#this was a painting test!! wanted go try something w a brush :))

[foreheadcake]

watermelon

[mistywaves98]

HIHIHI IDK IF YOU REMEMBER ME BUT YOUR ALBEDO THEME IS SO !!!! ME TOO EEE <333 that being said !! can i ask for mean dom!albedo w aphrodisiacs on like an assistant reader maybe,,, TYTY I LOVE UR WRITING

OMG PEARLL IT'S SO NICE TO SEE YOU OFC I REMEMBER YOUU!!! And thanks, when I made the theme I was so proud of it lmao and forgive me for taking soo long with this request😭😭

Mean! Dom! Albedo x Assistant! Fem! Reader

¡Warnings!: Aphrodisiacs, Sub! Reader, Dubcon/Noncon, Dumbification, Chocking, Degradation, Albedo calls you princess, Thigh Riding, Reader cums easily, Implied Virgin! Reader, I feel like I missed something!

It was an honor to be the personal assistant of the best alchemist in Mondstadt. You were proud of your position and always did your best to hold up your image, even if you did slip up every now and then.

You were always with him wherever he went, sometimes it was by choice and other times he demanded your presence. Whenever the latter happened it would leave you confused but proud that he wants you around.

Now just happened to be one of those times and this time you were in Dragonspine once again.

You were supposed to just 'relax' but now you were growing quite impatient since you had nothing to do and whenever you asked Albedo if there was anything you could assist with, he sent you to do something boring, like dusting the shelves or rearranging the books. You wanted to be assigned to something exciting, maybe collecting some slime secretions, or helping him mix up a new chemical, or....oh! Perhaps even something related to the cryo hypostasis!

As much as you didn't want to be a nuisance, you felt your brain cells deteriorating the more you stood around doing nothing, even observing the alchemist paint the wonderful scenery of the mountains outside had lost it's entertainment. So once more you tried to get Albedo to let you do more than sit around,"Sir, are you sure there's nothing else that needs to be done? No experiments needed to be conducted, no hypotheses to test?" You tried dropping some hints that would tell him to let you actually go out of the confinements of his laboratory but Albedo only sighed.

He personally thought it was nice to watch you when you weren't looking. So beautiful.... like a dainty little doll.... !!

Oops, he must've zoned out for a bit. Shaking his head slightly, he pondered your question. You had been bugging him non stop since you got here, but he couldn't really blame you. You were always an energetic one, always looking for something to do, or more specifically, something that'll please him. So just existing in his lab probably wasn't the best thing for you, besides, there is something he did want to try....

"Well, if you want to do something that badly, there is one thing I have in mind...." "Oh? What is it? Can I help you with it? What do you need me to do? Should I go—" "It's rather, dangerous, are you sure about this?" "The more dangerous, the better!" "Wait right here."

He put down his brushes and paint and left the room. When he came back he was holding something in his hand, a little vial containing a curiously pink liquid. Upon closer inspection you saw that it was filled with carbonated bubbles fizzing around. "I want you to drink this." "What is it?" "....I can't tell you." "..."

That was an odd response. Albedo never kept secrets from you before and it made you rather uneasy about what you were going to put in your body. But you trust him, he would never poison you, not on purpose anyway. So you just took his word for it and drank the liquid in one gulp.

It tasted very sweet, like a dozen sweet flowers had been mixed in, the texture was nice too, the way the liquid ran down your oesophagus felt satisfying. "So...I drank it. What now?" "We wait."

Albedo watched your face contort in confusion and held back a smile. Oh you were so soo clueless.

You stood there for a while, feeling kind of awkward as Albedo's eyes bore into the side of your head. You were thinking of something to say that would break the tension, not really paying any mind to the heat building up between your legs.

You may not have noticed the way your thighs were rubbing together, or the way you started tugging at your shirt collar, or the way your breathing became heavy and deep but Albedo saw it all. You couldn't hide anything from him. This was no exception.

Walking up to you he asked,"Are you feeling any different now?" "Uh... n-not really....just a bit h-hot–"

You find it hard to form a proper sentence without stuttering and jumbling up your words. The fact Albedo's standing right in front of you doesn't help either. You can't help but stare, goodness. Has he always been this attractive? The way he's looking at you...you can feel your underwear getting wetter.

"Hmm... are you sure? It seems you have a little issue down here." His hand cups your heat, making you gasp and immediately try to close your legs which he forces apart with his other hand. "I—" You cut yourself off as a surprised moan leaves your mouth when Albedo presses two fingers deeper against your clothes cunt and begins dragging them back and forth.

"S-sir, what are you—haah!— doing?" "Why helping you of course, unless, you don't want it?" You whine as he removes his hand from between your legs. You were so close! Oh, why did he stop?

"That's not what I meant! I— uh..." Your already red face burned even more as you struggled to find a way to tell Albedo that you actually want him to fuck you. Your boss simply sat down on a nearby chair and, patting his lap, he said,"Well, if you want to cum, you have to work for it princess. Ride my thigh and make a good show out of it. If you succeed, I will reward you with release, don't and you will face the consequences." A mean, smile was plastered across his face as he spoke, after all, what other option did you have?

You walk over and as you straddle his thigh, you avoid his burning gaze. However, Albedo doesn't like that and reaching up a hand to grab your face he pulls it close so you are forced to make eye contact with him. "Don't just sit there, if you want me to touch you, start moving." Letting your face go, he leans back in the chair with his hands crossed against his chest, smirking at you.

You're brought out of your dazed state as your pussy needing throbs. Hesitantly putting your hand on his shoulders, you use the leverage to move yourself. Suddenly you flinch and gasp at the feeling of your clothed clit dragging against the rough fabric of his pants.

A few more weak attempts to get yourself off has you in tears, it's humiliating and you hardly have any clue to what you're doing. You look at Albedo, silently begging him for help, but he just returns it with a cruel smile. It takes a moment for you to realize what he (probably) wants and although you don't really want to, you're so desperate right now you don't really care.

"Please...." "Hm?" "Please help me! Please help me cum, sir!" "Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll help you, but you better not complain when I give you what you want." You don't understand what he could possibly mean by that, but you don't have much time to think about it when Albedo grabs your hips, pushes you down and grinds you against his thigh. It's too fast and hard for you but nothing you say makes him slow or soften his pace. It's barely a minute before you feel the knot in your stomach burst. You collapse into his neck, tears streaming down your face, soaking his coat but suddenly you feel him yank you up by your throat. "Did you cum just by rubbing yourself against my thigh? Fully clothed no less, such a sensitive little whore aren't you? But I'm afraid you haven't satisfied me, so I think a punishment is due, don't you?"

Without warning, he suddenly squeezes your throat, stopping any air from making its way to your lungs. Your hands immediately try grasp his arm, but Albedo manages to catch them, leaving you to slowly asphyxiate. Fortunately, he let's go after a while, chuckling at the way you choke and sputter. "You have any idea how adorable it is to see you struggle," he sighs,"I've wanted this for so long and finally, I have you at my mercy. Now, for your punishment."

Cold air brushes your cunt as your cum-soaked pants and panties are ripped off. As soon as they're off, your juices gush out, messing his thigh up even more. You shut your eyes in embarrassment, not daring to meet his gaze, "Look at that. Who would've thought someone like you would cum so much untouched? You must like this more than you'd ever admit, no?" "No, I—" "Don't lie to me." "But—" Your sentence is cut short by a hard slap. "I don't want to hear any excuses. In fact, maybe it's better if you just shut up." You make a gagging noise as two fingers are shoved so far into your mouth, they hit the back of your throat. That was so hot, Albedo thinks, imagine if that was his cock.

