#hi tysm for this! <3 hope this is ok

[sindicate]

❝ get in the car. ❞ reggie to jughead

          the  jock  turned  american  school  cliché  whose  constant  life  support  was  the  attention  and  praise  from  those  too  scared  to  tell  him  a  few  truths  and / or  the  fear  from  the  weaker  students .  jughead  was  none ,  he  would  never  bow  down  to  riverdale high's  own  brainless  royalty  and  he  wouldn't  coward  in  a  corner  either .    "  at  least  buy  me  a  burger  first .  "    he  doesn't  move  nor  does  his  expression  match  the  sarcastic  comment  thrown  at  the  other ,  instead  he  makes  it  clear  he  felt  he  was  wasting  his  time .    "  i'm  not  going  anywhere  with  you  so  whatever  it  is  you'll  have  to  address  it  right  here .  "

↪ 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 . — @dehvils

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[vicartless-bowuigi-space-au]

“What are you scared of?”

Luigi felt the Star's unease fill his every being—a child shaking in a dark alley, crowding against a corner with no escape. And with a voice that stole Luigi's breath, the Star responded.

“Her.”

[lucidrims]

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . suho coming thru for @fairygrden !

            "  you  do  know  alcohol  isn't  going  to  solve  your  problems,  right  ?  just  making  sure  you  know  .  .  .  "

[miiuusagi]

HI TODAY IS A VERY IMPORTANT DAY it's @goldenlaquer national day and we must all celebrate!!!!! Here's a little present for you (is it a present for you if I wanted to draw Yan in a bunny suit in the first place?)! Anyway happy birthday Goldie <3

[wcvensouls]

" you owe me a dinner. a very nice dinner. "

@celestialshearts : sc .

[unseenking]

❛ are you happy here with me? ❜ (persephone)

          his  chest  tightens  and  his  gaze  becomes  sweeter ,  lighter .  persephone  didn't  know  what  she  meant  to  him  if  this  is  what  she  was  asking .  he  holds  her  hands  between  his  cold  ones ,  despite  the  outside  hostile  vibe ,  hades  had  a  heart  and  one  full  of  love  for  the  goddess  in  front  of  him .    "  what  kind  of  question  is  that ,  of  course  my  love .  "    even  the  stories  told  by  those  that  had  never  met  the  god  held  some  truth  to  them ,  one  fact  that  remained  true  was  how  the  god  would  always  find  it  difficult  to  express  himself  through  words .    "  i  do  not  think  you  know  how  boring  my  life  before  you  was ,  how  deep  into  my  work  i'd  throw  myself  more  often  than  i  care to remember ,  charon  used  to  have  to  remind  me  that  i  did  not  live  in  that  throne ..  you  have  brought  so  much  to  my  life ,  and  i  can  only  hope  you  are  as  happy  as  i  am  with  you ..  "

@thecs

[alfather]

“ who do you fight for? ”  

          an  electrical  current  begins  at  the  tip  of  his  fingers  creating  small  thunder bolts  as  it  spread  over  his  whole  hands .  he's  containing  it  there ,  not  meaning  to  start  a  fight  but  readying  for  one  should  it  be  needed .  the  god  catches  himself  in  the  middle  of  a  battle  in  a  planet  too  far  for  the  mortals  to  know  about  -  the  same  mortals  he  should  be  looking  after .   "  i am zeus , i  take  no  part  in  this  battle .  "    his  voice  is  loud  and  clear  despite  the  complete  mayhem  surrounding  them , the gods powers extended beyond olympus and earth .    "  i  am a god ,  what  are  you ?  " he asks without giving it much thought as to how the question would be taken , but far too amazed by her power to notice . if his predictions were correct he knew who this was , but he'd rather hear it from her .

