leaning over the small break table as you ignore the lunch that you and Yeojin were supposed to eat together; your food was getting cold, but that wasn’t really on your mind as you stared Yeojin down, impatient for her response.

“No,” Yeojin said, mid-swallow as she pauses to take a drink— unlike you, Yeojin was currently entranced by the spread before her, eating as though her life were on the line. 

“I’m telling you, he’s just a little uh… dumb, with this kind of stuff.” 

Raising a brow at that, you finally decide to take a bite out of your food— you thought you were being quite obvious. It’s a little hard to believe that he wouldn’t know, considering the fact that he was a good-looking man; surely he’s had many people flirt with him, right?  your mind raced for answers to this strange dilemma, coming to a dumbfounding conclusion as you hummed in wonder. 

“Has he never had a partner before?” You ask, knowing that Yeojin and Huening have been friends since they were kids, “crushes… asked anyone out… anything?”

It shocks you to watch Yeojin go deep in thought. 

“Well…” she starts— another dumbfounding pause ensues. Your eyes widen by the second, watching as she scrunches her face in an attempt to remember, staring off into the sky as she purses her lips together. 

“I think…” You perk up at her words, only to deflate immediately as she shakes her head, a soft “no…” escaping her before she’s trying to remember again. You’re on the edge of your seat by the time she comes to her conclusion, sighing in dismay as she looks up at you in pity.

“His first kiss was in middle school from spin the bottle. And he had a girlfriend senior year, but they didn’t last long,” she says, “but that’s about it.”

The news feels earth-shattering to you— well, maybe you were just being dramatic. But as you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms as you process her information, you realize with wonder that it meant he was inexperienced. The idea is quite strange to you; there’s no way a man of his status and ambition hasn’t indulged in love or lust before, right? New possibilities came to the forefront of your mind— was this a result of him putting his work first, or was he simply not interested?

And as you let the shock linger in your system, you’re surprised to find a much more sinister feeling begin to rear its head, bringing a wave of joy to your system, your lips quirking up as you realize that you found this revelation to be quite… exciting. 

Yeojin seems to have come to the same conclusion as you, her brows furrowing as she frowns in dismay; she’s seen firsthand the lengths you’ll go to get the things you want. 

“Oh girl…” she says, meeting your gaze that only continues to fill with mischief; she’s unsure of what might be running through your head at the moment, but she does know that she doesn’t like it— not one bit. 

The nerves in her stomach only become worse as you refuse to let her in on your plans, choosing instead to take a slow drink from your cup, your gaze switching to something much more interesting; Huening stands by the break room, chatting idly with someone you could care less about— it’s him you can’t take your eyes off, entranced by the way he seems to be in a league of his own, his face blank as he keeps the walls around him up and fortified— oh, the things you’d do to watch them break, crumbling from your actions; you know it won’t be easy. 

But also, you love a good challenge. 

❅ ❅ ❅

Love makes a person do crazy things. 

Luckily for you, it’s not love; more of a curiosity, really. 

“Wow,” Yeojin says, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment, raising a brow in amusement as she watches you touch up your makeup for the umpteenth time, “never seen you so excited to go to a birthday dinner.” 

“It’s a big day for you, how can I not be?” A single glance at her through the bathroom mirror tells you she’s not convinced. Smiling sheepishly, you tuck your lipstick back into your purse, mingling uselessly with your hair as you try to sell this lie. 

“You uh…” adjusting with your hair one last time, you turn to her, giving her an innocent smile as you walk past her and to the door, “you picked a good place.”

“It’s the same restaurant we went to last year,” she deadpans, a teasing smile on her face as she sighs, “Just with new people this time.”

You try not to react too much to her words, knowing that she’s waiting for you to take the bait and ask about him— but you’re better than that, choosing to surprise her with the gift you’ve been dying to give her for a good month; a luxury coat that she’s been pouting about for a while, never brave enough to look past the price as she chose to wish from afar instead. And judging by the way she’s quick to discard the jacket she had on to wear your gift, it’s safe to say she loves it.

You’re safe from her teasing— for now. 

❅ ❅ ❅

The restaurant Yeojin was currently dragging you into was one of the few that served high-class western food you didn’t entirely despise— French, Yeojin would correct you about later on— but your tastes usually pertain more to the Korean food you grew up with. This time, however, you found yourself much more eager to make your way to your table, attempting to not seem too antsy as you waited for your other guest to arrive; not even five minutes passed before you spotted Yeojin’s friend, inhaling slowly as a satisfied smile graced your lips. 

“Don’t go too crazy on him,” Yeojin quickly warns you, her warm hand on your thigh snapping you out of your reverie. Turning to her, you’re met with her serious gaze, sitting up straight as you let her continue.

“He’s shy and takes a while to adjust,” you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help but want to point out that she’s talking about him like he’s a puppy; you bite back a smile from the thought.

“And, he’s still my friend,” her searing gaze softens as she pats your leg one last time, her expression lightening as he begins to approach. From the corner of her eye, she glances back at you. “Don’t make things weird.”

You try to fight back the urge to gawk at her, taken aback by her words. 

“When have I ever—?” You swiftly cut yourself off as Huening finally stands before your table, standing up with Yeojin as you watch them greet; you’re left painfully unacknowledged as you watch Huening hand Yeojin a present, observing the way he seems carefree and happy with her— you’ve never seen him joke around this much before. 

Just when you think things can’t get worse, you watch the way Huening stiffens at the sight of you, unsure of what to do as he realizes that you’ve never quite seen this side of him. Clearing his throat, he smiles politely, bowing slightly in greeting; you’re awkward as you greet back, forced to watch him retreat into that reserved and mysterious person you always saw at work— shit, maybe he really was like a puppy. 

No amount of inclusive conversation and lighthearted jokes seem to get him out of his shell; it’s a fact you and Yeojin seem to be astutely aware of, a pitied side glance from your friend enough to let you know that she at least acknowledges your attempts to be friendly.

You try to pretend that none of you have noticed the number of wine glasses you’ve decided to down, a result of your mind trying to fill in moments where you’re watching Yeojin and Huening talk, left with nothing else to do as you instinctively reached for the thin glass; it’s left you slightly tipsy at most, but it’s enough to calm down the racing thoughts that try to leave you an overthinking mess— at least you’d be confident enough if left on your own with him.

Which, after you’ve finished all your courses, is exactly what Yeojin does. 

You see Yeojin’s mouthed apology over Huening’s shoulder as she makes her way to the bathroom, clearly in the need to go as she doesn’t bother turning back around to meet your wide eyes— not that you were dreading being alone with him, it’s just that you weren’t sure what would be coming out of your mouth now that you didn’t have Yeojin there to signal you to shut up.

The silence that’s left between you two is horrendous; he doesn’t attempt to strike up a conversation with you, back to his unreachable self as you can practically see his barriers come back up. Your mind is racing to find a topic— you won’t allow yourself to flirt just yet, at least not after what happened at the cafe. 

“How long have you and Yeojin known each other?” It’s a safe topic, to say the least— something you know he’ll be likely to elaborate on; it was about the birthday girl, after all!

“Practically all my life.” 

Okay, maybe not. 

It’s not like you didn’t know this, but it would have been nice to at least be humored— he seems unphased as you sigh, leaning forward to rest your chin in the palm of your hand; you pout, your other hand absentmindedly reaching up to trace along the rim of your wine glass. 

“Huening,” you call out softly, tired of tip-toeing and being forced to strike up filler conversations; that truly wasn’t your style— it was too boring. It’s amusing to watch his gaze snap up to meet yours, caught off guard by your casual regard of his surname; under the soft lighting, he truly does look like a puppy, his round eyes sparkly as he waits for you to continue.

“Do I not interest you?” Your question is enough to have him sitting up straight, wondering what you could possibly mean by that as he tries to respond in a way that won’t be upsetting— in other words, he’s helpless.

Leaning towards him, you raise your brow, wanting to see if he’ll respond to your question. Another moment passes when you finally decide that you’re too impatient to wait for him to gather his thoughts— it’s much more interesting to speak your mind.

“You never seem to want to talk to me,” you sigh, leaning back into your chair as you watch him grow more flustered by your words— he’s never been good with such intimate confrontations. Yet you’re relentless, not giving him time to speak as you continue, “Why is that? You can be honest.”

You’re not sure if the wine has gotten to your head or if you’re just pure evil, considering the way you seem to enjoy watching Huening lose his composure very much. Looking at him now, it would be impossible to imagine him in the courtroom, arguing his points efficiently and without hesitation; at least, not with the way he seems too meek to answer your question freely. 

“I…” he finally begins, his deep voice stirring a whirlwind of butterflies you wish you could ignore, “I’m just not very talkative, I’m sorry if I come across as cold.” 

Waving him off, you lightheartedly scoff at his formal and stiff words— you believe him, alright. Unfortunately for him, however, that’s not enough to ward you off. 

“You seemed just fine when Yeojin was here,” you point out, eager to stir things up and see if you’ll get a reaction, “but now that it’s just me, you don’t even bother looking up from the table.”

He says nothing at that, much to your disappointment— if anything, he simply nods at your words, discreetly checking his watch underneath the table; well, not discreetly enough since you managed to catch his actions. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your presence, just unsure of what to do— a little nervous, even. Your efforts to lure him into having a full conversation have failed each time, but that only leaves you wanting to test out your limits a bit more— to see just what will give you a reaction.

“Hey,” you call out, smiling slyly as he looks back up at you; it’s strange, how the put-together and high-class man you always saw at work was nothing more than a pliant, shy puppy under your gaze. 

“Yeojins taking quite a while, isn’t she?” Huening nods— it seems as though he’s caught onto this strange dynamic you’ve created. 

“Well,” tilting your head to the side, you lean forward again, watching the way he follows your movements closely—you’ve got him hooked this time, that’s for sure. “Why don’t we use this time to get you more comfortable? I’m not that hard to talk to, you know.” 

He’s taken aback by your actions— he’s unsure of how to perceive them, not used to this persistent behavior; after a while, everyone who tried to talk to him simply gave up. Gulping, he nods softly.

“Okay.” 

“Tell me,” your voice is slow and sweet as you lure him in, careful not to scare him away with your questions as you try to ease him in, “How’d you and Yeojin stay so close all this time?” 

You want him to elaborate— you want him to ramble, to hear his stories and thoughts; Huening realizes that just now, watching as you stare at him in anticipation; your eyes are lidded and calm, a slight haze to your gaze as you slowly take another sip from your wine glass— who knows how many of those you’ve had already— and it’s oddly intimidating as your eyes never seem to leave him for a second. 

“We were neighbors,” he begins, clearing his throat softly, fingers tapping at his thigh under the table as he lets himself ramble, “Our mothers became friends, so it was inevitable that we would do everything together. At some point, she became more of a family than some of my actual relatives.” 

It’s interesting to hear this story from the other perspective— you’d known about Huening for a long time, but it wasn’t until recent years that you’d got to meet him; your new interest in him came much later. 

He tells you everything about him and Yeojin— it’s odd, but he can’t stop himself; at least not with the way you look at him so intently, silently urging him to continue every time he trails off in doubt— before he knows it, he feels his barriers being let down before he can stop it. 

“Hmm, you’re much more talkative than you give yourself credit for, Huening,” you say, his name rolling off your tongue sweetly and smoothly. You can see Yeojin appear behind Huening’s frame, finally making her way back as you sigh softly. 

“I’d like to see this side of you more often.”

He has nothing to say to that— Yeojin sits at your table before he can respond. And as you listen to Yeojin’s apologies for taking so long, you can’t help but feel his gaze return to you for the rest of dinner— even more so when it’s time to leave, his steps slowing as it’s finally time to part ways. 

“I think I forgot something at our table,” Yeojin perks up, nudging you softly as she sends you a smooth nod, “I’ll be right back, wait for me please.” 

Yeojin doesn’t even try to make her lie believable as she slowly walks back inside— you shake your head in amusement as you watch her go, silently thankful for her ability to pick up on the atmosphere that gathered around the two of you.

“It’s uhm,” Huening is first to speak, clearing his throat as you turn to look at him. “It’s been nice getting to know you. Tell Yeojin I had to leave early, but I’ll see her on Monday.” 

“Hmm? You’re leaving already?” You don’t allow him to leave as you take a step closer to him, watching as he straightens up the moment you approach him; it was honestly amusing. “You should say bye to the birthday girl, it’d be rude not to.” 

“It— sorry?” He’s practically malfunctioning at your proximity, blinking owlishly as he stutters over his own words. He’s never like this— yet, with you, he simply can’t keep composure; it’s like you learned just how to fluster him.

“It’d be rude,” you clarify softly, leaning into him as though you were letting him in on a big secret, your volume dropping down, “to not say goodbye properly.”

You’re not talking about Yeojin anymore; you both know this. It’s endearing, the way he gulps nervously at your words, hands hovering awkwardly by his sides as he finds himself unsure of what to do. 

“Do… you want me to?” 

It feels as though a bolt of lightning struck at your spine, your body tingling and hot as you process his soft and unsure tone— the way he’s become oddly pliant at your commands, unable to do anything unless you’re directing him to; you never expected him to be this way.

“You should.” 

Huening really is the strong and silent type— for all he does is nod meekly at your words, lips pressed into a thin line as you both fall into a tense silence. A smile breaks onto your face, unable to hide the mischief from your eyes as you finally take a step back. A moment passes, and you see Yeojin approaching behind the glass doors. Turning back to Huening, you tilt your head teasingly once you find him already looking at you.

“You’re quite obedient,” you offhandedly comment, tutting softly as you look away; you can still feel his eyes bore into the side of your face. 

“Handsome, too.” From the corner of your eyes, he blinks rapidly, seemingly ripped out of his trance as he sees Yeojin approach the exit, “Don’t be too afraid to talk to me. I don’t bite.” 

It truly is a curse to not have Yeojin there with you, your personal damage control that never lets your drunken thoughts get past your loose lips. But Huening simply looks too cute in your peripheral vision, and before you can stop yourself, you glance back at him, sending him a wink as Yeojin finally makes her way to you.

“Unless you want me to.”

He’s unable to look you in the eyes as he says goodbye— but the blush on his cheeks tells you all you need to know.

❅ ❅ ❅

It was a leap of faith when you decided to stop by the cafe nearby before work— a part of you actually was looking to get coffee before your long day— but in the end, it wasn’t really a surprise to see Huening waiting in line; rather, it was his actions that caught you off guard. 

“Good morning,” he said, greeting you with your surname at the end— just like you always did to him. The sound of your name coming from his lips sent shivers down your body, unable to hide your smile as you greeted him in return. You already spotted him the moment you approached the door, his broad back and impeccable posture making him easy to spot; so to say that it was a surprise to see him whip around at the sound of the bell ringing, eager to get your attention the moment you walked in, was an understatement.

Huening truly wasn’t lying about his communication skills; he was reserved and quiet as you spoke, constantly finding yourself searching for ways to prevent the conversation from dying. You’re not sure why, but he didn’t seem as eager to leave in comparison to all the other times you’ve interacted with him— maybe you’re finally beginning to warm up to him. 

Glancing at the menu, you find yourself next in line to order; Huening motions for you to go ahead, ever the gentleman as he opens his mouth to say something— but you beat him to it before he can get anything out. 

“Will you let me buy you your drink this time?” You say, an innocent smile on your face as you wait expectantly. He finds himself stuttering, eyes widening at your words. 

“I… I’m the one who should be—“ 

“Why? I’m offering,” if he thinks that he’ll be the one to woo you, he’s sorely mistaken; even as you gently insist, finally getting him to agree in the end, you don’t think he realizes how he’s digging his own grave—he’s pliant under your grip, and you’ve discovered that you like it that way. 

You know what everyone seems to think when you walk into the office together; as a matter of fact, you can hear it, your co-worker’s indiscreet whispers finding their way back to you, unable to bring yourself to care as their comments turn out more amusing to you than anything. 

Has he finally set his eyes on someone? Is he making a move on her? Look, both of their cups have the same name on them.

Setting your coffee cup down, you smile at the pretty name that was scrawled on by the barista— Huening. A smile itches itself onto your face, filled with mischief and unable to go away as your friend walks into your office; she takes one look at you, then sighs. 

“You’re quick,” she says, your smile contagious as she quickly finds herself mirroring your expression. Taking a seat across from you, she grins, patting the desk as she leans in, eyes wide and eager as she asks, “What’d you do?”

It doesn’t take long for you to recap all of the things you said to him, starting from the dinner to the very moment the two of you walked into the building. You find yourself in a giddy and dreamlike state as you recount everything to her, staring out into the hallway as your finger traces around the lid of your cup, the warmth bringing comfort to you as you cup your hands around it instead. 

“So it was all you,” Yeojin says, bewildered by your tale as she stares at you, head in her hands in amazement. “I’m surprised he’s warming up to you already.” 

“You think so too, right?” You immediately quip, leaning in towards her as you bring your voice down, “I’ve always been the one that tries to talk to him first. It’s always kind of awkward— not that today was any better— but he didn’t seem so… skittish this time.”

Yeojin nods profusely, leaning back in her chair as she puts her hands neatly in her lap. Yet, even though she’s agreeing with you, you can still see that there’s more to it— especially with the way she seems to be lost in thought, lips pursed as though she’s pondering whether to say something to you or not.

“See, the thing about him is…” She pauses, shaking her head with a small tsk— sighing deeply, she seems to be in turmoil on how to phrase her next words. “He’s a bit… clueless. Inexperienced, on top of that.”

“So…?” You say, raising a brow in curiosity. She smiles sheepishly, and you can only tilt your head down in an attempt to urge her to continue. 

“So he probably doesn’t realize you’re flirting.” 

“What? How can he not?” You ask, a bit in disbelief as you attempt to consider the possibility, “I’m practically spelling it out for him— I’ve practically told him I want him at this point.”

“Ew, first off— he’s still my friend, I don’t wanna hear that,” Yeojin jokes, ignoring the way you roll your eyes lightheartedly in response, “and… how do I say this in a way that doesn’t make him sound narcissistic…” 

Yeojin winces, smacking her lips before she continues. 

“He’s kinda… He’s been praised throughout his whole life— he was popular in school, too.” She laughs at that, remembering the way girls used to flock around him constantly, “People always used to tell him he was handsome and all that— So, when you tell him all these things…” 

“He doesn’t think anything of it.” You say breathlessly, connecting the two as you look at Yeojin— to your dismay, she nods. “Because he’s used to hearing it all the time.” 

Yeojin only agrees with you; a moment passes as you let the information sink in, realizing just how difficult this all is turning out to be. 

“Damn.”