Bringing his attention back to your pussy, he rubs his free hand against it, making you squirm as he collects your arousal and cum on his fingers. So wet, surely it would be enough for you to take his cock. Unbuckling his belt, he takes it out. Your eyes widen in slight fear, how were you going to take that inside of you?

Albedo laughs at the anxious look on your face, what are you worried about? Of course it's going to fit and if it doesn't, he'll make it fit.

Taking his hand out of your mouth, he lifts you up by your thighs and positions your entrance over the leaky tip of his cock. He then slams you down, giving you no time to adjust, a twisted, sadistic look is on his face as you scream and begin to cry once more. After giving you a few seconds, he lifts you up and impales you on his cock over and over again. It's fast, hard and painful, each thrust causing you to let out something that sounded like a mixture of a cry and a moan.

You beg him to stop, but in the back of your mind you think, do you really want him to? Yes it hurts, you are a virgin after all, but it also feels really good at the same time, in fact, it nearly feels too good. You didn't really have much time to recover from your first orgasm and now you feel another one coming. You're unsure if to say anything, but the uncertainty is short lived when fresh tears fall from your eyes as you cream around his cock.

"Came again? Ahh... and I've barely felt even close the cumming." "P-please sir, n-no more..." "Sorry princess, but like I said, you've failed to satisfy me, now you must accept your punishment."

You were exhausted and looked like a mess. Hair disheveled and sticking to your sweaty skin and clothes stained with cum while Albedo on the other hand, seemed perfectly normal aside from his dilated pupils, red tint across his face and small beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead.

Suddenly, you feel your stomach make contact with the cold Marble of the table as Albedo effortlessly puts you on it and turns you over. "I think this would be a more efficient position."

Before you know it, his cock is drilling into you once more. His pace is as fast as ever and you find your self grabbing at the tables edge while you moan in ecstasy. It's uncontrollable, the way a third orgasm washes over you at his continuous pounding.

It goes on like that for a while. You've cum about eight times before Albedo cums once. When he does, he cums inside you and you squirm at the foreign feeling. When he pulls out he can't help but feel mesmerized by the way his thick seed trickles out of your abused hole, running down your trembling thighs and falling into the puddle of cum from all your previous orgasms.

"You did so well for me princess, now wait here while I go get something to clean ourselves up." He sounds so unbothered, how much stamina does he have? While you lay there, brain reduced to mush and unable the form a coherent sentence or think of anything but the feeling of his cock in your walls. If there's one good thing about this whole situation, it's the fact that the uncomfortable fire in your stomach and nether regions is gone now :)

[arent-i-the-fairest]

hii oh my god i fell in love with your writing lol

would it be too much to ask for Epel, Ace and Deuce and their progression of developing a crush on Yuu (separately)? ♡

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

author’s note : it wouldn’t be too much at all!! and what an adorable prompt, i’m a sucker for ones like this! ♡ and i’m so glad you like my writing!

dorm leaders ver.

who ever could’ve guessed he would end up feeling this way?

ace trappola

you and ace definitely had a bit of a rocky start. he just has a knack for annoying people, which usually leads to rivalry, which is what happened between the two of you— but the odd thing is that the hatred formed into a friendship. it’s beyond ace how it happened.

he started recognizing pretty soon that he had a crush on you… and god, was he embarrassed about it. when he first met you, he was tryna make an enemy out of you! not for you to become his crush and for him to enjoy your company, admiring how you laugh, and how you looked today, and— you get the deal!

so here he is today, wondering when and how he should confess, or if he even should; truth is, he’s kind of scared to. whether or not he’ll do it? only time will tell.

“why am i here painting roses with you again?” you complained, wiping some sweat off your forehead. “did you forget that riddle asked for you to do this, and you alone, ace?”

“oh come on, prefect! you owe me, don’t you?” he asked.

“owe you? if you’re talkin’ about that time i made you hold my books while i went to the restroom for 3 minutes, that isn’t fair at all, y’know that?” you pouted. of course he knew.

the real reason he was making you do chores with him?

“i’m startin’ to think you’re just having me do this so you can spend some extra time with me!” you tease. ace’s breath hitched as he grew red. “you just love being around me so much, don’t you? haha!”

you have no idea how right you are.

“blech. as if!” he smirked, taking his brush and flicking it towards you, getting splotches of red paint on your uniform. “h-hey!” you gasped, frantically trying to rub it off as he laughed. “you’re in for it now, ace!”

deuce spade

it took deuce so long to catch on that he saw you as more than a friend, but when he did realize it, he literally immediately tried gaslighting himself and telling himself that he was wrong and only saw you as friend. he only started accepting it once you two had this heart-to-heart talk. he poured everything out— his shameful past, how he wants to change his ways… how he just wants his mom to be proud. and happy. how he never wants to see or make her cry ever again.

he kind of regretted telling you all this at first— he didn’t wanna concern you with it, but all that regret washed away soon enough. when you expressed that you understood him, wanted to help him, and told him the words “truthfully, i think you’re already someone worth being proud of!” while looking at him so fondly… yeah, he knew he was in love.

“prefect!” deuce called, catching up to you with a test paper in hand. “i did it! a 90%! it’s the highest grade i’ve gotten yet!” you gasped, giving him a big pat on the back.

“i’m proud of you, deucey! looks like my tutoring helped!” you hummed, closing your locker. “it really did!” he said, fumbling with his test paper. hm, that’s unlike him. “you seem nervous, is something up?” you asked.

“no, it’s just that— w-would you mind tutoring me for the next test too?” he pleaded. “i’m pretty sure my grades will start looking up even more if you do, and—…”

‘i really like being around you.’ is what he would’ve added on if he had the bravery to.

“of course i will! can’t let all this good progress go off the rails, can i?” you grinned. “now, let’s go and grab something to eat from the cafeteria; i’m starving!”

“r-right! thank you, prefect..” he muttered to himself.

epel felmier

the first time he could recognize that he liked you was when you defended him against vil. he watched you with admiration in his eyes, happy that you were able to tell the dorm leader what he was too afraid to. from that point on, you two bonded a lot and his crush developed even further. he found himself comfortable and open around you— being improper, being more expressive and loud, and of course… the bringing out the accent.

hearing a ding from his phone, he quickly checked it and smiled upon seeing it was you. you were just on time, as always.

cracking his door open just a bit and looking left and right down the hall, he tiptoed out after seeing the coast was clear. he was cautious for any signs that he might run into rook, or even worse, vil.

he managed to get out without a hitch though. hah, of course he would! he’s no beginner at this, he’s been sneaking out to see you a lot recently and has gotten the hang of if by now.

he jogged towards you, who grinned. “ready to run away from ballet lessons again, epel?”

“hah, f’course i am! where are we hangin’ out tonight?”

[iowkey-ioki]

How i made xenos nails!!

Materials

-worbla

-2mm eva foam

-scissors

-heat gun

-soldering iron (technically optional but helps A LOT)

-gesso (i used regular gesso, but if you can id buy heavy body gesso)

-P400+P600 sand paper

-acyrlic paint (just silver is ok, but black will help)

-white gloves

-hot glue

PART 1- forming the base

This part is VERY hard to explain so hopefully the diagram helps- ill explain every step here

Finger tips

1. Cut out a piece of worbla thats double the length of the finger tip you want + a little extra.

2. Heat it slightly and fold that piece of worbla in half around your finger.

3. Form it slightly around your finger, leaving a little extra space for the glove material, then cut it out with good scissors. (NOTE- if you try to form it on your finger while wearing gloves, the worbla MAY stick to the gloves. Id recommend just doing it on your bare finger)

4. Heat it up again until its very soft and round out the shape, making sure the sides stick together. If its too small when you test fit it around the glove, try to push out the walls a bit more.

