#it is freeing to blow your nose in the shower though

[nametakensff]

washing my hair the right way to encourage my curls requires me to lean completely forward for about half the time I'm showering, so I consider it an active win when I avoid sneezing from getting shampoo up my nose. Tonight was a failure

[froggibus]

The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding. 

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something? 

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little. 

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro.  He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball. 

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks. 

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact. 

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him. 

[beomboomboom]

Kidult

genre: fluff, established relationship

pairing: Seokmin x reader

summary: Seokmin brings out the kid in you, what more can you say?

warnings: none!

note: I hope everyone reading this fic knows that it's alright to embrace your inner child! Enjoy reading <33

There was just something about Seokmin that made you feel like a kid again.

Maybe it was the way he went through life with a childlike joy and innocence. Maybe it was the way he seemed to never have a single worry in the world.

Or maybe it was in moments like this, when he was like a grown-up child who never hesitated to have a bit fun with you.

"Baby, let's go outside!"

"What? Are you crazy?" you exclaim, your eyed wide in disbelief when you hear your boyfriend's statement. "It's raining, we're going to get sick."

"I know...but, please?" Seokmin pleads, his hands finding yours and giving them a small tug, silently begging you to change your mind. "It'll be fun, and we can always just take a really warm shower afterwards so we don't get sick."

You let out a sigh and pause for a moment before finally relenting. "Fine, but if we get sick it's your fault."

Letting out a happy cheer, Seokmin giddily drags you out the door.

"The umbrellas, we're-," you begin to yell, but your words only fall to deaf ears as Seokmin already makes his way outside, letting the rain wet his clothes as he shrieks in joy.

"C'mon, join me!" Seokmin shouts with a laugh as he jumps into a puddle, oblivious to the fact that its splash completely soaks his pants. "It'll be okay, don't worry," he reassures while running to your side with a bright smile on his face even though his clothes are completely soaked. Enveloping his hand with yours, Seokmin leads you into the rain.

At first you let out a shriek at the way the cold rain meets your skin, sending shivers down your body. But soon your body gets used to the droplets and all you can focus on is how free you feel.

You're not even worrying about how your clothes are completely soaked, or the fact that you and Seokmin are definitely going to get sick after this. But rather, you're focusing on the way you feel like a kid again as you have fun with Seokmin in the rain without a single care in the world.

You're focusing on the way your laughter echos Seokmins' as he runs around in the rain with you. The world blurring and leaving you and Seokmin in your own separate world where there is only him and you, playing in the rain as time slips away unnoticed.

Bringing your soaked body closer to his, Seokmin gently cups your face with his hands and presses a kiss onto your lips. "I feel like a kid in love when I'm with you," Seokmin whispers into your ear as the rain falls on the both of you.

"Maybe you are," you retort with a fond laugh before feeling a shiver go down your back, your boyfriend quickly catching notice.

"Hm, about time we go home and take a nice warm shower don't you think?"

"Definitely," you reply with a giggle.

"This is all your fault," you groan as you blow your nose for what seems like the hundredth time. "I told you we would get sick if we played in the rain."

"It's okay, at least we're sick together," Seokmin says with a cheesy grin as he sits up and tries to give you a kiss before accidentally letting out a wet sneeze.

"Ew, get your snot covered face away from me," you say with a teasing laugh before handing him the tissue box. "I'll kiss you when you get better."

[boyfriendstevie]

good morning, indeed

steve joins you in the shower before work, and you have a feeling you'll be running a bit late | just a lil somethin for my first fic here! i hope y'all enjoy -- feel free to send me your soft n spicy steve thoughts hehe. & shoutout to @hungharrington everyone say thank u jay. | 1.1k afab!reader, shower sex, fingering, mentions of a blow job. 18+!!! mdni!!!!

Steve is a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he gets in the shower after you’ve already started. And you know, too. Still, you lean back into him after the initial shock of his touch surprises you. Big hands spread across your waist, pressing into the softness of your hips and tummy. Your back presses into his front, the hair on his chest scratching against your skin lightly as he leans forward to hook his chin over your shoulder. He hums quietly, voice still raspy with sleep, lips ghosting over your cheek as he murmurs, “Hi, honey.” A soft kiss presses to your cheekbone. 

“Stevie,” you reply softly, half in greeting, half in warning. You’re trying to get ready for work, and now that he’s joined you, there’s a good chance you’ll be late. 

His lips move from your cheek to your jaw, and then just underneath your ear, nose nudging against your neck. He knows just what to do to turn you into putty under his touch, and sure enough, your eyes flutter closed, lips parting as you sigh in bliss. You can feel his smile against your skin before he bites down gently, sucking at your pulse point just hard enough to leave a bruise. You’re definitely going to be late if you let him continue, so you try again to get his attention, “Steve, I have to… oh— I have to g-get ready for work… Don’t have much time…”

“We can be quick,” he replies without missing a beat, one warm palm sliding up your wet torso to cup your breast, the other creeping in the opposite direction, pinky daring to brush out across your hip bone. 

He’ll stop if you want him to, no questions asked. But you’d already been admiring him in bed this morning before you had to get up, and now that he’s touching you, you’re not sure you’ll make it through the day if he stops. You gasp as his thumb brushes over your nipple before pinching, another nip to your neck before he places a delicate kiss there. You tip your head back to glance at Steve the best you can, and you take in his wet, slicked back hair, the water beading in his eyelashes, and nod eagerly, “Okay. Quick, though…” 

“Quick,” he agrees again, wasting no time in pushing further down to cup your cunt with his hand. Two fingers drag up your center, collecting some of your slick before pressing into your clit, rubbing in slow circles. Your breath hitches, and you know he’s smirking again; you can hear it as he asks, “Yeah? Right there?” 

One of your hands grasps at his forearm that’s pressing against your hips and you nod quickly, “Please.” 

He knows what you’re asking, and while he’s not going to make you wait long, he teases you a bit more, circling your clit a few more times before his fingers dip back down to your entrance. Then, just before you can ask again, two of his fingers ease into your cunt. Steve groans as his fingers push in knuckle-deep, voice low as he murmurs, “Fuck, honey, you’re so wet f’me.”

“Steve, I— ah!” Your words catch in your throat, a gasp forcing its way out as his fingers scissor apart to spread you open, the hand on your chest pinching your nipple again. Your fingers dig into his arm, clutching him so tightly that you’re sure you’re going to leave behind small crescent shapes embedded into his skin from your nails. If it bothers him, he doesn’t say anything as he fucks you with his fingers, a slow drag in and out of your cunt, scalding kisses pressing to the crook of your neck and down your shoulder. 

The heel of his palm rubs against your clit every time his fingers push in deep in a way that drives you insane. And when his fingers curl, brushing against the spot inside you that makes you see stars, you can’t help the moan you let out. The sound echoes off the shower's tall walls, and if you weren’t so lost in Steve, you might feel embarrassed. 

“Can feel you clenching around me, baby. Gonna come for me? Can’t have you late for work…” Steve is still sounding smug, but he’s a bit breathless. You can feel him against your bum as he holds you against him, hard cock pressing into you. He unabashedly grinds into you, letting out a low groan of his own. 

It’s enough to send you over the edge, overwhelmed with his hands seemingly everywhere, the shower's warm water still falling against your face. The hand not clutching his arm flies out, reaching for something to grab onto, but you have to settle for the slippery shower wall. You don’t have enough wherewithal to warn Steve, but he knows you like the back of his hand, and tightens his arm around your waist to keep you upright as you come on his fingers with a series of expletives and a strangled moan of his name. 

“There you go, honey,” Steve murmurs, soft kisses trailing to your cheek, fingers not stilling until you squirm away, overstimulated. His hold on you finally loosens and he places his hands on your hips, gently turning you around until your back is against the shower wall. He gives you a cheeky grin and asks, “Feelin’ good?” 

You let out a breathless laugh and nod, even though he knows your answer. Your legs still feel a bit like jelly, so you reach up and hook one arm around his neck, the other hand pushing wet hair out of his eyes. And just before you lean up and give him the first proper kiss of the day, you reply, “Well, good morning, I guess.”  

His kiss is eager, hands dropping to your ass and squeezing as he pulls you into him. He’s still so hard against your hip, and you’re already going to be late, so you figure there’s no harm in returning the favor, “Your turn, Stevie.” 

“You, ah— you don’t have to, baby. D-don’t want you late for work,” he stutters as your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly. 

“Already late, might as well make it worth it,” you grin, pecking his lips one last time before you sink to your knees in front of him. 

Your lips press to his hipbone, and Steve already feels like a mess as your thumb swipes out over the tip of his cock. He sighs, fingers weaving into your hair, “Good morning, indeed.” 

--

[terrarain]

seasons of love

characters: todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, takami keigo

summary: four seasons, four guys. different drabbles based on the season.

notes: reader's pronouns unspecified, swearing, it's entirely fluff! mentions of a reader with a pollen allergy in keigo's, some possessiveness in bakugou's for like one line, ticklish reader in shinsou's

word count: 4.5k

ˏˋ°•*⁀☂️ spring; takami keigo

Keigo didn't see much appeal in the rainy showers that May would bring. The rain had an unpleasant tendency to wash away traces of villain activity; it was a criminal's best friend. Activity in the streets were always lower when it was raining. People weren't as alert.

So he doesn't really get it when you're tugging at his sleeve with a cute pout that. As he stares at your jutted out lip, he has the oddest desire to bite it.

"Please. It'll be fun."

"Alright, consider me convinced, birdie."

All you had to do was say please with wide eyes and pouty lips and he was done for. Keigo's sure that Miruko would laugh her ass off at how easily Keigo acquiesced to all of your requests. Good thing for him, then, that the rabbit hero was nowhere to be seen.

And so that's the explanation behind why Keigo, the number two hero Hawks who was currently on a break, is currently walking next to you. In one hand, he's holding a well-loved umbrella and his other hand...

Golden eyes linger on the free hand at your side, swinging forward and back as you practically skip along the rain-washed sidewalk.

The hand that's not holding the umbrella twitches.

"You really like the rain."

"It's the best part about spring."

The beaming smile that you send his way makes Keigo feel all melty inside with affection. A part of him is glad that his wings have been reduced to just a few feathers at the moment. He has a feeling that, if his wings had been full, they'd be puffing up an embarrassing amount right about now.

He cocks his head to the side slightly. "Not the flowers?"

"The flowers are nice, too. But they make my allergies act up and those aren't much fun."

Keigo recalls memories of you in past springs, nose all runny and red, eyes slightly teary.

"But you're cute when you're sniffling," he teases, trying for a flirty smile. You just roll your eyes playfully.

"You won't be saying that when I'm constantly blowing snot into tissues."

You'd still be cute in his eyes. He's seen you a snotty mess before, when you got sick one time, and Keigo couldn't help but think that you looked stunning.

"You look beautiful all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, you flirt," you laugh, unconvinced.

Shit, he thinks distantly. I'm down real bad.

Keigo hadn't been saying that just to flatter you. He really did think that you were the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes upon. Anybody who said otherwise was just wrong. They'd have to be blind to not recognize your beauty.

"Seriously," he insists. A flush takes over your cheeks, faint but still there. Keigo smiles to himself.

"Anyways," you fluster, walking a bit faster. He quickens his pace as well, careful to make sure that the umbrella that he was sharing with you was still covering you. He could feel his shoulder getting a little wet, but he didn't really care.

"So," Keigo drawls, one bushy brow raised. "Didja drag me out into the rain just so we could walk? I know I'm irresistible," an eyeroll from you, "...and that you want to spend more time with me, but we could just hang out at your apartment like usual."

"You're such a homebody," you muse. "Who knew that the flashy, number two winged hero Hawks is a shut-in."

"Hey," he says, not all that offended. "Your place s'real comfy."

And nobody expects anything of him when he's in the comfort of your well-lived in home. He's just Takami Keigo in private, cracking jokes and play-wrestling with you. Just another average joe who's hanging out with the love of his life a friend.

" 'sides," Keigo continues, looking over to you quickly. "I'm out here with you, aren't I? Even though I have no clue what you're up to."

"Oh, I never told you, huh?" you muse. The look in your eyes is playful, almost childlike.

"What schemes are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?" he questions, eyes slightly narrowed. He moves up a bit more to walk next to you when he sees a car approaching from behind. There's no puddles for the car to splash the two of you with, but better safe than sorry.

"You said that you've never played in the rain," is your non-answer.

Keigo does faintly recall telling you this. It had been a while ago, if he's remembering things correctly. You were working your magic in the kitchen while he was sitting at the counter as he watched when he had let this bit of information slip.

Ah, he realizes. "That's what all this fuss is about?"

"You're missing out," you insist when you hear his perplexed tone. "Right now, it's raining. And you're on break. So... now's a great time to take you out."

Keigo almost makes a joke about you taking him out in a different context — for a date.

The joke doesn't come. Instead, he just says: "Chickadee, I've flown through the rain. You're actin' like this is my first rodeo out in the rain."

You let out a little (cute) frustrated huff, eyes narrowing. Your arms cross as you speak. "Put the umbrella aside. We're going puddle jumping."

Keigo cocks a brow in questioning, "Uh, you sure? You'll get—"

"—wet?" you interrupt him as you bring the hood of your raincoat over your head. "That's what the coats are for."

"If you say so," he says, giving up easily enough as he brings the hood of his own raincoat up before closing the umbrella. Keigo really can't say no to you.

The two of you stand there under the rain. It's not particularly harsh, but it's definitely not a light drizzle, either. A scarlet red feather flies up to carry the umbrella that he sets to the side.

"So, what now, professor?" Keigo says, grinning. "Please do teach me about the joys of rainy weather."

"Gladly," you say as you offer him a hand. It only takes a nanosecond before his hand is in yours, his gaze expectant. The raindrops that fall onto the exposed skin are cool.

You tug at his hand, gentle, and he follows behind you like a lost puppy. Keigo finds himself feeling glad that there's nobody out at the moment — that there's nobody to disturb this moment between the two of you.

"Just gotta find..." you trail off, eyes scanning up ahead for something. Eventually, your aimless wandering becomes directed as you let out a small 'aha!'.

You're leading him towards a recently formed, sizeable puddle on the sidewalk.

"Are we going to—"

"Yes."

"Chickadee, we'll be soaked."

"Didn't take you to be such a party pooper," you tease, stopping right at the edge of the puddle as you look over to him.

Keigo gasps, offended. "Me? A party pooper? Why, I oughta—"

You don't wait for him to finish that sentence, jumping into the puddle in front of him with a lot more force than he thinks is necessary. The water comes up and out of reflex, his arms rise in a futile defense against the liquid.

"You were saying?"

"You are so cheeky," Keigo says fondly before he joins you in the puddle, jumping into the rainwater just as a child would.

He hears you let out a little squeal as water flies up towards you and Keigo grins, kicking some water at you as a form of payback.

"That's cold," you giggle, eyes bright.

"I said it'd be cold earlier while you were trying to drag me out," Keigo replies, letting you tug him out of the puddle as you begin searching for another puddle to jump into.

"Worth it," you declare.

He tilts his head curiously. "You're having that much fun?"

Your reply catches him off guard and he almost stumbles.

"It got you smiling again," you say easily, turning around a corner. Your face lights up when you see another untouched puddle. "Not one of those safe smiles. A smile smile."

"A smile smile," he echoes with vague amusement. His heart is fluttering and his cheeks are warming. Keigo, pointedly, does not acknowledge it. "Your descriptions could use some work."

"Oh, please, you get the point," you grin. "Now, come and help me ruin our jackets and boots more, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Keigo says, joining you in your adventures into the puddle of water while he thinks,

Maybe the rain isn't all bad after all.

ˏˋ°•*⁀☀️ summer; todoroki shouto

"Thank you! Come back again!"