[myrlin]

✧ ˚ · . ✦  › @vagomvndo — ❛ i hear you have a quest for me.  ❜

                    the familiar voice echoes around the room , pulling merlin's attention away from the belongings scattered on his table to the loyal knight entering. the knights of the round were they most renowned knights in the kingdom , better yet , the most loyal friends that merlin & their king could ask for. thus , there was no one else more suited for this quest. ❛ yes , i do.  ❜ a beat , hands adjusting his sleeves as though he was about to leave. ❛ there's an artefact that i require , but it's split into two pieces. you will collect one , i will collect the other. then , we'll meet up halfway.  ❜ a breath was taken after his unintentionally demanding task. in truth , he simply wanted someone he can rely on that wasn't running the entire kingdom. ❛ what do you say ? we must make haste if you're to come with me.  ❜

✧ ˚ · . ✦  › meme › accepting !

[babybeel]

Congrats for 1K! Could I get a music match-up? My 3 songs are. Escape by Megan Nicole, Get your wish by Porter Robinson and Numb little bug by Em Beihold

your music matchup is... — DIAVOLO!

song rec: risk - mega mango

[sindicate]

❝ i didn’t realize how late it was. ❞ / lestat

          social  constructs  no  longer  applied  to  him  and  it  had  been  such  a  long  time  since  the  last  time  they  did  that  he'd  have  forgotten  about  them  hadn't  it  been  for  the  fact  that  he  kept  being  reminded  of  them  as  he  chose  to  live  amongst  humans .    " what is it ,  something  worth  my  attention  at  such  hour  of  the  night i assume .  "    he  offers  a  smile  that  only  meant  politeness  but  it  is  obvious  she'd  caught  him  in  the  middle  of  something  by  the  way  he  conditioned  that  door  and  only  opened  it  enough  to  be  seen . 

↪ 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 . — @vampirecrack

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

questions that only your mind can answer:

1. suguru as a poet. y/n? if y, who do you think his favorite poet would be?

2. what siken poem is the most sugu coded?

3. if satoru was a type of poem what kind would he be and why?

thank you for your time my ari.

WAHHHHH MY IO……… 🥺🥺🥺 you have no idea how loud i squealed when i saw this LMAO thank you sm for giving me an excuse to gush over stsg and poetry at the same time i feel so privilieged 😭😭😭 UMMM UM LET ME THINK!!!!

1/ first off. BIG yes. huge yes. he’s so poetcoded it makes me ILL. io i’m convincedddd that this man would be a literature major and i’m not just saying that bc i’m biased ok…. i just feel like he would have a fondness for the arts yk :33 particularly writing. i can picture him as a poet so easily bc everything he does and says is flowery and soft…. poet!sugu would make us swoooooon

i’m a bit sleepy rn so at first i thought you meant y/n as in like .. The Reader 😭😭 BUT THEN I STARTED THINKING ABT POET!READER TOO AND. wow. theee power couple ever !!! aaa io he’d be so perfect :((( sugu would be such a supportive bf no matter what his s/o did for a living but w any kind of writer i just think he’d be so Good. proofreads for you all the time!! he’s your most loyal reader… your biggest fan…. reads alllll your little poems when you’re away and he misses you :((( and he writes you his own !!! they’re so mushy and pretty and sweet…… hhhh. he’s just. the best!!! T_T brags abt your writing to satoru alllll the time but doesn’t let him read any of it w/o your consent (maybe even with it LMAO)… i just think he’d feel so honoured if his shy little poet!s/o only let him read their works :’3

nooo i’m not projecting at alllll… wdym…..

OOOHH AND AND. his favorite poets!!! as much as i’d love to say siken i don’t think that’s really his style. suguru strikes me as the type to enjoy very flowery writing, a bit musical-leaning in the rhythm and structure and stuff!! also season-based…. i’m thinking verlaine and rimbaud and nakahara. french symbolist poets and anyone inspired by them!! as for a more modern example i think he lovesss mary oliver and louise glück :3 october is one of his favorites!!! these lines remind me a lot of him….

Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me.

This is the present, an allegory of waste. So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart.

This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something.

hmmm….. a part of me wants to say he really enjoys frank bidart too. the war of vaslav nijinsky makes me think of him!!! :0 the themes of morality and guilt.. especially this line for some reason:

romola. diaghilev. i have eaten the world.

maybe it’s bc of his ct but . i just feel like he’d enjoy poetry abt hunger and eating in a more abstract sense… devouring…. etcetc. it’s a big contrast to the usual nature-based flowery prose he reads but sugu loves having his contrasts so. i think it makes sense!!

all in all i think he has very good taste. he’s not afraid to dip his toes into other genres either!!