❅ ❅ ❅

You’re not… entirely sure how you got here. 

Your mother was always a very supportive woman— it was just you and her against the world, after all. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can or can’t do,” she would tell you, a proud smile permanently stuck on her face every time she looked at you— at all the things you managed to achieve despite your unideal living situation, “If you put your mind to it, I know you’ll get anything you want.” 

Her advice stuck with you; your personal motivation whenever you faltered, when the finish line seemed too far for your comfort. Without her, you wouldn’t have the mindset to never give up— even on the little things. 

So, now that you really think about it, you think you know how you got to where you are now— a tipsy mess, arms linked with Huening’s as you rambled to him about something incoherent— you got here from sheer willpower. (And your mother, of course.)

In your mind, you were much closer to the finish line than the man beside you may realize; no, you aren’t dating him or anything, but going out to eat without Yeojin there to play the part of the mutual friend counts as a big step forward, right? 

The excuse of going on a walk around the park near the restaurant to sober up wasn’t entirely a lie— it did help a little, the feeling of the cold air on your face and the sight of the frozen lake reflecting the lights of the busy city waking you up quite a bit. But it was mostly a ploy to get Huening to spend more time with you; you weren’t ready to let him go yet. 

Weeks of talking and getting to know him better proved what Yeojin told you to be true— with every compliment, every flirty comment, he seemed to become more and more unphased, swiftly replying to each advancement of yours like it was nothing. You were able to call each other friends now, but at what cost?

You might just be stuck in this friend zone forever, you don’t like the sound of that at all, a frown overtaking your face as you pull Huening to the nearest bench you spot; wiping the snow off, you suppress a smile as he scoots closer to you, an action that might not mean anything to him sending your mind racing. 

“Huening,” you start, clearing your throat as you look at him. He hums, turning his head to face you— he’s so close, the scent of his cologne oddly addicting as you will yourself to not get lost in it. “Are you doing anything for New Year’s Eve?” 

“I’m going to Yeojin’s party,” he frowns, tilting his head cutely as he looks at you, “Aren’t you?” 

“I am,” you grin, nudging your shoulder with his as you face forward, looking at the pretty skyline and its busy city, “Just wanted to hear you say it first.”

A silence falls after that, yet you don’t find yourself scrambling to strike up another conversation. The man beside you is warm, the feeling of his body pressed against yours making your heart beat faster— arm against arm, thigh against thigh. Your hands are shaky and rigid as you tuck them inside the sleeves of your coat; Huening is quick to notice this, his hands reaching out for yours.

“Are you cold?” He asks, his hands oddly warm as they come in contact with your own. Turning to him, you’re caught off guard to find him staring at you intently; his eyes are soft, his hair fluffy and filled with snowflakes. You’re unable to stop yourself from staring at him, taking in the way his delicate skin is flushed sweetly, his lips parted and enticing as he waits for you to respond. 

“I wish you’d stop staring at me like that,” his words are deceiving as he says them, not able to fool you for a second as his voice drops down to nothing but a whisper, gulping softly as his eyes meet yours. 

“Why…?” You ask, your voice soft as you find yourself moving closer. You’re careful to observe him, eyes flickering to and from his lips as you wait for him to make a decision. 

“Because I…” he stops, licking his lips nervously as he stutters over his words, “It makes me want to…” 

He doesn’t finish his thought— but his message is clear as his lips press unsurely against yours. He’s soft, sweet, and oh so addicting as he kisses you, his hands that encase yours shaking as he finds himself unsure of what to do.

He feels the way you smile against his lips, confident and bold as your hands rip free from his hold; he allows you to take the lead as you scoot closer to him, your hand trailing up his arm, to his shoulder, until it finally finds itself buried in his hair, pulling softly before you direct him to come closer. 

He feels dizzy as your lips part his, the kiss messy and foreign as he lets you taste him— your teeth sink teasingly on his bottom lip, and he lets out the sweetest whimper that has your brain fogging with need. He feels the way your teeth scratch along his flesh as you pull away, his eyes slowly fluttering open as he takes in the way you look at him. He’s embarrassed, blushing and panting as he tries to catch his breath, ashamed that his inexperience probably showed— but to his surprise, all he sees is you, triumphant and satisfied as you take in the mess you left him in. 

It makes his stomach flip. 

“You’re so cute,” you smile, leaning in to place another chaste kiss on his lips— he finds himself chasing after you, wanting more as you laugh softly at him. He can’t bring himself to be embarrassed anymore, at least not with the way you look at him like you want to devour him. Standing up, you grab his hand, fingers lacing with his as you pull him up.

“Let’s go, Huening. I’m cold.” 

It’s immediate, the way he follows you, a shy smile never disappearing from his lips as he’s unable to look into your eyes for too long. It isn’t until he’s ready to drop you off that he stops you, your hand frozen on the door handle as you turn back to him curiously. 

“Kai,” he says, his gaze sweet and sheepish as he tells you. 

“Hmm?”

“You can call me Kai, if you want.” You’re unable to fight the smile that breaks across your face, reaching out to cup his cheeks before you’re leaning in, giving him one last sweet kiss before you leave.

“Okay. Kai.”

❅ ❅ ❅ 

It’s funny to think of Kai leading the relationship— but for some reason, that’s all your coworkers can fathom. Of course, you can see why they would think that; stereotypically, a man like him, who appears so stoic and composed, may seem like someone who would be more dominant and leading— he’s the one who buys a coffee for you every day, a secure hand placed on the small of your back every day when you leave together. 

But oh, if only they could see him now— a pathetic mess under you as you tease him relentlessly, on his lap as a movie plays on his tv in the background. 

“I thought you said we should get ready,” you say, smiling against his lips as you lean down to pepper kisses along the column of his throat. He nods, long black hair brushing against your skin as he attempts to stutter out a response— but he’s unable to, not with the way you’re mouthing mischievously at the spot on his neck that makes his knees go weak. 

“We— we should…” his breath hitches as you gently bite at his skin, careful to not leave any marks as he continues, “we might be late…” 

“Then why can’t you let me go, hmm?” You say, referring to the way his hands are still firmly holding onto your waist; he gulps, letting go immediately as you laugh. 

“It’s okay baby,” you sigh out, sitting up as you take in his dazed state— and before you can help it, you find yourself beginning to grind against him, watching as his hips jump up in surprise, “I don’t mind being a little late.” 

You freeze immediately the moment he reaches out to grasp your forearms; his eyes are glassy, lips parted and his breaths shaky as he stutters out, flustered as he holds you in place. 

“Wait…” he says, embarrassed as he looks away from you— he’s unable to meet your eyes as he continues, “I… wanna take it slow.” 

He’s vulnerable as he waits for you to answer, his body heating up in shame as he can’t look you in the face— he hoped that he didn’t disappoint you, wishing nothing more than to be the one that could take charge for once. 

“Of course baby,” you say, your voice gentle as you cup his face, moving his head to look back at you; your eyes are shining with nothing but affection and adoration, a soft smile gracing your lips as you lean forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead. “I’ll wait as long as you need. Don’t ever feel sorry or ashamed for wanting to take things slow.” 

He’s sure you can feel his heart, the sound loud as it resounds in his ears— he nods softly, your smile contagious as he finds himself mirroring you. It’s lighthearted as you giggle, peppering kisses all along his face as he breaks out into a grin; it isn’t until he’s pushing you away jokingly that you finally give in, reaching for your overnight bag as you tell him you’ll go get ready. 

❅ ❅ ❅

One thing about Yeojin is that she knows how to throw a party. 

You stand at her doorway, hand in hand with your boyfriend as you scan the apartment for your friend; it takes you a while before you spot her by all the drinks, chatting with guests happily. Nodding in her direction, you’re quick to pull Kai along, holding tightly onto him as you make your way through the surprisingly large amount of people— you forget how much of a social butterfly Yeojin is sometimes.

“You’re here!” Yeojin exclaims, swiftly turning her attention to her two closest friends. It’s immediate, the way she glances down to spot your interlocked hands, scrunching her face up jokingly as she’s turning back to you. 

“You two should be thanking me for letting it happen,” she says, shaking her head in amusement as she slaps your arm lightly, “I don’t know how you did it.”

You wave her off as you two laugh, Kai watching you fondly from the side. It isn’t long before Yeojin spots another new guest, bidding you goodbye before she’s greeting them cheerfully. 

You’re relieved to see just how many people aren’t your coworkers; you don’t think you would’ve come if that were the case. Maybe that’s why you allow yourself to meet new people, enjoying the music and the atmosphere as Kai tags along happily. 

“Thirsty?” You say, glancing at Kai after catching him looking around nervously for the umpteenth time. He nods, and you smile as you reach out for his hand. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter.” 

Yeojin’s kitchen is deserted and always left off-limits during parties; which makes it the perfect spot for the two of you to rest, leaning against the counter as you listen to the slightly muffled music in the other room. 

Kai isn’t exactly the most outgoing person— which is why you’re surprised he decided to go to one of Yeojin’s parties in the first place. But, looking into his eyes now, you realize why— because of you, of course. He seems content at this moment, alone from everyone else and free to wrap an arm around your waist— which is why you don’t hold yourself back when you lean in to kiss him. 

Like any other kiss you’ve shared, you’re quick to take the lead, and he’s just as quick to give it to you, your hands wandering up his chest until they land lazily on the nape of his neck; you’re playing softly with the tufts of his hair, enjoying the way he practically melts into you.

You’re more than surprised when his other hand finds your waist, holding onto you tightly as he turns— pressing your back into the counter as he stands between your legs, your dress beginning to ride up. 

“Baby,” you call out, a sigh escaping you as he begins to trail down your neck, the feeling of his hair brushing against your skin making you more sensitive, “baby, what are you…” 

Your words die on your tongue the moment his hips roll into yours. 

You’re done for, that’s all you can think as his hold turns firm, holding you in place as he begins grinding into you— a small sigh leaves you, and you can feel the way your stomach flips the moment he lets out a needy whine against your neck.

“Thought you wanted to wait,” you say, pulling him back up as you stare into his eyes, wondering just what has gotten into him— he didn’t drink, he’s the designated driver (you didn’t drink, either)— but his eyes seem to be hazy and sure as he stares down at you, the look in his eyes new, yet familiar.

“Can’t…” he sighs out, unable to stop himself as he presses into you— you suppress a sound at the feeling of him pressing against you so perfectly, “you look so pretty.” 

You’ve never felt so nervous before— he makes you nervous, his stare intense as you feel your knees weakening, your resolve crumbling as you gulp tensely. 

“Do… you want to go home?”

He nods. 

Your hand finds his in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, you’re weaving through the guests to find Yeojin.

“We’re leaving,” you say, hoping that your reasoning isn’t too obvious as Kai hovers behind you.

“So soon? It’s not even midnight yet,” she says, leaning in so you can hear her over the music. Yeojin seems surprised by your words, taking in your apologetic smile and the way Kai fidgets nervously behind you; she pauses before she nods understandingly, much to your relief. 

And as you bid her goodbye, you can’t help but feel your heart beginning to pound harshly against your chest as you make your way out, Kai’s hand secure on the small of your back the entire time. 

❅ ❅ ❅

“You’re such a tease,” you mumble, your lips stuck as Kai refuses to part from you for a second. He’s glued to you, your back pressed firmly against the door to his apartment as he lets his hands wander, smoothing down your hips and going back up, the fabric of your dress bunching up from his actions. 

“Sorry, I just…” his apologies fall on deaf ears as you hook your leg around his waist, bringing him in closer as you allow yourself to deepen the kiss. You’ve never seen him like this, needy and uncontrollable as he holds onto you tightly, trying to bring you closer even though your body is already pressed against his, the feeling of his warm skin against yours driving you mad. 

When you release your grip on him, your leg coming back down as your foot softly lands on the floor, you find your stomach dipping as you hear him whine from the loss. Grinning, your hands find themselves on his chest, pushing him back as you send him a coy smile. 

“This won’t do. Why don’t you take me to bed, baby?”

You don’t need to tell him twice— you barely get to breathe before he’s acting on your command, bringing you back in as his hands find themselves on the backs of your thighs, your mind barely catching up with him before they’re wrapped around his waist, a small grunt leaving him as he picks you up. 

“When did you get this strong?” You sigh, the feeling of him placing needy kisses along the expanse of your neck and chest making your eyes flutter shut— you can feel his muscles flex underneath you, impressed with the way he’s able to carry you to bed with ease. 

“Did it just for you,” He smiles, laying you down as he hovers over you. You scoff, hitting his chest jokingly as you try to pretend that his words didn’t fluster you. Gently, you cup his cheek, smiling fondly as you take his features in.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask, watching the way his eyes darken at the question; he sighs softly, eyes flitting to your lips as he nods.

“Need you to tell me, baby.” Your voice is barely audible as you tell him, tilting your head as you wait for him to respond. You watch him gulp, his cheeks flushing cutely as he’s suddenly unable to look you in the eye. Gently, you tilt his head back to you, prompting him to look at you as you raise your brows expectantly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he sighs, not wasting another second before he’s closing the gap between the two of you. He can feel you smiling against his lips again, a feeling that makes him weak as he waits for your next move. And when you’re asking him to move, switching positions so you’re straddling him, he can’t bring himself to be surprised.

“You’re so pretty…” he mumbles, looking up at you in awe. You grin down at him, just as needy as him as you found yourself in the same position you were in a couple of hours ago— only, he seems much more sure of himself as you stare at him, your thighs soft and warm as he runs his hands over them soothingly. 

“You are too,” you say, the words slipping from you without a second thought as your hips begin to grind against him— you’re dizzy, able to feel how hard he is underneath you, how perfectly he slots against you. His eyes threaten to flutter shut at the sensation, a choked sound escaping him as his hand finds themselves gripping onto your hip; slowly, he pushes you down on him, guiding your movements subtly as his hips jump up ever so often. 

“Feels so good,” you sigh, your lips right next to his ear as you allow him to hear every pleasured sound that escapes you; it only manages to spur him more, soft whimpers and moans escaping him as he loses himself in the feeling of you. Leaning back, you press your hands firmly against his chest, grasping his attention as his eyes meet yours— they’re bleary and hazed with pleasure, already losing his composure despite you just beginning.

“When was the last time you did anything like this?” You tease, biting at your lip as you slow your pace, sitting firmly on top of him as you feel the way he throbs against you; his whines from the loss of stimulation are tempting, but you stand your ground as you wait for a response, much more interested in undoing his button up as you wait for him to speak.

“It’s…” you can tell he’s hesitant, his mind dizzy at the feeling of you slowly undoing his shirt— your fingers are mischievous as they trail down, tracing along his bare chest as your gentle gaze coaxes him to only answer with what he’s comfortable; in the end, he can feel his face heating up as he finds the courage to admit it. 

“I… haven’t really…” you’re unable to stop the way your brows raise in surprise, your movements ceasing at his words, ready to take things slower for him— but he continues, pushing past his shyness as he looks away from you. “It’s been a while. I’m not very experienced.”

He might just be the death of you— especially with the way he’s so sweet and shy, unable to look you in the face in fear of you reacting badly— but why would you, when he seems so eager to learn?

 “That’s okay,” you softly coo, your hands breaching past the material of his shirt as you run your hands down the expanse of his chest; he’s warm, his breaths stuttering as you teasingly run your nails along his chest— slowly, you make your way down, untucking his shirt before you’re wandering back up his chest and to his shoulders.

“Just makes things more fun for me,” you grin, mischievous as always as you lean in, pressing a soft kiss on his lips before you’re gesturing for him to take his shirt off— you allow yourself to sit back and admire him as he does so immediately.           

It’s endearing to watch him turn shy under your heated gaze, unable to stop yourself from admiring his smooth skin— your hands are eager to explore, feeling the sturdiness of his muscles, dipping down to his waist as you watch him flinch from the way your nails tease his skin, the rise and fall of his chest slowing and deepening as he waits for your next move.

You can tell he’s beginning to grow impatient; it’s amusing watching him become antsy as the feeling of your body, soft and warm, on top of his, just isn’t enough; he wants to feel you.

There’s no need for words as he begins to tug the hem of your dress up, suddenly impatient with the need to touch you, to pleasure you. And you allow him to, assisting him as you finally take your dress off, unable to fight the nerves that come with him seeing you like this for the first time— but one look in his eyes is enough to reassure you once again. 

He’s unsure of how to control himself as he takes you in, choosing to pull you in for another kiss instead; you’re surprised by how needy he is, looming over you until he’s switching positions, your back pressed against his bed as he hovers over you once more.

“Can I…” he’s unable to finish his sentence, refusing to part from you as his hands tentatively meet your waist— his hands are big as they smooth up and down your body, unable to stop the shivers that wrack through you from the feeling. Pushing him back, you smile, meeting his needy gaze with a soft laugh. 

“You can do anything you want to me.” 

A moment passes as he looks down at you, deciphering whether or not you mean it— you’re so pretty under him, not an ounce of doubt or hesitation showing through as your eyes meet his; they’re just as needy and impatient as his. Gulping, he slowly nods, hoping that you don’t notice how shaky his hands are as they slowly breach past the waistband of your panties. 

Slowly, he drags the material down, his inexperience shining through as you watch him keenly— he’s hesitant in all his movements, careful to keep an eye on your reactions in hopes that he’s doing okay. Slowly, he eases himself onto his stomach, situating himself between your legs as he takes you in— needy, wet, and so pretty. 

“Huening,” you purr out, the sound of his surname coming from your lips in such a tone catching him off guard; he hopes you didn’t catch the way his hips ground into the mattress, the sound of your deep and commanding voice making him melt. 

It’s only natural that your hand finds itself wound in his hair— he looks so cute as you watch the way he stares up at you expectantly, his eyes fluttering shut as you tug teasingly at his roots.

“What’s wrong baby?” You coo, unable to hide the way your arousal only builds up as he seems helpless, sitting up as he moves to kneel as well. He smiles sheepishly at your question, biting at his lip before he answers you. 

“I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never…” at the tilt of your head, he clears his throat, hands holding onto your waist as he leans in, his lips begging to be kissed as he pouts. “I want to please you.” 

You raise your brows— now it’s you who doesn’t know what to say. 

“You want me to show you?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, your voice a whisper as you watch him nod eagerly. 

“I want you to use me.” 

A breathless laugh is all that leaves you— you wait, looking for any hesitation, regret, uncertainty— but all you see in those eager eyes is a genuine impatience, a smile easing itself on his face as he takes in your flustered face. Slowly, he leans in, placing a kiss below your ear, his hands on your hips dragging you closer to him as he whispers, his words so quiet you could miss it if you didn’t pay attention. 