Shouto one perfectly-shaped brow slightly as he glances over to you. You're waving to the person leaving with a sunny smile. In the sky, the sun had already started lowering.

"Are you doing this again tomorrow?" he questions. The hand that's waving stills momentarily before dropping back down to the table of the stand he sat at with you.

You lick your lips. On the table, you're twisting your fingers - Shouto recognizes it as one of your nervous habits.

"Um... well, you don't have to, if you don't want to."

Shouto shifts, gaze briefly flickering over to the bucket of icecream surrounded in his ice. He repeats his question, slightly reworded this time.

"Do you want to do this again tomorrow?"

Your eyes, Shouto thinks as he returns your stare, are something that he could gaze at for hours upon hours on end.

"I do," you admit, lips upturned in a shy smile. "Are you... free tomorrow?"

Shouto's hums as he leans forward a little towards you, chin in the palm of his hand. The darkening of your cheeks makes the smile on his face grow a touch wider. "I am, indeed, free tomorrow. I presume you will be enlisting my assistance as a personal cooler again?"

The little laugh that slips through your lips is light and breathless as you nod. "Mmhm. Really, thanks again for this, Todoroki."

"It's no problem," he says, and it really isn't. Although the request had been an odd one, he didn't particularly mind.

The request in question had been related to ice cream carts - which, to his understanding, are portable stands that sell ice cream. You had told him that you'd wanted to run one - but didn't have the money to rent one out. Shouto had been on the verge of offering to rent one for you when you had eagerly tugged him over to a makeshift stand.

"So, I decided to make my own!" you had told him a few hours ago. Your previously eager smile had turned sheepish when you made a request. "But I don't really have anything to keep the ice cream cool in the heat, so I.. I was wondering if you would be willing to be a cooler? You'll get half of the money the stand makes!"

Shouto would've provided his assistance regardless of whether or not you were paying him. He had said as much, but you insisted on paying him anyways.

"You're really sure you don't have anything else to do?" you question, frowning in concern. "It can't be that fun for you, sitting around at a table in the heat for most of the day."

"The heat doesn't really affect me," he says smoothly, smiling warmly as he looks at you. "And I think it's quite enjoyable. You're very good company."

"Oh-" you clear your throat, all flushed cheeks and giddy smiles. "You're good company, too, Todoroki."

His lips downturn. "Shouto."

The look you send him can only be described as bewildered.

"Call me Shouto," he clarifies. "We are close enough for you to refer to me as such, no?"

He tilts his head when you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Then - you can call me by my given name, too," you say shyly. When he says your name out loud, you nod slightly. "That's me!"

You then shuffle a little, turning to reach for the bag of ice cream cones. He watches with rapt attention as you scrape out the last remaining bits of ice cream in the bucket and drop it onto the cone. He retracts the ice he had around the bucket, seeing as there was no ice cream left to keep cool.

"You should have it." you say after watching him. When he looks at you, you're holding the cone out for him.

Shouto shakes his head. "It's alright. You can have it."

"Shouto," you huff. "Really, you should have it instead. You've been entertaining my whims 'n whatnot the entire day, so.."

The usage of his name has him hesitating; he wonders if you'll say his name again if he keeps refusing. The small pout on your face discourages him from that, though, and he decides to opt for a compromise.

He leans in to take a bite of the ice cream in front of you. Vanilla melts a little on his tongue before he swallows the bite, the coolness of the treat lingering. When Shouto pulls back, he observes your flustered expression with some amusement.

"There," he says simply. "I've had my fill. You can have the rest."

You open your mouth to protest and he just raises a brow in a silent question. He seems to conveyed his message well, because you bring the cone to your lips and take a small bite as you look away from him. Shouto gently pokes at your flushed cheeks, eliciting a giggle.

The smile on his face is fond. Shouto doesn't really have a favourite season - he didn't see a reason to have a favourite.

But, as the sun sets in the distance, last few rays of sunlight framing you in a picturesque scene as you finish off the ice cream cone in your hand - Shouto thinks that if he had to pick one season as his favourite, it would be summer.

ˏˋ°•*⁀🍁 autumn; bakugou katsuki

Katsuki doesn't indulge people. He doesn't entertain their whims. He gives absolutely zero fucks about the desires of other people.

(A lie, sort of. Katsuki is just a little soft towards his closest friends and he lets himself get dragged into their antics sometimes. But he would never openly admit that.)

That's what he says. That's what he told you, more or less, when you had thrown his coat at him and pushed him out the door of the dormitory. Which he let you do because he's particularly soft towards you.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," you tease him with a playful grin. His expressions sours even further, which earns him the action of you poking him in the forehead with one finger. "You'll get wrinkles early if you keep frowning so hard."

"Stuff it," he says heatedly as he swats your hand away. It's an action that he immediately regrets, but his body doesn't relax in the slightest.

You don't seem to mind, laughing good-naturedly, which pisses him the fuck off because you should mind. He treats you so roughly and it's unwarranted, he thinks. Katsuki knows that he's an asshole and he knows he's far from being a nice person.

You should be treated kindly. Should be hanging out with someone just as bright and sunny as you.

But at the same time, he doesn't want you to do that. It's an unreasonable possessiveness, he thinks, because you're not even his. You don't belong to anyone.

Katsuki has no idea why you still hang out with him.

You're all soft touches, kind smiles, playful quips — and he's rough around the edges. He's a horrible person and he's done fucked up shit in the past that he regrets so, so deeply and he doesn't get you. Or any of the things he feels for you.

You're more resilient than he would've ever thought — because while you were all soft and shit, you knew when to stand up for yourself and you never let yourself be pushed around. You're firm with him and handle yourself well around him. Something about you, terrifyingly enough, disarms him.

His classmates — friends, they call themselves — are also weirdly eager to be around him, just like you. They actively insert themselves into his life and include him in their playful banter.

But you hang out with him the most. Some people have commented on it, in the past. He had just replied to them with a dark glare.

"Alright, this is a good spot!"

Katsuki cocks his head to the side, brows still furrowed. "Hah? Whaddya mean?"

The two of you are standing in a fairly open space, a few ways away from the dormitories. It's a clear part of campus with several trees hanging overhead.

"Pretty, isn't it?" you say, not answering his question at all. Your gaze is directed upwards, so he follows. Golden yellows, crimson reds, vibrant oranges act as a natural ceiling. Bits of the blue sky are peeking through.

"The fuck we standing here for?" he asks, all gruff as he looks back at you.

In one smooth motion, you pull out two rakes and what the fuck.

"Where the hell were you hiding those?"

"Trade secret," is your playful response as you press a rake to his chest. He grabs it out of reflex more than anything. "Less questioning, more raking."

"Hah? What's this shit even for?"

There's a glint in your eyes as you reply.

"Raking leaves," you state the obvious and he rolls his eyes. "We're making leaf piles to jump in."

"That shit's for kids," he grumbles, unmoving as he watches you fly around the leaf-covered ground, starting up a small pile of multi-coloured leaves.

"You're basically just a big baby," you coo and his glare sharpen. You don't seem to react because you're somehow never affected. "So I don't see the problem."

"That's—" he flounders, eventually deciding on a snarl. "Listen up. I'm not fucking making fucking dumb piles of fucking leaves just so you can fucking jump into them."

"Is fuck the only swear you know?" you question. You're teasing him.

He glowers.

"This is unfortunate," you sigh dramatically. He watches you carefully as you pause, looking down at the pile of leaves at your feet with a forlorn expression. "I didn't think that the Bakugou Katsuki would be so terrified of a few leaves. Guess I need to go get someone stronger to help me out."

Katsuki knows that you're trying to get him to rake leaves. He knows that you're poking at his ego and it's ridiculous because there's absolutely no reason for him to get competitive over a few fuc- shitty leaves. It's dumb, really—

"Fuck you," he spits as he starts raking up a pile of his own at record pace. Katsuki misses the painfully soft smile on your face, more focused on making his pile bigger than yours.

For a few minutes, it's just the sound of two students romping around and the scraping of the steel rakes against the ground that fills the air. Eventually, Katsuki comes to a halt when there's no more leaves in the immediate vicinity. He considers going out further to get more leaves for his pile.

"Damn," you whistle and his chest swells a little in pride at your impressed voice. "That is a big pile of leaves. I surrender."

"Ha. Did you think you could beat me to begin with?"

You snort, hand wrapping around his wrist. He can feel the sweat forming on the palms of his hands and he thinks that, if the lightning dumbass was around, he'd be making so much fun of Katsuki for the sweaty hands.

Katsuki has a few swears lined up, but none of them manage to leave his mouth because you're tugging him along.

Straight towards his pile of leaves.

(He could probably plant his feet firmly in the ground, making all of your attempts at moving him around futile.)

(He doesn't.)

Katsuki is stumbling into the mountain of leaves along with you as you destroy all of his hard work with a jump.

He's a little worried that you'll hit your head against something and before he knows it, one of his hands are resting against the back of your head as the two of you lay down on the ground.

The smile on your face makes him feel all soft and gooey and shit inside.

"Look," you say, and he glances up at the sky briefly as per your request. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Leaves are fluttering down gently around the two of you, warm tones unique only to autumn painting the air. It really is a sight to behold, he thinks, as he looks at your content expression.

The leaves eventually settle and you take it as your cue to stand back up. Katsuki looks at the hand that had been previously cradling the back of your head before he stands up roughly a second after you.

There's a golden leaf in your hair.

Without thinking, he reaches out slowly to pluck the leaf from your hair in one, easy motion.

"..Bakugou?"

"You had a leaf in your hair," he grumbles, flicking it off to the side. "Dumbass."

"That's mean," you say, but the smile resting upon your face with darkened cheeks makes him feel like you aren't so offended. Katsuki thinks he likes the way you look when blushing. "Round two?"

"Your pile is still there," he huffs. "Whaddya mean by round two?"

"But it's small," you lament, gazing upon your small pile of leaves. It definitely pales in comparison to the tower of leaves that Katsuki had cooked up earlier. "It'll be a lot more fun if it's bigger. Let's collect all of the leaves up into one big pile."

"This is dumb," he says, lips turning upwards in a slight smile.

"But it's fun!" you beam.

"...Whatever," he breathes out, turning away brusquely to hide his growing smile.

Katsuki's chest feels warm as he shoves a small bunch of leaves into the growing leaf pile.

ˏˋ°•*⁀❄️ winter; shinsou hitoshi

"Fuck, don't go in there. Are you a dumbass?"

Hitoshi shifts slightly. "Probably."

In all honesty, Hitoshi has no idea what's going on in the horror movie that you had put on.

There's some screaming, probably some ghosts or something - was the movie a ghost movie? He couldn't remember - which was all very cool. Probably. But he's more interested in you.

His best friend. That he's fallen irrevocably in love with.

You take a sip from your mug of hot cocoa, eyes watching the laptop screen with rapt attention. There's some sort of noise that comes from the screen that draws his own attention over. A rather ghastly, pale creature shows up behind the movie's protagonist.

"I told you so," you mutter, like the protagonist could hear you.

"Damn, someone doesn't leave the house," Hitoshi comments off-handedly, referring to the unnaturally pale, spindly creature currently chasing after the main character.

That draws a snort from you. A sound that has him wanting to poke at you so he can hear it again.

"Like you're one to talk, 'Toshi."

Now that has him actually poking at your sides. He takes the hot cocoa out of your hand and sets it down on his desk before he starts jabbing his fingers into your sides.

You break down into a mess of airy giggles as you try to pry his hands off of you and he grins.

"Hey. My complexion is way better than that thing."

"I don't know," comes your drawl once he stops tickling you, gazing up at him with an impish grin. "When was the last time you left the house and touched some grass?"

"There's no grass to touch," Hitoshi says, getting off of you to gesture at his window. Outside, a flurry of white storms on. "There's a fucking snowstorm. Its been snowing like crazy the last few weeks. Any grass out there is long-gone."

"Sounds like excuses to me," you chirp, settling back into your sitting position on his bed. He can't help but note that you're a lot closer this time. If he moves as much as an inch, his legs would bump into yours.

Hitoshi counts to three to calm himself down.

His heart beats thunderously against his chest anyways.

"Oh, she's definitely dead," you say, interrupting his thoughts. He raises a brow and turns his attention to the screen of your laptop.

Sure enough, there's a gory mess of fake blood and organs and a lot of screaming from the girl.

"You don't say," he drawls as the screams die down. You smack his arm playfully.

"Hush."

"Technically, you're the one who keeps initiating conversation," he snarks.

The smile on your face grows and he allows himself to think that you're smiling at him fondly. "Smartass."

"You know it and you love it."

Silence.

Hitoshi panics. What did he say, again? He definitely said the l-word. He hadn't been thinking. What did you think? You had suddenly gone silent and-

"That, I do," is your whispered response.

His body locks up and he just stares at you, but you aren't looking at him. Your gaze is resolutely fixed on the screen, acting all nonchalant - but he catches the darkened hue of your cheeks.

He smiles softly and turns his attention over to the screen, half-watching.

The scene had moved on from the girl's death. There was some arguing amongst people in a dingy little room. The only safe room in the house, if he recalled correctly.

Something to his side shifts and then he feels a warmth pressed up against him. His reaction is immediate, head snapping over to you.

"It's cold," is all you offer for an explanation, drawing the shared blanket closer to you.

The heating system had broken down a while ago, so the two of you had opted to share a blanket. It was a large blanket — big enough for two people to share without ever having to touch the other. He figures it could probably fit three.

Hitoshi continues to stare.

"You're always warm," you clear your throat, pulling your end of the blanket up around you to hide your flushed cheeks.

"What am I, your personal heater?" he manages to joke, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Yes," you declare simply.

He rolls his eyes fondly. Boldly, he slowly snakes an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him.

For the body heat, he clarifies to himself.

There's no protest from your end, so he assumes he's in the clear. If anything, you're snuggling up against him and fuck if it isn't the cutest thing ever. It's getting harder to resist the urge to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"We should do this more."

Your voice comes out quiet, tentative. Hitoshi licks his lips as he hums nervously.

"What, cuddling?" he says, half-joking.

"Yes," you say, completely serious.

Oh, fuck me.

"It's not annoying, is it?" you question, a bit of hesitation flickering about in your gaze.

"No," Hitoshi replies immediately, arm around your waist tightening a little. "Nah, 's fine."

The hum he hears from you is happy as you turn your attention back to the movie. The horror movie you had put on was just background noise to Hitoshi as he relaxes into you.

And if the two of you don't move from your positions long after the movie ends, well — that's only for you and him to know.

a/n: still not super comfy with how i write bakugou gAH i want to do the boy some justice bc he's got a lot going on,,, hopefully i'll get it with time

[persphonesorchid]

Spring Crescent - JJK x reader

Summary: Just you, Jungkook, and spring time.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: one swear, they shower together.

Wc: 2.0k

Masterlist - Here

If you like my content, please consider supporting me 🥺 - Here

Notes: Dedicated to the loml @xpeachesncream !! I HAD to keep it secret (keep it safe lmao) from you even though you kept asking what 'the jk thing' was. Happy birthday my love, I wish you the best, because you deserve it and way more! Here's to more of our crackhead conversations and simping over men! I love you ❤️

“Baby...” Jungkook’s voice is a rumble in his chest, against your back, sleepy and barely there. He’s warm where he’s pressed against you, legs tangled somewhere lower with yours and the sheets.

You’re awake, have been for a while, but not wanting to move and disturb him. Watching the chill of the night cling still to the window, and the slow rise of the sun that heralded a new day.

Bits of frost melts and slides away as winter wanes and ushers in spring. You follow the slow slide of frost down the window with your eyes, and Jungkook shifts behind you. The tip of his nose is cold where he brushes it against the back of your neck.

“You awake?” He shifts and his hair tickles your neck, he props his chin on your arm, sleepy eyes peering at you behind the mess of his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smile, freeing your other arm from the warmth of the sheets to brush his hair back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hums before he flops down behind you, pressing his chest against your back, “Ah, it’s so cold.” He whines.