2/ IO . 🥺🥺 MY SWEETHEART….. i literally cried i can’t believe you’re indulging me like this i started shaking w excitement……… i just went through crush + war of the foxes and if i had to narrow it down to just a single poem (<- extremely difficult task!! pls be proud) it’d have to be…… little beast.

if i had to sum this poem up with two words they’d be violent and tender… which is the case for all of siken’s poems tbf 😭 but that yearning for tenderness in the midst of violence is just so, so evident here. it always guts me. there are softer poems that i’d compare suguru to, but if we’re talking about canon suguru, his connection to satoru, his fate and ideals and desperate yearning for love… then i think this one is the most fitting.

obv this is tied to my own interpretation but!! at the end of the day. i see suguru as someone who craves tenderness. he craves love and intimacy and what drove him to his breaking point was the realization that he wouldn’t get it without slaughter. i think that line between violence/gentleness drives him insane but he has no choice but to tiptoe around it. and that’s what this poem makes me think of. some lines remind me of stsg and that dichotomy in their relationship, others just of suguru and his mental state…. and also his charm. that dangerous edge to him. the contrasting softness. the poem gets more violent as it goes on but the love never fades and that’s what really gets me.

the radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night is thinking. it’s thinking of love. it’s thinking of stabbing us to death and leaving our bodies in a dumpster. that’s a nice touch, stains in the night, whiskey and kisses for everyone.

someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure. i’m sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart.

i know history. there are many names in history but none of them are ours.

you could drown in those eyes, i said. the fact of his pulse, the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire not to disturb the air around him.

you could drown in those eyes, i said, so it’s summer, so it’s suicide, so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

more frequently i was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of lullabies.

but damn if there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.

we pull our boots on with both hands but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.

i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time.

…… honourable mentions to landscape with fruit rot and millipede + birds hover the trampled field + snow and dirty rain

3/ aaaand finally !!! this question was kinda tough… but soooo much fun to think abt. <33

i think satoru is the kind of poem that stays with you forever. the kind that pulls you in with a really gripping opening line, forces you to read it all in one sitting, and then you’re left wondering what the hell it was even about. flowery but with no real substance until you dig really deep, and then it’s all you can see. the kind of poem you could pick apart for hours and hours……. a real gem. but it’s comforting, above all else. he’s like a collection of poetry that makes you smile just to hold it!!! :>

now !!! some questions for you !!!!! >:3

how do you think satoru would be w a poet!s/o?

any thoughts on poet!nanami..? 👀

[enhafilthandfiction]

ok hear me out (yall have a bet) imagine mutual masturbation with jake, but the one that cums first has to give the other a head.. regardless of the winner j@ke ends up eating you out

Dumb Games - Jake Sim

A/N : Hello everybodyy I. am. back. (after being dead for like 345 months). Anyways, just wanted to say that I missed you all sm! <3 I hope you are all doing well and ready to enjoy reading this fic! Anon tysm this is such a good idea oml esp with bff!Jake 🤭

Pairing : Bff!Roomie!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kinda pervy and desperate Jake, mutual masturbation, oral (f.rec), dirty talk (bc cmon it's Jake), panty smelling (sry), some fingering and I think that's it :))

Word Count : 1,268 Words

Masterlist

It was a normal day for you, laying in bed, reading, scrolling through Pinterest, studying, until-

"Y/n? What is thisss?" your roommate's tone which echoed through the corridor told you he was up to some mischief. You lift your head up curiously as he stumbles into your room, your expression quickly changing when you notice what he's holding. "Jake!" you yelp, rolling out of bed to chase after him.

"I didn't know you owned a pink dildo" he lets out amazed, looking back at your tired figure which was still running after him. He giggles and escapes to the living room, settling on the couch as you follow.

"Oh and it vibrates too!" he exclaims in awe.

"Yeah, now give it back" you breathe, trying to catch your breath.