“Will you ride my face?” 

You gulp, feeling weak from his words as you slowly nod— and, like always, he’s eager to move, ready for you to get comfortable as he lays expectantly. 

“You…” you gulp, your knees dipping the bed down as you hover above his chest— his hands rub up and down your thighs, surprised to see him grinning mischievously for once; god, is that what you looked like? 

“You’re sure about this?” 

“Yes,” this new side of him is lethal— patting your thighs, he gestures for you to move up, eyes lidded as he looks up at you. “Please… I want you so bad, want to taste you.” 

His begging is quiet and whiny as he continues, making your knees weak as you finally scoot up; his lips are parted in awe as he stares up at you, licking his lips in anticipation as you hover over him— your pussy is enticing as a shaky sigh escapes him, the feeling of his breath on your core making you jump in surprise. 

“Just…” slowly, you reach down to push his hair from his face, his eyes closing in contentment as you do so— your other hand holds onto the headboard, leaning forward for support as you speak. “Don’t be afraid to stop, if it gets to be too much.” 

The look he sends you feels like a strike of lighting on your spine— your body is hot and tingly as he sends you a coy smile, gripping your hips as he gestures for you to move down. 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Eager. That’s all you can think to describe Kai as he finally gets a taste of you, the feeling of his tongue flattening against your slit making you jump in surprise— the moan you let out after is uncontrollable, the feeling of him licking a strip along your pussy making your eyes fall shut. 

His lips find your clit soon after, sucking and teasing it as he tries to gauge what makes you tremble above him— his tongue circles along it slowly as he stares up at you, in awe of the way you react to his every movement. It isn’t long before he’s back to your slit, his tongue slowly breaching your hole before it retreats; you’d never thought he’d ever tease you like this, and you’re finding yourself to be much more impatient than you expected. 

Hueningkai thinks he might just die happy the moment your hips begin to grind down on his face. 

The sounds that leave your lips are heavenly to him, only managing to spur him on as he lets you ride him, his tongue finally entering you as you whimper; his hips jump up pathetically at the sound, desperate to feel something. 

“Ah, fuck…” you sigh, feeling him press harder against you— his jaw is left wide open as he takes you in, tongue working hard to collect all the essence that spills out of you; his eyes flutter shut as he moves his head side to side, nose brushing against your clit as he feels you clench around his tongue. 

“Shit, Huening—!” You’re nothing but a mess above him, surprised by how quickly you find yourself grinding down on him, desperate to reach the high that only looms over you. Your hand grips the headboard as you lose yourself, thighs clamping slightly around his head as a yelp escapes you— you’re crashing down before you know it, shaky sounds escaping you as he doesn’t stop his motions for a second.

“Huening,” you moan out softly, attempting to rise from your position before his strong hands are bringing you back down. 

“Again,” he whines under you, the sight of his face glistening from under you making your stomach flip— his eyes are determined as he holds you in place, running his tongue along his top lip as he persists, “wanna see you do that again.” 

“You’re fucking insane,” laughing softly, you shake your head, unable to deny the way your body is already asking for more— and he’s eager to provide, bringing you back down to him as he begins again. 

You’ve never pinned Kai to be like this— putting your pleasure above his, moaning against your pussy as he feels you clench down on him; he’s ruthless, sucking up your juices eagerly as he feels the way your legs shake, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

It isn’t long before you’re cumming against his face again— your body heavy against his face as you grind on him, your hand pulling carelessly at his roots as you lose yourself in the feeling.

“Baby, oh god…” you moan out, not surprised to find his strong arms keeping you in place— you’re not so sure of who’s leading who at this point, but as Kai continues to push you to another orgasm, you wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to flip the script on you. 

“Shit, shit shit shit!” You gasp, your legs shaking as you struggle to sit up— your hand is pushing against Kai’s forehead as he attempts to clean you up, a coy smile stuck on his face as you hover over him, panting heavily as you lean your head against the hand that was holding onto the headboard. 

He allows you to take a second as his lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, teasing tongue lapping at your cum that has dripped down. 

“You…” you sigh out, sitting back on his chest as you laugh incredulously— he simply stares at you innocently, as though his chin weren’t glistening and his face wasn’t flushed, his pretty hair splayed along his pillow like a halo, pretty lips parted so he could catch his breath. 

“You’re insatiable,” you comment scooting down before you’re sitting on his clothed crotch— he groans, grinding up at you desperately as he throws his head back against the pillow. 

“Could’ve gone for more.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t know how?” You muse, fingers teasingly beginning to unbutton his pants; slowly, you pull the zipper down, already feeling the way he throbs in anticipation. He shakes his head in amusement, arms splayed out on the bed as he closes his eyes.

“Just did what I thought was right.” 

“So you’re a natural…” you tease, dragging his pants down as you signal for him to lift his hips; he follows your command naturally, trying to hide the way he quickly becomes antsy. Your fingers are ghosting along the waistband of his boxers, watching the way his stomach flinches at the unexpected contact. After a while, he whines, needy and desperate as he raises his head to look at you.

“Can you please touch me?” He asks quietly, shy and whiny as he stressed his plea. “Please, I want to feel you…” 

His begging makes you feel weak— you could never say no to him. Slowly, your fingers ease themselves under his waistband, pulling it down as you finally free his cock— it’s hard and needy, pulsing desperately as a trail of precum spurts out, a soft whimper leaving him as you blow on it teasingly, his cock jumping at the feeling.  

“Agh, I need you…” he trails off, the feeling of your soft thighs against his driving him mad— he feels dizzy the moment your hand wraps around him, warm and firm as you watch in amusement the way his hips jump up at the feeling. 

“Oh—“ he chokes on his own words, feeling the way your thumb brushes along his tip, spreading his precum along your hand as you slowly begin pumping him, “ohhhh…. You’re so…” 

Your name is stuck in his lips as he moans out, his hands fisting at the sheets as you quicken your pace. Slowly, you lean down, watching him carefully as your tongue darts out to lick his tip— his reaction is immediate. 

“Ah!” He whimpers, throwing his head back with a whine of your name. His hips jump uncontrollably, eager to meet your mouth as you slowly wrap your lips around the head of his cock— your hand is still pumping him, trying your best to not break out into a smile at the way he weakens from the feeling of you. 

Your mouth is so hot and wet, sucking around him perfectly as you begin to take him deeper, deeper, and deeper. He’s never felt this before, and before he can hold back, his hips jump up, his eyes widening as his hand finds itself resting on your head.

“Fuck— sorry,” he says, breathless as he feels you continue, seemingly unphased by his actions, “god, you just feel so… so good.”

It’s lewd, the way your spit begins to trail along his length, your mouth slowly trailing back up as you release him with a pop. The smile on your face makes him feel weak, shakily exhaling as your hand continues where your mouth left off. 

“It’s okay baby,” you say, picking up your pace as you watch his eyes fall shut, “I don’t mind.” 

He can feel the pleasure becoming overwhelming, the sound of your sweet voice coaxing him making his head spin, hips fucking into your hand as your mouth latches onto the tip, your tongue only bringing him closer as you lap at him. His sounds turn sweeter, louder, and you know he’s close by the way his cock twitches in your mouth. Glancing up at him, you watch as his eyes are shut tight, brows furrowed as he becomes restless— your name is stuck in his mouth, the only thing he can bring himself to say as it falls effortlessly from his lips; he’s close, oh so close. 

Then, it all stops. 

“What…?” The look on his face is priceless— he pouts at you, watching as you move to straddle him, a grin breaking out on your face the moment you make eye contact. “That’s not fair.” 

Innocently, you shrug, watching the way he twitches as you grab him, aligning yourself with him as you hover over him. 

“Wait—“ he says, reaching out to you as you freeze at his words, “A condom— uh, there’s one in my drawer over there.”

“Do you want one?” You ask, tilting your head as you watch him go speechless. 

“Well…” he’s hesitant, unsure of what to say as he trails off.

“I don’t,” you say, reassuring him with a smile, “birth control.” 

You watch him gulp, eyes glazed as he slowly nods— you can feel him throbbing against you, a small okay escaping his lips as he allows himself to relax. Leaning forward, you press a kiss against his cheekbone, whispering in his ear teasingly as you glide his tip along your slit— he can barely process what you tell him. 

“If you don’t cum before me, I’ll let you cum inside,” you tease, a grin on your face as you lean back; his eyes are wide as he processes what you say, already feeling the way you tease yourself with his tip.

“But—“ he stops, a soft sigh escaping the two of you as you finally slip the tip in, “I— I won’t last long, fuck.”

Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly what you’re counting on. 

Your pace is brutal from the start— he’s biting at his lip to prevent his whines to spill out, but it’s not really helping; you’re so tight and warm, he feels dizzy as your hips smack against his, your thighs encasing him so nicely as he watches your breasts bounce from your bra.

You can feel him throbbing— he stretches you so nicely, the need to make him cum first a priority as you push past the way your legs are already becoming sore. Carelessly, you reach behind you, eager to take your bra off as Kai’s eyes never leave yours— his hands immediately encase your breasts, the feeling of his fingers teasing your nipples making you clench around him; his mind blanks instantly. 

“Agh, shit,” he’s melting under you as you do it again, feeling the way his hips are eager to meet yours, chasing after a high that you already know is close. 

“Fuck, wait—“ his words are cut off with a whine, throwing his head back as he feels his cock beginning to twitch, the need to cum after you denied him fogging his brain, “gonna cum, no— fuck,” 

Laughing, you lean down, placing a hand next to his head as you wait for him to look at you— his eyes are shiny and dazed as they meet yours, lips parted as he tries to lean up to kiss you.

“It’s okay,” you coo, putting your last efforts into quickening your pace; he groans, shaking his head as he realizes you’re doing it on purpose, your incentive nothing but a lie to tease him, “you can cum.” 

The way you sweetly coo his name after does it for him, your pussy warm and perfect as it clenches around him, the feeling of your lips crashing against his making him sigh in contentment. 

You’re ready to climb off him after feeling the last of his cum spurt inside you, but you’re not sure why you’re so surprised as Kai quickly flips the two of you, a small yelp leaving your lips as his hips begin to move— he’s a mess as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck, fucking his cum back into you and pressing his body flush against yours.

“Kai— oh shit,” you moan, surprised by the way he manages to fuck you despite the overstimulation, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room as he begins to piston into you. 

“You just,” he whines, his hand going down to grip your waist, pulling your hips flush against his as he rolls his hips into you, “you feel so good. Wanna make you cum.” 

In short, Hueningkai was obsessed with you. He couldn’t get enough, the need to feel you cumming around his cock sending him into a frenzy as he currently found himself fucking you past the overstimulation, quickly finding pleaure heating up again as you clenched around him, a moan escaping you as he brushed against a certain spot; it didn’t take long before he was aiming solely for that spot, his pelvis grinding against your clit as he did everything he could to make you feel good. 

“Kai, Kai,” you chant, breathless and dizzy from the way he fucked you, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten as you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in and leaving small indents in his skin. 

The moment you finally clench around him, he pulls away, eager to watch your face contort into pleasure as you begin to gush around his cock; it isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you again, still thrusting into you softly as it slowly begins to leak out— you’re a panting mess as you meet his gaze— there’s an undeniable fire in his eyes, the sight only making your stomach sink in anticipation. 

You already know what he’s about to say by the way his hips grind softly against yours, his cock already beginning to stir inside you. 

“Can you give me one more?”

❅ ❅ ❅

“Order for Huening!” Your hands encase the two coffee cups instantly, thanking the barista before you hand one to your boyfriend; staring at the pretty name, you can’t help the way a smile breaks onto your face. 

It seems you’ve done it again; you’ve managed to achieve exactly what you wanted— his hand is comforting as you two walk into the office together, firm on the small of your back as he leads you to your office first; he’s hesitant to leave, but does so nonetheless the second you glare at him playfully— Yeojin approaches you after, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Wow,” she says, leaning against the doorframe of your office as she watches her friend walk away— not without sparing you one last glance, of course, “you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” 

“Yup,” you say, the pleased smile on your face only making Yeojin laugh.

“Try telling everyone here,” she comments, watching the way you only shrug carelessly, “everyone thinks he’s the one leading the relationship; except me, of course— granted, I’m the only one who is actually friends with him, so it’s a given that….”

Yeojin continues rambling, but you don’t pay much attention to it— after all, if they could only see your boyfriend, drunk off you and eager to please, you’re sure they’d change their minds immediately. 

But, that’s a sight for only you to see. 

❅ ❅ ❅

[elvenking42]

you should answer ALL of those asks in the post

Oh my god ok HAHA get ready for a wall of text then

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)?

If you've been following me long enough you start to see trends. I've always liked Luigi so he's probably the most popular character on this blog. Ganondorf is quickly climbing the ranks somehow.

2. lighter or matches?

Lighter for function, matches for fun :D

3. do you leave the window open at night?

I've tried it in some summer months but all it does is leave the air cold and wet when I wake up, I'm not super into it. But the nighttime breeze is lovely

4. which cryptyd being do you believe in?

I wouldn't be surprised if I came across the Nain Rouge. Although I'd be a little nervous considering he's a harbinger of bad luck

5. what color are your eyes?

A sort of greyish-blue

6. why did you do that?

I thought it was funny :3c

7. hair-ties or scrunchies?

Hair-ties by a mile. Sorry to scrunchie fans

8. how many water bottles are in your room right now?

There's like three empty water glasses on my desk right now I really should clear them out

9. which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Hot coffee for sure. Cold coffee blends are fine, but half the time I drink coffee at all is for the warmth

10. would you slaughter the rich?

I could probably use a hand

11. favorite extracurricular activity?

Drawing :3c I've been having a lot of fun doing some video editing in my personal time too hehe.

12. what kind of day is it?

Honestly it's been pretty awful. I couldn't sleep last night so I ended up sleeping in super late and missed the chance to call my doctor's office and schedule an appointment like I was planning. I got a letter in the mail summoning me for jury duty and had a little anxiety attack about it. And then later I tried to take out some cash at the bank and my card got declined. At this point I'm just hunkering down at my desk trying to get myself to relax

13. when was the last time you ate?

I had some chips like an hour ago.

14. do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

Of course! But my favorite part of rain is the air pressure right before a storm

15. are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

Nah, that doesn't interest me

16. can you drive?

No, ironically this was part of the anxiety attack mentioned previously

17. are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Nearsighted

18. what hair products do you use?

I use a really standard shampoo and conditioner. But I use a special wash for my beard specifically

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

Yeah! I'm not great at it but I'll try my best

20. do you say soda or pop?

Pop, this is Michigan!

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

I answered this one previously :D

22. what type of person are you?

I'm trying to get better

23. how do you feel about chilly weather?

I like it! I can tell winter is around the corner and I'm very excited to bundle up. Unfortunately it's also getting dry and my skin is terrible

24. if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

I'm not too sure how we got up there, I hope you brought a blanket, it's cold out!

25. perfume/body spray or lotion?

Lotion! But perfume every once in awhile

26. a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

Some point in the future when I'm living on my own and I've got a stable job and a comfortable home and I can invite my friends over for parties where we all bring a dish and spend the evening playing party games and talking about the nice things in our lives and when everyone leaves for the night I can send them all home with some snacks and a hug. Manifesting it.

27. about how many hours of sleep did you get?

I got 7 hours last night, unfortunately that was between 10am and 5pm so it was godawful

28. do you wear a mask?

Yea! I still wear a mask out in public. I only remove it if I'm eating or in private company with people. It's a little frighting that I'm always in the minority though

29.how do you like your shower water?

Scalding

30. is there dishes in your room?

See number 8

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

I always return back to oldies when I don't know where else to go. I like familiar lyrics and retro melodies

32. do you have a favorite towel?

Not really

33. the last adventure you’ve been on?

I went to a Dia de los Muertos event last night being hosted by a restaurant I frequent. It was actually super fun, they had love music and vendors selling things. I actually ran into an old coworker while I was there and got to catch up with him. I kept ordering spiked hot coffee because it was outdoors and the drinks were yummy but unfortunately 3 coffees worth of caffeine made it hard to fall asleep

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart?

This one

35. what’s your timezone?

EST

36. how many times have you changed your url?

Actually never

37. someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Some of my buddies from highschool. I love them dearly 💕

38. a soap bar that smells good?

Go for a Lavender/mint blend

39. do you use lip balm?

Not as much as I should

40. did you have any snacks today?

Had some goldfish

41. how do you take your coffee?

With creamer

42. an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Twitter unfortunately.

43.what’s your take on spicy foods?

I like it! Im a little sensitive tho so I take it on the mild side

44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Elon musk is a dead man

45 . can you remember what happened yesterday?

See 33

46. favorite holiday film?

Scrooged is so rewatchable for me

47. what was the last message you sent?

"I know what you are..."

48. when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

I think my mom let me sip her wine when I was like 8. I didn't like it very much so I didn't try drinking until I was 20

49. can you skip rocks?

Sometimes!

50. can i tag you in random stuff?

Sure!

[angstyaches]

okay so i’ve been staring at that list for ages and it’s stressing me tf out because i want to know everything about everyone so here’s the thing : you pick! 🍄

Okay, I decided to go for 🏹 for the main StW cast (the three babies + the Aldridges). The inspiration for the OCs-sitting-in-a-room-together-answering-questions format is from @hold-him-down! I love what they do with these ask games.

Ask Game

🏹- For a talent they wish they had

___ Shayne and Charlie and Rin ___

Shayne grunts under his breath. "I just... I just wish I was able to do that thing that Charlie does."

Charlie starts as though he wasn't expecting to hear his own name in all of this. "Wait, what thing? What do I do?"

"That... thing you do with your eyes and your mouth when you look at me sometimes. The thing that makes my stomach flip, but, like, in a really nice way."

"My eyes and my mouth," Charlie mumbles, confused.

Rin's eyes widen as it dawns on her. "Wait, are you talking about smiling?!"

"Yeah. That. What about you guys?"

"I..." Charlie blinks, still reeling a bit. "I'm not sure this counts as a talent - just like I'm not sure smiling counts as a talent -"

Shayne rolls his eyes.

"But I've always loved the idea of lucid dreaming," Charlie goes on. "My dreams are always so vivid, and even though they're sometimes terrifying, it... it would be really cool if I could properly explore the worlds my mind creates for me." He laughs, but it sounds a little dry. "It seems like a bit of a waste otherwise, honestly."

Rin twists the ends of her hair and stares at the floor. "I also wish I could do something that Charlie does."

Charlie raises his eyebrows. Shayne sits forward slightly to see her better.