“Well,” you chuckle, “You refused to put the heater on, so it's your fault.” You shift away from him to get up, and he only whines louder as you escape.

“Where are you going?” You’re already halfway across the room, and he’s wrapped the covers tightly around himself, eyes sleepy and hair everywhere. “Come back here and keep me warm.”

“I have to pee. Want me to stand here and do it?”

“You’re so...” Jungkook sighs loudly, his fingers peeking out from the covers to shoo you away, “Fine. Begone.”

Laughing, you make your way across the hall to do your business. It wasn’t long before Jungkook followed, the shuffling of his slippers giving him away. You’re brushing your teeth when he knocks and opens the door, making a face at you.

“Traitor. You weren’t planning on coming back to bed.” He says, you smile at him through the toothpaste, and he drags his feet over to the toilet.

The toilet flushes, and Jungkook’s next to you, nudging you to the side so he could wash his hands. He plucks his toothbrush from the hanging holder mounted on the wall, “We should go for a walk...there’s this new place that opened a couple blocks from here...we can get breakfast there?”

“Sounds good...” You spit the toothpaste foam out of your mouth, “But do we really have to walk all the way there?”

“It’s good exercise!” Jungkook sticks his toothbrush into his mouth while you rinse yours. You wander over to the shower, more than ready to take a hot one before Jungkook stops you. “Wait, wait. Don’t go in without me.”

You wait another two minutes while he finishes brushing his teeth, busying yourself with getting fresh towels from the cabinet. When he’s done and he’d carefully put his toothbrush back into the holder, he complains once again about the cold as he slips out of his large tee-shirt and sweats, hopping into the shower before you do despite asking you to wait.

You follow not long after, the water’s already flowing in a steady hot stream while Jungkook just stands there under it with his eyes closed like he’s found the fountain of youth. He leans his head back a little too far, then jerks it forward, sputtering.

“That went right up my nose, fuck.” He steps out from under the water, maneuvering you to take his spot with gentle hands. He blows the water out his nose, rinsing his fingers with the water that flows off of you.

Jungkook pokes at your sides with his fingers when you turn to grab the bar of soap and the washcloth. “Hey, d’you think if I smack your ass right now it’ll hurt more because of the water?”

“You know, regular people plan stories in their heads in the shower.”

“So that’s a no?”

You turn around just in time to catch Jungkook’s hand on the draw back. “Don’t,” you laugh, pressing his hand to his side, “I’ll smack you right back.”

“I’d like that though...” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a smirk that looks as dangerous as the droplets of water sliding down his flushed chest.

“I know you would, you little freak.” You chuckle, giving him the soap and the washcloth, “Get lathering.”

By the time you and Jungkook get out of the shower, the sun’s up a little more, past the slightly gray clouds and shining into your shared bedroom with its beautiful morning glow.

Jungkook makes sure you’re both properly dressed to brace the Spring’s chill, passing you a pair of fleece lined tights and fitted sweatpants, along with a light blue sweater and a long white coat.

“You’re always stealing my hair ties...” you mumble, as Jungkook sits between your legs, letting you brush his hair back to tie somewhere in the middle. The hairs at the front that’s too short to make the pull hangs loosely on his forehead.

“We’ve been over this, babe. Our hair ties.” You shake your head even though he can’t see you, trying to tame the fly-aways near his nape that refuses to lie down.

You’re down the stairs in the next five minutes, after Jungkook took forever to decide if he was going with the long or short coat, both of which were black. He’s now wiggling his feet – clad in those ungodly toe-socks he likes for reasons you would never understand – into his boots while you do the same. With perfectly, socially acceptable socks.

The chill isn’t as bad with your layers, but you shiver nonetheless as Jungkook locks the house. You stare at the car, a little forlornly when Jungkook throws an arm over your shoulder and directs you out the driveway and down the sidewalk.

He’s humming some song he says he’d heard somewhere, brows furrowed because he just can’t remember the name of it or where he heard it from. You weave your way through the other few early morning walkers, off to their own destinations, exchanging pleasantries as you pass them by.

There’s a young girl helping her mother set up the eye-catching sidewalk displays in front of a flower shop, talking and laughing about something. People who decided to brace the cold in thin sweaters while they jog past you and Jungkook.

You don’t mind the walking so much now that Jungkook has you tucked close to his side as he talks about how pretty the flowering trees look. You can see the trees that guard different spots in the park a good ways away, some of them in little clusters of pink and whites and pale yellows.

Jungkook points out the small diner tucked between two other buildings as you draw nearer, wondering out loud what their breakfast menu would look like. There’s a little tinkle of a bell somewhere above you when Jungkook opens the door and lets you walk in first, and you’re greeted with blissful warmth and a comforting smell of coffee and fresh bread and sweet pastries.

The inside is small and neat, booths with brown leather seats tucked into sides and corners, tables and chairs in more open spaces. All the tables are dotted with cutlery and napkin holders, and little shakers with neat labels, all on top of large white doilies. White tiled walls reflecting the hanging lights that are on despite the daylight streaming in through the large clear windows, dark brown hardwood floors that look nicely polished.

There’s a digital menu on a TV screen on the wall behind the counter, with little pop-ups of daily specials and limited time drinks. A display showcase divided by two with warm and cold pastries, different types of bread on trays at the bottom. It's surprisingly empty, but you’re sure more people would show up in a little time.

Jungkook makes a soft ‘Oohing’ sound as he goes over to the showcase, eyeing the different flaky pastries on display inside. “They’ve got blueberry jam tarts!”

A door behind the counter swings open, and a girl who looks to be in highschool, fixing the straps of the beige apron she wears under the collar of her black tee-shirt. “Hi, I’m sorry I kept you waiting!”

“We just walked in, don’t worry.” You smile at her, and by the way she flutters nervously through asking you and Jungkook what you’d have, you could tell it’s her first job.

Jungkook leans down a little to ask, “What’d you want?”

You hum quietly, squinting at the menu thoughtfully. They have a variety of options, American and Asian breakfast foods all of which catch your eye and make you indecisive.

“Chosilog?” Jungkook asks, looking at the menu and then back at you, and you only nod because you’d be standing there forever trying to decide. He orders while you look at the pastries again, thinking about getting some of the cupcakes with the pretty swirled icing on top.

You and Jungkook sit in a booth near the large glass window, watching the people passing by and onwards. The diner is a little fuller now, and there’s two people behind the counter trying to keep the line to a minimum. You’d both stacked your used utensils neatly in one corner, with the cupcakes you’d wanted tucked into a neat little white box and your coffee in a take-away cup, you left.

Jungkook swings your joined hands between you both as you walk the couple more blocks to the park. Jungkook wanted to take photos of the trees, and who are you to deny him?

You’re sitting on a bench, now that Jungkook has enough photos of you both and the trees that he can change his wallpaper at least fifteen times. The trees look prettier up close, flowers and leaves being plucked off their stems and flowing down in the breeze.

"They're really pretty." You say, staring up at the small yellow flowers sprouting on the branches of a large sansuyu tree. Jungkook presses his lips against your temple and lingers there, fingers making a home of the spaces between your own.

"I've seen prettier things."

There’s people walking to and fro, minding their own businesses, Jungkook’s head leaning on your shoulder as he furiously texts the group chat he’s in with his friends. He's forced to put his phone on silent, as it keeps going off every second like his friends decided to wake up at the same time to chat.

“Ready to head back?” Jungkook asks, lifting his head from your shoulder to prop his chin there. He tucks his phone into the pocket of his coat, “We’ve both got nothing to do today, so we can watch a movie or something...”

You hum your agreement, and you and Jungkook make your ways back up the couple blocks towards home.

Now you’re curled up next to Jungkook, warm and comfy with a show on the TV you’re barely playing mind to. Staring at Jungkook, who’s staring at the TV with rapt attention, buttered popcorn in his hand, mouth still chewing at the bit he put there before.

“You’re not gonna miss a thing if you blink.”

He throws a half popped kernel at you without looking, and it bounces off you and skitters to the floor. He doesn’t pay you much attention, except his fingers softly tugging at the material of your sweatpants for no reason at all, or when you poke his side and he remembers to blink.

The box that held the cupcakes sits empty on the coffee table, now only holding the cupcake wrappers and smudges of frosting. Softly, Jungkook nudges you a little, shifting so that his legs are behind you. He sets the half empty bowl of popcorn aside, opening his arms for you to lay down.

You go without complaint, laughing when Jungkook sputters, brushing your hair away from his face with that hand that wasn't under your head. He tucks your head under his chin, sighing as he relaxes.

The comfort of your day lasts till the end of it, where it’s just you and Jungkook.

Tagging: @eoieopda @luaspersona @matchy6812 @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @amon-rei

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In The Starlight I Was Free

Description: Astarion hadn't thought he would ever know happiness, and more than that he'd thought he would never know what it was to truly love, and loved in return. And yet here he was, with his partner curled so lovingly against him, who showered him in affection every day. Who he so wholly adored, and who he wanted to show just how deep his love, and his want of her, go.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Aspen)

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, blow job, hand job, exhibitionism (sort of), sleepy sex

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The sky was awash with starlight, so bright it could have been mistaken for the sun.

Well, not entirely. There was a gem-like glitter to the stars, a cold, sharp light more reminiscent of sharp-edged diamonds. In comparison the sun could be anything. Buttery and soft, gliding across his skin like feathered wings. Harsh and brutal, unforgiving as fire. Thin and watery, like weak beer. There were words he did not have to describe the sun, how different it could be every day, how it could change at any point during the day, how it could set the sky ablaze, or soften the edges of the world in blush pinks and bruised purples.

Not that Astarion was a connoisseur of the sun by any means, he hadn’t set foot in it for centuries, fearful of the scorching pain that would turn his body to cinders. 

But doomed though it was, to have the tadpole buried in his brain, he could not help but be thankful for it, for allowing him to wrest himself free of his enslavement, for allowing him to set foot in the sun once more, to feel it on his skin, to experience the ebb and flow of its light and warmth like ocean tides.

He found he much preferred it, the sunlight, to the coldness of the stars and the darkness that bled out between their light like a fathomless pit.

Tonight, though, the stars were so bright he couldn’t help but stare up at them, watching as they flickered, as deep purples bled into the sky, softening the darkness. The moon was nearly full, casting a veil of silver over everything he could see, turning benign things into something nearly magical.

He could have laughed at himself, waxing on to no one about the stars and the sun and the moonlight making the dark seem ethereal, like some wild place he could vanish into and be safe from the monsters stalking the world, where he would no longer be a monster himself.

Yet even if that were true, if a portal made of moonlight appeared, a doorway leading him to a world where he could be safe, he wasn’t sure if he would even take it anymore. This world had been cruel, but he had found scraps of kindness, of precious, delicate things he wished he could hold safely in his hands, to cradle it against his heart.

Beside him, his partner yawned, stretching her arms above her, dragging them through the grass before rolling onto her side and nestling against him.

“Are you still awake, darling?” He slid one arm around her middle, tracing his fingers over her waist, her hip.

Aspen’s nose wrinkled, her lips pressing into a thin line that told him she was trying very hard not to laugh. “No.”

“Ah, I see.” He chuckled, mirth dancing in his heart. “Don’t let me disturb you from your dreams, then.”

Mirth was new to him, a strange giddiness that reminded him of sunlight bleeding through a canopy of leaves, staining everything in gold. He had only recently added it to his repertoire, and now it seemed to bubble in his chest alongside his traitorous heart at the slightest of provocations. She would say something objectively unfunny, like some tragic little pun, and he would feel it stirring. She would wrinkle her nose and roll her eyes when he teased her and there it would be, like seafoam gathering on waves. She would take his hand, or laugh brilliantly, or look back at him with delight in her eyes after mastering some new spell or song, and there it would be like a laugh in his throat.

He felt it almost every day, trailing behind him as they drew closer to the end of their quest, to whatever would lie beyond them in the future when the tadpoles were gone. This was certainly no time to be feeling such a childish delight, and yet he did. He did constantly.

He felt it now, lips quivering from the effort of not smirking as she nuzzled against his side, her arms wrapping around him. He’d never known himself capable of loving someone as much as he did her. He’d never known himself capable of being loved, certainly not as much as she loved him. 

It was in all the little things she did, in the quiet questions before kissing him, before so much as holding his hand. It was in the way she would run her fingers through his hair, let him rest his head on her chest while she slept, listening to her even breaths, relishing the warmth that seeped into him until he felt like he was truly alive. It was in how she trusted him entirely, never doubting him. In how she’d begun to open up about herself, as much as she was always asking him about him.

He could have spent another century listing off little things. The way she smiled, the way her hands tangled with his, the way she would always try to make him comfortable before she went to sleep, the way she always did odd little things that brought a smile to his face.

She’d managed to get her hands on a cloth notebook, how he wasn’t even sure, insisting that she planned to learn to draw so she could show him how she saw him, since mirrors still would not reveal his face to himself. He’d managed to get a peek once while she was practising, and had nearly burst into laughter. She’d been trying so earnestly, but she had neither skill nor talent for it, and the sketches reminded him more of something a child first learning to hold a pencil would create.

“My dear, please don’t take this the wrong way,” he’d been smirking, trying to hold in his laughter as she’d glared at him from the corners of her eyes. “But I think you’d better leave drawing to the professionals. If you’re that hellbent on having a portrait of me, perhaps you can commission a skilled artist.”

He remembered how she had snapped the book shut, stuffing it into her pack before he could get a second glance. “I thought it would be nice.”

“And darling it is nice. Well…” He’d sat beside her, trying to draw her into his lip, thinking surely she couldn’t stay mad at him if he cuddled her. “It’s a nice thought.”

She’d huffed, bottom lip popping out in a pout. She’d looked ready to run, or perhaps to smack him. But she’d done neither, although she had crossed her arms, leaning as far away as she could considering he’d been holding her.

“Perhaps once we’re done with all of this.” He’d gestured to the camp around them, to the general situation of the world potentially ending. “We can find you some drawing lessons.”

Her eyes had remained narrowed, and she’d turned away from him. “Well your options are that, or I could write a song, I suppose.” She’d relaxed against him then, some of her ire having ebbed away as the idea had struck her. “I’m not half bad at that, you know. Although I’d be verbally describing you, and I would include something about your smile lines.”

At the time, Astarion had huffed, even as that strange feeling of mirth had awoken in him at his words. It was true he’d prefer the most beautiful parts of him to be described and immortalized only, but what were songs but drawn out poems, romanticizing even the most mundane of things.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind a song written about me.” He’d mused, leaning his head to the side so it had rested against hers. “A long ballad about how wonderful I am, about all my exploits.”

She’d snorted, easing into his arms, toying with the strings dangling from the collar of his shirt. “Could I include a verse or two about how much I love you?”

“Oh darling, I would expect nothing less. I want to know just how much you adore me.” He’d nipped at her ear, earning a small squeak. “And about how marvellous a lover I am.”

She’d dissolved into a fit of giggles then, threatening him with the promise of really writing some lovesick song about him, as if that wouldn’t be something he’d have wanted terribly.

The rest of their conversation had devolved from there, Astarion growing needy for her touch, to feel her burning skin against his. And Aspen had been happy to oblige, had wanted to shower him with all her love as she’d let him lead her far from their camp, into the shadows of the woods where no one would hear them.

She’d murmured quiet questions in the shadows, her face illuminated by nothing more than the liquid moonlight pooling in the gaps between the leaves. She’d helped him to lie down, had sung sweetly to him between fiery kisses trailed over his skin as she’d undressed him slowly. 