"Nah, come get it" he lifts his arms up and you scurry to get your personal object back, climbing on his sitting figure as you reach for it, but his arms were too damn long.

"Jake, please, just give it back" you sigh, giving up. You don't even realise you're pretty much straddling him in the position you're at until you feel his other hand on your arm.

"How about we make a deal?" he asks, a playful smirk on his face. "last person to make themselves cum wins"

You deadpan at him "Are you kidding?" you ask in a simple tone.

"Nope, and the loser has to finish the other off" he adds, looking at you hopefully. "Plus I'll give you this back so you can use it in the meantime" he shakes the pink object in his hands, flicking his brows up and down.

You've always kinda liked Jake, he was funny and unserious and just your type. But he was also the person you pretty much grew up with. You were scared to lose such a friendship so you never actually made a move. This was your chance.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance "Fine. You're gonna be the one cumming too quick anyways. We'll see how good you can give head." you shrug, giving him a pretty smile "Now give me my damn dildo back"

He laughs and places the plastic dick in your waiting hand, before looking up at you, smoothing his hands down your sides. You looked so pretty like this on him, he couldn't wait to see you pleasuring yourself.

You get off him too soon, finding your place at the other end of the big couch, spreading your legs as you snake a hands between them. "Fuck" he curses under his breath, his already-hardened cock twitching in his uncomfortable pants.

He also leans back on the opposite end of the couch, quickly untying the stings of his sweats and sliding them down impatiently along with his briefs. His cock springs out, the angry red tip already leaking precum.

You bite your lips at the sight of him, wondering how he'd feel inside you. One thing's for sure; that pink plastic dick wasn't half as good.

You get comfortable, rubbing your clit through you shorts. "Show me that pussy" he instructs, slowly stroking his shaft. You blush red, smiling at his impatience. Nevertheless, you lift your hips up and slide the shorts down along with your panties which you knew were soaked.

Jake didn't hesitate to grab the black material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. You roll your eyes and sigh at his pervy behaviour. "Jakeee" you whine "That's dirty"

He doesn't seem to care, groaning at your smell and at the sight of you. "Fuck you're glistening" he points out, licking his lips as he speeds up his pace a little. #

You spread your juice around, circling your hole, closing your eyes at the tingling sensation. His lips almost start to draw blood at the way he's biting them, his hand going up and down his cock quicker.

He can't help the way his eyes are fixated on you, watching your expressions and your fingers touching yourself. He knows he's gonna lose the second you put a finger inside yourself, squeezing his base to calm himself down.

You open your eyes to stare at his, as if in a challenging manner, the sounds of your gushing juices fills the room, his curious eyes looking at where you finger yourself.

"Close Jakey?" you ask in a breathy voice which goes straight to his dick.

He breathes in "N-no" he lets out, his shaky voice betraying him. He can't help himself though. You want him to lose, adding another finger to your tight hole and moaning out loud.

He's done for when you purposely moan out his name, sending him into a frenzy, his eyes roll to the back of his head and before he knows it, his hands are drenched in cum.

You sigh at him "I didn't even get to use my dildo" you faux pout when he slowly opens his eyes, recovering from his orgasm.

"You won't need it" he mutters, getting off the couch and making his way to you. He grabs your thighs and positions you so that you're sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn't waste a second to sink down on his knees, spreading your legs as he takes you in.

"So fucking hot" he whispers under his breath. He's been waiting to taste you for so long. Smelling your panties just made him more impatient. You nod at him when he looks up at you from between your legs and he dives in.

He flattens his tongue and licks up your folds in one go, immediately humming at your taste. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your hole before slightly prodding it in just to tease you. His licks his way up you clit, kitten-licking the little nub sending tingles up your spine.

"Fuck Jake" you breathe out, subconsciously grasping his hair between your fingers. You push his head deeper into you, encouraging him to suck at your clit. He hums at the little tugs on his hair, the pleasurable sting going to his dick.

He licks back to you hole, his nose bumping against your clit, making you whine out. You can't help but close your thighs around his head, engulfing him into you. He brings his hands up to your thighs, keeping them open before he brings one hand to your hole.