"You have telekinesis," she says breathlessly. "You can levitate. And - yes, I know, being possessed can suck sometimes, but... I wish I had some kind of supernatural ability. Partly because it would be really cool." She grins at both of them, but quickly drops it again. "But also because it'd be really validating to be set apart from other humans, because... because I don't feel like one of them. If I could prove to myself that I am different, with something like that, it... it wouldn't feel as lonely."

Shayne hums under his breath. Charlie reaches over to squeeze her hand.

"Sorry," she laughs. "I didn't mean to bring the mood down. And I'm sorry I didn't say I wanted your talent, Shayne, because yours seems... well, you know."

"Nope," Shayne murmurs. "That's fair enough, Rin."

“And what would you choose?” Charlie asks softly. “If you could pick a supernatural talent?”

She twirls the end of her hair again, only waiting a second before looking at Charlie and saying, “Mindreading.”

___ Felix and Elliott, Ryan and Nancy ___

“Hmm.” Elliott folds his arms and looks deep in thought. The question is rhetorical, but he’s taking it as seriously as he would if it were a genuine offer. “I suppose I would want invisibility.”

“Really?” Felix asks.

“Yes. Ever since I’ve improved my bat-travelling, I’ve found myself wishing that I could remain in my... foggy-bat state a little longer, just to observe my surroundings a little more carefully before I manifest.” Elliott shrugs. “And now that I think about it, being able to turn invisible on command would achieve the same effect that I want.”

Felix blinks. “Interesting.”

"What would you want, Fee?"

"Nope." Felix shakes his head adamantly. "I don't want anything else. Being a powerless, semi-immortal half-vamp suits me just fine, thank you very much. I do not feel the need for anything flashy or mysterious or spooky." He realises he’s said all of these words like they're insults, and then looks sheepishly at his partner and his guardians. "Sorry. N-no offence."

"None taken?" Nancy answers somewhat doubtfully.

"It doesn't have to be supernatural, boo,” Elliott tells him. “It can be anything."

"Oh." Felix's eyes turn dull for a moment as he thinks. Then he snaps his fingers. "I've always wanted to be able to make my own macarons!"

"You scoff at the notion of vampiric gifts," Ryan says dully, "but jump at the prospect of creating puffy French cookies?"

"Yes." Felix looks her square in the eye. "They're notoriously finicky, Ryan. Notoriously."

Ryan holds up her hands as though she’s surrendering. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms, fingers drumming against her elbow. “I suppose my administrative talents have not always been the most elegant. There are potentially hundreds of hours of work that I’ve done over the years that was proven to be pointless, due to my failure to properly record and retain the essential information.”

“Boring,” Felix mumbles, almost inaudibly. He’s still sulking.

“Well, I’ve always indulged the idea of being a potter,” Nancy says, her eyes brightening. “I’d love to use my hands and my imagination to create the most beautiful vases and drinkware, but I’ve always been extremely clumsy when it comes to anything that doesn’t concern magic.” She blushes a little and looks at Ryan. “I suppose you think that’s a rather silly wish.”

“On the contrary, love,” Ryan reassures her. “The craftsmanship you speak of produces practical items, the beauty and function of which can last for generations, if properly cared for. Macarons, on the other hand, require a great deal of time and labour, and are then demolished and digested within seconds.”

Elliott grimaces and reaches over to pat Felix on the shoulder as the smaller boy clenches his fists.

[clouds-rambles]

Hi there! Can i request xiao, childe,zhongli where reader gets injured bad one time that they go into like a comatose or something? And at the end they wake up, thank you!! 🤗

Hi bestie! And ask and ye shall sufficiently be fed. I kept rambling on these so I hope you don’t mind <3

Pairings; (Separate) Xiao, Childe, Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); hurt/comfort, cursing, slight wound description

Keep reading under the cut!

Xiao

You didn’t actually plan to take on the Oceanid but you were in the area and you knew a friend needed a cleansing heart or two so why not?

The why not is the fact that the dumb water birds were ripping the shit out of you

Sufficiently happy that the Oceanid has given you a lesson enough, they disappear, leaving you pretty much in a heaped, shivering, bloody pile.

The yaksha hears his name being spoken with such a level of hurt, Xiao is moving before you’re able to mutter his name a second time

Despite his quick speeds and quicker panic, he hears your voice slowly lose breath. And as much as he doesn’t want to he has started preparing himself for the worst.

Maybe it’s his fault for loving a fleeting mortal?

When he reaches you, you’re unconscious. But breathing. Laboured, likely due to some broken ribs, but breathing none the less. A less panicked and worried Xiao would chastise him for holding onto something that could disappear.

Xiao isn’t going to let you die, not on his hands.

He takes your limp body back to the Wangshu Inn and within the hour there’s 3 doctors all bandaging your body and making sure your stable

Comatose isn’t a word that Xiao has much experience with. But to him it manifests into the worst weeks of his life

Where he isn’t sat beside you, he’s pacing in your room. And when he isn’t doing that he’s throwing himself so deep in slaying demons and once the supply of demons ran dry he started clearing out random hilichurl camps

He knows that things are starting to get better when you start muttering random things in your sleep, and reacting to whatever books Xiao reads to you

Nobody at the Inn says anything outwardly about how unusually soft Xiao is, but everyone’s notices. If you were awake Xiao could imagine you teasing him about it and giving him a kiss

Four weeks almost to the day you wake up. Xiao is sat in his normal place beside you, book in his hand reading to you

“I like that book, its my favourite” you tell the yaksha who hasn’t noticed your waking. Your voice struggles to make words, like when you talk first thing in the morning.

Xiao jumps a little at your voice, he was so engrossed in the book and barely noticed your gaze. 

Grinning is an understatement, Xiao smiles so wide and out of character that you almost jest about Xiao being a doppelganger 

But the moment he hugs you, careful of your bindings, the jest fizzles away

“I almost lost you” he tells you his face sufficiently buried in your neck to try and hide the growing tears that he’s been pushing back through the weeks 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily cutie” you reassure the yaksha as you embrace him as tight as your bandaged body can

-

Childe

The two of you love to expend your energy with random friendly fights be it wrestling around the house or finding the highest plains and having a great all out battle. You both find its a great way to release stress too

“I was thinking about eating out for dinner” you tell Childe as you parry his arrow

“That sounds like an idea. Loser pays” Childe responds with a grin

The fight is great, and dare you say it you’re winning

Until, by no joke, the biggest gust of wind pushes you off of the cliff and sends you flying

It would be funny if you couldn’t feel your bones breaking as you fall

Childe dives off the cliff the as soon as he can attempting to catch you

He does. But he’s a little too late to catch you conscious. You feel like a limp bag of potatoes. Your heartbeat being the only thing that’s currently grounding him and keeping him from committing various crimes

He doesn’t have the time to overthink until you’re safe and laying in your shared room

The three days that you’re unconscious Childe spends almost every waking moment sat on a chair beside your bed, laying on the bed beside you and actively avoiding as much work as he physically can. Even to the point a fatui agent comes to the house and lectures him about how he mustn’t keep avoiding his obligations.

He leaves for half a day on the third day and sits beside you the moment he gets back. He’s lazily telling you about his boring half day of work after he finishes he drops his head onto the bead

“I guess I’ll have to buy dinner though” you tell Childe your hand petting his hair 

You’ve never seen Childe sit up so fast and bury his head into your chest where you continue to pet his hair 

“Though you might have to go and get it, my bones hurt” you jest 

“You fell off a fucking cliff [name] I’m sure your bones do more than hurt” he smiles kissing your nose

You smile at the man and embrace him again “I’m sure you caught me though”

“Without hesitation” he grins, Childes worry's and the days before overthinking flutter away for the time being

-

Zhongli

Being the adventurer spirit that you are going to the reaches of Liyue and you’ve made it your personal goal of exploring every crevice of the country

On your way back to the Harbour after a month and a half being away. Though on the final stretch of your journey a mitachurl decided that you were a personal punching bag and threw you across the road

  Though in much pain from the fall you some how managed to make it back home and into the arms of your spouse

“I’ve got a present fo-” you pass out mid sentence, obviously your adrenaline from the mitachurl had finally ran out

Zhongli takes your sudden excess of deadweight and quickly lays you down onto your shared bed and checks you for any wounds

He quickly finds a large bruise from the mitachurl earlier. Zhongli changes you into some comfortable clothing while you’re already half undressed under his concerned gaze

Despite his quick thinking and generally unfazed expression the archon feels a unsettling pit at the bottom of his stomach

Baizhu is inside the house within the half hour and within the hour he has a diagnosis. A coma with no end date. 

Being acquainted with comas but thanks to his previous lifetimes Zhongli has never been so close to someone with such an ailment

Another month and a half Zhongli finds himself away from his spouse. Although trying to keep his schedule as consistent as possible his morning walks are changed to sitting at the bedside and dinner time was often spent sat to the table that was in the bedroom, but now moved closer to your bedside

Although very used to being alone for extended periods of time thanks for your love of exploration, he has never felt so far away from you despite you being so close to him

When you awoke it was actually close to midnight. Your brain takes a few moments to catch up with the world. You take into account that you’re in bed, and notably, your spouse was not

You feel the distinct pain of the hit you had taken, although you note that it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did when you came home

You sit on the edge of your bed and stand, a little wobbly at first, and you move about your home looking for your absent spouse

That’s until you find him asleep in the spare bedroom. Why is he there? You don’t remember having an explosive argument or kicking out of bed.

You enter the room and touch your spouses arm and you call his name. He wakes with a start almost surprised

“You’re awake” he informs you which causes you to chuckle at him

“You’re going to have to catch me up my love” you stroke his hair after he sits up in bed and urges you to sit atop his lap

“In the morning my dear, just for a moment let me be in your presence”

“Anything for you my love” you smile at him before pausing “Though I would love something to eat”

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.” His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mind of a Child

Prompt: Ok so to make for all the Roman Angst I've requested heres some minor angst/fluff. Again I apologise for all the Roman Angst I've been requesting. Prompt: Roman was a mess. You see there's something that happens to sides if they reach a breaking point that they can't handle. Logan was lucky he finally realized it was time to talk about his feelings and look after himself after the wedding but Roman didn't. So after he sinks out from that awful conversation he finds himself beginning to feel really dizzy and as if he's getting younger and smaller. The next morning when Patton and Janus go to find Roman and comfort him they don't expect to see a five year old curled up in an oversized prince costume terrified to death. So there's only one solution to show how much all the sides value and care for their little Prince, help him destress and look after himself. - meltheromanstan

Fluff and angst time, m'dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, but it all gets cuddled better

Pairings: found family ain't going anywhere

Word Count: 6047

He wants to go back to the way it was.

He just wants to go back.

He just wants to be loved again.

He wants to go back to the way it was.

Roman sinks out and lands hard in his room, bashing his knee against the wall as he crumples to the floor. His hair protests as he tangles his hands in the strands and yanks, trying to think. He lies on the ground, frantically breathing but his lungs won’t inflate properly and his nose starts to burn. He feels nauseous. Is he sick? He turns on his back and it goes away. Humming. You’re supposed to hum when you feel like this. He starts humming something, some parody song that’s stuck in his head. The twitching in his gullet starts to recede only to be replaced by dizziness. Why is he dizzy? He’s on the floor.

His hands flop limply out to the side as he turns back and forth, trying to make sure that he can breathe, that it won’t hurt, what’s happening to him?

A small voice that sounds like a demented version of Remus—a more demented version of Remus—whispers that he deserves this.

But Roman doesn’t know anything anymore and he’s so tired and he just wants things to go back to the way they were.

When there wasn’t so much to worry about aside from making sure Thomas was happy and that he could dream.

When all he had to think about was not hurting Thomas with his dreams and making them good dreams.

When heroes were good and villains were bad and that was it.

He just wants to go back.

He just wants to be loved again.

The lights in his room are too bright. It hurts to keep looking up. So he won’t. He closes his eyes and the dizziness abates, just slightly. He lies on the floor, the cool wood pressing into his back. He lets his head flop from one side to the other. It’s impossible to get comfortable. It’s so loud. It’s so much. He wants someone here with him. He just wants to be told it’s okay. But it isn’t okay. It hasn’t been okay for a very long time.

He wants it to be okay again.

————————

The Mindscape is quiet. Hardly anyone makes a noise as they move about the rooms, some still too on edge to start making peace, some too nervous about sparking another disaster, some too confused to try and navigate the minefield they’ve all found themselves in.

But everything has to start somewhere.

Patton and Janus are the only two on…pretty much alright terms when the morning comes. Virgil is locked in his room. Remus’s brand of chaos is nothing helpful right now. So the two of them take a deep breath and go try to find Roman.

Patton took far too long to put the words to it and Janus would never admit it, but when Roman isn’t around, or when he’s not talking, it’s much harder to cut through the monotony of silence. For better or worse, the prince is impossible to look away from, impossible to ignore. And yes, maybe that has to do in part with how Creativity and the Mindscape work together, not to mention the manifestation of the Sides, but Roman is Roman. And if they’re going to start making any progress on getting back on their feet and getting back to normal, they need to get Roman back.

Patton probably thought that Roman would be easy to apologize to. Not just because it’s worked in the past—although Janus would hiss if he said that wasn’t part of it—but because he knows he’s the one who messed up. Roman likes sincerity, Patton knows what things went wrong, he knows he’s at fault here, a lot, and it won’t be as easy as one apology and everything will be fixed, but it would be a good start.

Janus knows Roman. For better or worse, he knows Roman. Knows what buttons to push, knows when not to push them—or so he thought—and knows that maybe, just maybe, he might be able to do what Patton can’t. Cite the good of the others, the good of Thomas, possibly even the good of Roman if he’s that stubborn. Or he’s a convenient punching bag if Roman needs to lash out before he can start putting the pieces back together if it needs to come to that.

But that’s not what happens.

What happens is Patton knocks lightly on the door and asks if Roman would let them come in. There’s no response. Janus speaks up, says he knows Roman is in there, please, they do just want to talk. Patton sets his hand on the door, just to rest there, maybe coax Roman to come to open it, when it swings open.

Their mouths run dry as it opens fully to reveal Roman’s costume on the floor in a heap.

And no Roman.

Janus muffles a curse and turns in a swirl of black fabric as Patton rushes inside, dropping to his knees by the abandoned costume and searching frantically for any sign of Roman.

What he finds makes him gasp.

Janus whirls around as quickly as he’d turned away to see Patton there, kneeling on the ground next to a tiny child clutching Roman’s sash like a red blanket.

“H-hey, kiddo,” Patton says carefully, trying to regain his composure, “what are you doing here?”

The child shuffles. “It’s my room.”

“This is Roman’s room,” Patton says as Janus carefully closes the door.

The child nods, rubbing the sash across his chin. Patton’s brows furrow as he watches the child’s gaze dart to Janus and back, then to Patton’s hands on his knees. He looks back up at Patton and clutches the sash tighter.

“Do you know where Roman is, kiddo?” The child nods but doesn’t make eye contact. “Can you tell me where?”

The child nods again but doesn’t say anything. The tip of Janus’s tongue starts to tingle. His eyes widen and he starts to walk over, raising his hands when the child’s gaze snaps to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, crouching down to make himself a little smaller, “I’m just coming over to you.”

The child stays very still as Janus crouches down beside Patton. Janus tilts his head back and forth as he considers the way the child clings to the sash, the way he seems to be somewhat engulfed in the remains of the costume, and the way he keeps looking fearfully between Janus and Patton.

“…Roman?”

Roman’s gaze turns to him and Janus could cry.

“Wait—Roman?” Patton gasps and his hands fly to cover his mouth. “Oh, kiddo, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Don’t overwhelm him,” Janus warns under his breath as they watch poor Roman flinch a little. Patton takes a deep breath and softens his voice.

“Hey, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you. We won’t hurt you, we promise.”

Roman’s grip on the sash doesn’t waver but his eyes lose a little bit of their frightful sheen. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Janus takes off his glove, ignoring Patton’s look and—perhaps—the fact that Roman might not remember what this means. “I promise too.”

Roman looks back and forth between them. “…okay.”

Patton smiles and lets out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He does have to restrain himself from reaching and pulling the cute little prince into his lap but Roman’s normally defined face is now all chubby cheeks and puppy dog eyes and—no. No.

“Are you okay, kiddo,” he asks instead, still careful to keep his voice soft, “are you hurt at all?”

Roman shakes his head, still clutching the sash.

“What about in here,” Janus asks, laying his hand on his head, then his chest, “or here?”

Before Roman can answer, however, his stomach growls loudly. Janus chuckles.

“That’s enough of an answer for me. Shall we get you something to eat, little prince?”

Roman shakes his head so hard he almost knocks himself over. “Not a prince!”

They both freeze.

Not…not a prince?

Roman is The Prince. He’s Princey. The Prince of Thomas’s Dreams.

“What do you mean, ‘not a prince,’ kiddo?”

“Not a prince,” Roman insists, staring at the ground, “couldn’t—I couldn’t be a prince so…I had to start over.”

Something tugs at a dark place in their chests. Patton glances at Janus. Janus shakes his head slowly.

“Okay, then, Roman,” he says instead, “but can we get you something to eat?”

Roman glances around at the mess of the costume around him. “Clothes?”

“I’m sure someone as creative as you can make as many clothes as you like,” Janus smiles, watching carefully to see Roman’s reaction.

Roman looks at Patton. “What do I make?”

Patton’s smile slips a bit. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

Roman frowns. “But what do I make?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to tell me.”

Oh. Oh, dear. Patton’s smile fades, replaced with a slowly growing awareness of what’s going on. “You don’t need my permission, kiddo,” he says firmly, leaning down a little so Roman’s eye level is the same as his, “you are allowed to make what you want to make. What makes you happy.”

“What is that?”

Patton is going to cry.

“Why don’t you make what you think would be the most comfortable,” Janus tries, shooting a glance at Patton and laying a hand on his arm, “maybe to go downstairs and get something to eat in?”

Roman thinks for a moment, then he rubs the sash against his cheek and a t-shirt and shorts appear. But they aren’t red. They’re just grey. Janus smiles and stands.

“There you go,” he says, “well done.”

And oh, if the way Roman’s head jerks up in a quick moment of shameless eagerness doesn’t make that smile a little more sincere. He holds out a hand to the little one and Roman takes it, standing slowly as they begin to lead him out of his room.

“What would you like to eat,” Patton asks as they get Roman sat down, “how hungry are you?”

“What can I have?”

“Well,” Patton says as he starts to open and close cabinets, “we’ve got pasta if you want a full dinner, we’ve got crackers, cereal, pretzels, fruit, quite a lot of options.”

“…can I have pretzels, please?”