Nails

Watch this video before starting this part-

1. Find a good length for your nails- mine are approx. 3 inches. Make a template and then cut the shape out of eva foam.

2. Cut out TWO pieces of worbla a little bigger then the nail strip and heat one up, sticky side up (the sticky side is shiny). Put the eva foam strip in the middle. Heat up the second piece of worbla and put it on top, sandwiching the eva foam.

3. Score all around the eva strip then cut AS CLOSE as possible to the edge.

Attaching the pieces

1. Heat up the finger tip and half of the nail. Attach the nail to the finger tip while wearing it to make sure it doesnt cave in. Use a picture from the manga as reference while doing this part

2. Once again, using a manga reference, use scrap worbla to fill out the sides and smooth everything down. This is the part where you can use a soldering iron to smooth everything out- be careful though, because you can easily burn the worbla.

2.5. I forgot to make a diagram but dont forget to curve the nails! I used a little metal dome to get a consistent curve for all of them.

3. Make little worbla balls, flatten them with something flat, then attach them to the nails while still hot.

Now repeat ALL these steps for all 10 nails! Yay!

PART 2- priming

For priming i used regular gesso because I was impatient, but if you have plenty of time I recommend heavy body gesso. It took me 12 layers to get everything decently smooth, but if you used heavy body it would probably take 3-5 layers.

I also used floral foam, craft sticks, and sticky tack for my painting setup- if you can think of a better method without sticky tack id recommend trying something else- just because i had to pick out the sticky tack with tweezers, and it took forever lol

Two things to note about gesso-

1. It doesnt self level so you need to sand it smooth

2. DO NOT DRY SAND!! Always wet sand gesso

My exact steps were this-

4 layers of gesso -> sand with P400 -> 4 layers of gesso -> sand with P400 -> 4 layers of gesso -> sand with P600

This part is very time consuming if you use regular gesso, but its definitely worth it for the smooth finish.

PART 3- painting

Before adding silver, I threw down a quick matte black layer. It tends to make metals look much better and it wont take long to dry, so I highly recommend it.

For the silver, i used decoart extreme sheen in silver, which i highly recommend. Relatively cheap and can be found in any craft store

Id also recommend having all your brush strokes go vertically if you can- it looks much cleaner.

PART 4 (final part)- attachment

I used a pair of white gloves i bought a while back at spirit halloween, but you can make them or buy them- doesnt matter as long as you like them.

This part is kinda dumb but I genuinely dont know if theres a better method… i put hot glue in the nails, let it cool for a couple of seconds, then put them ON MY FINGERS while wearing the gloves. It gets you the best fit possible but also burns a little so watch out.

And thats it! Thats all there is to it. Let me know if you found this helpful, and if anything was confusing leave a comment and ill try to help you.

As a bonus heres a picture that works very well for reference

[moreteethplease]

Devlog: Close The Window, My Love

Close The Window, My Love is a game about nursing things that should no longer remain. It was made for the 73rd bitsy jam, with the theme "close the window" - pretty on the nose, I know lmao. Click here to play it!

C/W for the game: allusions to death and physical illness.

Told myself I'd write devlogs/post-mortems whenever I make something, even if it's a very tiny something, so here goes! This devlog contains spoilers for the game.

Writing

When I started making this game, I didn't really know where it was going. The game jam's theme didn't spark any inspiration, which is ironic because I voted for it. So I just whipped out a word document and started writing, and the first thing I wrote was this: "Close the window, my love," she says, voice softer than a whisper."

But why is this person asking me to close a window?, I asked myself. Maybe they don't really want me to close the window. Maybe they're only doing it because they feel they have to?

I often find that I don't set out to create things that relate to me, but if I let myself write and work, the things I'm processing begin to leap out, begging for a spot in whatever I'm working on. That's what happened here. This is an ode to a past version of me, one so vastly different to who I am now that we have little in common, one I've spent the longest time desperately clawing my way back to, trying to embody them again. I love them very dearly, and I'm sure they love me, but it was time to let them go. I'm never going to be them again, and it's time to accept that and move on, growing into someone new.

It took me a whopping three days to finalize the script. I started out writing prose, but when some lines ended up rhyming, the non-rhyming lines felt out of place. I flip-flopped between intentionally rhyming them and trying to remove all rhymes for two days before committing to writing a rhyming poem. The poem is divided into four "parts" or "portions", each with three verses.

Making The Game

Because I'd spent so long on writing the script and was pretty busy the week of this jam, I didn't have a lot of time to spend on art. I opted for a very simple room - just a little square with slight top-down perspective, bare walls aside from the window, and a bed for The Relic (yes, that's what I call the person in the bed). When that seemed too empty, I added a doormat and a lil bedside table. Don't ask where The Relic uses the bathroom; I don't know either. It's an impractical living space, to say the least.

I made sure to leave plenty of space for four lines of dialog on top of the screen that wouldn't obscure the room. This is important because the window sprite doesn't appear until after the first two verses of each part of the poem, and I wanted players to see the window change colour, indicating it is now interactable.

My favourite portion of this game is the bit where the window slides down over four lines. I really love doing stuff like this in bitsy, where you shift rooms to create an effect akin to very simple animation. I've only used it a couple of times - the last time with It Piles Up - but it's so much fun. I didn't have a sketch for this, I sort of just made it right away at the 128x128 size used in bitsy and tested it, found it satisfactory, and added it to the game. I did this with the "Dot" brush in Ibis Paint, which is how I make most of my bitsy sketches and tests.

I also wanted each part of the poem to have a different mood, despite the fact that the poem itself mostly has the same vibe throughout. To do this, I used a different colour palette and ambient sound for each portion.

Of course, I needed the four parts of the poem to be divided smoothly. Just having the player avatar pop back up in the exact same room would be jarring. So I created a small area where the player avatar walks up to a house, and the environment slowly loses its verdancy with each new part of the poem - until the post-poem portion, where it is green and lively again.

Okay, I don't really know how to write these things. This might have gotten rambly. Please give the game a play if you like! You can play it here:

[wri0thesley]

Hello Nat! It's me! The same anon who sent the Househusband Risotto asks a few weeks ago. Could I request a fic of Risotto with no.21(a Househusband au) and some pregnancy fluff? Congrats on 5k (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

brand new - risotto x reader

you have something to tell your husband. 

warnings: soft fluff, sfw. afab reader, no pronouns. pregnancy, talk of children, brief allusions to risotto’s past life. 

You’re surprised by just how easily Risotto falls into a domestic life.

You’d thought that his past would haunt him more; the fallen comrades, the Mafia business, the blood on his hands – but he’s surprisingly pragmatic about it, when you hesitantly bring it up.

“It happened,” he says. “I miss them. But I’ve been given a chance that they didn’t get, and I intend to take it.”

It’s more than your stoic, quiet husband usually says at once, and you feel it pierce your heart like an arrow. Your hand brushes over his broad shoulder in as much comfort as you can give him, and Risotto looks at you with the lightest smile on his lips that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the whole universe.

Risotto becomes the house-husband as if he’s been waiting to be able to do it for his whole life.

Oh, he makes some mistakes – some little things, like washing a pair of your red underwear in with some shirts that you wear for work. Planting the wrong kind of seedlings at the wrong time of year – trying to fix the plumbing himself instead of calling a plumber.

You two muddle along, but as a whole Risotto seems to be thriving, and that makes your heart leap in your chest like a prima ballerina.

Your heart thumps double when you come home after a long day of work and he already has dinner simmering on the stove, an apron wrapped around his broad frame – it’s emblazoned with the legend; “Hot Stuff Coming Through (and I don’t mean the food)”. You breathe in the scent of his cooking; something deep and rich.