She’d been unskilled, ignorant of the ways of seduction when he’d first met her. And when he had first taken her, she had been entirely innocent, needing guidance to know what would make her feel good, what would make him feel good. But she’d been a quick study, and in that moment she’d unlaced his shirt with deft, nimble fingers before pushing it wide to trail her lips over his skin, knowing exactly the way to swirl her tongue around his nipples, to suck at his skin while he’d moaned.

Soon enough his shirt had been discarded, crumpled in a heap as she’d made her way down his torso with her mouth, one of her hands lightly stroking him until she’d reached the waist of his pants. They were gone in an instant, followed by her own clothes, having learned how much he enjoyed tracing his eyes over the curve of her body, watching the sway of her breasts as she knelt between his legs, trailing kisses along the inside of his thighs before drawing his cock into her mouth.

She’d made love to him so sweetly that night, bringing him to completion with her mouth first, swallowing his release before planting a loving kiss to his tip before moving on. She’d scattered kisses over his body once more, but he’d grown far too impatient, taking her face in his hands and bringing her lips to his, tasting himself on her tongue, aching terribly for the feel of her body around him.

All his instruction and guidance was turned against him then, for she had grown sly now that she knew how to make him feel best, how to coax music from his lips. He’d melted in her arms as she’d circled the pads of her thumbs around his nipples, as she’d reached a hand between his legs to stroke his cock, to squeeze his balls, to make him whimper as his mind grew hazy and blank but for the quiet way she murmured his name, telling him pretty he was, he much she loved him.

When finally she’d straddled his waist, hovering just above him, he’d been able to do nothing but grip her thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, covered in sweat and panting from previous releases. But she’d only teased him further, grinding against him before finally, finally drawing him slowly, inch by delicious inch, into her body. He’d been allowed a few moments of smug satisfaction as he’d felt how she’d clenched around him, Aspen just as needy for him as he’d been for her. Then she had moved, slowly at first, languorously. Asking him if he’d felt good, if it had been nice, if he could keep making such pretty sounds because she’d loved his voice.

She’d spent the entire night bringing him to the edge, again and again, letting him fill her body until his release spilled down the insides of her thighs, smearing across them both as she’d continued to move. She’d kissed him, over and over until their lips were both bruised, until they were both breathless, her hands stroking his sides or twining with his as she came along with him.

It had been like she’d been worshipping him, like he’d been her god and she a faithful supplicant at the altar of his body. Her words had been fragments of prayer, reverence in the way she murmured his name, adoration in the sweet words that fell from her lips like rain.

Devotion had been in every roll of her hips, in every shudder of her body as she’d came around him. Sweat had streaked down her face, pooling in the hollow of her throat, and still she had devoutly breathed sweet nothings, had given her body to him like a sacrifice.

She’d stroked his face, had played with his hair, promising him that there was nothing she’d wanted more, would ever want more, than his happiness. She’d described his expression of ecstasy like she’d been reciting passion-filled poetry, her fingers gentle even as they traced lines of fire over his jaw and his lips and the curve of his ears.

When, so lust-addled and drunk on her, his own personal goddess, he had asked her to sing her pretty words instead, she had obliged, promising that all she wanted was to bring him joy, to make him feel good, in every way he wanted.

When at last he had been so entirely spent that he’d been unable to make an intelligible sound but breathy moans she had finally stilled, kissing tears and sweat from his face until he had laughed. Strength had returned to him as languidly as the sun setting on a summer's evening, and as she’d kissed him he’d slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, not wishing for even a breath to pass between their bodies.

She’d been happy to stay where she was, to keep her legs locked around his waist and cradle his head in her arms. He’d stayed buried deep inside of her until the sun had come up, until they’d tarried so long their companions would have certainly been looking for them.

The memory of that night, of how she made such sweet, gentle love to him, made his cheeks flush now, his breath coming in short gasps. Beside him, Aspen opened her eyes to regard him curiously, stirred to consciousness by his sudden ragged breathing.

“My love?” Her voice was heavy, thick and slow with sleep. “Is something the matter?”

There was such gentleness in her voice, such care, it nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was half asleep and still she wanted to care for him, wanted to wrap him in the softness of her love.

Perhaps he really would cry, because he was sure he did not deserve this love, as sure as he was that he would forever stay with her if she let him.

“It’s nothing, darling.” He turned his gaze back up to the stars, watching as their light glittered and danced like gemstones tossed skyward. “I was only thinking.”

She hummed, the sound vibrating through him like the beginnings of a song. Her voice was so pretty, and he could have sank into it like sailors falling for sirens at sea. He was no fool and would not be so easily tricked, but he loved her so entirely he would have followed her to a watery grave.

“Thinking of what, my love?” She splayed her hand across his chest, above where his heart beat a steady rhythm. It was strange, to be dead but to have a beating heart. It was not something he’d even noticed until her, until their lives had been inextricably tangled together.

But he did have a heart, beating, stumbling at times, reminding him that he was still alive in the ways that counted. That he could love, that he did love.

Astarion twined his fingers with hers, bringing her hand to his lips. She watched him with heavy lidded eyes, lashes fluttering as she tried and failed to keep her eyes open.

“Nothing much,” he murmured, staring at the stars. They really were bright tonight, as though the world were suddenly awash in light now that he was free. But not even the stars could compare to her, and although he’d turned his head to look up, his eyes wandered away from the jewel-encrusted night, fixed on Aspen as if she were the only thing in the world that was worth looking at.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am not.”

She forced her eyes open, glowering at him. He couldn’t help but smile, having provoked her into waking. “You’re staring right at me.”

“I can’t help it,” he cooed. “You’re more brilliant than the stars. I look at you and I feel like I am standing in the sun, like I am truly alive.”

A tender smile curved across her lips, her eyes falling closed once more. “Would you like me to wax on about all the ways I love you? About the softness of your hair? The creases in your face when you smile? The rumble of your laughter in your chest?”

“I’d much rather you tell me how striking my eyes are, or how I look like I was sculpted to look like one of the gods,” he drawled, stroking her hair. “But I suppose if you are that fond of those other things you could make mention of them as well.”

Laughter flitted from her lips like butterflies taking flight. “I’ll take that into consideration. But truthfully, my love, there is much more to you than just your face, handsome though it may be.”

He held her closer, tighter. His heart fluttered like the wing-beats of a hummingbird, so warm from her body pressed against his that he could have been melting into her embrace. She was always reminding him that he was beautiful, although it was a fact he knew quite well, but then she would always remind him of other things she loved. The sound of his laugh, the handful of freckles scattered across his face and chest, the way he always turned his head towards the sun when it rose in the morning, the line between his brows when he was reading.

All things he would have cringed away from not that long ago, soft parts of himself he’d have rathered stayed buried in the dirt alongside whoever he’d used to be.

Perhaps it was the cadence of her voice, the musical way she listed off the parts of him that he had long considered faults in his facade of perfection. Perhaps it was the earnestness in her eyes, the way they shone and held his for the briefest of moments before flitting away as colour rose in her cheeks, as if she were overwhelmed with a feeling so strong she could hardly speak the words. Perhaps it was in the way she asked to hold his hand before she told him, how she nestled close when she did, how she had to be touching him in some way as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him.

Whatever it was, whatever magic she’d cast over his heart, had made him view himself differently. His imperfections were no longer hated, and he felt more secure in himself, in all the shards of who he was. He wasn’t just a pretty face, not to her, he was someone worthy of life, of love.

“Do go on,” he murmured into her ear, earning a delighted shiver for his efforts. “I’d love to know what else about me you adore.”

“Where would you like me to start?” Her laugh was more of a sigh, but it was infectious nonetheless, and he warmed as it reverberated through him.

The memory of the night she’d most recently sung praises for him surfaced in his mind. He tried holding her tighter as she dozed, murmuring words to him that were becoming more and more unintelligible as she drifted away. He rolled onto his side in an attempt to tuck her close, his eyes scanning the contours of her face, the line of her jaw, the softness of her lips. Her dark lashes fanned out across the tops of her cheeks, the corners of her lips quirking up as she made a contented sound, shifting closer.

Astarion had no practice in the art of writing or of music, but he was finding that there was no end to the parts of her that he loved. It was like he was falling in love with her a little more every moment, every day. There was always something new, something he hadn’t known before but that delighted him once he did. If he’d had the skill or the desire, he would surely be able to weave every little thing into a poem, perhaps a song.

Not that he was particularly keen on such an idea, but he ruminated on it for a few moments before discarding the notion as he trailed a finger down the side of her neck. She did not seem the type to desire songs and poetry of herself, always flushing so spectacularly when he breathed sweet nothings in her ear, her entire body trembling as if she might faint from such gentle words.

She never pushed him away or begged him to be quiet, but he’d noticed that when he was only trying to express simple affections, she seemed to respond better to his touch. She was always leaning towards him like a tree torn free from the earth, whether she realized it or not. Her face would brighten if their knuckles brushed when they stood together, her eyes turning to twin stars when he reached out to take her hand in his. She would nestle into his arms when she slept, trusting him to keep guard of them both, and she was forever accepting requests to hold him with her arms opened wide.

Perhaps it was not sweet words that he needed to use, but his touch.

Which was more than fine with him. Sometimes he felt as though his words rang hollow, did nothing to encompass the vastness of the warmth he cradled in his cold, undying body. He needed something else, something more. Not sex, no, but to hold her close, closer than he was holding her even now. 

He would be lying if he said it was just for her. He was selfish, and he wanted her closer, needed it, more than air, more than blood. He felt like he would die all over again if he could not close the remaining space between them.

“My love,” he breathed the words quietly, stroking her throat, above the twin puncture marks that had scarred from the daily feedings she so willingly offered herself for.

“Mmmm?” Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes did not remain open for very long.

“Do you trust me, my love?” His heart beat an erratic melody, his fingers twitching. He had an idea in mind, but he wanted to make sure she was alright with it first.

She slurred her response, and when he prompted her to repeat herself she tilted her head back, peering at him through slitted eyes as she murmured “of course.”

Astarion traced his hands lower, grazing her thigh. “And you know I love you, don’t you?”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing terrible, my love.” He hesitated, his hand hovering on her leg. Since he had freed himself, since he had confessed the entirety of his shadowed heart to her and she had accepted him in full, he hadn’t been able to resist slipping into her bedroll each night. Not always for sex, not when he usually wanted some modicum of privacy for that and often spirited her far from their camp so their companions did not hear the sounds of her pleasure. 

Aspen had long since grown more comfortable with him, in many ways, and at night she often discarded her trousers as she slept, wearing nothing but a long tunic that nearly reached her knees. It would be such an easy task to lift up the hem of her tunic, to stroke the sensitive flesh between her thighs until she was ready for him.

“Then trust me, love,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s nothing much, only…” He trailed off, deciding to start slowly, reaching beneath the hem of her tunic to stroke the plush skin of her inner thigh. “Is it alright if I continue?”

Aspen’s eyes snapped open, holding his for a long, long while, surveying his face in the dark. She was human, and he wasn’t sure how much she could make out in the shadows, even with the light of the fire flickering nearby. But whatever she saw seemed to appease her, and her eyes closed once more. “Yes, love, it is.”

He dragged his fingers higher, keeping his touch light.

“Do you want me to do anything? Would you like me to help with your clothes?” She moved her hands to his chest, her movements slow and muddled from sleep.

“No my darling.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I just want you to lie still and feel very good.”

“Are you certain? Are you truly sure, because I can-”

Astarion brought his lips to hers, cutting off her argument before she could finish it.

She was breathless as he broke away, and he couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he’d already made her. “I am very sure, darling. This is something that I want.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small, her hands gripping his shirt tight.

“Although I do need you to do something for me, pet.”

Fatigue must have been a powerful opponent, because Aspen fought to keep her eyes open for more than a moment at a time, even as she spoke. “Anything.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me.”

She did as she was asked, and Astarion sighed in contentment as he began stroking his fingers along the soft skin at the apex of her thighs. Slowly at first, although he would be lying if he said he did not move quicker as her breaths turned ragged, her lips parting so prettily for him. He circled her clit with a featherlight touch, then again, with more force. She moaned, leaning into him, and he felt his own body responding in kind, tension growing in his core, heat spreading through him.

Aspen writhed beside him, her neck arching, her chest heaving. Even in the dark he could make out the colour spreading across her cheeks, reaching below the collar of her tunic.

“I’m going to get rid of this now, okay?” He murmured next to her ear and she nodded furiously, lifting her arms to make it easier for him as he peeled it away from her body.

“Good girl,” he breathed, smug as she whimpered. 

Her thighs twitched, her hips moving of their own accord, and it was with his other hand that he had to steady her, pressing her down so she could not move. “Hold still, darling. Didn’t I tell you I wanted you to lie still?”

Another whimper, a breathy please as she trembled.

He chuckled, drawing his hand away to lick his fingers clean. “I’ve hardly touched you, and you’re already a mess.”

“Astarion, please.”

“Yes, my darling?” He couldn’t help but tease her, only a little. It was so easy, especially now. She was still half-asleep, but every time her eyes fluttered open he saw her pupils, so dilated they looked fully black in the night. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

Aspen whined, grasping his arm with a grip like iron. Her words were breathless, broken up by little gasps as he stroked her. “You’re not being nice.”

He clicked his tongue, enjoying the sight of her squirming, of her struggle to remain quiet and still. “How could you say such a thing, darling? I’m very nice.” He flicked her clit as she whined, earning a soft whimper as her nails dug into his arm. “Well… I’m a little nice.”

Astarion did his best to keep his movements slow and even, coaxing her to the precipice of her climax without letting her fully descend into it. It was difficult, a feral part of his mind wanting to make her scream his name into the night, to bring her to release over and over until she was an absolute mess. But that was not his intention, not tonight, and he wanted to focus on something gentler, something much more tender.

He alternated between kissing any part of her skin his lips could reach and whispering softly into her ear, delighting in how she shivered in his arms when he did.

“Shh, not too loud, love,” he murmured, circling his fingers around her entrance. “We don’t want the others to hear.”

“Do you- Do you think they’ll catch us?” She was clutching his shirt so tightly he felt certain that it would tear.

“Not if you stay quiet,” he breathed, laughing at her stricken expression. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you so terribly, pet.”

Aspen moaned again, his name a prayer on her lips. It made him ache so entirely he didn’t think he would be able to last for much longer. Her chest heaved, her breasts soft and inviting, and he distracted himself with them, drawing the bright pink nipples between his teeth, biting them as gently as he could until she was mewling, even his name sounding incoherent as it was caught by the wind.

“I want to be close to you,” he said, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts, breathing in the smell of her skin, sweat and growing things and the subtlest hint of the oils and perfumes he used for himself.

Her arms snaked around him, scrabbling for purchase against his back, pulling the material of his shirt taut. “Then come closer.”

Drawing back, Astarion’s gaze fell on her face, on the deep blush that set her aflame, the heady desire in her eyes. There was something else there, too, something hidden in the depths of the need he was filling her with.

There was love in her eyes, in the curve of her smile, in the way she let out a soft breath as she met his gaze, one of her hands sliding up to bury in his hair.

It was bright as sunshine, as gentle as an embrace. His knees grew weak from it, his body trembling as she gazed up at him with such sweet adoration.

“I want to be close,” he breathed, fingers fumbling as he quickly discarded his shirt, and his trousers next, not wanting even the slightest scrap of fabric between them. He wanted nothing but her skin against his, her heart beating a furious tempo against his chest, her breath tickling the skin of his throat. He wanted there to be nothing, only her, only him. “I want to be buried inside of you, and I never want to come out.”

Her fingers ran through his hair, sketched along the shell of his ear. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away, spreading her legs a little wider. “I want that too.”

A lump formed in his throat, nearly choking him. He felt like a boy, like he was taking a tumble with the first person he’d ever fallen for. His heart was beating a discordant cacophony, unused to loving and being loved so entirely in kind. He felt vulnerable, his heart bared to her, but he felt no fear. He trusted her, trusted her to hold him, to love him, to keep his heart safe.