“One bowl of pretzels coming right up!”

Janus sits next to him as Roman begins to eat the pretzels. Patton comes to join them, sitting a little further away as to not crowd the poor kiddo. He exchanges a look with Janus as Roman continues to eat.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Janus looks up just as Virgil and Logan come down into the living room, talking between themselves. They trail off as they notice Janus staring at them.

“Can we help you?” Then Virgil’s eyes land on Roman. “Holy—“

He slaps a hand over his mouth and glares at Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow and slowly lets him go.

“Rude.”

“But necessary,” Janus says, folding his hands and drawing himself up. Virgil gives him a strange look but refocuses on Roman.

“So…who’s the kid?”

“I believe,” Logan says softly, the way Roman hasn’t looked up at them once and instead continues to eat pretzels almost mechanically not escaping him, “this is Roman.”

At the mention of his name, Roman looks up slowly, meeting Logan’s gaze with more than enough trepidation to set Virgil’s fingers buzzing. Logan tilts his head and waves a little. Roman just stares at him.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan says, still in that very soft voice, “it’s good to see you.”

Roman waves back. Then he glances down at the bowl of pretzels and twists his hands together.

“Are you full, kiddo?” Patton takes the bowl when Roman nods. “Good. I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

Roman glances around, shifting a little in his grey t-shirt. “Can I go back to my room now?”

“Of course you can,” Janus says, “would you like one of us to come with you?”

Roman shakes his head quickly. A little too quickly. But he’s been given permission to leave so he scoots off the chair and all but scrambles up the stairs. Logan watches him go, concern written over his features. Virgil waits to hear the soft click of his door shutting before rounding on the others.

“Why the hell is Princey a child?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Patton sighs, stretching a little and rubbing his face, “Janus and I just went up to try and talk to him and found him like that.”

“So it didn’t happen after the wedding?”

They wince and Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I may not have been there, but I know what happened. And no,” he says, raising his voice a little when both Patton and Janus try to say something, “I’m not interested in your excuses. But if you’re gonna try and tell me you don’t think it’s related I will throw a chair at your head.”

Patton bows his head, twisting his hands together in his lap as shame and guilt color his face. “He…he said something.”

“What did he say?”

“That he couldn’t be a prince,” Janus finishes, looking at the table, “and that he had to start over.”

Fuck.

“A-and he felt like he needed my permission for…everything,” Patton continues, “and Virgil, he looked so scared.”

“Of course he did.”

They turn to look at Logan, still staring up the stairs with gentle concern on his features. Virgil pokes his arm when he doesn’t continue right away.

“Roman’s sudden de-aging is likely due to stress,” he explains, looking back at them, “and thus the initial mindset he had when he regained consciousness as a child was fear. Fear of not knowing what to do or of doing something wrong.”

Patton gulps. Virgil shoots him a soft look and he nods slowly. “I…we were going to talk to him. We…I have been putting pressure on Roman since…it’s been a long time.”

“I think we all have.” Virgil’s gaze darts to Janus who is still all drawn up and inspecting his glove. “And you can turn that off, please.”

Janus sighs and Logan has to blink at how much his character shifts. Janus tugs nervously on his glove and straightens his hat.

“Roman is incredibly fragile right now and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Keeping that off around him is probably a good start.”

“We will need to ask Roman how much he remembers.” Logan adjusts his tie. “What he does remember will dictate how we need to help him.”

“Praise and reassurance.”

Logan raises an eyebrow at Janus who shuffles under his gaze.

“Praise and reassurance,” he repeats, tugging on his glove again, “he…he likes having a sense of structure. To know he’s doing something right.”

The regretful undertone to the words tells them all exactly how he knows that.

“We cannot let him believe that we are only behaving this way toward him because we believe he needs to be fixed,” Logan says firmly, “because that isn’t true. If this is a result of Roman feeling…unloved, then we must show him that he is.”

The word ‘unloved’ gets stuck in his throat and he clears it. Around him, the others are showing similar signs of discomfort.

Roman…their Roman. The idea that he wouldn’t feel loved—that he doesn’t feel loved sits strangely. Like a puzzle piece that just doesn’t fit, even though it has to go there.

While this lovely conversation is happening, of course, they’ve forgotten that there’s someone else who’s noticed the absence of a singing prince.

Remus doesn’t bother entering his brother’s room the normal way, instead sinking straight through the ceiling, fully intending to drive his elbow into Roman’s stomach.

What happens instead is he lands on Roman’s mattress with a dissatisfying thump as a tiny thing squeaks and scurries under the desk.

Remus sits up, frowning at the trembling figure underneath Roman’s desk and peers closer. Did Roman make a new pet for them to join on adventures? Is this one of the villagers that got too hurt and needed to be brought back here to recover?

Only when he sees the eyes peering shakily out at him do his own widen in realization.

“Roro?”

“R-Remus? Re?” And fuck, yeah, that’s Roman’s little head poking out from under there as he scrambles out. “Re? Are—are you back?”

Remus blinks. “Sure, Ro-Bro, I’m back, what—oof!”

A pint-sized pugilist rams itself into Remus’s stomach and knocks him backward onto the bed as his arms instinctively fly around the mass. He looks down, panting, only to see little Roro shaking with the effort of holding onto Remus as tightly as he can. His ribs are starting to protest when Roman turns his head and a cold nose tucks itself right into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey, hey, Roro,” Remus croaks, clumsily petting Roman’s head, “you’re okay. I’m right here, you got me good, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You—they said you were never coming back—everyone hated you, I—they made me say I didn’t like you—they said I was you but they don’t like you and I—I’m sorry—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your rolls and buns there, Roro, take in some oxygen before you pass out on me.” Remus wraps his arms gently but firmly around his now-panicking little bother—brother, pulling him securely into his lap. He has to pry Roman’s grip off of him a little but quickly reattaches the little limpet. “There you go, see? You got me! I’m trapped! I can’t go anywhere!”

His jokes don’t seem to work. If anything, Roman clutches him tighter, trembling in his hold.

“You gotta breathe for me, Ro-Bro, come on…in and out, you can do it.” Remus starts to take big slow breaths, feeling Roman start to copy him. “There you go, Roro. Just like that.”

Little Roman dissolves into a shaking and trembling puddle, cold nose buried in the crook of Remus’s neck as hot tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, what’re those for? You’re safe, Roro, I gotcha, you got me, we got each other. We’re not playing right now, I’m not trapping you, what’s up?”

“Y-you’re—you’re back,” Roman wails, “you’re back, you’re back, don’t go—“

“I’m not going anywhere, Roro, I promise.” He gives Roman a light squeeze. “I’ve gotcha.”

Remus is very glad he actually washed his hands this morning as he begins to wipe away Roman’s tears. His hands are damp within moments but he keeps going, letting the little limpet wipe his nose on his costume and not giving a single flying fuck. Roman’s red nose keeps sniffling so Remus lays back against some of the pillows, heaving the little beast on top of him to have him settle down. Roman does, eventually, slumping into a sprawl all over Remus’s chest. Remus rubs his little brother’s back and nuzzles the top of his head.

“D’you want to tell me what this is all about, Roro?”

Roman mumbles.

“I can’t hear you, Ro-Bro, you gotta speak up.”

He can feel Roman’s throat work against him. “I couldn’t be the prince so I had to start over. Couldn’t—couldn’t do it right.”

“Do what right, Roman,” Remus asks, slowly tightening his grip on his brother again, “what couldn’t you do?”

“Kept messing up. Messed everything up.” Roman’s voice starts to choke off again. “Had—hadda make it right. Wanted to go back to—to—to—when it was okay.”

‘Okay.’

Yeah, nothing about this is ‘okay’ right now.

“Well,” Remus says, resolutely ignoring that for the time being, “why don’t we do something fun?”

Roman nods eagerly, pushing himself up so fast his hands slip and he falls face-first down on Remus’s chest again. Remus chuckles and helps him sit up.

“Wanna go into the Imagination?”

Roman’s smile falters. “We need permission.”

“No we don’t, we’re Creativity. That’s our domain. We run it, we decide when we get to go in!”

But Roman shakes his head stubbornly. “N-no, we—we have to ask first. And I don’t want you to get in trouble f-for me.”

“They can try and make me be in trouble,” Remus sniffs, “but it won’t go well for them.”

Roman looks up at him, expression changing as he slowly reaches up to cup his hands around Remus’s face. “I wanna be like you.”

Remus’s chest clenches. “You want my mustache?”

Roman makes a face. “No. I want—I want to be as sure as you are that nothing bad can happen. I want that.”

Ah, fuck. They had a joke going when they were—well, when both of them were smaller that Roman got the Ego, Remus got the Pride. He never—well, kids hold ideas and let them go. He tossed that one over his shoulder a long time ago. Roman, it seems, never did.

“Hey,” Remus says instead, reaching to cup Roman’s face in his hands, “you’ve got it, Roro. It’s yours too. You just gotta look for it.”

“But that’s hard.”

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” he says, fighting back a joke that he knows Roman won’t understand.

“…you’re really smart, Re.”

“Well—“ he chucks him lightly under the chin— “you’re the one that taught me that.”

Roman’s little face smiles and oh, Remus could rip his fucking thumbs off.

“If you don’t want to go into the Imagination we could always do something here.” Remus jumps off the bed and starts rifling through his ideas. Well, most of them aren’t…something he would do when Roman is this small. “…paint?”

There it is. Roman’s face lights up and he scrambles off the bed to join Remus. “Painting? Can we paint together?”

“Sure. One big canvas, let’s see, you wanna help make it?” They put their hands together and slowly draw a big rectangle in the middle of Roman’s room. “Good job, Ro-Bro, it’s just the right size.”

His brother almost glows at the praise. “Now all we need is—“

“Paint!”

They both turn to each other with their hands full of it. Roman has several bottles clutched in his little hands and Remus is juggling an armful of tubes. They drop them all over the floor and Remus rubs his hands together.

“What’re we gonna paint?”

“The canvas!”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Remus’s jaw drops open when Roman just pours paint onto his hand and smears it across the canvas— “whoa.”

Wrong reaction to have. But the second he sees Roman’s brilliant grin start to fade, he jumps straight on the fuck-that train and grabs another bottle. Soon they’re smearing paint all over the canvas. They end up creating a pretty good gradient of pinks and blues and reds and oranges and yellows. Then Remus grabs a green tube and just squirts it right onto the canvas.

“Hey!” Roman rubs his cheek. “You got paint on me!”

“I think you got paint on you.” Because when your brushes are your hands and you rub your face, paint goes onto your face.

“It was green! You put the green on me!”

Remus grins, bending closer and pretending to examine Roman’s cheek. “I dunno, Roro, I can’t see any green on there.”

Roman grabs a tube of red paint—

“Whoa, hey, there—“

—and squirts it onto the canvas. But mostly Remus.

“Oh, that’s it.”

The two of them spend the rest of the time splashing paint around, not caring about whether it gets on the actual canvas or the canvases they’ve made out of each other. Remus ends up with red splattered across his sash—not a bad look—and a bright blue handprint on his chest. Roman ends up with some green in his hair and streaks of purple down his arms. They’re laughing too hard to be spiteful about it as they chase each other around the canvas, each trying to get their hands on the other first.

If Roman never sees the others opening his door a crack, only to smile and leave them be when they see Remus and the paint with him, it’s perfectly fine.

Remus ends up using his size to his advantage and scooping the little monster up into his arms. He spins him around, laughing maniacally as Roman shrieks and squeals. He holds onto his brother’s arms, head thrown back as they whirl there.

“I win,” Remus pronounces as he sets Roman—carefully!—back down, “you lose.”

Roman giggles, reaching up to poke Remus’s nose with a bright red finger. “No, I win!”

“We both win.” Remus shakes his head only for some of his hair to stand straight on end—the only straight thing in this room—from the paint. “Uh…we should wash this off.”

Roman examines his paint-colored self, his gray shirt and shorts now absolutely awash with rainbow. “Yeah, probably.”

Remus looks at him and gently touches the fabric with his fingers. Roman’s eyes widen as the fabric changes from having paint on it to the colors being part of the fabric itself.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!”

Remus chuckles. “You’re welcome, Roro. Now let’s get cleaned up. I’m sure you’re gonna get hungry in a little bit.”

They make their way to the shower where Remus gets them out of their paint-covered clothes and squeaky clean. Roman’s eyes start to droop as Remus massages the shampoo into his hair.

“You can close your eyes, Ro-Bro, I gotcha.”

And if little Roman is so tired he can barely keep his eyes open long enough to put on pajamas after they get out of the shower, then Remus will happily carry him to bed. Of course the little limpet decides to latch onto him but there are worse fates. He resigns himself to being a personal pillow and stretches out, rubbing Roman’s back to help soothe him to sleep.

There’s a soft knock on the door and Logan eases it open. Remus has a quip on the tip of his tongue at the way the nerd’s expression melts at the sight of little Roro.

“Asleep, then?”

“Mhm.”

Logan glances at their painting. “I must say…it’s spectacular.”

Remus looks at the painting. An abstract swirl of colors and splatters that looks like the perfect chaotic nonsense. He’s more proud of it than expected too.

“He seems happy,” comes Logan’s soft voice, calling his attention back as he sits on the edge of the bed, “or…happier.”

Remus runs a protective hand down Roman’s back. “He said he missed me.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that…being suddenly reverted to an age where you two were together would—“

“No,” he says firmly, “he missed me. When he was big too, Lolo.”

Logan winces. “Oh, dear.”

“Has he told you why this…happened?”

“Not me explicitly, no.” Logan looks up and waits. “Did…did he tell you?”

“He said he wanted to go back to when everything was okay.”

Logan’s eyes widen. Oh. Oh, dear. “He…the last time he was okay…”

Remus’s sharp nod only confirms it. Logan lets out a breath as Roman’s hands twitch in his sleep. Unbidden, the impulse to reach out and squeeze comfortingly rises up sudden and sharp and he reaches out, covering the little one’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“He wasn’t supposed to get hurt,” Remus whispers, “when—when they took us away, they—they were allowed to do whatever they wanted to me, but—but not my brother.”

“Never again,” Logan promises low in his throat, touched by Remus’s sudden display of vulnerability, “you won’t be separated.”

Quite frankly, as he watches Remus tighten his grip on Roman, he’d like to see the others try.

As it turns out, that isn’t anywhere near their realm of possibility. When Roman wakes a little while later to them talking quietly with a rumble in his stomach, Remus carries him downstairs as Patton starts making dinner. Logan has to hide a smile at the way Virgil mouths ‘oh my god’ and Janus stuffs his fist up to his mouth to hide the coo. Patton clumsily answers Remus’s question about whose night it is to help—his—and gently asks Roman if he can set him down.

“You won’t go far?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen the whole time.”

“Here,” Virgil calls, holding out his arms, “I’m the softest thing in this room. Give him to me.”

He’s gonna regret that later but not right now. Not when little Princey is deposited into his lap and promptly snuggles right up to his chest and sighs. Virgil wraps his arms around little Roman and sits back against the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone as his breath warms the top of Roman’s head.

“V-Virgil?”

“Yeah, Princey?” Virgil winces when Roman tenses. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot. What is it, Roman?”

Roman’s hands clench and unclench in his hoodie. “Do…do you miss the other me?”

Well. Don’t start off easy or anything, kid.

Does he?

He’s gonna be honest, he does miss Roman. Misses the banter, misses the confidence, misses the warmth of walking into a room and seeing Roman there. He misses the feeling that Roman would always come up with something, even when things seemed hopeless he would be there to try.

But even though he’s had this Roman for two minutes, he already knows he’d miss him like a lost limb. This Roman, who is all clumsy affection and easy smiles and soft cuddles.

“I miss him,” he decides on eventually, “but you’re my Roman too.”

Roman’s little face is too cute. It’s illegal. Who allowed this?

“Your Roman?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, giving the boy’s hair a gentle tug, “you’re our Roman.”

Roman’s hands tug gently again. “E-even if I’m not a prince?”

Ah. Virgil sits up a little and pulls Roman into his lap properly. “You were our prince because we thought that was what you wanted to be.”

“Even if I wasn’t good at it?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Virgil swallows the curses and pulls Roman into a tight hug, muttering into his shoulder.

“You were good at it, Roman,” he mumbles, “you were the best prince. You were the best prince because you were our prince. And you were our prince because you were Roman first.”

He can feel Roman’s jumpy little breaths before he’s hugged with a ferocity that takes him by surprise. But he’s not complaining.

“So I can be a prince?”

“If you want to be.”

There’s a pause during which Virgil pointedly does not make eye contact with Janus, before Roman speaks again.

“…I, uh, I think I’d be okay with the nickname, then.”

“Princey?” Roman nods and Virgil grins. “Okay, Princey.”

When he pulls back, there’s a little smile on Roman’s face that stays throughout dinner.

“Well,” Patton says as they start to clear the dishes away, “I’d say it’s a good night for a cuddle pile, wouldn’t you?”

“A splendid idea.” Logan closes the dishwasher. “Down here?”

“Might as well.” They start to organize, Logan directing the creation of the mattress and pillows, Patton and Virgil moving the blankets. Roman looks around for a moment, waiting, before Janus beckons him over to the last of the fading sunlight by the window.

“We,” he says gently as he coaxes Roman to lie down, “have the most important job.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re the ones that get tired first.” To prove a point, Janus lets himself yawn, big and wide. Sure enough, little Roman yawns too. “When Logan tells us all where to go, it’s our job to start being tired so the others have an easier way of settling.”

“That sounds like we have an excuse to fall asleep.”

“That too.”

Roman giggles and it makes Janus’s chest feel light.

“Come here, little prince,” he murmurs, opening his many arms to gather the little one to his chest, “there you are. You look tired, go ahead and close your eyes, it’s alright.”

Roman shifts a little in his grip. “…Janus?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Are…are you gonna take care of me?”

Janus pulls back a little, enough to cup Roman’s face in his hand. “Of course, sweetie, I will always take care of you.”

“N-no matter what?”

“No matter what.” He leans down to gently knock his forehead against Roman’s and press a chaste kiss there. “I’ve got you, little prince.”

The weight of the acts gone without acquittance sit heavily in his stomach, but with Roman cradled tenderly in his embrace, they start to get a little more bearable.

“Come on, cuddle bugs,” Patton calls, hands stroking gently through their hair, “let’s get you onto the mattress.”

Janus uncurls first, only for Roman to blink sleepily up at him.

“Do you need to be carried, sweetie? Is that it, little prince?”

Roman nods and blearily holds up his arms, letting out another squeaky yawn. He makes a few grabbing motions at Logan as he adjusts the last pillow.