You come up behind him and wrap your arms about him, resting your cheek on the centre of his back.

His muscle has gone a little soft now that he’s not working out so often or in as many life-or-death situations, but he’s still broad and amazing and perfect for holding onto.

“Smells great,” you say, sighing, kicking off your heels in kitchen to be put away later. Risotto’s eyes stray to them all higgledy-piggledy on the floor, and he frowns;

“Nonna’s recipe,” he says. “Aren’t you going to put those in the shoe rack?”

“I’ve only just gotten home,” you pout at him, but your pout quickly breaks into a smile as you see the exhaustedly fond expression on his face.

Now that he’s not an assassin – now that he doesn’t need to hide everything he’s feeling under the guise of being cool and cold and collected – Risotto’s face seems to move more. He finds it easier to express his emotions. It’s still little things; twitches and furrows, instead of his entire face transforming – but it’s more than before.

He’s comfortable. He’s happy.

You, and him, and the little world that you’ve build all around you two.

You bend over to pick up your heels, opening your mouth to say something over-dramatic about his newfound house pride – but you’re stopped by an ache that shoots down to the centre of your back, a noise of pain escaping you before Risotto can turn lightning quick and wrap a strong arm around you.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, brow creasing slightly in concern. Panic flares in your stomach – you don’t want to tell him like this.

“Y-yeah,” you laugh it off, straightening up with your shoes in your hand, the other going to massage your back where you can reach. “Guess I was just sat in the wrong position at work for too long, huh?”

Risotto looks sceptical, but he can’t leave his boiling pots for too long. With a searching look at you, he returns to the stove, murmuring low;

“I’ll give you a massage later.”

You smile at his back as you walk towards the shoe rack in the hallway. You know that saying that will have made him blush; despite how long the two of you have been married now, he’s still nervous about things like that. His hands still shake a little when he goes to hold you. He still licks his lips before he kisses you, murmuring in a deep voice;

“Is it really alright?”

You always wind your arms around his neck and pull him in as your way of reassuring him that it’s perfectly fine. It’s hard, you think, for him to accept that he deserves all of this – but you’re eternally glad that the two of you get to share it together.

Little reminders of your shared home and life are scattered all about your home. A picture of you and Risotto at your wedding, framed and hung in the hallway; his suit is a little too tight, because he left it too long and it couldn’t be tailored properly to address the fact that he’s built like a superhero.

A bookshelf that has your romantic novels next to his own gothic horrors; a skull candle that burns red from its eyes as it melts perched on top. Also perched on top is a trinket dish that he made and painted for you at a pottery class he attended to try and get him out of the house whilst you were at work – you use it to dump your keys in.

It’s supposed to be a heart shape, but it’s more of a very uneven kidney.

The carpet you two had chosen together; you’d wanted something cheaper, but Risotto had insisted you could afford this one – he’d been right, and it’s soft beneath your stockinged feet.

You love him so much.

Your hand cups your stomach protectively now that you’re out of Risotto’s sight. You think of the tiny life inside of you; half Risotto, half you, already loved more than they’ll ever know even without Risotto knowing that it’s there. You can’t wait to tell him.

His hands are gentle on your shoulders, big and warm and softer than they once were. They’re still a little calloused from the garden work he enjoys doing, but he no longer handles weapons and you buy him sandalwood-scented hand cream instead.

They feel so good as they slide down your shoulder blades, brushing the notches of your spine, soothing circles pressed into your skin with his thumb. You sigh, relaxing into him. The feel of the palm flat against the small of your back – where the ache is the most pronounced – makes you relax even further into him, toes curling, a sigh escaping your mouth of relief.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks you, his voice measured. Your eyes flicker open from where they’ve closed in comfort.

“W-what’s wrong?” You ask him, nervously, and Risotto makes an ‘mm’ noise in the back of his throat. His hands do not stop the massage as he goes.

“You’ve been out of it for days,” he tells you.

(He’s right. You’ve been out of it since Monday, and it’s now Thursday; Monday is the day you’d woken up with your stomach heaving, remembered how long it had been since your last period, and bought a pregnancy test on your way to work. You’ve done three more since then, and all of them have showed the exact same result.)

“Have I?”

His hands move to your shoulders, gently twisting you around.

“You have,” he says, his red-and-dark eyes fixed firmly on you. “If there’s something wrong, I’d like to fix it.”

“It’s nothing you’ve done!” You say, all in a rush, but Risotto has successfully caught you nonetheless; his eyes narrow.

“So it is something?”

Heat rushes to your face. You forget, sometimes, because he cooks dinner and does the gardening and goes to his pottery class, that he was a battle-hardened mafia assassin who has done more interrogations than you will probably ever know (you never bring up his former employ unless he brings it up first). He’s an expert at gently needling the truth out of people.

“It’s not something that’s wrong,” you say, weakly, but his eyes are still pinning you in place.

“Tell me,” is all he says.

You think, in the back of your head, you’d had some kind of grand plans to reveal your secret – maybe involving balloons, and a cake, and a little party hat perched on top of Risotto’s silvery pale hair. You think you wanted to make a big deal out of it; one more reminder that the world he left behind is well and truly in his past now. But now you’re on the bed with him and he’s looking at you so tenderly in a soft grey shirt for sleeping and a pair of loose boxer shorts, all ruffled and sleepy and domestic . . . Now feels like a good time too.

“I’m pregnant,” you tell him.

You swear that you could hear a pin drop.

He blinks at you, as if he can’t properly process the statement.

“You’re—”

“We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God.” His voice is very small. He reaches out, hesitantly, eyes wide – big hand hovering over your stomach. “Can I . . .?”

“Yes,” you say, breathless as his hand rests on it. It’s not curving, yet; the fancy test you’d bought today and done in the bathroom at work had said it thought you were well past three weeks, but that’s still early days. Your eyes stare down at Risotto’s scarred, huge fingers – so careful with you, despite what he’s had to do to survive.

“I can’t believe it,” he tells you, and your throat feels tight.

“Me neither,” you admit. “But . . . I’m happy.”

He meets your eyes. There are tears brimming in his – you have never seen Risotto Nero cry. You’ve seen him sad, of course (a sad downturn to his mouth when a dog dies in a movie, or when the rosebush he’d been carefully cultivating had failed to achieve a single bloom) – but there’s an actual tear rolling down his cheek, sparkling in the bedroom light.

“Me too,” he says, and it seems entirely natural. Entirely true. Your heart aches with how much you love him.

You two don’t say anything for a few minutes, content to just look at each other, the warm knowledge of what you’re sharing making the air seem hazy and unreal.

You think about the pitter patter of little feet. The spare room you can turn into a nursery. Going to pre-natal classes with Risotto, choosing baby clothes, seeing him out and about pushing a fancy perambulator (you’ve always wanted one of those tacky, over the top ones that look like a Victorian nanny’s contraption, and you know that Risotto will agree to it--).

You think about him in the delivery room, your nails making crescent moon cuts in his palm. You think about his encouraging tone; you think about the hand-grown flowers he’ll no doubt bring you.

You imagine him cradling a little bundle of joy; tiny in his huge arms. His lips leaving gentle kisses on tiny foreheads. Him reading to your baby, him tending to scrapes, him and you and your child and the life that neither of you ever thought you’d get to live together.

His face is shining, fully transformed. He sees you looking at him with droplets shimmering in your tear ducts and he wipes them away with one big, warm thumb.

“I know,” he says. “It’s not just for me. It’s for all of them, too.”

“Yes,” you say to him. Your voice breaks, pitches, as you manage to get out: “I’m so happy we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

He looks at you, so tender you feel like you’ll come apart under his gaze.