Never in all the years of his life that he remembered would Astarion have ever described himself as soft. But he felt soft now, felt like he was melting in her arms, his tenuous hold on himself fraying.

Here he was, falling apart in the face of a kind, softhearted woman, her arms open to him, her voice a murmur in his ear. This was not something he’d ever envisioned for himself, had never even considered. There was no room for softness in his world, no room for love.

Yet he had it still. He had her love; she’d entrusted her entire heart to him, her entire being. Were she not so warm in his arms, her shuddering breaths against his skin making him shudder, he would have mistaken this all for a dream.

“Astarion.” Her voice drew him back to the present, away from the churning tides of his thoughts. Anxiety had begun to bubble in his chest, fear that this truly was a dream, that it was some great trick of his mind and he would awake and be lost in the shadows once more.

But no, there was no way for his mind to conjure a voice such as hers. Hands caressing his face the way hers did, fingers twinning in his hair as she so often liked to do. He would never have been able to imagine such sweetness as this, not in his hundreds of years of life. So she must have been real; she had to be real.

“Astarion?” Sleep still clung to her, and she drawled his name, a smile on her lips. “My love, what are you thinking?”

He did his best to offer a devilish smile, although he knew he was failing spectacularly by the way Aspen’s brows drew together, the corners of her mouth twitching.

She wiggled her hips, gently rolling them against his, and he nearly choked in response, the ache in his core steadily growing. “Tell me,” she beseeched him, rolling her hips against his once more. “Please, my beloved? I want to know what’s going on in your head.”

There were a slew of things Astarion could have said to her in that moment, but with her wide eyes and her open expression, he couldn’t bring himself to say something sharp. He was well beyond feigning indifference now, having confessed to her before the grave his old self had been buried, having clung to her almost every night since, seeking the comfort and steadiness of her embrace, of her beating heart. And now, so desperate and needy for her touch he’d disposed of their clothing so he could feel nothing but her skin against his, so he could sink deep inside of her. So he could be held, so he could feel beloved and precious and safe.

“I was thinking of you,” he professed, his voice small as a child’s. He sounded like a lovestruck fool and yet he could do nothing to change it. “I can think of nothing else but you.”

“I’m right here,” she murmured, brushing his hair back from his brow. “I’m close, my love, I’m not going anywhere.”

“It is undoubtedly selfish of me…” He trailed off, trying again to grin. It was like second nature to him, to feign rakishness. But in this moment he really could not, no matter how hard he tried. How could a disciple, kneeling before his goddess, ever hope to be anything but devout, to give himself entirely with anything other that wholehearted sincerity? “But I want to stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she spread her legs a little wider. “Oh my love, I want to be with you always. I want to be with you forever. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Astarion leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, a hunger more consuming than his desire for blood taking over. “Forever, then.”

“Forever,” she agreed, breathless from the kiss.

He didn’t give her much time to breathe, capturing her lips once more as he pushed her legs further apart. Aspen’s body complied with his needy demand, thighs shaking around his hips as he lined himself up, tip pressing against her entrance.

If there was one thing he knew he would never tire of, it would be the sounds she made as he pushed into her. The delicate whimpers, the way she sighed his name, a melody spun of spider silk and starlight, meant for only his ears.

Aspen shuddered, her body fluttering around him as he sank deeper. Her hands moved from his face to his shoulders, a delicious pressure that sent shocks of pleasure across his nerves, that made him want to move faster, to thrust with ruthless abandon into her. It took every last shred of his self control to keep his movements slow as she trembled in his arms, until a little gasp fell from her lips as his hips finally, mercifully, met hers.

“How’s that?” He murmured, pulling back just a little, just enough to sharply roll his hips against hers, earning another needy little gasp.

“You’re being mean again.” Her whine was breathy, her fingernails digging into his skin.

He shushed her. “Not at all, darling. I’m only enjoying those pretty sounds you’re making.”

She opened her mouth to whine once more, and he took the opportunity to capture her lips again, swallowing the sweet sounds she was making as he slid his tongue between her lips.

“Not too loud, though,” he teased, and the laughter that rang through the air was genuine, warm and earnest as she stared up at him, utterly dazed. “Those sounds are for me, and only me. I don’t want the others to hear.”

Aspen’s mouth snapped shut, her body trembling harder now, whether it was from the arousal he had woven with his touch or from the desire to smack him he wasn’t sure. It was adorable all the same, and he trailed a line of kisses from the corner of her lips to the hollow of her throat until her head fell back, her neck arching to allow him better access.

“While I appreciate the gesture, darling, I have something different in mind.” He couldn’t resist pressing a few more kisses to her throat despite his words, scraping his teeth against her skin so she knew just how badly he wanted the hot blood that pulsed in her veins.

She opened her mouth, closed it again, struggling to find her words.

“Take your time, my darling. I don’t plan to move anytime soon.” He had only planned to fill her body, to press himself as close to her as he could. He was still so desperate for her, and he feared he would never want to pull away, never want to move from her arms again.

Slowly, her grip on his shoulders began to loosen, her nails no longer digging deep enough into his skin to draw blood. Her lips were still parted, ragged breaths billowing into the air as she clung to him. For his part, he tried his best not to move, stroking her hair, the contours of her face, the gentle rise of her collarbone. Shudders still wracked through her body like the aftershocks of an earth-shattering quake, but they were becoming fewer and farther between.

“How’s that?” He murmured as she grew still. “Feeling better?”

A nod, her eyes dark as night as they found his. “What did you have in mind, my love?”

Hearing that sweet name of endearment on her lips, ‘my love,’ made him feel like he was fracturing. Her love, her love. He was entirely hers, and she was entirely his.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that,” he breathed, utterly lost in her words, in the fathomless depths of her eyes.

The pink of her lips reminded him of flower buds, a frivolous detail he never would have taken note of before, and yet as he drew the connection in his mind he felt the fractures growing, splintering into shards of crystalline glass, reflecting the sunlight that he had not gotten to feel for centuries. Every part of her was perfect, every part of her was so alive, so soft and flush with colour. 

He did not have the words to describe it, and nor did he want to. There was an enchantment to it all, something delicate he did not wish to sully with saccharine words and overwrought lines. He only wanted to love her for as long as she would let him.

The corners of her lips quirked up in a small smile, her palms pressing against his shoulders and sliding down his arms. “What did I say?”

“That I’m your love.” His voice was small as a child’s, vulnerable. But he felt no fear, only a comforting warmth that curled around him like a second embrace. He was safe; here, he was safe. “That you love me.”

He was grateful for her patience, for the kindness that he had scoffed at when they’d first met. He couldn’t imagine someone being so patient, not with him, but he didn’t have to imagine. She just was, and she was patient for him, she was kind for him.

She was patient and kind for other people, but he chose to ignore that for now. It was different when she was looking at him.

“Of course I love you.” A breathy laugh fell from those sweet lips, and he was once more reminded of a flower, something beautiful and colourful. She looked at him like he was her sun, even if he was doomed to be veiled in shadows for eternity. “I love you so much.”

He chuckled. “So much?”

“Yes!” She drew the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. “More than I have the words to say.”

“And I love you,” he breathed, because he could not stop saying it. He had said it once truthfully, and now he could not stop, doubted he would ever be able to stop. “I love you Aspen, my beloved, with all of me.”

There were no other words that he could find that would even come close to describing the depth of his emotions, but he was thankful that she did not seem to need it. That those simple words were enough, that the embrace he held her in was enough for her.

“You never answered my question, love,” she said after a moment, the starlight reflecting in her eyes.

He frowned. “What question?”

“What did you have in mind? For right now?” She traced her fingertip over the curve of his ear, tugging lightly at the sharp point.

“Well, my darling…” He trailed off, covering her hand with his. “I had… That is…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right way to explain it.

It should have been easy. He wanted her, he wanted to be close to her. He craved her nearness, not sensually, just to be close. He wanted to crawl into her skin, he wanted to be held so tightly by her that they would never be parted.

He was quickly learning that it was much easier to yearn, to want, and so much harder to give those feelings form with his words.

Aspen remained quiet as he mulled over what he wanted to say. She ran her hands up and down his arms, reaching up to play with his hair, twisting curls around and around her fingers, dragging her fingers across his scalp like a massage.

Finally the words came to him, falling from his lips like a confession. “I just want to be close to you. I want to stay like this, in your arms.” He hesitated, feeling helpless as she watched him, with nothing but the shine of the stars to illuminate her face. “For as long as you’ll allow me.”

“Then we can stay like this, my love.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, hands pressing against the back of his head as she gently drew him close. “We can stay just like this for as long as you’d like.”

“Really?” He could scarcely believe it, even as she tucked his head beneath her chin. His cheek was cushioned against her breast, the steady pulse of her heart echoing through him.

“Really.” She rubbed circles against his back, her hand gliding up to tangle in his hair before sliding back down along his spine. “I love being close to you, too.”

A familiar wave of uncertainty made his belly clench, and he couldn’t help but hazard a look back at her. “Are you sure? There is nothing else you want?”

Her fingertips drummed against his back as she hummed, face scrunching up as she feigned contemplation. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice pastry and a coffee. I hear there are some delightful places in the city.”

He snorted. “That’s it?”

“I wouldn’t mind a new book when all this is over. I think I’m going to need a few quiet days to recover.”

Astarion scraped his teeth against her skin, earning a yelp.

“You asked!” She hissed. “I was only telling you of some things I wanted.”

“Forgive me, love,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to the bite. “I’d meant are you sure there is nothing else you want in this moment?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she began, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck. “Can I kiss you?”

The tension that had been clutching his stomach with an iron-grip fell away, replaced by the feeling of a thousand gauzy wings fluttering within his stomach and his chest. They flitted idly between his ribs, perching on his bones, sending ripples through the oceans in his veins, like waves and tides.

“Please.”

Aspen brought her lips to his brow, smoothing his hair back as she kissed him. Gentle, soft as a feather brushed against his skin. Her breath fanned across his brow, her lashes tickling him as her eyes fell closed.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her head. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, only…” His words came out in a breathless rush. “Could you do that again?”

Another kiss to his forehead, just as soft and sweet as the first. “Like this?”

“Perhaps you should try that again, darling,” he drawled, smiling against her skin. “I’m not sure if you got it quite right.”

Aspen tsked softly, but she kissed him again. And again. And then her hands were reaching up to grasp his face, to tip it up towards her as she pressed kisses all over his face, from his brow to his cheeks to the tip of his nose, no part of him was safe from her affections.

She kissed him until he was quivering with laughter, struggling to keep it in, lest they wake their companions.

“Aspen,” he hissed, although he was smiling so widely his face hurt, bubbles of laughter nearly choking out his words.

“I can’t help it!” She sighed, giving him her best pout as she tucked him back against her chest. “I just love you, and I just get overwhelmed by it. I want you to know that I love you.”

As his laughter slowly melted away he began to relax in her arms once more, a small smile still lingering on his lips. He rolled his hips in revenge for her making him laugh, earning a sharp gasp. “I know you do. Everything you do shows me how much you adore me, my darling.”

He expected a stuttering response, her words to turn to nonsense as they were prone to do when he teased her. But she only smiled at him wickedly, her touch still gentle as a breeze rustling through his hair. “I do. And I know just as well how you, my beloved, love me dearly.”

It was Astarion who ended up struggling to find a response, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his words nothing but stammering nonsense. He opened his mouth, floundering like a beached fish.

“Am I wrong?” She teased, mussing his hair. “Have I assumed incorrectly?”

“No, my darling,” he gasped, his words spilling like a flood. In the back of his mind he questioned who he was becoming, this soft-hearted, blathering, lovesick fool who could not even string together a coherent sentence as she held his gaze. Surely he could not be the same person as he was when they had first met, roguish and clever and sharp-tongued.

Although then again, maybe he didn’t want to be that person anymore. Maybe he wanted to be someone different, maybe he wanted to be himself, whoever that person was.

It would take him a long while to figure that out, and perhaps it would change every day, but he did know one thing that would forever be unchanging, one thing he wanted to be more than anything. He wanted to be cared for and loved, he wanted to be hers.

“I care for you, more than anything,” he admitted, the words still falling free before he could think them through. “I love you more than I thought I could ever love. That’s the truth, I swear it.”

He was holding her so tightly his fingers had dug into the soft skin at her waist. He loosened his grip, smoothing his palms over the crescent moon indents he had left in his wake. “I know I’ve lied when I’ve said those words before, but I mean it. I feel like I am alive, truly, in a way I never was, even before.”

She remained quiet, playing with his hair, watching him with a little smile. Starlight shone in her eyes, or maybe it wasn’t starlight. Maybe the stars were only reflecting her light back from the skies.

The final words he spoke were little more than a breath, stolen away by the quiet keen of the midnight wind. “I love you.”

Aspen’s eyes glowed all the brighter, silver pooling at their edges. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

He scoffed, although his heart wasn’t in it.

She didn’t seem to mind, her touch so loving as she slid her hands from his hair, stroking his neck and back. “I’ll try to be worthy of your love.”

He held her tighter, burying his face in the valley between her breasts once more so she could not see his blush. “Just keep holding me. Keep holding me and don’t let go.”

“I can definitely do that.” He felt her cheek pressing against the top of his head, her breath tangling in his hair. “I’ll hold you for as long as you want.”

Although he could not sleep, not the way Aspen did, Astarion still closed his eyes. Nestled safely against her, he let his mind wander. He no longer bothered to look at the stars, did not even think of them. He knew that even if he were cursed to live amongst the shadows once more, there would still be light. Aspen would be there with him, brighter than any star, brighter than even the sun.

She would keep him close, hold him tight whenever he needed it, and whenever she wanted to be close too. And in her arms, he was finally free, he was finally home.

[lots-of-pockets]

My poor, sick baby

Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x you

Word count: 2619

Warnings: none that I know of

Summary: Your girlfriend Scarlett was absolutely miserable with one of the worst colds in her life. You willingly take care of her; snotty nose and all.

I literally could have gone on forever with this. I loved writing it so much!

Scarlett sniffles miserably into your shoulder as she sits on the bathroom counter with you stood in between her legs. The poor thing was suffering from a pretty heavy cold, one of the worst she’d had since you had gotten together nearly three years ago. This was only day two of the sneezes, coughs, and sniffles, and you knew she was absolutely sorrowful.

No medicine had really helped, so you’d resorted to standing in the bathroom with the shower running on the hottest setting possible in an attempt to clear up her congestion. It hadn’t worked.

The blonde was adorned in nothing but a pair of shorts, her top half bare with your last futile attempt at getting her fever down. You suddenly feel her chest begin to hitch against your own, and you pout softly as you trail your hand up and down her back.

“Huh’htsch!” She attempts to stifle a sneeze into your shoulder.

You press a kiss to her bare shoulder, “Bless you, baby.”

Scarlett groans softly as her chest hitches again, and you instinctively cup the back of her head to stop her from hurting her neck. “H’htschoo! Huh’tsschoo!”

“Bless you.” You repeat. “I don’t think this is helping my love.” You murmur, and Scarlett nods in a silent, miserable agreement as she sniffles wetly against your shoulder.

With ten more futile minutes pass with no change, you deem your attempt unsuccessful.

“Okay, let’s go back to bed,” you murmur, reaching sideways to turn of the shower water before placing your hands beneath her thighs and lifting her into your arms. Scarlett unsuccessfully manages to stifle three wet sneezes against your shoulder as you carry her through to the bedroom, and you sigh lightly as you set her down onto the bed before placing a gentle kiss to her scolding hot forehead.

Scarlett looks up at you with red, teary bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, and you smile sympathetically as you kneel down before her.

“What can I do baby?” You murmur, reaching up to tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. Your free hand remained on her thigh, tracing soothing circles against the soft skin.