“Ah, come here, little one,” Logan murmurs, picking him up, “let’s lie you down, shall we?”

The others join them in their pajamas, Roman’s head in Logan’s lap as he sits against the foot of the couch. Logan’s hand tangles in his hair, nails dancing over his scalp to encourage him to sleep.

“You’re safe, little one,” he promises, “just close your eyes. We’ll be right here for you when you wake up.”

Roman blinks up at him lazily, eyes wet with sleep as he nuzzles into Logan’s stomach. Logan keeps up the soothing rhythm of fingers in his hair, nails across his scalp, until the little one yawns away and closes his eyes. Only when sleep begins to call to him too do they shift, one of Roman’s hands on his chest, the other in Remus’s shirt as his head tucks into the crook of Logan’s shoulder.

The little prince falls asleep, surrounded by the warmth of his family.

————————

Roman blinks awake.

His ceiling doesn’t look like his ceiling and there’s a weight on his stomach that definitely isn’t a pillow. He cranes his head up to look around and his mouth drops open when he sees a slumbering Virgil lying with one arm around him. He turns his head a little more and comes face to face with Logan’s sleeping visage. Remus’s whistling snores are in his ear.

He risks sitting up a little farther, only to see Patton and Janus at the edge of the frankly giant mattress they’ve seem to set up on the floor of the living room. The two of them are almost protectively positioned, guarding the rest of them from whatever would plague them in the night.

His head is a little fuzzy and he can’t remember much of how they got here. Flashes come to him. Pretzels, paint, something about the word ‘prince.’

But, right now, with Logan’s chest rising and falling as Janus mumbles something in his sleep, he can’t be too bothered to worry about it.

Roman settles back down onto the mattress and closes his eyes. As he drifts off to sleep, a small smile touches the corners of his mouth.

For the first time in a long time, he feels okay.

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[lothlaer]

Proposal: Jaskier's got a fist clenched painfully hard one time when he's really really hurt and Yen has to force his palm open so she can tangle their fingers together and try to keep him from hurting his own hand. And they're both kind of like "oh" at some point idk 😳

Anon this apparently awakened something in me, so thank you for expanding on my post and giving me the inspo to write (checks notes) 1.7k. Hope you enjoy whatever this is!!! 

Pre-yennskier, description of blood and injury, 100% hurt/comfort. Read on AO3

“Stop fucking moving,” Geralt hisses, pushing down hard on the hips beneath his hands to still the man’s squirming.

A choked off, muffled whine dies in Jaskier’s throat, his lips pursed tight enough to turn them pale and thin. He’s panting through his nose, clearly in agony, and too out of it to understand that moving will only make this worse.

Yennefer spares the witcher a glance, noting the anxiety and fear that’s obvious on his face, in the tension across his brow, the frantic not-focus of his eyes that flick between the bard’s half-delirious expression and the gaping wound at his side.

She’s done all she can to heal him, sealed up the torn and leaking insides that they all know would have killed him if they hadn’t been here – that still might kill him if they can’t stem the blood loss and prevent infection. She thinks of it like this; clinical, sensible, because she has to.

Jaskier’s heartbeat is quicker than it should be, his breathing equally fast, panicked and pained and shallow. She keeps her ear trained to its frantic rhythm, notices how Geralt’s heart thumps faster than normal too, almost human, almost matching hers. She’d laugh at the symmetry of it all, if it were funny. She’s sure Jaskier would write a poem, if he knew, but she won’t ever tell him. 

He stills a little under the pressure of Geralt’s hands, though still struggles. He probably can’t help it by this point, too confused and the pain too intense to allow much rational thought. Geralt can’t work if he keeps kicking, shifting his hips to try to escape the discomfort.

“Yen,” Geralt growls, and she’d tell him off if she thought it would help.

She tells him off anyway, growling his name back as she presses her weight onto the bard’s chest, keeping him pinned. She watches his face, stares at the lines of tears down his temples, wrung out from his scrunched eyes.

The tight seam of Jaskier’s lips splits open, a deep groan and hitching sob forcing its way out as Geralt flushes the wound. He shifts again, and it’s only then that Yennefer notices his hands. The one nearest her grips at her skirt, tugging it towards himself, the other clenched tight enough at his side that the whites of his knuckles stand out even against his bloodless skin.

She reaches for it before she can think about it, dragging his hand over his chest, looking at the way he’s digging his nails into the meat of his palm.

Yennefer doesn’t say anything as she fits her thumb under his, prying it open like the hinge on a rusted box. There’s no treasure within as she does the same with his fingers, forcing them loose enough that his reflex to clench releases, each digit unfolding only to reveal deep indents in his skin like faint purple mouths.

She slips her fingers between his, taking the pressure into her own grip, resting their joined hands over his heart.

He blinks up at her, eyes wet with tears, then lifts his head to look down at himself.

“Don’t look,” Yennefer snaps, pointedly leaning forward to block the vivid red of Geralt’s hands from view.

She knocks her knuckles against his breastbone, drawing his attention back, and he focuses in on the press of their skin together.

She thinks that if he had enough blood left in his body to do so, Jaskier would be blushing. She feels heat rise in her own cheeks in sympathy. His lips part on an inappropriately dreamy sigh, and she realises she’s stroking her thumb back and forth over his clammy skin, then swiftly stops.

Yennefer checks his expression and discovers his eyes on her again, a long moment dragging on as she finds herself unable to look away, their faces closer than she realised and his short breaths puffing against her skin. She’s horribly aware of their entwined hands, the unpleasant sensation of drying blood and mud between them, the frantic heart mere centimetres away, trapped beneath only by fragile human flesh and bone.

Between another aborted cry of pain and a feeble attempt at another kick, Jaskier lets his head fall back to the ground, gaze swimming and dizzy as he stares up at the canopy of the trees above them, his grip tightening to the point of pain as the joints in Yennefer’s hand compress.

She loses track of time for a while, her knees and back aching from being folded over for so long, the quiet and sometimes unpleasant noises coming from Geralt working opposite her the only way to gauge how long they’ve been here, alongside the warbling beat that still echoes against her eardrums. It’s not like his usual music.

She looks back to his face after some time, catches his eyelids fluttering.

“None of that,” she scolds, loud enough to jerk him back into wakefulness.

She turns her head to look at the wound, relieved to find it closed with stitches, no longer sluggishly leaking blood down Jaskier’s side. He’s still covered in it, soaked into his shirt and the trousers covering his propped-up legs, even on the blanket they’ve thrown over him.

Geralt looks up and the relief is clear on his face; they’re not out of the woods yet, but it’s a step in the right direction. His eyes flick to Jaskier’s hand in hers, looking pointedly at where he’s still gripping her dress too, then walking away with a mutter about getting bandages.

Yennefer finds herself alarmingly embarrassed, and withdraws her hand.

Jaskier doesn’t complain, his fingers falling loose and curled where she leaves them.

Geralt returns quickly, begins packing the injury. Jaskier jerks again, then they begin the agonising process of winding bandages around his waist, having to manoeuvre him upright enough to pass them under his back.

By the end he’s even sweatier and paler than he was before. His noises of pain throughout have been quieter than Yennefer was expecting, the usual volume and raucousness of his voice muffled and contained. It’s simultaneously impressive and irritating – men, she thinks.

He groans long and low nonetheless as they shift him sideways onto a bedroll and prop another bag under his knees.

“It’s done, it’s over,” Yennefer finds herself saying quietly while Geralt resituates the blanket.

She wipes a tear away from Jaskier’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, and tries not to overthink the action in the seconds afterwards as his sobs subside.

He’s trembling, either from pain or shock or the cold, and Geralt wastes no time getting him water with some herbs mixed in. He drinks greedily, water spilling out around his mouth until the witcher urges him to slow.

Geralt lays him back down, calls his name softly until his wobbly attention wanders back to them.

“All better?” Jaskier murmurs after a moment, eyelids already half-mast.

Geralt lays a wet cloth over the bard’s forehead and holds his palm on it, steady and reassuring, long enough to lean over and catch Jaskier’s gaze.

“Good enough,” he says, beginning to wipe away the sweat and dirt from Jaskier’s face in gentle strokes.

“Bastard,” Jaskier mutters, eyes falling closed. He only settles for a moment before jerking awake, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Yen?”

He looks around blearily, waving an uncoordinated hand out – seeking her presence, Yennefer realises. She reaches for him, grasping his hand in hers. His gaze snaps to her, and softens.

“Okay?” he asks.

His skin is cool, his heart still racing.

“You’ll be pissing us off with your usual obnoxious poetics within a day, I imagine.”

He frowns at her and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“No,” he swallows dryly, “you okay?”

Yennefer opens her mouth, ready for a witty retort to manifest, but all that emerges is the escape of a surprised breath. She thinks of the way they’d been standing side by side when the attack had happened, the way the bard had fallen against her and brought her to her knees in the grass and mud, last autumn’s shed of rotting leaves compacting beneath her hands. The drip of red blending against the dirt. Her stomach twists, then releases.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

He still stares at her.

“I’m fine, you fool.” She squeezes his hand again, thinks of the indents on his palm. “Rest.”

He does, finally, slipping easily into something deeper than sleep. She knows she and Geralt will have their senses fixed on the pump of his blood for days yet, and that it’ll be a while before his body replenishes what he’s lost.

For now, the steadiness of his pulse and his breathing will have to be enough, even if they remain unnatural and fast.

Yennefer realises she’s been staring for a while when she notices Geralt bringing a bowl over, his hands and arms already washed clean of the mess from the past hour.

“Wonderful timing,” he says dryly, shaking the red-tinged water off his fingers with a couple of quick flicks.

“For what, witcher?” Yennefer says shortly, her nerves strung thin and dangerous.

Geralt snorts. Yennefer glares.

“For a realisation.” He smirks at her, smug.

“Fuck off,” she spits, not turning away quick enough to miss the way the man’s smile widens further.

She draws her hands away from Jaskier, his grip limp now, and washes her hands too, surprised to see the ripples on the surface from where she’s shaking. Geralt comes up behind her, his hand falling to her shoulder, and they both look down at the bard. The porcelain tinge of his skin is unnerving, his eyes bruised, and dirt and leaves still cling to his hair. But he’s alive, alive, and the knots in their chests release.

She thinks about leaving now her job’s done, the unpleasant warmth blooming somewhere in her gut making her want to run away, to flee from whatever the bard’s pain and gaze and hands have triggered in her, the feeling snapping sharp like a wire under her skin.

Geralt squeezes her shoulder.

“Stay with him.”

Yennefer feels the words rumble through her, less than an order but more than a suggestion. Her heart leans into it, giving way so carelessly to harmonise with the rhythm of his.

She stays.

[rrazor]

what is your skincare routine 🥺 plus imagine doing face masks with ur hq boy 😩😩 pleeaaaaaaseeee manifest

my routine is just a bunch of serums + moisturizer topped off with an obsession with cosrx :^) 

here’s some of my personal h/c’s about their routine and how u fit in 💖

kuroo overexfoliated when he was 16 and that’s when he decided to get into skincare 🤡 but you’re really the one who ties it all together and finishes it 😤 has a bunch of blackheads and is hesitant about using acids but trusts you when you rec a bha (salicylic) and to his surprise it works!! you teach other about ingredients and formulations (more teaching on your end since he’s such an overachiever and is in a million different things) but his skin really goes 🌺🌺 when he’s got a routine down.

another amazing boyfriend to do self-care days with because he needs them so much 😭💞 spends the whole day by your side at home doing whatever whenever and holding your hand the whole way through 💖 does the spoon in the fridge technique to depuff his eyes after a late night and always sends u morning selfies with them on his face all “Good morning my Fated One 🥄👄🥄” 💀💀💀

bokuto already has a skincare routine kudos of his sisters when you start dating and only gets back into doing it regularly when he learns you like doing it too 💕 he wants to spend more time with you as if he isn’t already glued to your hip 😭🤚💗💗

but he slaps his face really hard like really hard 😵 you have to teach him to gently dab and work the product into the skin but he sits like a good boy on the edge of the tub and closes his eyes for you 💛💛 keeps his hands on your hips too ☺️ gets acne here and there and sticks on the pimple patches you give him while telling you “y'know, babe, since you gave these to me, it’s like ur kissing me all night long!!! 🥺🥰😚💕” kiss him now pls

akaashi looks like he has his life together but his skincare routine is 😬 uses bar soap and the same anti-aging face lotion as his mom but his skin is 🌹🌸🌺✨he’s skeptical when he tries out new products but he comes around pretty quickly when he notices how less fatigued he looks 💀

he loves doing masks with you and likes to do one in the morning and one at night because you’ve got him hooked now 😤 he’s so dewy oh my god man is literally gleaming like a diamond 💎✨what have u done….. i bet he has a gua sha and rolls your face for you too 🥺 he’s so gentle omg stop…. looks at u with the softest look in his eyes when you giggle at how funny the sheet masks make the two of you look 💞❤️💕💓💝

oikawa while it’s universally thought in fanon that oikawa is a skincare junkie, i’d say that he’s more so really picky and meticulous. he has specific steps he follows to the t and knows how and when to bring in a new product for any seasonal weather and other changes in his skin. he’s not necessarily going to try your products unless he’s convinced they’ll work for him (everyone’s different after all), but he’s definitely open to you trying his and sharing what you both know 😤💗💗

easily one of the best boyfriends to have self care days with: nails, hair, face, online shopping, you name it, he’ll do it with you 🥰💄💅 i think he hates hyaluronic acid and avoids it like the plague lmfao one of his favourite ways to pass the evenings is the two of you together gossiping with your masks on and eating snacks 🌹🥰🥰🌹

iwaizumi lmfao this mf’er is sooo handsome 🥵 so i say oily skin that’s prone to breakouts 😇 yeah i think iwa struggles with acne and his scars, but he gets lucky that he grows out it by third/fourth year university 😘 uses a basic cleanser marketed towards acne 🤢🤢 and some moisturizer🧴he doesn’t trust oikawa with skincare recommendations because one of the product he gave him had glycolic acid in it and iwa’s skin said 👹

he’s reluctant but lets you help him with his skin and it makes a notable improvement throughout your relationship 👍✨gets heart palpitations when you grab his face and kiss him all over 💘💘 and genuinely thinks you’re one of the best thing to have happened to him when you coo “so handsome hajime 💕” yeah i just think he’s a sucker for you saying his first name lmao

matsukawa he has pretty decent skin, maybe a bit oily and will get spots here and there but overall puberty said nah this one’s cool 😎👍 so he comes in with very basic knowledge about skincare. though bless his heart, he tries out a bunch of stuff with you and is always open to doing masks and trying out new products with you 🥺💖

his skin is pretty resilient so watch him go 😨🤭 when you breakout and he doesn’t jgjebnfkwzl he kisses ur acne scars and spots tho so dw he madly in love ok? 😘🥰❤️ once he starts seeing the changes, he keeps up with the routine you made together for him but he likes to beg for you to do it for him “aw, c’mon babe don’t u want your hands all over this? 😩🤚💕💓💦” i hate him

hanamaki he has a mini routine and knows the general steps from his older sister and because i firmly believe he has dry, sensitive skin. he avoids fragrances, alcohols and all the sulphates and parabens but weirdly his skin is okay with silicones. anyways, he’s the one that introduces you to these amazing korean face masks and now you’re both hooked, spending weekends and days off at his house walking around with ur masks on all 💓👽👽💓

a little bit harder to work with in terms of exploration with your products but he finds his cheeks pinking 💖 and heart beating a little harder 🥰 when you go out of your way to find products that fit his criteria and gets rlly sappy when you start using them too 😭💓💕 he buys the bigger bottles for himself and small bottles for u because he’s whipped (and funny) that way 😐💖

kita looks like he and his grandma would some diy face masks together 🥰❤️ he’s got a basic cleanser and moisturizer but doesn’t do much else. spends a lot of time learning about the products and right steps so he can be a useful partner when you go shopping together 🥺💘💞

he comes to love oils, especially squalane and rosehip seed oil. also becomes a vitamin c junkie 😤 he’s a stickler for patch-testing and comes to really enjoy the whole skincare process in the morning and evenings as his own me time. really appreciates and thanks you for sharing this part of your daily life with him 🥺💘💞💞💖 invites you over to do masks with his grandma 😘

atsumu yeah he gets his beautiful skin from his mom and literally everything else because his mom is 🌸✨in both personality and looks. exfoliates three to four times a week and still looks amazing so you really have to wonder what his skin is doing and what yours isn’t 😔

when he finds the products that work™️ for him (kudos to you), he genuinely cannot stop admiring the shine of his skin after someone points it out he’s all 👁👃👁✨ and calls you up “babe ‘m beautiful did’ja know look at me look” 😐 likes to do skincare routines together but rushes through his so that he can do other stuff with you 😭💗💖💕 hates it when you push him away and don’t let him kiss you while your products are settling 🥺☹️💔

osamu my guy here is also blessed with naturally occurring bacteria that gives him beautiful skin like life rlly isn’t fair 😟😟 he doesn’t know much but lets you do whatever and loves loves loves it when you put all the products on him 🥺❤️ sits down between your legs all 💗🐶💗 prefers mud masks over sheet ones and likes to smear yours on for u 🥰

he comes to love skincare, not as much as you but enjoys how his face feels after he’s all moisturized and such. though he never remembers sunscreen so please carry some with you 😭 he buys you snacks and sneaks kisses while u wait for your products to settle on ur face 💖💖 uses a jade roller in the mornings as he checks his phone because it feels nice 👍✨✨

suna sensitive skin but relatively normal in terms of oiliness. ik he steals his younger sister’s products if they’re close in age 💀 he has very little idea how to get started so when he jumps in and tries one of yours he breaks out really bad and curses you lmfaoooo 👿👿👹🤡

ok but once he gets a decent routine in, he does his best to keep up with it and it helps!! his skin feels less tight and more supple so he might love you a little more for that 🙄🤚💖 he prefers sheet masks and lets you clip his curtain bangs to the side✨ also looks like the kinda guy who likes to sit on the balcony/patio with his mask on and soak up the sun in the mornings after you both have your sunscreen on 🌼🌼

ushijima his skin is dehydrated but he doesn’t know it, has accepted the oiliness of his skin as a symptom of his athletics 😔 he’s got a bunch of expensive luxury products given to him by his mom and she’s told him to use them but he doesn’t know what the right order is so he puts on an occlusive first before anything else 😭😭😭

genuinely appreciates you so much when you take the time to teach him about everything and even asks if you could give him some notes so that he can refer to them when you’re not by his side 🥺💗💕💖 joins you in your product endeavours and gives you succinct but helpful feedback on what he likes and doesn’t like 😤 likes to hold you while u do masks together 🌼 and rests his head on urs 😭🌸💕

tendou uses whatever he’s got at home and what his mom gets him 🤷‍♀️ spots here and there but otherwise pretty clear skin. he’s open to trying anything and everything with you because he’s just really happy to spend time with you 🥰💞💞

sits really close to you and let’s you have free reign of his face when you sleep over at his place!! he giggles a lot because it tickles but never asks you to stop 🥺💜 thanks you for helping him and making him look so pretty 🌷✨looks like he’d be allergic to propolis/honey-based ingredients...