This moment is going to shimmer in your memory forever, you think. You’re glad that this was how the reveal went. This is much more like the two of you than any fancy reveal or ribbon or cake (you might still get a cake, anyway – Risotto has a sweet tooth).

“I love you,” he says, like warmth that wraps about your heart. And then; “What about naming it Formaggio?”

There’s a beat. You stare at him.

Both of your mouths stretch into a smile, a soft huff of laughter escaping his lips that makes you feel like you’re listening to a symphony.

“Maybe we should workshop names a bit more,” you tell him.

He agrees.

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Kaidou Headcanons

Anon:  Ooooh can you do omega kaido hcs?

(Aww, I love Kaidou, he is baby. I just finished all my uni work for the week so I jumped to write this! Enjoy!)

Warnings: N-sfw under cut, mpreg, talk of insecurities.

General:

Kaidou is quite an insecure omega. Especially as a teenager.

Honestly, he has probably tried to masquerade as a beta before, and wished many times that he was an alpha like his younger brother and sister.

A lot of his façade as the ‘Jet Black Wings’ is a defence mechanism because of his insecurities and him being an omega fuels that.

Kaidou can be wary around alphas he doesn’t know, so it’s likely that you were friends first and romantic a long time afterwards.

When you are finally mates/almost mates, you see a completely different side to Kaidou.

He is incredibly touch starved. He loves cuddles and pets. He’ll take any affection you dish out. He especially loves resting his head on your lap or on your shoulder.

Kaidou wants to be an author when he’s older, and he has never had anyone support his dream. When you offer your support for him, he falls in love with you right then and there. That’s when he knew he wanted you to be his alpha.

His scent is light and flowery, with a hint of citrus.

Kaidou purrs a lot without realising and it always embarrasses him when you point it out. He purrs everytime you scent him, croon, cuddle him, etc. 

Kaidou is a very sweet omega who is a dedicated and loving mate and parent. 

Nesting:

As a teenager, Kaidou never gets to the point where he likes his nest. 

He wants a super cool nest! A combo between a ‘secret lair’ style and a ‘pinterest’ style nest.

He wants a room dedicated to his nest, preferably with a hidden entrance. He wants a super powerful colour scheme with cool posters but he also wants fairy lights and pastel blankets.

Kaidou has lots of cuddly toys but he gets embarrassed about it and won’t admit it. 

In fact, cuddly toys are his favourite courting gifts to receive, but he will always pretend that he think toys are for little kids, but you can see how tightly he cradles the toy, and if you scent the teddy first, you can even hear him purring. 

As an adult, Kaidou really wants his dream nest, but he feels guilty spending so much money on it. It’s up to his alpha to encourage him. 

When he has pups, they think his nest is the coolest thing ever, and they tell all the other kids at school because it has a hidden door! And beanbags! And a mini fridge! And it’s way better than your omega parent’s nest!!

Kaidou is very protective of his nest. He only lets you and his pups inside. No one else. He doesn’t even like when someone figures out where it is in his home.

This causes some conflict because he would love to give birth in his nest, but he would never be able to invite a midwife or doctor inside. 

You clutched a small bat plushie in you hands as you walked into your classroom. You had bought it for Kaidou on a whim yesterday on your way home from school. This was hardly the first time you had given him a courting gift, but this was the first one that had your scent on it. 

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “You can do this, don’t be nervous.” 

You saw Kaidou immediately. He was sitting on top of his desk, chatting with Hairo and Nendou. You huffed. You would have preferred him to be alone but you guess that couldn’t be helped now.

“Hey, Shun...” You started, awkwardly sliding up beside him.

He startled slightly, a blush settling on his cheeks.

 “Oh! Hey... Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, um.” You pulled the bat toy out of your pocket, shoving it vaguely in his direction. “This is for you.”

Kaidou gently took it from your hands, eyes wide. He turned it over, running a finger over the fake fangs. You saw the moment he realised you had scented it. He looked up at you in shock before turning and sniffing absentmindedly at the toy, purrs beginning to sneak out. 

You puffed up in pride. Watching your intended mate accept and enjoy your gift with such fervour filled your heart with joy. 

“HA HA!” Interrupted Nedou. “Kaidou’s purring!”

The purrs stopped immediately, Kaidou turned bright red, shoving the toy into his bag. 

“I AM NOT! Shut up!”

The two began to bicker, Nedou laughing over Kaidou’s agressive denial. 

You were vaguely embarrassed that Kaidou’s friends had seen you give him a courting gift, but mostly you were pleased by his acceptance of your first serious courting gift. Giving someone your scent to put in their nest was a big deal after all.

Family + pups

When you decide to court Kaidou, he will try and keep you as far away from his mother as he can. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long, because his mother just orders him to bring you over and he can’t say no to his terrifying alpha mother.

Kaidou is unbelievably nervous throughout the whole meeting. He knows his mother will order him to end the courtship if she doesn’t approve.

His mother’s opinion depends a lot of how well spoken, intelligent and ambitious Kaidou’s intended alpha is.

If you have good grades, can match her successfully in conversation, and are preparing to apply to a good university, she will adore you. 

(it’s best just to lie if you aren’t those things).

Kaidou’s mother is a very hands on grandparent when the time comes. She always take your pup(s) when Kaidou is in heat and you in rut. She also helps pay for tutors and arranges academic help for all her grandchildren.

Kaidou wants at least one pup but no more than three pups. 

He is such a sweet parent. 

He never, ever makes fun of his pups. He always treats their problems seriously and loves them for who they are.

He’s the kind of parent who jumps at the opportunity to support his kids hobbies. Writing, martial arts, painting, cooking, whatever they love, he makes sure they can do it. 

Kaidou makes an excellent stay-at-home parent. He loves spending time with his pup(s) and working on writing the book he wants to write.

Family cuddles are a scheduled weekly event. He is distraught if, when his pups get older, they don’t partake in the family cuddles every week.

It took Kaidou quite a few tries to get pregnant, and he ended up getting very stressed about it, thinking something was wrong with him. Luckily, it eventually happened for you both. 

When he was pregnant, Kaidou didn’t have many symptoms, but he was very tired and hungry all the time. 

He needed help to do most things because he was so tired, but he felt like a burden, so didn’t ask for help. This changes in his second pregnancy (if he has one). He needs to have help with your other pup(s) when he’s pregnant because he’s too tired to look after them fulltime.

It would make more sense for you to wait until your first pup was in school before trying for a second one, just to take the pressure off of Kaidou somewhat.

The night’s peace was broken by a tentative knock at your bedroom door. You startled slightly, starting to sit up, Kaidou also stirring in your arms. The door handle turned slowly, the silhouette of you oldest son was revealed, along with the quiet sound of sniffling.

Before you could even process what you were seeing, Kaidou had yanked himself out of your arms and thrown himself towards your crying pup. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Kaidou panicked, hands flitting over your pup as if to check for injuries. 

“Nightmare.” Your pup whined, beginning to sob and he held his arms out for a hug. 

Kaidou whined with him, quickly and firmly pulling him into his embrace. Kaidou then stood up, cradling your pup in his arms, rocking him back and forth. 

“Why don’t you sleep with us tonight, pup?” You said, voice still heavy with sleep, gesturing for Kaidou to get back into bed. It was freezing after all.

Kaidou didn’t need any more prompting and slipped back under the covers you were holding up for him. As he settled down, your pup quickly grabbed at your shirt, holding it tightly in his fist. You brushed your hand over his tiny one before settling your hand on his back, rubbing up and down to help soothe him. You could no longer see his face (it was buried in your mate’s chest), but you could still hear his sniffling. 

“What was your nightmare about, sweetheart? Must have been scary, huh?” You asked as Kaidou began scenting the top of your son’s head. 