You feel like you're going to explode with his finger prodding at your hole and his tongue on your clit, the stimulation becoming too much. "Fuck, fuck r-right there" you moan out, pulling at his hair to ground yourself.

The way he hums against your folds doesn't help, your hips twitching at the feeling. He starts finger fucking you at a quicker pace, his mouth still working on your clit. All it takes is one last suck on your sensitive clit before your squeezing around his finger and tipping your head back in pleasure.

He eagerly licks up your essence before you push his head away due to overstimulation. You catch your breath as he sits up and settles on the couch next to you.

"Hate to admit it but that was one of your best ideas, Sim" you chuckle out, still in a haze.

"I never come up with bad ideas dumbass" he replies, also chilling back into the couch, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"We should play this dumb game again sometime" you suggest, trying to place a hint.

"Damn you liked it that much didn't you?" he asked giggling

"It's always nice seeing you lose your own game"

Hi again, thankyou for reading to the end :D I hope you enjoyed it !! Have a good day/night and remember that ily! <333

[emilys-bangs]

could i request an Emily xfem!Reader fic where they end up sharing a room while out on a case? and maybe there’s a couch or something and somehow reader falls asleep with her head on Emily’s lap? i just can’t stop imagining Emily playing with reader’s hair to help her sleep 🥺 love how you write Emily 🩵

Tysm 🫶🏼 I write gn reader, hope that's ok <3

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Fall right into me | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: room sharing, fluff, pining (so much pining), reader has enough hair for emily to run her fingers through—length not specified, no use of yn

Word count: 1.8k

It’s cold. You’re rubbing your skin through the wool of your sweater, stifling a yawn as Hotch walks into the motel lobby. Four keys are clutched in his hand.

“There’s only four rooms available, we’ll have to double up.” He says, and you bite your lip to keep a groan from escaping. The cold seeping in through the thin walls has made you cranky, and after a whole day spent on your feet, the thought of sharing your precious alone time with someone makes you want to slam your head into a wall.

Amongst the seven of you, three of the rooms would be occupied by pairs. That leaves one spare room.

Everyone reaches that conclusion the same time you do.

Immediately, they start squabbling over who gets the spare room, Morgan and Reid protesting sharing with each other. Emily ignores them and turns to you, gently bumping your shoulder with hers. 

“Roomies?” She whispers, her dark eyes wide.

Well, shit.

It’s not that you hadn’t shared a room with Emily before, but rather, you hadn’t ever since you’ve realized—quite inconveniently—that you’re in love with her. 

It’s hard not to be. Against your better judgment, you’d fallen for her. For the soft way she teases you, the sturdy way she has your back. The curve of her lip and the darkness of her eyes have enchanted you, swarms of butterflies turning your stomach when you get a glimpse of dimples, when you see her swoop her bangs over bottomless irises.

Her shoulder is still pressed against yours, a warm weight that seeps heat through your sweater. Sharing a room with anyone right now is an egregious thought. 

But Emily isn’t just anyone. 

You can’t help but give her a small smile, even as your heart jumps against your ribs. “Sure.”

Emily returns it, a dimple creasing in her cheek as she turns and snatches a key from Hotch, walking past him while the others continue their arguing over the spare room. You trail after her and catch up on the rickety stairs, the cold in your skin chased away at the thought of rooming with her again.

“Promise you won’t snore this time?” Emily turns to you, a teasing glint in her eyes as you walk up the steps together. They’re so narrow your shoulder has no choice but to knock into hers.

“Hey!” You complain as she lets out a low chuckle. “I was sick, I told you.” A frown drags your lips downward, but when you spot Emily’s smile, it’s all you can do to keep it in place.

You step onto the landing as she hums, twirling the key around her finger, “You did have a pretty cute sick voice.” She muses thoughtfully as her eyes skip over the few doors lining the hallway, looking for the number that matches the one etched onto the key.

Heat simmers in your cheeks. Your skin grows tight and itchy under your sweater, the sudden flush of warmth in your body making you pull your lip between your teeth.

“Ah, here it is,” Emily murmurs and approaches the door, casually fitting the key in the lock as if she didn’t just blow your whole world out of proportion with a few words.