Scarlett sniffles softly as her bottom lip trembles, and your heart breaks for her. “I know baby,” you murmur, reaching up to cup her cheeks, “it’s time for more medicine, okay? Then after that we’ll take a nap.”

“Downstairs?” Her hoarse voice speaks, sounding cracked and painful, and though you didn’t quite know why she wanted to lay down on the couch as opposed to her large, comfortable bed, you find yourself nodding your agreement.

“Of course.” You sooth, reaching over slightly to grab the cough syrup, the box tissues and some Tylenol from the nightstand. Without a word, you grab two tissues from the box and fold them up once before holding them against her nose. If Scarlett seems embarrassed by the implication, she doesn’t show it. She simply blows her nose and allows you to wipe away the remaining boogers.

After thoroughly sanitising your hands, you fill the tiny plastic cup with the allotted dose she was allowed to take before placing it against her lips. Her shaky hand rests over your own as she downs the fowl tasting medicine, and you chuckle softly at the slight look of disgust that appears on her face.

“One more baby,” you tell her as you hand over the two Tylenol along with a bottle of water, watching with a concerned expression when her face crumples up in pain as she swallows. She attempts to clear her throat, but it only ends up throwing her into the deep end of yet another coughing fit. They were wet sounding, full of gravel, and you watch as Scarlett’s eyes finally allow her tears to fall. The stifled sob she emits only worsens the coughing, and you feel your heart break further.

She was so sick you almost wanted to cry with her.

“You’re okay scar,” you murmur as you reach around her to firmly pat her back, “let it out baby. You’re okay.” Scarlett could do no more than cry softly as she tries and fails to catch her breath, and by the time she was done, there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t trembling in pure exhaustion.

Placing your hands beneath her armpits, you ease her to her feet and into your arms. Your lips instinctively press a kiss to her forehead, simultaneously comforting her and checking her temperature. “Let’s go lay down.” You murmur as you pull away, grateful that whilst her fever hadn’t exactly gone down, it hadn’t risen either. “Still want to go downstairs?”

Scarlett nods as she wipes her runny nose on your shirt, and whilst you find the action as equally adorable and gross, you knew not to say anything.

Scarlett was quite the emotional person on a regular day, and it was amplified by a thousand when she was sick.

“Okay.” You bend down slightly and wrap your arms underneath her backside, easily lifting her wary and exhausted body up into your arms. Scarlett could barely find the strength in her to wrap her legs around your waist, and you press a soft kiss against her bare shoulder as you carry her out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

You ease her down onto the couch first before quickly returning upstairs to grab the medicine, tissues and water. Scarlett was so out of it she barely even realised you were gone. But that doesn’t stop her eyes from lightly up when you make a reappearance in front of her. You couldn’t help but smile at the adorable sight in front of you, leaning down to cup her cheeks before pressing a brief kiss to her nose.

It scrunches up cutely before her breath hitches, and you watch as she lets out three wet sneezes into her hands. You tut slightly in light chastisement as you wipe her hands off with a tissue before sanitising them, and Scarlett once again sniffles wetly as she rubs her hands together.

Without a word, you settle in the corner of the couch and tug her body into your arms. Her upper body ends up cradled against your chest as though she was no more than an infant, her legs curled up against your hip. Her arms were folded and trapped lightly in between both of your chests, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Try to sleep baby,” you murmur as you hold her close, one arm beneath her for support whilst the other settles over the top of her so you could cup the back of her head.

Scarlett sniffles softly as her eyes seem to instinctively flutter closed, and you find yourself beginning to hum quietly as you begin to comb your fingers through her slightly tangled and sweaty tresses. With both her fatigue along with your gentle ministrations, sleep seems to hit her like a truck on the free way, and you could only sigh in relief when her sick self finally succumbs to dream land.

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful girl.” You whisper. “You deserve it.”

*

You eventually end up falling into a light sleep yourself, only being awoken when you feel Scarlett’s breath hitch in her sleep.

“Huh…huh…” she seems to struggle slightly before finally finding her release. “Huh’tsschoo!” It was messy, unstifled, uncovered, and kind of gross, but you find your heart melting all the same.

Despite the loudness, the sneeze does no more than rouse her slightly, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion. You pout slightly as you grab a couple of tissues from the box, pinching the end of her nose to help her somewhat blow it without waking her. You wipe off her cupids bow also, tossing the now soiled tissue into the small trash can you’d purposely brought over to the couch earlier.

“Bless you my love,” you find yourself saying despite knowing she couldn’t hear you, cupping her face and wiping the pad of your thumb over the warm skin of her cheek. With a quick glance at the time that tells you it was nearing dinner time, you figure that it was about time to start making food.

Scarlett hadn’t eaten today due to the nauseas feeling in her stomach, but soup was light, and you didn’t want her going to bed on an empty stomach.

Deciding to let Scarlett wake up on her own, you settle back against the couch holding her close to your chest.

It was another sneeze that wakes her only minutes later. It was throat scraping, and she lets out a quiet groan of pain as her eyes blearily flicker open and meet your own.

“Bless you baby. How are you feeling?” You murmur, cupping the back of her head, pressing your lips to her forehead to once again gauge her temperature.

Okay for now.

Scarlett sighs hoarsely as she nuzzles herself against your chest, “Okay.” She squeaks out as she goes to wipe her nose with her hand, and you lightly shake your head and hand her a tissue instead. She complies and wipes her nose before letting her hand fall back to your chest. You place yours over it and give it a soft squeeze.

“Are you feeling up to some chicken noodle soup?” You ask softly, and Scarlett coughs wetly as she nods her head. Soup sounded good. You manage to coax her reluctant frame out of your arms, kissing away the teary pout as you make your way through to the kitchen.

Not wanting to leave her alone for any longer than necessary, you simply decide to warm up some soup on the stove. It takes only minutes, and you soon find yourself carrying the bowl into the living room.

Scarletts eyes were glazed and unfocused as she stares at a random spot in front of her, and you lightly rest your hand on her back to get her attention. She looks up at you with a confused look on her face.

“Baby? Your soup.” You murmur, and Scarlett nods as she struggles to sit herself up. You eventually end up having to help, and you gently settle her against the corner of the couch in the space you’d just vacated only moments prior. Sitting yourself down next to her, you pick up the bowl of soup from where you’d placed it on the coffee table before scooping up a small spoonful.

You blow on it carefully before holding it to her chapped lips, and Scarletts mouth automatically opens allowing you to feed her.

“Nice?” You question as she swallows with only a slight grimace, and Scarlett simply shrugs as she wipes at her nose again with her hand before you could stop her. You knew it was because she couldn’t taste a single thing, and you let out a quiet sigh as you hand her a tissue with a pointed look.

Scarlett flushes, but this time, it wasn’t because of her fever. She however, takes the tissue and wipes off her cupids bow before opening her mouth for a second spoonful. She manages only half the bowl before pushing your hand away, and you nod in understanding as you place the bowl back down.

Without a word, you hand her the Tylenol, watching as she takes it before allowing you to feed her the cough medicine.

“Alright baby. Let’s head back to bed.” You murmur, standing up and holding out your arms for her. She takes your hands and allows you to tug her to her feet, stumbling ever so slightly when her legs seem to give out beneath her.

“Shower.” She murmurs hoarsely as you once again lift her up into your arms, and you tut slightly as you proceed to carry her through to the bedroom.

“You can barley stand up baby.” Scarlett pouts as her eyes immediately fill with tears, and your heart breaks as you change direction bringing her through to the bathroom. “I’ll compromise on a bath instead, okay?” That way, you could hold her up should she choose to pass out on you.

“With you?” She squeaks out before letting out a wet cough of which she fails to muffle with her hand, and you nod your head.

“Sure my love.” You murmur, easing her down onto the closed toilet seat. You keep a hand on her when she wobbles unsteady, reaching over with your free hand to start the water and making sure to add lots of bubbles.

After helping her strip off her remaining clothing and easing her into the tub, you let out a quiet sigh and stretch out your back before pulling off your clothes and stepping into the water behind her.

She ends up nestled in between your legs with her head resting against your shoulder, and you find yourself smiling in content as you wrap your arm around her waist and trail the pad of your thumb over her tummy.

Without a warning, her breath begins to hitch and her chest begins to heave. “Huh’htsch!” She suddenly jolts against you, and you startle slightly at the loudness of it.

“Bless you my love.” You murmur, but Scarlett shakes her head slightly as her breath hitches signalling she was going to sneeze again.

“Huh’tsschoo!” This one was so strong it has her bending forward at the waist, and she lets out a quiet groan as she falls back against your chest. You press a kiss to the side of her head.

“Bless you.”

Scarlett sniffles wetly, and you silently curse yourself for not bringing the tissues into the bathroom with you. You wait a second to see if she would be okay, but when she sniffles heavily again, you accept your fate. With a slight grimace, you find yourself bringing your hand towards her nose.

“Blow.” You murmur, and Scarlett’s face slips into one of confusion. You chuckle slowly, “Blown your nose. It’s okay.” Although her cheeks flush with embarrassment, she complies, and you use the bath water to clean your hand.

“Sorry that’s was gross.” She murmurs somewhat hoarsely, and you shake your head softly as you press your lips against her bare shoulder.

“It’s okay baby. It can’t be helped.” You murmur, and though Scarlett’s cheeks remain flushed in embarrassment, she doesn’t have it in her to fight you.

You settle into a comfortable silence with the exception of her soft sniffles, your hand idly trailing soothing circles against her soft tummy. When you feel her begin to slip into a light slumber, you coax her from your arms and out of the tub. You may be able to carry her with ease, but you were not about to test your capability with a wet floor.

“I know baby, I’m sorry.” You sooth her confused pout as you drain the tub before bundling her up into a towel, supporting her wobbly frame back through to the bedroom. She allows you to dress her in a light T-shirt and underwear, and after slipping yourself into some similar attire, you tuck her back up into bed.

She ends up on top of you, chests flushed together as her head nestles itself into your neck. She clings to your shirt, and you sigh happily as you slip your hands beneath her shirt to rest on the warm skin of her back.

“Thank you for looking after me.” You feel her whisper against your skin, and you smile tenderly as you press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Anytime baby.” You murmur truthfully.

Any time.

**

Thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs for my last post! 🤍🤍

[fartcushion]

Lockdown Bubble - Part 3

For the rest of the weekend we hung out on the sofa, watching TV with the occasional hook up when the mood came over Antony. I was even made to come one of those times, but the rest were Antony focused even though he seemed to have forgotten the conversation he had the morning before and just focused on blow jobs. He only farted absent mindedly and didn't comment on them. Although it would often be as he sat next to me, which meant I still had to endure their foul odour.

That night when we went to bed though, Antony was after more. "You've been so good this weekend, I really can't complain about having a whore on call. That mouth of yours". He leant forward and kissed me hard. His hands reached round and grabbed my ass, "but now I want this".

My heart started to beat faster. We hadn't had full sex yet and I was nervous about it. Antony was much more experienced, where as I'd only done it a couple of times and that was years ago. "Oh, yeh, great...but please, go slow..."

"Go slow, I've waited two days!" Antony jokingly mocked but before I could speak he kissed me again. "Of course I will".

He started to take my clothes off. I reached to take off his t-shirt but he pushed my hands away, "Not yet. I want to see you strip first". I felt my cheeks blush as I kicked off my socks and wriggled out of the jeans. It left me stood there in a tight pair of Aussiebum briefs, he leant back and took me in and made the spin gesture with his finger. I span around, feeling a bit silly, but was complimented by the noises of approval Antony made. I bent over and took off the briefs and was about to toss them aside when he reached out and took them. He held them to his nose and had a big sniff.

"Aw, they smell clean. After time around my junk and ass mine won't smell like this", and with that he started to strip. As he took off his shirt revealing the beefy body, he pushed my head to his belly. "Mmm, worship me, boy"

I kissed his stomach and licked around the nipples to his moans of delight. He then pushed down so I was sitting on the bed while he carried on stripping. As he pulled his trousers off I saw he was still wearing the same boxers he'd been wearing since I'd arrived two days ago. I hadn't noticed since I'd seen them at breakfast yesterday, as either we'd stripped so quickly or Antony had just pulled his cock out through his jeans fly.

"They're not the same boxers you've had on all weekend?"

Antony looked annoyed. At being called out, or for being interrupted, I wasn't sure. "What? I've not been anywhere. Besides, I just said mine wouldn't smell good. Days of me lounging around, they'll have absorbed all that sweat, every drop of piss that I didn't fully shake off, and any left over cum that dribbled out." He must have seen my look of revulsion because he smiled and grabbed my head, pulling my face in to his bulge.

"That's it. Sniff that crotch. Can you smell it". He pushed my head down and lifted his foot up to the bed to give me access. "Smell my balls, faggot".

I tried to pull away. The smell was rancid. A couple of days without showering was one thing, but this was beyond that! Antony worked from home so who knew when they'd actually been last changed!

"Come on, take a big sniff and I'll let you go. I want to hear you enjoy my stink"

As I couldn't break free of his grip, and my neck was being awkwardly pulled down to get up in Antony's ball and taint area, I felt desperation beginning to take over.

*sniff* *sniff*

"Oh that's not nearly enough! Come on, pig, a big long sniff"

"Come on, I did it! Let me go". I pleaded. But it fell on deaf ears. Annoyed at not getting what he wanted right away, Antony decided to punish me. He pulled my head out but held on tight. Dropping his leg and spinning round in one smooth action, I wasn't prepared when my face was slammed into his ass. Straight between the cheeks. Only having an instant to see the patch of sweat that ran up the crack line.

"Now you can appreciate the back of them instead. I was going easy on you. But now it's the days worth of farts, and sweat from my swamp ass". Antony had a nice big ass, but from here it looked and felt massive. My face was wedged in and I could barely see past the the big fat cheeks to Antony's face looking back at me.

The smell was so much worse. It smelt like an uncleaned toilet. I tried to get a bit of space to get fresh air, but I was held still.

"Three big sniffs! One for implying I'm a slob. A second for making me take time away from fucking that ass to punish you. Finally a long third one, so I know how much you love my smell."

I had to get out. Each breath was an assault, and my nose hurt from being slammed against his ass.

*SSSNNNIIIFFF*

*SSSNNNIIIFFF*

I had to pause, it was making me feel sick.

"Only two? This how you say you don't like my smell?!" I can't have a slave that doesn't worship every thing about me. Now a big long sniff of my ass, one last time, and when you're done say thank you!"

I bracesd myself. Until now I'd been taking shallow breaths to stay conscious but now my lungs needed oxygen. One more was all it'd take to be freed.

*SSSSSNNNNNIII-

*PPPPRRRRRRBBBBBRRRR*

-IIFFFFF*

Antony had prepared a huge fart for the third sniff. As soon as he heard his victim taking that breath he pushed with all his might. He burst out laughing as I flailed desperately trying to pull back, yanking at his wrist that held my head.

I had been halfway through the sniff when I felt it. A rush of wind followed by the stink of an open sewer. I could feel it's warmth on my face. I could feel sick starting to come up my throat and had to swallow frantically. I felt the hold loosen enough for fresh air to get in and let me speak.

"Oh god that's horrible. Let me up!"

"I want to hear the thank you first"

"Thank you!"

"Thanks for what?"

"Thank you for letting me smell your stink!"

Antony let go and turned back round. His cock was erect and poking out above the waistline. As he took off the boxers I filled my lungs with the cleaner - for the fart still lingered in the room - air. "Your farts are disgusting. That was disgusting!"

His face darkened. His cock was harder than I had ever seen it. Standing fully erect, throbbing and veiny. He pushed me down whilst spinning me round so I was lying face down. Bent over the bed with my ass exposed and ready.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I know what you faggots are for, and it's to worship me. Pig out on what I give you. And be a fucking cum slut"

He pulled my hair to lift my face off the bed and, as I cried out in pain, stuffed his boxers in my mouth. I could taste the sweat, and prayed I was tasting the front and not the fart covered back. Before I could spit them out my face was slammed back down.