semi handsome man…. another one that looks dehydrated to me but he’s trying just please help him 😭🤚 he’s too nervous to go skincare shopping on his own because of the sheer amount of selection available 😢 tags along with you like a little puppy when you go with him 🐶💘

i feel like he has closed comedones 🤔 he tries out your retinol and keeps up with it when you told him some people got rid of theirs using it and…… it worked 😳🌟✨ thinks you’re a skincare goddess now lmfao 😤👊 when girls in university ask him about his skin, he just calls you and puts you on speaker because “my baby worked rlly hard so she should get all the credit” 😭💖💖

sakusa i think rosacea but also wealthy parents who had access to numerous dermatologists who nipped it in the bud as soon as they saw it 🤑 anyways he’s got near perfect skin lol goes through periods of dryness and keeps a strict regimen of products 👌🌟 swears by aloe vera and keeps some with him at all times 💗

though i do think you gently push him to introduce serums and essences into his routine (which is basic, but covers all his bases). you let him experiment and he finds one from cosrx that he considers a holy grail 😳 he likes doing ur skincare routine for you and you sit on the toilet seat and grin up at him 🥰 he blushes but doesn’t look away and might or might not admit he loves to be in such close contact with you 💘💘

hoshiumi kinda brutal with the way he goes about it; it looks like he’s beating the product in 💀👊👊 uses bar soap on both his face and body and wonders why his skin is dry and tight after showers “what? doesn’t that mean you didn’t clean all the gross oil off?” 😶😐😑 u gotta start from scratch with this guy 🤐

he pays attention to you but also doesn’t and finds it a bit of a hassle to go through five different products so he settles for a really basic routine 🥱 has one really fancy bottle of serum he takes with him to games and such and goes “my girlfriend gave it to me what don’t you have something like this 🤔” before putting it on if anyone asks 💀🤚💗 a full on chad 💪

hirugami he definitely has a skincare routine…. handsome 🤤 though i think he dislikes the feeling of sheet masks on his face; they feel too goopy and he doesn’t like how slimey they are. he prefers just using a short list of serums to keep his skin healthy and plump 💖✨likes hypoallergenic and fragrance-free products 👌

had acne back in middle school and a bit in first year. feel like he goes through a flare up in third year 😇🙃 anyways he likes standing next to u in the washroom doing ur routines side by side 🥰 wears those fluffy animal ear headbands with you and puts on your lip balm for you 💓💓 his dog came up and licked u across the face one time 😭 he almost choked with how hard he was laughing at u 😔 but he helped u redo it 😭💝

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 7 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Sunday lunch with the nightcrew bois, what secrets will come out?

Warnings: Emotional abuse

W/C: 1.9k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 8

The sun was too fucking bright. You groaned and rolled over, mouth dry and head pounding. Your phone told you it was almost eleven, which meant you only had an hour to get ready. That was okay, though. You weren’t exactly dressing to impress. It was only Manny and Frankie . . . Frankie.With a wince, you remembered your conversation with him last night. Had it been painfully obvious that you were talking about yourself? Surely not, if he was drunk too. But as you showered, you thought about what he said, and realised that he was right. At least, he was right about what you could remember him saying. Leaving Kurt wouldn’t mean you would be alone and unloved. You had Manny and Sara; you knew they loved you. But that didn’t change that if you left, you’d have nowhere to go. You had never been the type of person to ask for handouts, especially sympathy handouts. There was just too much to think about.

A text from your phone from Sara told you as much as you needed to know about her night went.

Manifestation WORKS 😉 sent 8:34AM

You spent a few extra minutes washing your face, enjoying the feel of cool water on your skin. Flecks of makeup that you had slept in swirled down the drain, grey and black and blue. Tiny bits of glitter glinted on your cheeks, reminding you of days past when you would drown yourself in glitter to go out clubbing. The memory made you smile, remembering how carefree and happy you were just a few years ago.

Grabbing your darkest pair of sunglasses, you were ready to go. You hadn’t bothered with styling your hair beyond running a quick brush through, and your face was devoid of makeup aside from any remnants left from last night.

It was a quick walk to the bistro, your stomach roiling the entire time. You knew it was food you needed; you had already thrown up several times last night after arriving home. The thought of filling your stomach spurred you on, your feet moving slightly faster. You whipped out your phone to text Manny.

Get. Bread. Please.

There were a few unread messages from Kurt. You knew that avoiding him was immature and would only come back to bite you on the ass when he came home, but the thought of opening them and actually reading them made you feel ill. And he would know when you opened them; he complained whenever you turned your read receipts off. So, you kept them on, to keep the peace, and just avoided opening his messages until you were ready to deal with them.

The bistro came into view, and you saw Manny already sitting at your usual table on the outside terrace. You sat down gingerly next to him and flashed him a weak smile.

“You look terrible,” he said gleefully, pushing a basket of bread and butter your way. You grabbed a small roll and broke it open, inhaling the warm scent.

“I feelterrible,” you told him. “Hangovers don’t suit me.”

Manny laughed ruffled your hair. You groaned loudly, swatting his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Lover, I’ve never seen you in this kind of state before, let me tease you a little,” he said. You flipped him off and ate another roll.

“Is Frankie here yet?” You asked, trying to keep the hope out of your voice. Judging by the look on Manny’s face, you had failed miserably.

“Crushing on the cook, are we?” He waggled his brows.

“No! Of course not!” You said quickly. Liar a tiny voice whispered in your ear. “I was just wondering if he got the right place.”

“Well, wonder no longer, that’s him isn’t it?”

From your spot on the terrace, you could see the familiar figure walking down the shady street to the bistro. Your palms dampened with sweat at the sight of him.

“Francisco!” Manny called, waving him over. Frankie broke into a half jog, raising his arm in a wave. You sunk slightly in your seat, praying that he wouldn’t bring up your conversation with him last night.

“How’s your hangover treating you?” Frankie asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Fucking terribly,” you said, “this is not at all what I was promised last night when I did my fourth shot.” Manny snorted and turned to the waitress who had appeared at your table.

“Good afternoon, dearest Andrea,” Manny said.

“Manny, hun, you know I hate when you use my full name,” Andi, as she preferred to be called, said. You liked Andi, she a couple years younger than you and working her way through a master’s in engineering. “What are we all having today?”

“My usual, please,” Manny said.

“The greasiest thing on the menu for me, I don’t care what it is,” you said. Andy smiled at you in sympathy, knowing the tell-tale signs of a hangover. She then turned to Frankie.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before,” she said, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

“Francisco, or Frankie if you like,” he said. “Can I have the alfredo?”

“Of course, Frankie, anything else I can get for you?”

You and Manny glanced at each other, Manny with his eyebrow slightly raised. You knew Andi was a flirt, you’d seen her flirt with customers dozens of times, but something about this felt different. Personal. You chewed the inside of your lip, hoping your annoyance didn’t show too plainly on your face.

“So, what didyou do last night, lover?” Manny turned to you once Andi left.

“Drank too much,” you said. “Kurt’s out of town and Sara’s in town so I . . . I could go out. And I saw Frankie and his friends out.”

“Are your friends all as gorgeous as you?” Manny asked, turning to Frankie who blushed deeply.

“I wouldn’t say I’m gorgeous,” he mumbled, adjusting his cap slightly. “I’m just average.”

“Gorgeous and humble,” Manny said, “your partner is a lucky person.”

“I’m not- I uh don’t- I’m not with anyone,” it dawned on you that Frankie was terrible at taking compliments.

“Maybe it’s my personal bias, but out of all his friends, Frankie is truly the most attractive of them,” you said. You knew this could lead to something dangerous, but the chance to see Frankie flustered was just too good to miss.

“Yo-you do?” he asked, turning an even deeper shade of red. You nodded seriously.

“Whoever you date in future is going to be very lucky,” Manny said. Then, never one to linger on a topic for too long, Manny took a sip of his water and declared that it was feelings time.

“Feelings time?” Frankie sounded uncertain.

“Well, neither of us can afford therapy, so we use each other as therapists,” Manny explained. “We started it when I was working at Lou’s, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a good feelings time. Of course, you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, and if you do want, keep it as light or as heavy as your heart tells you. Consent is key.”

Frankie nodded, obviously still unsure of the whole situation. It struck you then how strange you and Manny would seem to an outsider. Andi returned with food for the three of you, placing down the biggest burger you had laid eyes on in front of you.

“Enjoy,” she said with a wink to Frankie. “Come find me personally if you’re not satisfied.”

You could’ve thrown up at the blatant flirting. What made it worse was Frankie seemed to be enjoying it, smiling up at Andi.

“I’ll start,” Manny said, once Andi was gone again. “I’m feeling overwhelmed recently with my new job and the house renovations James and I are undertaking. We had a big fight over fucking tiles last night, and I know we wouldn’t have if I could just be decisive.”

“Does James know how you’re feeling?” You asked. Manny shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’d normally tell him about it in a heartbeat, but he’s been stressed too, and I don’t want to add to it.”

“He’s your husband, right?” Frankie asked and Manny nodded. You glanced at him in surprise. “Husbands should support each other. You usually feel supported by him, right? So why is now any different? His stress is your stress, yours is his. That’s what you signed up for when you got married.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell him what’s going on with you,” you said, realising how ironic that was coming from you.

Manny looked thoughtful as he cut into his vegetable stack. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now your turn, lover.” You groaned. Feelings time was fine when you were listening to other people, and when the feelings you had weren’t so messy. But you could filter your feelings, and you trusted the two men you sat with.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m feeling like I want to end my relationship. I feel like I’m fucking miserable, but I also feel like I’m trapped. Frankie, you remember that friend I told you about last night? It’s actually me.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by saying that.”

“Oh, my god,” you rubbed your face. “Right. So, like I said, I want to break up with Kurt, but it’s not easy to do.” You waited for one of them to interrupt you, when they didn’t, you went on. “For one, I don’t have enough money to move out. I don’t have much in savings at all because I keep needing to dig into it when he’s short on rent or money for bills or whatever. I don’t love him anymore, I don’t even know if I like him. Also, he said hedkillhimselfifieverleft.”

“Excuse me, he said what?” Manny leant forward, rage curdling his usually placid face. Frankie too, looked furious.

“He said he would kill himself if I ever left,” your voice was small. “I tried, one time, and-and he sent me a video of him tying a noose to a ceiling fan telling me it was my fault he was doing that. So, I went back, because I don’t want his death on my hands.” You realised with growing humiliation that you were crying.

Manny reached across the table and took your hand, holding it gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you said, “it was my problem to deal with.”

“When does he come back?” Frankie asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” you said. Manny and Frankie exchanged a look and Manny nodded.

“If you let us,” Manny said carefully, “we’re gonna help you get out. We won’t force you into anything, but we want to help.”

“Wait,” you sat back, confused, “wait. Have you too been conspiring behind my back? How? When?”

“No, not til this morning. I gave Frankie my number when I first met him, in case he had any questions. Then he messaged me this morning, and we got to talking about how we can help you.”

“If you want our help,” Frankie said. Part of you felt like you should’ve been angry, but you couldn’t be. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, with love. You grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your eyes under your sunglasses.

“I think I want help,” you said finally. You knew you couldn’t do this without help, even though it embarrassed you to admit that. Frankie nodded, satisfied.

“Alright, we need to make a plan.”

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

[eutxrpe]

painting a picture

—there is no color combination that could ever paint a picture like you. izuku (with the help of his students) still tries to capture your essence on a canvas though.—

pairing: elementary schoolteacher!izuku x gender neutral!reader word count: 2.1k words warnings: fluff, izuku being a simp for you, a bit of second-hand embarrassment the art in the banner belongs to @/hanabiy_chan on twitter!

song inspiration: picture perfect (freestyle) - jhene aiko

a/n: this is both dedicated to and caused by @whipped-cream-writings​. you know what happened for this to be a thing. thank you for being you and inspiring this.

if there was ever a time to be embarrassed about something that deku’s students have said to him, it would be now.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“mr. deku? are you dating someone?” izuku’s head snaps up to see hina, one of his most extroverted students. many other students come over to his desk, intrigued by the question that hina had asked. their little heads surround the table, and eyes peer at him over the height of his desk. 

“yea, are you?”

“tell us! tell us!” tiny voices chant in unison before izuku shushes them all gently. he internally reminds himself that they are innocent six-year olds that were not trying to purposefully embarrass him before answering.

“y-yes, i am dating someone,” the class erupts into cheers before quieting down again. they don’t disperse and head back to their tables like izuku had hoped, because hina looks at him with bright, brown eyes and continues the conversation.

“what are they like? do you love them? do youuuu?” her hair bounces as she drawls out the last syllable of her statement.

“hina, isn’t it time to go back to your seat?” deku asked, cheeks flushing a deep pink at the questioning. shaking her head, she only giggles.

“it’s free time, isn’t it?” she pouts. “also you didn’t answer my question. i...i could always make you, though!” and izuku watches as the brown of her eyes turns a deep black to the point the iris matches her pupils. one of the oldest in her class, hina had already manifested her quirk: the ability to make anyone do what they she wants when they make eye contact with her but only when her eyes were fully black.

“hina.” he makes his tone more strict, catching her attention and making her gaze drift down to the floor. “no quirk usage in the classroom, okay? it’s not fair to your other classmates who don’t have theirs yet.”

“yea, i know it’s a power imbalance or somethin’… but please? tell me?” and when izuku sees her eyes again, they’re back to the umber they usually are and hold only truth in them. he sighs. 

“after this, you’ll go back to your seat?” with an enthusiastic nod, deku catches his lip in between his thumb and pointer finger, trying to figure out how to describe you: the love of his life.

“they’re… amazing. i don’t know any words that could describe the way that i love them. but they’re that feeling when you have your favorite drink for the first time in forever! or-”

“you’re gonna ramble, mr. deku.” hina’s straight-forwardness could be taken as rudeness eventually... he’d have to take her over to bakugo’s or todoroki’s class one day to see what she does in other people. “i know that if i were in love, i’d show them what i couldn’t tell them!”

hina’s reply sparks an idea for a long-term project for his students… and for the both of you. izuku stands up, clapping his hands to get their attention. brushing his hair away from his face, the students see the glee in his emerald eyes and know that it’ll be an interesting project.

“what do you guys think of doing some painting over the next few weeks?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“izu, you’re home!” at the sound of his footsteps, izuku sees you turn around and smile at him and his heart flutters. you’re wearing one of his oversized sweaters and mismatched socks that soften the noise of your feet padding down the hallway to kiss him.

“hi, angel.”

your hands cup his freckled cheeks, and he hopes that you don’t feel the amount of heat that crosses them. from your laugh, he knows that the opposite is true. your expression suddenly changes from content to focused, and midoriya feels your thumb rub away some pink paint.

“paint?” you step back and arch your eyebrow at him, walking away to the kitchen to wash your hands. taking off his blazer and folding it over his arms, izuku follows you, the baritone of his voice floating over to you across the island that separates the two of you. 

“i started a new art project with them,” izuku explains while he plays with his fingers, a habit he’s never really gotten over since his high school days. “their assignment is to supposed to paint something, someone —anything really— that brings them happiness. and then they asked me to do it with them.”

“and you just couldn’t say no?” after drying your hands, you turn around to face him, eyebrow arched and mouth curved into an amused smile. he feels heat race across his cheeks as he nods bashfully. “then i assume you’re painting all might.”

“well… you’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“you’re so forgetful when it comes to your health, you know that?” your unforgettable voice can be heard from across the room to deku, holding the lunch that you reminded him to take three times in total. the students, including one excitable hina, turn their heads up at the noise and gasp.

“mr. deku, is this (y/n)?” after shy confirmation from him, the class cheers and deku raises both of his hands to turn the shouts to hushed whispers.

“p-please go back to what you were doing! you guys wouldn’t want to wake up kacchan, would you?” the bunny that sat on the counter was taking a short nap, his expression relaxed which was the opposite of his hostile behavior. at the mention of the angry bunny, the students went back to work, dipping their fingers in the paint as they continued to talk about you. you shyly smiled and rolled your eyes at the excitement that your arrival caused.

“do you want me to go over to you? or…” your sentence causes deku to blush and stand up quickly, striding over to where you were at the door.

“no, it’s fine… i know that it was hard to take this time out of your schedule. thank you, sweetheart.” he murmurs, trying not to take the children’s attention off of their project. izuku takes the lunch from your hands, giving you a smile and squeezing your hand softly.

“of course! i’ll see you at home later?” he enthusiastically nods, and you kiss as a farewell, lips slotting against each other lovingly. it seemed like you were about to deepen it, but hina’s voice causes you two to part.

“ewwwww!” 

and deku has never felt so embarrassed about showing his love for you. heat streams across his cheeks and down his neck while you laugh innocently. slinging your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, you whisper your goodbyes into his ear, knowing that he would be mumbling about this into your lap at home tonight. in a sort of apology, izuku presses kisses into your neck. (knowing that his back was to hina, of course.) and like the angel you are, you giggle lightly at the sensation, and midoriya knows he’s been forgiven, even if there was nothing to forgive.

afterwards, you turn away, and midoriya sighs at the sound of your shoes against the hallway flooring. clutching the bento you brought him in his hands, he walks back to his desk and back to what he was trying to encapture in his painting. that was until he heard what hina mumbles —or tried to mumble— in the relatively quiet room.

“so that’s what love looks like…”

for once, deku lets out a sigh of relief at work. it was peaceful, and seeing all of the proud smiles on his (they were his at this point; he cared for them that deeply) children’s faces made him proud as well.

all was calm, and so before kacchan woke up from his nap, deku clapped his hands together and stood up, attracting the students’ attention.

“guys… i’m going to need your help with this plan i have, okay?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

you had been surprised when izuku called you while he was at work one day. he was almost religious with the amount of dedication and attention into his students and put his phone on silent everyday. so when he asked you to come to his classroom, you were shocked but quickly rushed over.

your heart skipped a beat with every step you took forward to the door, mind conjuring the worst scenarios every time you thought of izuku’s nervous, high-pitched tone.