“Yeah. W’s scary.” Came the muffled voice of your pup. 

In lieu of a reply, you pulled both him and Kaidou more closely against your chest. 

“Nothing can happen while you’re here with us, okay. You’re safe.” You kept rubbing his back as he finally started to settle. Eventually, his breathing evened out and he relaxed fully against you and Kaidou, his grip on your shirt loosening. 

“I feel so useless when he has nightmares.” Kaidou admitted, breaking the hush. “I can’t protect him from them.”

You shifted slightly to look him in the eye. 

“You’re protecting him right now, my love. This is what he needs from you and you’re so good at it. You’re such a good parent, Shun.” Kaidou blushed faintly.  “I fall in love with you all over again everytime I see you with our pups.”

Kaidou smiled slightly, resting his head against your shoulder. 

“I just want him to be happy.” 

“I know.” You replied, placing a kiss on his head. “Me too.” 

You started to drift off to sleep as silence descended on the room. 

“Thanks.” Kaidou murmured. 

Too tired to reply, you squeezed him lightly with your arms. It saddened you that your amazing parent of a mate still felt insecure four years into parenthood, but you were just going to have to keep telling him otherwise until he started to see himself as you saw him. 

N-SFW under cut (ft. Slightly!Older!Kaidou)

Kaidou always, always needs after sex cuddles. It helps relax him, quiet his insecurities and is equally as enjoyable as the sex in his opinion.

Kaidou is a big subby baby, and he needs cuddles for his aftercare or he can feel very rejected.

Do you remember the episode where Kaidou came last in every event of the physical fitness test, but came first in flexibility? Kaidou is extremely flexible and he loves to show it off in bed. He’s very proud of all the positions he can bend into. 

Kaidou loves dressing up in lingerie. He feels pretty and confident when he’s wearing lace lingerie. He looks best in pastel blue (it matches his hair), but honestly, he pulls off all pastel shades very well.

Along a similar vein, Kaidou finds it very embarrasing but very hot to look at himself in the mirror while you have sex. It requires a lot of praise though, as he can be quite insecure.

In heat, Kaidou is absolutely shameless. He will beg and plead and whine and nuzzle you to get you into his nest with him. 

Kaidou is weak to hickeys on his neck, especially around his scent glands. He doesn’t give many hickeys, but he is prone to leaving scratch marks on your back and shoulders. 

This man is very sensitive in a lot of areas. His nipples and the inside of his thighs are very soft and particularly sensitive.

He hates pain though. He is neither a masochist nor a sadist and thinks that pain has no place in love making. 

Kaidou likes a little bit of roleplay but he’s way to embarrassed to bring it up. You have to wait until you’ve been in a relationship with him for years before he feels comfortable enough to bring it up. He is interested in teacher/student and master/slave style roleplays. He enjoys playing the part of someone else, because it makes him feel more comfortable in embracing his sexuality outside his heat. 

“I’m-I’m coming out now. Don’t laugh, okay?”

You shook you head fondly. 

“I’m not going to laugh at you, baby. You always look gorgeous, don’t forget that.”

The bathroom door opened and Kaidou shuffled out, clad in the new pastel blue lingerie set you had ordered for him last week. 

You lost your breath just looking at him. 

He was wearing sheer knee socks with little bows, held up by the garter belt sitting snugly on his waist. On top, he was wearing a lacy bralette, completely see through of course. Your favourite piece however, was undoubtedly the little blue panties. You could see the fabric bulging, straining against his erection. Looking a little closer, you noticed a small damp spot. You grinned. For all his complaining, he certainly enjoyed this a lot. You haven’t even touched him yet. 

Kaidou shifted under your hungry gaze, feeling a little like your prey. He shivered at the thought. 

You moved to kneel on the ground before him, pressing wet, open mouth kisses over his thighs and tummy. Kaidou steadied himself by gripping onto your shoulders. You could feel his nails making small grooves in your skin. 

When you reached his chest, you began to suck and bite at his nipples through the lacey fabric, delighting in his moans and whimpers. He was always so sensitive for you. 

“So beautiful.” You panted, breathing heavily against him. 

“M’ not. Not beautiful.” Kaidou denied, eyes clenched shut.

You growled in response, biting him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Don’t you dare. You’re breath-taking, Shun. Stunning. Gorgeous. Perfect.” You emphasised every word with a suck or a bit on his neck. You wouldn’t stop until he learnt to love himself as much as you loved him. 

“Okay, baby, get on the bed. We have a long night ahead.” You made a point to crash your hips into his.  “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

this cup of yours tastes holy (this lie is dead)

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss.

Janus attempts to save Logan from being poisoned. In the moment, switching out their glasses seems like a perfectly rational idea.

It is not, in fact, a perfectly rational idea.

Content Warnings: poisoning, mentioned blood, mentioned death (no actual death though), mentioned violence

Word Count: 5,772

Pairings: Loceit, background Prinxiety

Written for Whumptober2020 theme no 22. "Do these tacos taste funny to you?" with the more specific prompt: poisoned.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The banquet hall is bright, noisy, and crowded, full of laughter and music and talking, and Janus is almost certain that the ambassador from Halledrin has just slipped poison into Logan’s wine.

No one else seems to have noticed. Janus can’t say he’s surprised. The formal dinner is over; now is the time for mingling, and everyone is deeply involved in their own conversations, their own social circles. Roman knows how to throw a good celebration, if nothing else, and now that the pressure is off of him to preside over all the little details, Janus spots him off to one side, shamelessly chatting up Virgil, who seems… exasperated, if not entirely displeased. He spares them a glance before turning back to Logan, who seems to be doing his level best to escape the conversation, but the ambassador— and just what is his name? Janus has entirely forgotten— is persistent, and Janus would think it no more than an annoyance if he weren’t fairly certain that he saw the man brush one hand against Logan’s wine glass while gesturing broadly with the other.

Which, no. That is absolutely not permitted.

He makes his way across the floor, snagging a glass of his own on the way.

“If I might cut in?” he says, as soon as he’s close enough. “I’m afraid I have a pressing matter to discuss with our illustrious court sorcerer.”

Logan inclines his head toward him, and Janus doesn’t think he mistakes the relief that flashes in his eyes. The ambassador stammers a bit, trying to come up with an excuse to stay, but a pointed look takes care of that, and the man retreats sullenly. Janus smiles at him, thin and knife-sharp, and then takes Logan by the elbow, escorting him to the other side of the banquet hall.

“Was there actually something you needed to discuss, or was that a rescue?” Logan asks dryly, and Janus laughs.

“Oh, you seemed like you were having so much fun,” he replies. “Here, switch with me.” And he presses his wine into Logan’s hand, taking Logan’s for himself. Logan frowns at him, but Janus shakes his head. Not here, that means, and Logan can read him well enough to understand it, little though he likes being unable to ask for clarification. In any case, as soon as the potentially-poisoned glass leaves Logan’s grasp, Janus finds himself able to relax.

“I’ll admit, the man is… long-winded,” Logan says. Janus sniffs at the wine as surreptitiously as he can. He can’t smell anything, but there are plenty of odorless poisons out there. “And yes, I am aware of how that sounds coming from me.”

“You’re not that bad,” he says, trying to keep track of the ambassador out of the corner of his eye. He’s positioned himself at the edge of the room, now, and he is staring at Logan, not even bothering to hide it. “At least you actually know what you’re talking about.”

“I would hope so,” Logan says, and then narrows his eyes. “Just what is Roman doing over there?”