Antony teased my hole with his finger and started to probe inside. He spit on the hole and worked the saliva in. I grimaced and tried to relax for what came next, I could feel his hard fat cock pressing against me. I moaned in pleasure as he continued to finger me, adding another finger as he went. He spat in his other hand and rubbed it over his cock, then pulled his fingers out and spat on my hole again. This time he used the pale head to push it in. He fell forward and used his weight to force his way inside of me. There was excruciating pain and I bit down hard on the boxers and let out a muffled cry.

Antony paused to let me adapt to the sensation and I prayed that it was all in and I could just lie there and take a quick fuck. But as Antony reached and pinned my arms to the bed I realised it wasn't. He thrust hard and I felt it hit deep inside, sending more pain through my body. I tried to breath through the pain but just got more of the smell of Antony's boxers and a taste of the salty sweat and tangy piss that soaked them.

He ploughed away without any concern, holding me down and grunting.

"That's it bitch. This is what you wanted. Begging to my bubble, so I'd fuck this bubble butt. Any bottom would beg to take this cock and not give me any lip" he fucked more aggressively as he reminded me of all my insubordination.

"Like my boxers now? You're going to learn to love my smells. Be a good pig for me, or I'll find a faggot who will and you can go back to your lonely flat!"

I moaned and moaned. Anthony was hitting the spot, but it was all too hard. I tried to listen to what was being said but the pain was so intense, I had to focus on relaxing best I could. I managed to hear, "Well, do you like how my boxers smell now?!"; and, not wanting to cause any more aggression, nodded. I made big show of lifting my head and burying my face in the part still outside my mouth.

"Oh fuck! There's my pig boy. Sniff them up. I'll make more for you don't worry". This seemed to satisfy Antony who went quiet and focused on fucking. Shortly after my arms were released as Anthony grabbed my hips and pulled himself as far in as he could get as he made his final thrusts. He exploded inside me then just lay down, letting his bulk fall on me, his cock softening in my ass, panting in my ears as he caught his breath.

"Oh that was what I needed. Did you enjoy that?". I nodded. He pulled out and lay on his back. "You can take these out now." And he pulled the boxers out of my mouth, then threw them to the floor.

"That was... intense." I managed to get out. "I...er....better just deal with this" and gestured to my open hole that was oozing cum, rushing off to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet lost in thought. That had been scary, but Antony had said he liked powerplay maybe that was what it was. I could just discuss it with him and we'd find what we both liked. I was sure of it. No need to end it now on a misunderstanding. I finished up and went back to the bedroom, and found Antony had fallen asleep. 'Oh well' I thought, 'I'll mention it in the morning'. Besides, how much worse could it get than that fart to the face?

[spiltscribbles]

THE ONE WITH THE SOULMATE | WOLFSTAR FIC

Author's Notes: A reblog is like a butterfly kiss, and letting me know what you think is like a hundred hugs all at once.

.-

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff. 

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

.-

The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

.-

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

.-

“We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes. 

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

.-

Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

.-

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words. 

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them. 

[chrisbitchtree]

For @harringrovekinktober day 10 - Frottage!

NSFW

***

Back when Billy and Steve had just been best friends, two pining idiots flirting by way of being complete and total dicks to each other any chance they got, they’d had plenty of alone time. Steve’s parents had spent the last six months in various countries across Europe, sending Steve postcards relaying the message that they wished he was there, which couldn’t be any more the opposite of the truth, Steve had said, snorting, as he hung another postcard on the fridge, and Hopper, who Billy had moved in with after the events of Starcourt, only asked that Billy check in with him after school if he wasn’t going to be coming home for dinner, and that he be home by his curfew at 11pm.

Of course though, once they’d gotten over themselves and in Robin’s words “finally, you fucking idiots” confessed their feelings for each other, Steve’s parents had returned home for a few weeks and seemed to want to pack six months of not seeing Steve into that time, and Hopper had banned Billy from closing his door when Steve was over the second they’d told him they were together, because “El and I DO NOT need to hear that. Ever.”

Suffice it to say they’d had no time for anything other than rushed hand jobs in the back seat of Steve’s car at the quarry, or the blow job Billy had given Steve in the backroom of Family Video one night while he was closing up the store. Steve had spent a lot of time with his hand around his dick late at night, replaying that scene over and over in his head, Billy’s blue eyes looking up at him, his mouth stuffed full of cock, Steve’s fingers buried in his shiny curls.

Now though, the stars had aligned, and Steve had the night off on the same day that his parents were in Chicago for a business trip. Steve’s shift at the video store had gone torturously slow, every single minute seeming to last ten, until finally, the clock struck 4 and Steve was free. He practically ran out of the shop, and Robin, who knew where he was headed laughed and told him to have fun, while Keith had glared at him and told him not to run in the store or he’d get written up. Whatever. Steve would deal with him another day.

The plan for the evening was simple. Meet at Steve’s, where Billy would shower after basketball practice while Steve made them a romantic dinner of chicken parmesan, salad, and garlic bread, and then they’d go up to Steve’s bedroom to fuck like rabbits.

Steve raced through a shower of his own as soon as he got home, and by the time Billy arrived, the chicken was breaded and baking in the oven, and he was stirring up a vinaigrette for the salad.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted Billy, as the blonde sidled up behind him and kissed the back of his neck.

“Hey, pretty boy, it smells delicious in here, and it’s not just your amazing apple shampoo for once.”

Steve chuckled in response. Billy loved that shampoo and used it any chance he got. Steve bet if he buried his nose in Billy’s curls right now, he’d smell it.

Billy set the table, lighting the candles Steve had placed in holders, as Steve boiled the pasta and broiled the cheese on the garlic bread, and before long, dinner was ready. They ate opposite each other, their feet tangled together under the large oak table, talking about their day with mouths full of chicken and pasta, like the classy guys they were.

Then, when the last bites of food were gone, the plates were cleared and the dishes were left to soak, they headed hand in hand up to Steve’s bedroom. They’d talked about this, planned for it, decided that Steve was going to fuck Billy, and then Billy would fuck him, so they’d each get a turn. They’d flipped a coin to see who would go first, and Steve was proud to say he’d kept his gloating to a minimum when he’d won.

They undressed each other, then Billy laid down on the bed, hands behind his head, Steve taking a minute to soak him in. He’d seen Billy naked in the showers after basketball practice the year before, of course, but this was different. Steve didn’t need to pretend to avert his gaze now. He could stare as long as he wanted and stare he did.

Billy gave him a woolfish grin, tugging on his cock, and wasn’t ashamed to say he drooled a little bit, his jaw practically on the floor. “Like what you see, princess?” Billy asked, winking.

Oh, fuck yes, Steve did. Unable to wait another second, Steve dropped the condoms and lube he’d grabbed from his bedside table onto the mattress and climbed on top of Billy, pulling he blankets over them, and capturing his lips in a long, deep kiss. They were both already half hard, and they groaned into each other’s mouths as their cocks rubbed together between them.

“Oh fuck, Steve, that feels so good,” Billy said, practically whining. Steve made a mental note to tease him about it later, but for now, he focused on making them both feel good.

“You like that, baby?” Steve asked, grinding down onto Billy, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

Billy nodded furiously, grabbing Steve’s ass, and encouraging his movements. “What if we just did this?” he panted into Steve’s neck.

“But we had a whole plan. I was going to take your ass virginity, and you were going to take mine!” Steve said, even as he reached for the bottle of lube.

Billy snorted, shaking his head. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. We’ll get to it though, I swear. It’s only 7. There’s plenty of time for you to take my “ass virginity” before I have to be home for curfew. Right now, this feels good, and it’s what I want, ok?”

Steve nodded, pressing his lips to Billy’s. He snapped open the cap on the lube without breaking the kiss and squirted some out into his palm. He reached town between them, taking both of their cocks and stroking them a couple times until the glide was just right. They bucked against each other, in their own little world under the covers, moaning into each other’s mouths, Billy’s arms wrapped around Steve, holding him close, until they were coming within seconds of each other, the hot wetness spreading between their bodies as they moved with the aftershocks.

Steve didn’t think it would be possible, but somehow, Billy’s arms drew him in tighter, and Steve rested his head on Billy’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Steve smiled, grateful for everything he had in that moment. Billy was right, they had plenty of time for what would come next. For now, this was perfect.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Yandere Cassie with an Accepting Darling (not Stockholm syndrome)

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Yandere behaviours, possessiveness. Tbf you can’t even tell this is yandere

𝕬/𝕹: these mortal kombat requests are for @ludwig1380’s birthday, so happy belated birthday!!

“Baaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe!” Cassie shouted from the kitchen as she stirred the pasta sauce that was simmering in the pan. The pasta had long been cooked, slowly cooling in the bowls you had set aside whilst you took a shower.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” You laughed back, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. You rested your head against her shoulder and swayed you both slowly. The damp towel you were using to mop your hair hung over your neck.

“Leave the towel in the bathroom, dumbass. You know how my mom gets,” she murmurs back, stirring the sauce. You laugh, before squeezing her sides.

“Anyway, how is the sauce looking? Nearly done?” You ask, looking at the sauce intently. She lifted up the spoon before blowing on it, and lifting it to your lips. The sauce was incredibly spiced, well rounded and delicious.

“I think it’s missing something though, I just don’t know what,” Cassie pondered. You reach over her shoulder and grab a shaker of oregano with a smirk. You sprinkle some in, before taking the spoon feeding her some sauce.

She turns the pan off, putting it to one side before turning around to pull you into a kiss.

“How’s it taste now?” She murmurs, bumping her nose against yours.

“Exactly like the family recipe. Now, you set the table, and I’ll dish everything up. I want to really impress your parents tongue,” you tell her, removing her apron and kissing the tip of her nose.

“Sure thing babe, but don’t worry. My mom is a hard nut but she really likes you. You’re aware of my dad’s feelings of you, considering he puts you in a headlock every time he sees you,” she laughs, tapping your ass as she starts preparing the table.

“I know, Cass. It’s just a lot of pressure considering we’re cooking their anniversary dinner,” you smile nervously. “It’s even more knowing we’ll be eating with them.”

You dish out the meal, making sure everything is perfect. The pasta was slightly al dente, the sauce was beautiful and the garlic bread was golden brown. Cassie used the nicest tablecloth to cover the table, as well as light some candles to bask the dining room in a warm glow.

Cassie had phoned her parents to let them know you had finished, both of you wearing slightly formal get up. Johnny entered the dining room first, a happy exclamation and a headlock your response to your hello. Sonya followed afterwards as you politely salute her as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, (Y/N). This is certainly a large spread of food! You didn’t have to do this for our anniversary,” she smiles very slightly, hand cocked on her waist. You gave her a polite smile back and wrap your arm around Cassie.

“Well, Cassie insisted I come back over for dinner and make you my family recipe spaghetti. It was Mr Cage who asked me to cook for your anniversary,” you smile. Johnny’s grin widened as he ruffled your hair.

“Hell yeah, kiddo! Plus it’s free food, Sonya. Who’s gonna say no to a nice home-cooked meal,” he said boisterously. You roll your eyes playfully, pulling out Cassie’s chair as she adjusts herself. Everyone digs in, sounds of appreciation leaving Johnny everyone.

“Wow, this is incredible (Y/N). Is this really a family recipe?” Sonya asked, looking at you. You lower your fork and smile.

“Yup! Been in the family as long as I can remember. I remember eating this as a kid, and it never fails to make me happy,” you explain happily. Cassie smiles at you.

“This is fan-fucking-tastic kiddo! See Son, I told you it was a good idea to have them come for dinner!” Johnny boasts proudly, sauce staining his white shirt. Sonya has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes.

“Language at the table, Johnny. I must say Cassie, you’ve found yourself a very capable partner,” Sonya comments. Cassie nudges you and whispers.

“She’s basically saying for you to move in,” she giggles as her mother glares at her before looking back to you.

“You have clearly demonstrated that you can take excellent care of my daughter. She cares for you and trusts you in return. You have my blessing to continue seeing Cassie,” she finishes as she eats a meatball. You can feel yourself smile widely as Johnny laughs.

“Oh please Son, you were basically gushing over them the first day Cassie brought ‘em here. She’s just trying to intimidate you kid, our Sonya over here is as scary as a kitten when you get to know her,” he teases, holding Sonya’s hand as she tuts.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and watch a movie. Your father and I can tackle these dishes since you cooked,” Sonya offered, shushing your protests.

“Don’t worry about it, you two go and have fun.”

The two of you flopped on the bed, laughing at each other.

“God I’m soooooo full. I doubt I’ll be able to eat for a week after this,” Cassie groans, weaving her fingers with yours.

“Ugh I know. We always have leftovers though,” you smile as you nuzzle her head. Cassie breathily laughs back, throwing you a set of pyjamas as she starts getting ready for bed.

“Get changed so we can watch the movie, babe,” she prompts. You get ready quickly, getting ready for optimal spooning conditions. Cassie slots herself in front of you, getting comfortable as you kiss her hair. She’s out like a light in minutes, giving you plenty of time to grab her phone.

And take a loving selfie of you both.

[roosterbruiser]

[ STEPPED ]:     sender beckons for the receiver to step on the tops of the sender’s shoes before they dance, so as to let the more experienced sender lead the way.

With sweet sweet Bob?? I feel like he knows how to dance 😍

as soon as Tiny Dancer by Elton John floods your apartment, you know you're in for it.

you and Bob have been cleaning the apartment all day. and by cleaning, I mean really cleaning. scrubbing baseboards, organizing cabinets, mopping the floors, dusting the ceiling fans, going through your wardrobes. it's something you and Bob do maybe twice a year if you can swing it.

truly, you enjoy days like this. Bob isn't on base, he's wears an old t-shirt and shorts, and he even makes playlists in preparation for cleaning days. any time at all spent with Bob is time that you treasure.

so, right now, as you finish polishing the coffee table, your spine prickles as Elton John fills the cavernous (and clean) room around you. this is your unofficial song with Bob--which happened somewhere between him always crooning it in the shower and screaming it in the car before finally admitting to you that this song reminds him of you.

you're grinning before you even turn around, still seated on your knees with your hair thrown in a clip on your head and your t-short ragged and stained with lemon Pledge.

"any pretty girls wanna dance?" Bob says, leaning against the doorway, watching you with heart-shaped pupils.

"hmm," you pretend to think, still not turning around. "anyone?" you turn to the empty room and pretend to look out over a crowd.

Bob's chuckling, crossing the dazzling floor with his socked feet, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist and pepper kisses across your naked face.

"c'mon, honey," he says softly against your skin. "dance with me."

it isn't that you don't want to dance with Bob--it's that you're not very good at dancing. and you pride yourself on being good at most everything. it's hard for you to admit when you're not perfect at something--Bob knows this. but he also knows that he'd do anything to get you to dance with him.

"but Bob," you whine, standing and leaning against his shoulder. "I'm no good at it! rotten, in fact."

"I'm sure the crowd won't mind," he teases.

you blow a raspberry at him and he spins you around in his arms, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"I'll make it easy for ya," he tells you with a sweet grin, kissing your lips very softly. "step on my feet."

you look down, brows raised, at your pair of socked feet.

"Bob, I don't wanna crush you."

he rolls his eyes, pulling you against him until you're forced to step on his feet to catch yourself. biting your lip and shaking your head, you sigh and submit to him.

"atta girl," he grins, holding your hand in his and guiding your other hand to hold the nape of his neck. he lets his free hand drop to your waist--all prim and proper like the good midwestern boy he is. "and now we just spin in a circle. not so bad, huh?"

you're flushed, biting your lip as Bob picks his feet off the ground and begins to spin the two of you in a slow circle, resting his forehead against yours.

"mhm," you grumble--but you're grinning.