You’re hardly looking as you follow her in, distantly taking in the two twin beds and couch while your brain replays her comment in the hallway. The thud of the door behind you doesn’t register, your blank gaze just barely taking in Emily as she claims the bed on the right.

Snap out of it, you firmly tell yourself. She’s just saying your voice was nasal. Hardly a compliment.

But your stomach is still in knots.

“I’m taking the bathroom.” Emily says. 

She’s going to take an eternity, you know, so you hum, drop your bag on the floor, and sag onto the bed next to hers. The bathroom door clicks shut and you sigh, kicking off your shoes and curling your legs into your chest as you turn sideways, your eyes catching the TV.

Exhaustion is heavy in your bones, mingling with the cold. A yawn escapes past your lips as you stare at the dark screen, distantly listening to the sound of the sink running as Emily gets ready for bed. Even as your body screams for sleep, your eyes are wide open, jumping from couch to desk to TV, restlessly taking in your surroundings as you run through the case in your head and allow the disquiet of your thoughts to run rampant.

It takes the better part of ten minutes before Emily finally walks back into the room and murmurs, “Bathroom’s free.” 

Rather sluggishly, you drag yourself off the bed and into the bathroom with another yawn. The first thing your eyes fall on is the sink, and Emily’s assorted skincare products littered around it.

The sight makes you smile. There’s glass bottles with droppers and smooth, expensive looking creams and glossy tubes with soft, pastel colored caps. You’re used to this display; serums and cleansers and moisturizers, each that she presses into her skin with a diligence that makes you wait for an upward of fifteen minutes outside the bathroom door. Your own routine is much simpler—washing your face and brushing your teeth and changing into another sweatshirt that serves as pajamas.

When you finish getting un-ready and walk back out into the bedroom, you find Emily on the couch. She’s in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, channel surfing as she nibbles on her bottom lip. You sit next to her and try to conceal the hitch in your breath when her warm eyes slide to meet yours, the intense darkness of her gaze forcing you to look somewhere else. The freckles on her cheeks catch your attention; warm sprinkles of cinnamon that dust her skin, tiny spots nestled in the curve of her nose and the folds of her under-eyes, softly standing out against her pale complexion and bringing out the darkness of her irises.

“Any suggestions?” She murmurs as she turns back to the screen. The overhead lights are dimmed, the room blanketed in a low glow from the bedside lamps. Light from the TV washes over the two of you, throwing Emily’s features into sharp relief as she skips over channel after channel, not yet finding what she’s looking for.

“No.” You say. Forcing your gaze away from her, you turn to the TV and watch her restless browsing instead. She flips through the channels and a yawn leaves your lips, making your eyes water as you sag further into the couch. 

By some force of nature, your head falls against Emily’s shoulder.

She tenses for the briefest second before relaxing again, her shoulder collapsing beneath your head as she breathes in and out. Heart thudding wildly in your chest, you gnaw on your lip and steadfastly keep your eyes on the screen as Emily pauses on a showing of When Harry met Sally. You barely see the movie, too preoccupied with the places your body touches hers.

In the cold room, the air between you two buzzes with shared warmth. Your arm pressing against her arm, your sweatshirt rubbing against her skin; shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. Emily exhales again, heavy enough that you feel it in your body.

Shit, you freeze. What if I’m making her uncomfortable? She probably wants me to get off—

Her hand finds its way into your hair. The muscles in your body turn into liquid as she scratches your scalp, gathers some strands of hair around her index finger.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” She asks softly. Her voice vibrates through her skin; you feel it in your bones.

When you turn your head to slot under her jaw, you smell honeysuckle. Your eyes flutter shut. “How’d ya know?”

Stupid question.

“Well,” Emily starts, and again the vibrations of her voice travel to your heart, “you’ve yawned like ten times in the car and since we’ve gotten out.” She scratches her short nails against your scalp, “Those pretty eyes of yours have started to grow distant, and you’re walking like a lifeless zombie.”

“Hmm.” You hum, latching on to the word pretty. The more she plays with your hair, twirling it gently around her finger, the more incoherent you grow, your eyes getting heavier by the second. Shit, that feels good.