Janus turns his head in that direction, but he’s too preoccupied to pay much attention. The problem with this is that he’s only about eighty percent sure that the drink has been tampered with, and the remaining twenty percent is enough unsurety to prevent him from being able to confront the perpetrator brazenly. Not that that would be his style anyway, but it also means he can’t go to anyone else with it; if he told Roman his suspicions, for instance, his sword would be drawn in an instant. And on the off chance that the drink isn’t poisoned after all, that would irreparably damage relations with Halledrin, and they can’t afford that.

So, he’ll have to be careful with this. Keep hold of the cup for the rest of the night and have it tested for toxins as soon as he can. Take the results, and move from there.

“Oh, dear Fates,” Logan groans, and Janus snaps his attention back to the present. It doesn’t take long to figure out what has Logan annoyed.

Roman’s climbed on the table. And as king, he can do what he wants, of course. But generally speaking, he’s supposed to keep the table-climbing to a minimum.

“My dear guests!” he calls out, his voice rich and booming. He doesn’t sound as drunk as Janus would expect from this kind of behavior. “If I may have your attention, I would like to propose a toast! To my dearest friend—”

“Oh my gods, Roman, stop,” Virgil groans.

“—Virgil of the Western Isles, who single-handedly—”

“Roman.”

“—rescued me from the clutches of the dread Dragon-Witch Alcara, thus saving this kingdom from utter disaster and ruin, and once again proving himself to be a man of the highest courage and determination, yes, courage, stop glaring at me like that, and also, did I mention he did this all by himself?” Roman raises his glass high, cheeks flushed red. Virgil has stopped protesting verbally in favor of trying to strike Roman down with his eyes alone, it appears. “So! To one of the best heroes this land has ever known! To Virgil!”

The crowd echoes the call, most of them smiling good-naturedly, a few laughing at the antics; if nothing else, Roman knows how to play to an audience.

“Not one of his best speeches,” Logan mutters.

Janus shrugs, and finally manages to catch Virgil’s gaze from across the room. He smirks, sardonically saluting him with his glass, and Virgil turns the full force of his glare onto him, mouthing something that is either I’m going to kill you or I’m rowing to mill two; really, Janus can’t tell which.

And then, he realizes that he has a problem.

It’s a toast. Everyone is bringing their drinks to his lips, taking sips, swallowing. Obviously, he can’t do any of this, as he rather likes being alive and unpoisoned. But the ambassador is still watching Logan intently, and Logan is sipping from Janus’ old glass; if the ambassador is expecting something to happen, and nothing does, he will turn his attention to the people around Logan, trying to figure out what went wrong. If that happens, there is a chance that he will notice if Janus doesn’t drink. From there, he will be able to suppose that Janus has caught onto his plans, has caught onto him, and from there, he will become more desperate.

Janus doesn’t want that. A desperate man becomes unpredictable, uncontrollable. A desperate man might act as though he has nothing to lose.

His mind racing, he brings the goblet up to his lips. It shouldn’t be too hard to feign a sip. He’s overthinking this.

He tilts the glass back, stopping just short of letting the wine touch his lips. He swallows a bit of his own saliva for realism. And then, it’s done, and he can relax again.

“Really, he should know better then to put Virgil in the limelight,” he says, keeping the ambassador in the corner of his vision. “He’s going to make him pay for that later.”

“If he would stop being so reckless, he wouldn’t be captured by his enemies so often, and Virgil wouldn’t have to hare off after him at all,” Logan sighs. “I will never understand their intricate courting rituals. Why don’t they just say they have feelings for each other and have done with it?”

The longer Logan goes without succumbing to some kind of terrible sickness, the paler the ambassador’s face grows. Janus is almost enjoying watching him.

“Some people are incapable of saying what they mean,” he says, and Logan looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that the case?” he says, pointed, and Janus grins.

“Why, my dear master sorcerer, you can’t possibly be implying that I—”

His left arm goes numb. Suddenly, all at once, and he cuts himself off, trying to shake feeling back into it. But it’s not like pins and needles, and as the seconds pass— only a few, surely, but the quick, rabbit-beating of his heart makes it seem otherwise— the sensation spreads, creeping toward his chest.

“Janus?” Logan asks. “Is something wrong?”

He sounds worried, very concerned, and Janus would be flattered, but he’s a bit busy being concerned himself.

“I don’t,” he starts, “I’m not—”

And then, his lungs are set on fire, and the rest of his sentence is lost to a wheezing scream as he doubles over, hands flying up to his chest, the wine glass clattering against the floor, half of it shattering and drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity, but he can’t care about that because he’s trying to force his lungs to inflate, but he’s burning up from the inside out and he can’t—

“Janus!”

There are arms, around him, steadying him. He looks up to meet Logan’s face, painted with fear and blurry, strangely blurry, and he doesn’t think that he’s crying so why is Logan blurry? But he is blurry, and the rest of Janus’ limbs have gone numb, and standing is becoming increasingly difficult, and the fire is there, growing hotter with each moment, and he opens his mouth to say something but all that escapes is a gasp, and then a strangled squeaking sound, as if the sounds are being wrung from him along with the last of his air.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

It’s almost funny, Logan swearing. He’s usually far too collected for that.

His center of gravity tips. Everything spins, and then, he feels himself being lowered to the ground. The floor is cold against his back, soothing, though it doesn’t help much after the momentary relief.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Virgil, now, hovering over him, frantic.

“I don’t know,” Logan says, and he sounds scared, and that’s wrong. Logan is never scared. “I don’t know, poison, I’d imagine, but I don’t know what—”

“Well can you figure it out?”

Roman’s here too.

“I’m trying,” Logan snaps. “If you’ll give me a bit of room—”

The pain rises to a crescendo, like it’s eating his flesh away, and he lets out a whimper. An honest-to-gods whimper, and no. Absolutely not. He has more dignity than this. He has faced worse than this and come out alive, and he trusts Logan to do all that he can. So he breathes, shuddering breaths, breaths that twist and hurt and seem to move in places that they shouldn’t, and he wrests his mind back under control.

“The wine,” he gasps out, and his voice sounds absolutely wrecked. “I saw— the ambassador from Halledrin— he put it in the wine—”

“So you switched them,” Logan says, and scratch fear. This is fury. “How could you possibly have been so stupid?”

“I didn’t drink it!” he cries, and the exclamation is ripped from him, too harsh, and the exertion sends the pain flaring up, the flames licking at his heart, and he chokes on air. “I didn’t— I faked it, I didn’t drink, I don’t know—”

“Well, how the fuck did you get poisoned, then?” Virgil shrieks, and then, Logan fills his field of vision. He’s chanting something in the Old Tongue, and then slapping his hands on his chest, and just like that, the pain fades as magic rushes through him, warm and sparkling and steady and very, very Logan, and his head clears enough to think properly.

“The Halledrinian ambassador?” Roman snarls, and in that moment, he looks exactly like his brother. “I’ll be back.” And then he’s stalking through the crowd, and Janus wishes he didn’t feel so drained; he’d love to watch Roman make the man sweat, but he can barely muster up the energy to raise his head to look at Logan.

“I was going to keep it until I could get it looked at,” he says. His mouth is dry, painfully so. “I faked a sip, for the toast, but I didn’t take one. I didn’t touch it.”

The magic is still buzzing through him, lending him strength. He’ll ride it for what it’s worth.

Gods above and below, this is embarrassing.

“Are you sure it was the wine?” Logan asks. “It couldn’t have been anything else?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he says. “I’m sorry, I probably should have—”

“Told me?” Logan cuts in. “I should think so. Honestly, why would you think keeping it from me was a good idea?”

The magic is still buzzing through him. It feels more intense now, almost uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want him to think that I knew anything,” he says. “I didn’t want to risk him trying something else.”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re too clever for your own good, do you know that?” he says, and he sounds completely exasperated, but the anger is fading, and Janus is glad of it. He doesn’t regret what he did, just how it turned out, and he never likes it when Logan is annoyed with him, because somehow, Logan has the ability to make him feel like a child, chastised for trying to sneak dessert out of the kitchen.