Bob treasures moments like this: ones where you trust him so completely to lead you, ones where you dance in your clean apartment to Elton John, ones where you give yourself to him so completely.

"you're a fantastic dancer," he tells you, kissing your nose. "a real natural!"

"Bob," you laugh. "stop teasing!"

defensively, he shakes his head.

"not teasing!" he insists. "I'll bet I can teach you how to square dance next time, huh?"

"don't push it," you grumble, ghosting your lips over his.

the truth is, though--you'd do just about anything at all if you were being held in Bob's arms, getting a noseful of his scent of sandalwood and laundry detergent, matching each other's breaths.

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Attached at the Lips

Part two of Steddie!Dads - Here’s part one Attached at the Hip

Note: This will probably be a 4 part thing, please enjoy!

warnings: family trauma kinda, abandonment issues (past), being outed, worms

Steve cheered along with the crowd of first graders when the ball caught inside the net. This was the first year they would be keeping score, and the team wasn’t terrible as far as six year olds can be good at sports. Connor was always leading the charge, shy in everything except for this sport apparently. Claire on the other hand was sitting on the bench eating an orange slice, juice running down her sticky hands to her elbows. Steve smiled at her, and she frowned knowing it meant she would have to play again soon.

By the time the game ended and all of the little kids were full of orange slices and chex mix post game, the sun was above head in full force. Steve began cleaning up the little cones, balls, and water bottles littered around their bench as parent called their goodbyes. Clair and Connor were rolling in the grass and blowing dandelions at each other.

“Hey there big boy. Can I help ya?” Steve looked up, watching as Eddie, slightly sweaty but clearly freshly showered, appeared from the other side of his truck. Steve had picked Connor up from Munson’s earlier in the morning with the promise of donuts at the end of the game.

“You can help by getting those two before they get into the mud,” Steve laughed. He instinctively looked around, checking who was still there. A few moms were still talking to each other while their kids played in the shade by the cars. Eddie wrangled the children, returning with one giggling under either arm. Steve’s mind ran blank for a solid ten seconds staring at Eddie’s muscled arms.

“Earth to Steeevieeee,” Eddie called in a sing-songy voice. The kids were playing in the flatbread of Eddie’s truck, not free from the potential odd grease stain, but the fear of mud with them wasn’t the stains it was the worms they had a tendency to put in each others pockets. Both dads had done their fair shares of laundry that had disgusting bloated worm bodies that they would never allow that again.

The rest of the parents had taken off it seemed, the sparse cars looking like they were left there for general park goers.

“C’mere,” Steve said, the sound gruffer than he intended, but he had been out yelling across the field all morning. Eddie obliged, both of them keeping an eye on the kids in the truck. The kiss could have just as likely been anyone’s imagination, with how lightening fast it was. The men excelled at keeping any public PDA to as quick as possible. Steve held on just a little longer than normal though, squeezing Eddie tight before letting him go and starting to head back to the cars, both hauling bags of stuff destined for Steve’s trunk.

Someone cleared their throat. Both men jumped, staring at Patrick Dunlap’s mom, who was staring right back at them. She was halfway into her driver’s seat, the depot ajar beside her, but her windshield faced right at the field.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, being around children like that. Whatever you do at home is your perogative, but in public?” She sniffed, nose tilted up like a cartoon character. She was in the car with the door closed before Steve could even call her name to protest. They just stood there for a long moment, looking at eachother before silently getting the kids in their cars and driving to Eddie’s.

Both kids were showering before they spoke another word to each other, Conor in the master bathroom, Claire down the hall. They were standing equidistant to each bathroom, within hearing and visual of either door, so they were leaning against the doorframe of Eddie’s room, pinkies hooked together as they stood on opposite sides.

“We knew this day was going to come eventually. We have to tell them. At least that they might be called names or something.”

-/-/-/-/-

Steve watched the puff of smoke from Eddie's cigarette float away towards the tree-line. They were sitting on the back stairs, looking into the darkness. The kids were finally asleep in Connor's bed. Claire had a few sets of PJs and day clothes stashed in a drawer in case they slept over. Connor had the same at Steve's place, but they stayed over there less often. Eddie's house was more isolated, in the trees towards the edge of town, while Steve lived right on a white picket fence road with neighbors within spitting distance and a sidewalk that ran parallel to waist height hedges. Steve supposed it didn't matter anymore where they stayed. Crickets and night birds filled the silence that surrounded them until Eddie took one last deep puff and then squished out the cigarette into the dirt of the yard. He barely smoked anymore, not like when him and Steve had first met and Steve told him to cut it out lest his son develop an allergy, or asthma like Claire had.

"I never told you how I got Connor."

"I guess I just figured..." He trailed off. Steve hadn't thought about it in a while, just assumed the same thing that happened to him, a poor choice of one night stand and then a baby with a birth certificate and a note left at a hospital with his number on it.

"I uh," Eddie's voice went soft enough that Steve had to lean over a bit, "My mom had me when she was sixteen. Left me with her big brother Wayne and disappeared. My dad came by for a little while when I was a kid, but all he did was teach me to steal... fuck up. My uncle Wayne shoo'd him off before I could get into too much trouble, but nothing ever from my mom. Not a word. And then six years ago, knock on my door. I was twenty-three, doing okay at the shop, making okay money and just bought a little shitty place for myself in the trailer park so uncle Wayne didn't keep sleeping on the couch in ours." Eddie's voice broke a little. Steve knew he'd lost his uncle Wayne, the only parent he'd really known. Steve had gone to the funeral with them, held Connor's hand while Eddie wept with just a few people who knew Wayne from the plant for company. Steve rubbed Eddie's arm, pulling him closer so he could rest his head on Steve's shoulder.

"It was my mom. She was thirty-eight. She never left the area. She never- she never came to see me. But she just showed up with this, this little boy. He was so small, Stevie. He looked just like me. And I just snatched him, right out of her arms, didn't even let her give any room to say anything. Closed the door in her face and she left the birth certificate in the mailbox. Connor Munson, father unknown, mother Rebecca Munson." They sat in silence a while longer, but a light drizzle had picked up from the clouds covering the pale moon and they finally stood up. Before they took a step towards the house, while Steve was still brushing down the back of his pants, Eddie squeezed his arm hard and he looked up.

"He doesn't know. Not yet. I'll tell him, when I'm ready. But I'm not yet. I want him... I want him to know his dad loves him, that I'll always be his dad, even if I am just his brother." Steve squeezed Eddie into his arms, feeling his chest heaving to keep the tears at bay.

"Your uncle Wayne wasn't just your uncle. He was your dad too. You'll never just be Connor's uncle. You'll always be his dad."

[butch-himbo-king]

hello, here's some unsolicited advice for your sinus infection, pls disregard if you dont want that.

theres 3 things i think might be helpful to you and you might already be doing some of them.

1. neti pot or saline wash. depending on how clogged ur nostrils are, it might be difficult to use a neti pot, but if you persevere doing it daily, i think it can bring some relief. ceramic neti pots are more expensive but i think theyre safer than plastic. you can google how to do this, just make sure to use clean/boiled water. also when ure done, blow ur nose gently and without closing either nostril.

2. nasya, this means putting oil blend up ur nose in the morning. if you google, you can find a lot of premade oils, but i find it safer and cheaper to make ur own. i use coconut oil with 2% essential oil (i use tea tree and eucalyptus globulos) but if you choose to do this, you can just do the euc so you dont have to buy 2. google "nasya ayurveda" for more info

3. steam inhalation, this is the one you might already be doing like when u turn on the shower rly hot and breathe in the steam. i also like boiling water in an pan adding essential oil (again eucalyptus globulos reccommended) off the heat and breathing in with a towel over my head and the pan to trap the steam (this is physically uncomfortable but worth it for the relief)

source: ive had so so many sinus infections both as a child and adult and my mom is into aromatherapy so ive learned a bit from her and also google

Safety note 1: pls still take your antibiotics when you are able to get them!!! these suggestions are more for relief than getting rid of the root of the inflammation so u still need the anti-bios

Safety note 2: if you do this, pls be sure to dilute your essential oils carefully. they are incredibly concentrated substances that can actually do harm undiluted. all the suggestions i made here have been practiced in traditional medicine (specifically ayurveda) for thousands of years and are safe!! but only as long as you follow the directions

im very sorry if this comes off preachy or like im telling you what to do or like those essential oil moms, but these three things have helped me tremendously and i thought they just might help you too. once again, feel free to disregard and tell me to go fuck myself if thats your truth. im also happy to answer any questions if u have them!

i like ur blog and hope u and ur partner continue to do well and be happy!

thank you fr for sending this it’s so sweet and really genuinely appreciated!!!

i have tried the netipot but both of my nostrils are too swollen for the water to even drip into my throat let alone go all the way through to the other nostril. it literally just sits in whichever one i pour it into for a second and then falls straight back out once it overflows lmfao

and i have been doing a lot of steam inhalation with simmer pots and any time i make soup or tea

one thing i haven’t tried though is the oils. i know if i make a trip to my moms house she’ll have everything i need bc she’s also a very herbal remedy type of woman and she has her big wooden storage box of every oil imaginable.

thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to send me a little bit of help this is really and truly appreciated i hope you have an amazing day 🫶🫶🫶

[hyuganejiswife]

Dandelions | Shino Aburame X GNReader

Masterlist | Part 1 / Part 2

| Reader is Kiba’s older sibling, taunting Shino for ratting them out about their injuries, sparring, slight angst if you squint, UNEDITED, uhhh I wrote half of this a week ago and just finished it, idk if it makes any sense, cheesy Shino

Word Count: 1469

It’s been a few weeks since Shino had outed your shoulder dislocation to your mother in the middle of dinner. She’d invited him and Hinata over several more times since then while you were still healing. You finally had healed enough that you could start training with your older sister again.“Ah!” You crumple after your sister lands a hit on your bad shoulder. You breathe heavily, kneeling down and cradling your arm to your chest as you take deep breaths, breathing back out through your nose.

Shino and Hinata follow Kiba and Akamura down the path to your family house, Akahiro laying in his usual patch of dandelions until the small pup jumps on his side causing him to let out a low growl. Your head perks up in an instant, your canine poking at your lower lip as you look over to see it’s only Akamura bothering his big brother. When you see Shino following your brother, you sigh and stand up, facing your sister again before getting into your fighting stance again.

“Alright, bring it!” The trio stops short of the front door as you and Hana go at it again, throwing and dodging blows, as well as taking hits when one of you manages to get one off.

You catch a flash of color from the corner of your eye and in the brief moment that you’re distracted your sister manages an uppercut, knocking you on your ass. You groan as your back hits the ground and you huff, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel something land on your nose and your eyes flutter open. A blue butterfly is perched on your nose. You sit up and it remains there, making you go cross eyed.

“Hey, Shino! If that’s your way of flirting with Y/N, knock it off!” You jump when the butterfly flies away from you, causing your head to snap in the direction of Kiba’s voice. Shino’s head is tucked into the collar of his jacket. You weren’t sure how the butterfly could have been a way of flirting, completely unaware of his abilities.

You hear Akahiro let out a small growl in your direction, sensing your annoyance at losing your match due to being distracted by the butterfly. You stand and brush your pants off, calling out to your hound to follow you as you brush past your brother and his teammates, thoroughly confused by Kiba’s accusation.

Truth is, you’d been seeing those butterflies around a lot since you met Shino. The first came around the morning after he had been over for dinner, you were sitting in your dandelion patch lounging against Akahiro when one first appeared. It landed on the confused canine’s head and caused you to laugh brightly, much to Shino’s amusement. He’d sent it to check on you, but after that, he just kept sending them, even after you had been able to start training again, just so he could check in on you, though he wasn’t sure why at all.

However, how you hadn’t pieced it together that the bugs were a part of him… He’d never understand.

It didn’t matter though. He would continue his silent check ins as often as possible, hoping one day you’d notice that he was the one sending them.

By the time you emerge from deep within the house following your shower, face free of paint, everyone was coming in for dinner. You stretch your arms carefully above your head, taking a seat beside Shino while Hana and your mother take their respective places at the heads of the table.

“Y/N, how’s your arm doing?” Hinata’s soft voice fills the silence and you look up at her with a smile.

“It’s great. Thanks for asking.”

“Thanks to Shino.” Your mother pipes in, narrowing her eyes. “Who knows how much damage could have been done…”

“Mom! It’s not a big deal, really. As much as they’ve been over since, can we not bring it up?” You slouch in your chair, peeking up at her and then at Shino who hasn’t once looked at you since you sat down. You frown, biting your lip as you turn to your plate. “Besides, I’ve been cleared for missions again and will leave in two days. It’s not as bad as you say it is if I’ve been given the go ahead.”

“Already?” Shino’s eyes are on you at this news, brows furrowing as he watches you shovel food unceremoniously into your mouth. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

You pause, surprised to have attention on you from the man you barely knew anything about, “Uh… Yeah. I mean, the doctor cleared me. Who am I to say what’s early or not.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Shino will probably send a few bugs with you to make sure that you’re staying safe!” Kiba narrows his eyes at his teammate and that’s when it clicks for you.

“Aburame… I see now. You’ve been sending those butterflies! For what?” You suddenly glare at him, wondering if it’s because he didn’t trust you to take care of yourself. “What? You think you have to keep a watch on me to make sure I dont hurt myself?”

Shino begins to panic quietly, bringing his hands up in defense as he quickly shakes his head. “It was merely to check on you, that’s all.” He swallows and looks to your brother for help, though his answer only spurs on new questions of why he felt the need to check on you.

Kiba is laughing loudly and brightly while Hinata seems to be fearing for her friend’s safety. “Y/N, he’s got a major crush on you!” Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, as do Shino’s as the man shifts away from you, crossing his arms over his chest in embarrassment. “He’s been sending those butterflies because he found out you like them! You guys should see your faces!”

You look absolutely panic stricken as you stand, putting more space between you and Shino as you storm outside. Flirting or not, now that you knew what the butterflies were meant for you, you felt like a child who couldn’t be trusted. You were a chunin for crying out loud. A strong one at that, carrying on your family legacy and working your way to one day be a jonin.

Despite your enhanced hearing, you don’t hear someone following after you, slow to approach as you plop down against Akahiro in your patch of dandelions. Shino stands just a few feet away and debates saying anything at all. He watches a blue butterfly land on Akahiro’s head, getting your attention.

“I’ll smash it.”

“No you won’t…” In truth, he wasn’t sure whether you would or not. He was actually a little fearful that you might smash one of his beloved insects but as you seem to visibly relax, he does so as well. “I’m sorry. I never meant to give the impression that you couldn’t be trusted. When I sent them… The first one, I saw how happy you were, so I just kept sending them. I thought you liked butterflies and I thought you knew it was me.”

“I’m a little slow on that side of things. Been hit on the head too many times to count,” your hand comes up to subconsciously rub the back of your head, you’d managed to get quite a few concussions on your missions. “So, uh… About that crush…”

He pales and looks away, tucking his face into the collar, hiding the blush on his cheeks before peeking at you to see if your gaze was on him. “He wasn’t lying if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” His brows knit together and he bites back a series of questions, having been warned not to bombard you.

“I mean… That doesn’t leave much time for a date. I leave in two days first thing in the morning, so I can’t stay out late. And we’d have to go somewhere Akahiro is allowed in, we don’t go anywhere without our hounds, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“What?”

“Well you do plan on taking me out on a date right? Or am I gonna have to wait till I come back from the mission? That would be such a bummer, Shino!” You throw your hands up as you talk animatedly and the man relaxes, carefully approaching and sitting across from you in your little patch.

He picks one of the dandelions, holding it up silently as you speak. You tilt your head, as he asks you to make a wish quietly. You lean forward and blow, watching as he tilts his head up a bit so you could see his lips, “Tomorrow. Well go out to lunch then.”

“I should start making wishes more often.”