“I think that’s a yes.” Her voice is amused. You can almost picture the smile on her face, gently tugging at her lips. You’re thinking you should move—by this rate you’ll definitely fall asleep on her shoulder, numbing it beyond belief—when Emily slides her fingers out of your hair.

A disappointed frown draws your brows together. The feeling doesn’t last long before she gently places her fingertips on the back of your neck, pushing carefully down until your head is in her lap.

In her lap. Your head is in her lap—

“I don’t think my shoulder’s the most comfortable place to sleep.” Emily says apologetically. Her nimble fingers slide back into your hair and she drags her nails against your scalp.

You sigh involuntarily, fog growing thicker in your brain when you feel the soft cotton of her sweatpants, the tangible warmth of her thighs beneath your cheek. You want to at least try to protest, but then her other hand lands gently on your shoulder, pinning you in place.

Well, you can’t really complain.

But you can’t fall asleep here; there’s a perfectly good bed two feet away. Forcing your heavy eyes open, you’re met with Harry and Sally at the karaoke. They’re blurry, splitting into two, but you persist.

“You a romcom kinda girl, Em?” You slur. You don’t have the energy to speak out her full name; lips growing heavy, you snap off the last two syllables and keep one sweet on your tongue.

The hitch in her breath gives her away. “No.” She says quietly. Combing over your scalp, she scratches against a spot over your ear. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

“This one’s special, though.” Her voice is hushed. Crushed velvet, you think deliriously, wrapping yourself up in the warm comfort of it, “I saw it in the theater the summer before I left for Yale.”

She starts saying something, something about popcorn and the heat and—weirdly—Hotch, but you can’t ask any questions, can’t get your eyes to open after they’ve fallen closed. Emily twirls another strand around her finger and you’re gone, sinking into the darkness of sleep faster than you can stop it.

The last thing you hear is her voice, a golden incandescence in the darkness as she lulls you to sleep.

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world! Lmk what you thought <3

[forzalando]

hi! can you do "kisses. on. the. tip. of. the. nose." + charles please please please 🙏 tysm <3

hi hi hi! i hope you like it😊💛 thank you so much for your request, i had so much fun writing this one!!! charles + kisses on the tip of the nose 631 words, no tw!

Adopting Leo was the most wonderful decision that you and Charles had ever made – he was the sweetest puppy, even if he could be a menace at times, and had so much love in his tiny little body for the two of you.

He was exceptionally clingy, especially with you since he spent more time with you, which prompted Charles to overcompensate a bit for his absence.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of your dog, per se, but as you sat on the couch and watched Charles give his undivided attention to Leo while completely ignoring your existence, you felt a bit slighted.

His puppy voice and the sound of him leaving kisses all over Leo’s face, particularly his adorable nose, had your frown growing deeper. You’d never been great at controlling your facial expressions but Charles had yet to notice until you sighed involuntary.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” Charles asked sweetly, cradling Leo delicately to his chest in order to move closer to you.

“Nothing,” you pouted, stealing Leo from his arms to hopefully quell the loneliness in your chest.

“It’s not nothing, you are sad. Talk to me, my love.”

“I just – gosh, it’s so stupid.”

“Your feelings are not stupid, I promise. Did something happen while I was away? If someone hurt you I will – ”

“No, Charles,” you interrupted, debating the best way to tell him. “I…I know you miss Leo a lot and you feel guilty because you’re away so often but you’ve been home for four hours and after a quick ‘hello, I love you, I missed you”, you haven’t paid attention to me at all. I’m just feeling a little left out.”

It was silent for a moment except for Leo’s soft pants and the sound of him licking your chin – you couldn’t help but smile at the affection from him, the affection you were craving from your partner as well.

“Mon amour,” Charles cooed. “Are you jealous of little Leo?”

“I’m not jealous, but you’ve kissed him 81 times and I’m feeling neglected.”

Charles smiled softly at you, “I’m sorry, Leo is new to me being gone so often, I’ve been so wrapped up in making sure he knows I love him that I forgot for a moment it never gets any easier for you.”