“just c-come over as soon as possible please, angel!” you loved this man, but sometimes you just didn’t know what was in his mind. 

and with bated breath, you opened the door to his classroom and gasped.

the room formerly had circular tables on top of an area rug with all might memorabilia on the walls and children running havoc around it. 

but this room had fairy lights around it, giving it this safe haven aura, and there was a pathway to the other side of the room by separating the tables. someone squeezed your hand, so you tore yourself away from the look of the new room and made your eyes look downward. by the excited look in her eyes and proud smirk on her face, you assumed that this was hina, the same girl who had squealed in disgust during your kiss with izuku. 

“follow me, (y/n)!” and although it was a very small distance, you took her smaller hand within yours and let her lead you to the other side of the room where you saw izuku, who was beside an easel. before walking away to another room, hina narrowed her eyes at your boyfriend, telling him to “man up and do it or i’ll do it for you!”

“what’s happening, izuku? is something wrong?” you let him take your hands and he immediately told you everything was okay.

“i just… n-needed to tell you something before i lost the courage to do so. you know that project i told you about earlier?” you nod, trying not to say anything as you saw him fight for the right words. “well… for someone who brings me happiness, i chose you.”

izuku walks behind you to envelop you within his arms from behind, hiding his face in your neck. you tear the paper hiding his work from you away and gasp at what you see.

“i’m not a very good painter! the sketch was much better…” and you know that he wasn’t being modest.

your features were there, but blobs of paint were astray in different places. your eyes were too far apart and your hair was just a touch different than it usually is. but you let yourself fall into the colors that he chose.

the background was pink and you remember that one morning, izuku had told you that you reminded him of the color of a carefree love: baby pink.

you were wearing the same outfit that you were on your first date, and you can’t help but tear up slightly at the amount of detail that he put into this painting.

“izuku… it’s bad but good at the same time, you dork. i love it. i love y-” you turn around to find him on one knee and his own eyes watering. “-ou.”

“i- um, bare with me, here.” you run your hands through his soft locks of hair and sniffle, and he just knows that you’re always going to listen to him. 

“i could never put into words just how much you mean to me. which is probably why i put off this for so long. hah, i- you’re perfect, angel. perfect for me. i’ve always been in love with you even before we started to date… and just seeing you take care of me because i’m so forgetful when it comes to my health and always being there for me in the mornings has made me fall for you again and again everyday. i call these kids my world, but you’re my universe, my love. a picture so perfect that i tried and failed to encompass you.”

you sniffle again, and he presses soft kisses to the top of your hand, trying to compose himself to ask the damn question once and for all. he looks up and into your eyes, and finally… he’s determined to make you his.

“it would make me the happiest man in the world if you could marry me, (y/n).” he lets go of your hand to crack open the velvet ring box to reveal the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen. although you sometimes don’t know what goes through izuku’s head, it’s like he was in yours picking out this beautiful moonstone. 

you get down on the ground too, resting your forehead against his as you whisper out a yes.

“yes… yes, i’ll marry you, ‘zuku. any day, any time, because it’s you. i love you.” you kiss his lips over and over again, making him giggle and pull you even closer on this kindergarten class floor.

and you’re not sure if the moment is ruined or made better by bakugo opening the door to his class and letting hina & the other students loudly rush into the room.

fin.

[saltpepperbeard]

Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn. 

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

[petri808]

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Inukag AU

As Inuyasha and Kagome cut through a park on their way back to the Higurashi home, they chatted casually, just winding down after a hearty lunch at a nearby cafe. The couple stayed to the pathways traversing the manicured park. It would be shorter to cut through the grass, but why the rush? It was a beautiful location, with a several different kinds of trees dotting the landscape to provide shade and lots of open space for all kinds of activities. Some picnicked, flew kites or played frisbee, they’d even passed a group doing Tai Chi. There were young families to older citizens enjoying the scenery. The couples conjoined hands and twined fingers swayed lazily back and forth between them. Despite the summer heat starting to rise in Tokyo, with blue skies and a gentle breeze brought in from the Pacific Ocean, it was a perfect day for a stroll.

While this journey towards normalcy hasn’t always been an easy one, the past couple of months have been the happiest so far. Ever since leaving the hospital Kagome’s felt better and better. There were even moments she’d made peace with the idea she may not regain her memories. Was it saddening yes, because she wouldn’t remember her job, friends, and other precious moments. But at the same time, she could always make new ones. Sango’s twins were still young. She could relearn her job, and best of all she had Inuyasha who’d she’d become attached to. Their steadily growing relationship was a budding romance regardless of their past history. Think about? Kagome had a chance to re-experience everything in a new way, through a new lens. Well… that’s what she told herself to justify the idea, and so far, it was working.

But there were strange moments starting to occur. Sometimes they were dreams of scenes Kagome didn’t recognize. That in of itself weren’t unusual because how often do dreams ever make complete sense? No, it was in the emotions that came with them. On several occasions Kagome would wake up with the distinct feeling these were not merely dreams but memories trying to break through. At other times, she couldn’t remember the dream, only the emotions she’d felt during them. Sometimes they were so intense, she’d wake up in tears or completely happy for no other reason. According to her neurologist, this was normal during the healing process, but unfortunately there was no true way to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

“Did I tell you I reached out to Ms. Tanaka the other day?” Kagome asked Inuyasha.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“I called the office and spoke to her briefly about maybe getting lunch one day so she could tell me how things have been there. I may not know exactly what she’s talking about, but maybe it’ll jog my memories.”

Inuyasha lifted their conjoined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I think that’s a really good idea. You guys will have fun talking.”

“I think so too, she seemed very nic—…” Kagome’s voice trailed away as stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes shifted towards one of the parks trees. “Um, c-could we check out that tree?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Inuyasha smiled knowingly.

It was like her feet gained a mind of their own as they carried her towards a large Sakura tree in the middle of a field. Just from looking at, there wasn’t anything special about the tree. Spring had long since passed and the blooms were no more. But Kagome felt a pull towards this one in particular as if she remembered something about it. What that was she had no idea. She let go of Inuyasha’s hand and reached out, touching the bark of the tree, and staring up at its massive girth. It looked old. Maybe there long before the park existed… maybe older than even the Edo period, who knew? It was just another green leafed tree, yet why was it stirring up a rush of emotions? Happy ones with butterflies dancing in her soul.

Slowly, she moved around the base of the tree like a surveyor mapping it out or searching for secrets only it could provide. And that’s when she saw it. Kagome’s breathing hitched as her eyes fell upon a carving in the wood, approximately five feet above the ground. There, a bit worn nonetheless was a heart encircling two names. “Kagome…” She read aloud, “& Inuyasha—

Oh, my Kami!” She gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “H-How? When?”

At that moment, Inuyasha walked over, gazing at the words and running his hand over the carving while he spoke. “We carved this about two years ago.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and growing moist as if reminiscing. “It was a late Saturday afternoon and after eating an early dinner at Genki Sukiyaki, we cut through this park to get to your house. But it started to rain, not very heavy, so we took shelter under this tree.” Inuyasha chuckled lightly. “I remember you being upset about your hair getting wet.” He finally looked to Kagome, placing a hand on her cheek. “You looked so beautiful and even though the weather was miserable, there was just something magical about it all. That’s when you asked me to carve this into the tree.”

“But how did I know to look for it?” Kagome was so confused. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I have no idea how. But part of you must. Maybe, it’s a sign your memories are fighting to come through.”

The tears gathering in Kagome’s eyes, trickle down her cheeks as a blend of happiness and sadness. She wanted to be happy for such a beautiful memory but devastated that she couldn’t remember it. She wanted to be excited that maybe, just maybe it could be true that her memories were returning, yet she didn’t want to take the chance of a let-down. Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug as she let go of the angsty emotions. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember! I want to remember!”

“Shhh,” Inuyasha who’s own tears begun to spill, did his best to soothe her with softened tones. “I want that too. It’s gonna get better baby. I think this really is your memories returning, we just have to believe.”

“It’s hard to do that sometimes…”

Inuyasha lifted her chin and swept his thumbs over her cheeks to dry them. “And if you don’t, we’re creating a whole new memory of this tree right now, an even more special one.”

Kagome sniffled. “You think so?”

He nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on her whetted lips. “What do you think?” Inuyasha questioned with a soft smile. “How can we add to this memory?”

Kagome paused for a moment in thought. “We could add something beneath our names… like… mmm, forever in time?”

“Is that what you want?” She nodded yes. “Okay,” Inuyasha obliged.

He kissed her again then used his claw to slowly, meticulously carve the new words into the bark. It took a few minutes because he wanted to make sure it was easy to read and would last a long time. “I think this is definitely will better than the original memory.”

“Mmhmm, it’s a good one,” Kagome agreed. She felt a lot better now. “Thank you, Inuyasha for being so patient with me. It must be so frustrating.”

Inuyasha shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m not glad about the accident, but I’m cherishing all this time I’m spending with you. Kagome, I truly mean it when I say, this moment right here,” he took her hand. “It’s now one of the happiest moments you’ve ever given me. No matter what,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you, forever in time.”

She giggled. “Forever… I like the sound of that…”

After the incident at the park, Kagome brought it up with the neuropsychologist assigned to her case. The woman patiently sat in her chair as Kagome told her every little detail. What she felt, the emotions, her thoughts, and reactions. She also brought up the dreams she’d been having as well as small incidents that caused her to feel like it might be memories trying to come through.

“Like, just the other day,” Kagome explained. “Sango accompanied me to the hospital for my last physical check-up, but as we passed by the nursery, we decided to stop to look at the cute babies. Then out of nowhere I started to feel emotional, nothing bad, just happy as she talked about the birth of her twins. I mean, yeah it makes sense to feel happy at the time because we were having a good time, but it just felt different. I almost felt like crying. Why is that??”

The woman finished jotting down her notes before speaking. “It’s been about 5 months, correct, since you lost your memories?” Kagome nodded yes. “And according to your latest evaluations, your brain has healed quite nicely. It’s not uncommon at this point for triggers to manifest themselves.”

“I don’t understand…”

“The way long term memory retention works, our brains must process information and create new neurocircuitry, storage if you will once the information has been deemed necessary to keep in the long term. If not, our short term memories are discarded quickly. Of course, this is just a basic explanation and there’s more to it, but what studies have found is memories attached to an emotional event have a higher likelihood of being retained and will evoke a stronger response from us. Think of it like, these emotional memories are much more deeply attached to our psyches.”

“Oh— I think I understand.”

“Mmm,” the doctor hummed. “The park incident was attached to a very emotional moment in your life. So even though you couldn’t remember the event itself, the part of you that remembered the emotions surrounding it did and pushed you towards the tree. Also, the hospital, you mentioned being with your friend Sango and looking at babies. This is just a guess, but perhaps you were feeling the emotions you felt from the time she gave birth.”

As the doctors words were processed, moisture began to pool in Kagome’s eyes. Could it really be true?! Should she really allow herself to hope?! When Kagome finally responded, her voice cracked as it held back the tears. “D-Does this mean… I’m starting to get my memories back?”

“I would say, yes. Again, I cannot say one hundred percent certain, but what you are experiencing is a common one. Those that suffered from acute memory loss, don’t just wake up one day and suddenly they’ve all returned. It’s a gradual process, but once it begins it typically continues at a steady pace.”

“I-I don’t know what to say!” A few happy tears joined the smile on Kagome’s face.

“I suggest that you start writing down the times you feel something or think you’re remembering something and check them with your family and friends. If they confirm it, talk about it. That could help as well to bring more information and memories to the forefront— give your brain a little help to jog itself.”

“Thank you so much, doctor! I’ll definitely do that!”

The woman smiled, reaching over to pat Kagome’s hand before giving it a small squeeze. “You’re very welcome. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

[edda-grenade]

Fire.

Adaar figures out how to literally throw fire, and Solas has some concerns.

[also somewhat of a follow-up to Wounded, and Tehenan shows up for the first time in Teachers.]

#feral verse, 1300 words. on AO3.

Adaar had done good work with the stitches. How she had managed it, Tehenan wasn’t quite sure, considering the elf damn near flinched under every touch. It had only gotten worse when Adaar left to get more salve.

“So,” Tehenan said, in a probably fruitless attempt to distract him until her daughter returned, “how is the teaching going? Is she driving you up the wall already?”

He let out a strangled noise, like a half-swallowed chuckle.

“She is… a river bursting its banks.”

Tehenan eyed him sidelong. “And what does that mean?”

The elf’s cheeks darkened. “She is reckless,” he said, “and she learns quickly.”

She considered that for a moment. “I take it you’re not the one who taught her how to breathe fire, then?”

Solas stared at her.

“…I’m sorry, she did what?”

“Hold still, I’m not done removing the thread.” Tehenan clamped one hand around his thigh to stop him from moving. “Breathed fire. Or at least that’s what it looked like. Maybe she just set the air in front of her on fire? You’d probably be able to tell.”

“It is dangerous either way,” he said sharply, his entire body tense like a coiled spring. “To compromise her lungs with such… showmanship.”

“You’ve met my daughter, right?” Tehenan gently tugged the last piece of thread from his flesh. “You really expect a woman called fire-thrower not to act like a dragon when she has the opportunity to do so?”

“I… was under the impression Adaar refers to a cannon.”

“It does. But translated literally, it means fire-thrower.” She smiled, remembering the tiny sparks Adaar had spat when her magic had first manifested. “Almost prophetic, huh.”

Solas drew his legs up tight against his torso as soon as she let him go, watching her over his bony knees with the flinty stare of a cautious animal.

“Why did you call her that?” he asked, voice low. It didn’t sound accusatory, exactly, but she couldn't quite tell with him. Tehenan shrugged. “When she was little, she had this habit of launching herself at us—I’d be carrying her, like this, and she’d brace her feet on my hip and just throw herself at Ari, like a flailing chubby cannonball.”

“Lies and slander!” Adaar dropped into a crouch next to them. Like Ari, she could move so much more quietly than one expected, and Tehenan grasped at her chest in only half-theatrical shock.

“Kid! Don’t startle your dear old mother like this.”

Adaar laughed and knocked her forehead against Tehenan’s shoulder, then turned to Solas, who was watching them with wide eyes. She presented the tin of salve. 

“Here you go. And don’t listen to her, I was a highly precise cannonball. I have never flailed in my entire life.”

“Should I tell him the story about the pear tree? Because I remember a distinct amount of flailing in that one—”

“Mama! I don’t go around telling everyone about the time you splattered that deer’s gallbladder everywhere, do I?”

“How do you even remember that, you were four—”

“Did you breathe fire?” Solas’s voice was sharp, edged with something more than anger.

Adaar pouted at her. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Tehenan said and gave her an apologetic pat on the shoulder. “But it was surprising; you should have seen his face.”

“Well, now I missed it—”

“Adaar.”

Solas’s attention had shifted entirely, Tehenan noted. Her daughter’s did, too. The two of them rose, their focus locked on each other.

Tehenan sat back and began to collect her medical supplies, keeping an eye on them, absorbed in their discussion. People always revealed so much more when their attention was focused on anything other than hiding. Not that Adaar had ever learned, or needed to learn, how to conceal her thoughts—sometimes Tehenan wondered if they’d chosen the right path there, in raising her—but Solas was a tightly-locked box at the best of times. Except, it seemed, when faced with Adaar’s magic.

“It carries risk,” he said. “The air you breathe connects to your mouth and nose, your throat and lungs. If you lose control, or miscalculate, you put all of that in danger—”

“So fire is where you draw the line? I can throw lightning and displace my body with the Fade but spewing fire is too dangerous?”

“That is not my point, you know that. It never was.”

“Then what is? Are you seriously mad I figured something out without your help?”

“Of course not! I am simply—”

It was new to him. He wasn’t sure how she did it. And that seemed to frighten him…

“Why don’t you demonstrate?” Tehenan suggested. Adaar brightened instantly, while Solas looked even more conflicted. Adaar grabbed him by the wrist, Tehenan picked up her supplies, making sure the salve tin stayed with Solas's things, and together they trudged down to the river.

“She really hasn’t set anything on fire so far,” Tehenan said. “Just a bit of singed hair.”

“Amazing vote of confidence,” Adaar muttered, but she met Tehenan’s smile with one of her own, sparks already drifting from her mouth. Solas remained silent, all the way through Adaar rolling up her trousers and wading into the river, rubbing her hands together until even Tehenan could feel the way her magic changed the air.

“Be careful,” Solas called out finally, voice tight.

“Always am,” Adaar replied.

“Liar,” Tehenan said, and laughed when her daughter stuck out her tongue in response.

Adaar cupped her hands together in front of her face, as though she were about to drink, inhaled through her nose, chest and belly expanding with it, and exhaled.

It was even more impressive than the first time. A great plume of fire streamed from her mouth and cupped hands, flames dancing through the air. The river’s surface shone red and gold in reflection; a gentle wave of heat passed over them. As the fire faded, Adaar looked to them, eyes bright and her mouth split in a wide grin, a small tongue of flame licking out from between her lips. She was practically glowing.

Tehenan shivered, but her chest filled with warmth at the sight. Stars, whatever mistakes she and Reth and Ari had made along the way, they’d gotten this much right, at least.

She glanced down to catch Solas’s expression.

It wasn’t fear. But it was… familiar. She wracked her brain, trying to remember why—until it clicked. Ari. In Rivain. The market, the seer woman, practicing magic in plain sight and honored for it.

It was longing, for something you hadn’t even realized could exist until you laid eyes on it.

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Adaar called. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Sunspot,” Tehenan yelled. “Are you sure you don’t want Ataashi as your chosen name?”

“I’m thinking about it!”

Solas waded into the river, his steps hurried.

“Show me again,” he told Adaar, that same strange edge to his voice. Not anger, nor fear—but some desperate longing. “Explain it to me. Break it down into the smallest parts possible, that you may make use of them in other ways.”

“Uh, that’s gonna take a while, probably?”

“I don’t mind.”

Adaar glanced at Tehenan, a question in her eyes. Tehenan gave a dismissive wave.

“We’ll be fine, just come back before dark. And take care that his wounds don’t get wet, alright?”

“I will! If all else fails, I’ll just carry him.”

“You will do no such thing,” Solas said stiffly, but he did wrap the dry edges of his cloak around his thigh.

Tehenan chuckled and left them to it, relief softly settling into her bones. Her daughter’s excitement over the past weeks that only seemed to grow with each passing day—it would keep growing. She had someone to teach her, someone who could understand the intricacies of magic in ways none of her parents could. Koslun only knew what hole Solas had crawled out of or what strange cause drove him—but judging by what Tehenan had seen today, for now at least, he would stay.