“I understand, Charlie, it’s ok. I’ve just missed you a lot,” you whispered shyly. He moved even closer to you, cupping your face with his hands, leaning in. You closed your eyes and waited patiently, eager to lose yourself in Charles.

Your eyes flew open in shock when you felt his lips upon the tip of your nose repeatedly – over and over again while Charles giggled and pressed himself as close as he could without crushing your fur child.

“Charles!” you squealed, laughing along with him as his kisses moved to your cheek, chin, and right back to your nose.

“You said you were jealous of Leo’s nose kisses!”

“I said kisses in general,” you gasped between laughs. “And it looks and sounds like I’m not the only jealous one in this family.”

Leo was yapping away in your arms – his little paws trying and failing to push Charles away while he snuggled closer to you. “Leo, let me love on your Mama, no?” Charles lightly scolded, ruffling the fur on his head. As if Leo understood, he huffed out a sigh and relaxed in your arms, quickly falling asleep.

Charles leaned back against the edge of the couch and beckoned you to sit between his legs, cocooning his arms around you as you leaned back into him.

Your head nestled in the crook of his neck and Leo snoring softly in your arms – you wouldn’t trade your perfect, little family for anything in the world.

if you'd like to request a short drabble/blurb, please see this post!!

[wcvensouls]

" you must forgive me, " for he found it hard to establish the past from the present in the features carried on by dan heng, he who held such uncanny resemblance to someone jing yuan himself had to witness the downfall of. " for while i do understand that you are dan heng, the remanents of your past --- your ancestor --- stir up emotions within me i find it hard to establish. "

regret, mostly, flooded his bones at the sight of dan heng's regular features. not due to his mundane self resembling that of dan feng the most, but due to knowing that behind that exterior was the lingering presence of someone jing yuan had once seen as a dear friend. it brought an uneasy feeling around, blending in with the lingering regret he carried with him despite all this time.

" i cannot expect you to understand , nor i will encourage you to. " for he had simply summoned dan heng to a private audience in order to clear the air of its uncertainties. " however , i wish to share the reason for my ... well , approach to it all , and while the memories of the past might have come flooding to you i ... i only want to say that despite the outcome , the price that had to be paid for the treason , i respected and admired dan feng for what he was and the strength he had. he was a dear friend of mine, dan heng. "

returning to the luofu was strange, even though this place had once been his homeland. although dan feng had gone through the cycle of rebirth and was no longer in this world, dan heng still bore the punishment that was given to his predecessor, as well as the burden of the consequences of his actions, in more ways than one. he should have been cleansed from the sins commited by the previous high elder upon being reborn... yet he understood that things were not quite as simple. he could tell the general that he was not dan feng as many times as he wished, yet there was a part of him that simply understood. perhaps there was also still a part of dan feng lingering inside of him somewhere, one that made him feel a sense of familiarity upon looking at jing yuan's face and made him see a person that should be a stranger as someone he unexplicably cared about.

still, dan heng reminded himself that he was no longer the same person & that the person the general missed was not himself, but an echo of the past that he happened to bear great ressemblance to. when being summoned by jing yuan for a private audience, he had already imagined what would be discussed — and dan heng felt a sense of uneasiness take over him even before arriving here. if he was not dan feng in any way, then why did he still feel a certain sadness whenever he was around the other, seeing the way that he would look at the face he shared with the high elders of the vidyadhara? sometimes, it was as if he was missing an old friend, even though such memories did not truly belong to him.

dan heng had kept his head down for a moment or two as he listened to his words, before he dared to look up and meet the other's gaze, an indescribable look on his features. " general... " he spoke in a quiet, yet serious tone — with a hint of a softness that perhaps was a bit unexpected to even dan heng himself. " you need not explain yourself to me. " he paused for a moment before continuing. " i understand that dan feng's presence, as well as his sin, cannot be so easily erased through rebirth. and i can understand that my own presence here makes things rather... complicated. " whether he was still around or not, there were still people on this place that would remember him — and, in this moment, dan heng realized that, perhaps, jing yuan was the only one that could still remember the good in him.

@avaere : unprompted asks .