“I think I’m just clever enough,” he retorts, and then frowns. “Out of curiosity, what spell did you use?”

“A general cleansing incantation,” Logan tells him, “though at twice the power I would usually put into it. I’m just glad the poison wasn’t more specialized. Some toxins are resistant to magic, you know.”

Janus does know, and under any other circumstance, he would be more than willing to listen to Logan going on about the subject for days. But the buzzing of the magic in his system, Logan’s magic, has graduated from relieving to uncomfortable to something approaching pain, and it’s been a long time since he had to be healed with a spell, but he doesn’t think this is right.

He opens his mouth to tell Logan about it, about the way it feels as though there are ants crawling under his skin, but then—

then—

his body—

seizes—

and rational thought flies out the window as his muscles lock and pain tears through him, biting and sharp and ripping and buzzing, and his limbs jerk and this is a seizure, he’s having a seizure, and his head slams against the ground hard and white lights flash across his vision and he can hear shouting, and something soft is shoved underneath his head to soften the impact as it hits against the floor again and again and again and he can’t speak, can’t breath, and there is blood bubbling in the back of his throat, so much that he fears he’ll choke on it, and all the while there is the buzzing, curling in him and forcing his bones from their sockets, it feels like, scrambling his innards, and it feels like there is something inside of him, something eating him, and perhaps he’s eating himself, has turned into the serpent that consumes its own tail—

He doesn’t know.

There are still voices, panicked and loud, and he should know them, too, but he can’t. Not now.

He just knows that it hurts, in waves, each one worst than the last, and it won’t stop. A strangled scream is ripped from his throat, high and thick, forcing its way past the blood that’s gathered in his mouth, and someone is cursing, swearing up a blue streak, and the people around him sound scared, and he thinks that he is too.

Each wave worse than the last. Once he screams once, he can’t stop.

Unconsciousness, when it comes, is a blessing.

-------------

Awareness comes and goes in flashes.

He wakes, his body thrashing, trying to escape. Pain like red hot pokers pressing up against him and into him. He wheezes, and there is someone holding him, trying to restrain him, and he’s too weak to push them away.

“Please,” he tries to say, but the word comes out garbled and mangled beyond all recognition.

“Remus,” the person growls, and it must be Virgil, but he can’t pry his eyes open to see, “knock him out.”

“On it,” says someone else, and there is a hand on his forehead, blessedly cool, and then nothing.

Then, again: his entire body on fire, but lacking the energy to so much as lift a finger. He gasps for breath, each inhalation a struggle, and past the white noise in his ears, he thinks he hears someone speaking. Muttering. Praying? He wrests his eyes open, and his surroundings are a blur, but it is Patton sitting at his bedside. Holding his hand, too, he thinks, but he can’t feel it.

He didn’t even know Patton had returned to the castle.

He tries to say something, anything, but he doesn’t have the air to spend on speech. So he lies there, panting, and finally, Patton looks up, and Janus can’t make out his face but he hears his gasp.

“Oh, gods,” Patton says, and leans in closer. “Jan, can you hear me?”

He can’t respond. Can’t so much as nod.

“You hold on,” Patton says, and he sounds like he’s fighting tears. “You hear me? You don’t die from this. You hang in there, and everything’s gonna be a-okay. You got it?”

It’s a sweet lie, a pretty lie, and Janus can’t begrudge him for it.

Darkness again.

And then:

“—cking be giving up!”

“Of course I’m not giving up!”

Logan’s voice, sharp and angry and lined with despair, and his heart skips a beat. Or perhaps it’s not the sound of his voice that does it at all, but the poison, wrapping around his heart and squeezing. He still hurts, every inch of him, but it’s distant, far away, and it should worry him, he thinks, because that probably means that he’s far past the point of pain that his body can actually handle. But his mind is too fuzzy, everything indistinct.

“I’m not going to give up. I would rather die. But without knowing what the poison was, or better yet, having a sample of it, I’m left to flounder, and attempting to use magic has done more harm than good.”

Gods. He sounds so broken.

“Roman said he was gonna try and get answers out of the shithead.” That’s Remus, uncharacteristically serious. “No luck so far, apparently.” A bang, like a fist against a table. “He should let me at him. I’d rip it right out of him, reach my hand down his throat and pull out his fucking vocal chords—”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to shut up right the fuck now—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too much for your delicate sensibilities—”

“Enough, both of you!”

Logan again, desperate and exhausted, and with a labored, stuttering breath, Janus pries his eyes open. A wave of dizziness assaults him, and the light is far too bright, but he holds out, turning his head to the side in a motion that takes more effort than it should.

His vision is swimming, coming in and out of focus. But it’s Virgil, Remus, and Logan, all standing and arguing with each other.

And it hits him, then: Oh. I’m dying.

“The fact remains that we’re all in the dark here. I’m in the dark. Without knowing what the poison was or how he ingested it, I can’t deconstruct it to find a cure. All efforts to use a spell to detect the toxin have failed, and all efforts to use a spell to heal him have only aggravated his condition.” Logan makes a sharp motion; Janus isn’t sure, but he thinks he’s scrubbing his hand down his face. “It makes sense,” he continues, more subdued. “I was the original target. So of course the poison would be undetectable by magic. Of course it would—”

He breaks off, and Virgil reaches out to him.

“This isn’t your fault,” he says lowly. “Janus made his dumb fucking decision himself.”

“He wasn’t trying to get poisoned,” Remus interjects, sharp. “So how about you take your dumb fucking decision and shove it up your—”

His mind is whirling. Something about the description of the poison, the fact that magic cannot be used to combat it, seems familiar, but his mind refuses to dredge up any memory that he might have of a poison that fits those qualities.

He doesn’t know. Or, worse, he might know, but the poison that is killing him is preventing him from coming up with the information that could save him.

But there’s something else. Something just beyond his reach, something that flits from his grasp when he tries to think about it.

“And there was nothing in the wine,” Virgil says. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing that the chemists could find.”

“And I checked it for good measure!” Remus says. “Nadda. Zip. Fucking nothing. So how we got here is beyond me.”

That’s it.

That’s it.

He didn’t drink the wine. It wouldn’t have mattered if the wine was poisoned. He didn’t have any.

But he remembers swallowing. His own saliva, just to make it realistic.

There’s only one place the poison could have been.

He tries to speak. But his throat feels full of razor wire, and the effort is enough to bring the rest of the pain back into focus. What starts out as something that might, possibly, be a word devolves into a high, keening whimper, and he can’t muster up the energy to be embarrassed about it, because gods. His back arches, and his fists clench into the bedsheets as he tries to ride it out, but there is no riding it out, because it just won’t stop.

“Janus!”

Suddenly, they’re all very close.

“Shit, shit, you’re gonna be okay, just give us a second,” Virgil says. “Remus, you—”

“Right—”

And no, because Remus is going to knock him out again, but he can’t, not before he tells them what he just figured out, because if he goes under again he’s scared that he won’t get another chance.

“No,” he gasps, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, and speaking hurts, but— “No, don’t. I need—”

He breaks off with a ragged gasp, his throat refusing to cooperate with him, and he could scream with frustration, really would scream, if his voice was working. But then, Logan is there, his face close to his and his eyes very blue.

“What do you need, Janus?” he asks, his voice low and urgent, and Janus gathers his breath, and try again.

“Test the rim,” he says. “It wasn’t— wasn’t in the wine, and it wasn’t a spell. But I—” His words strangle themselves, but he can see the light dawning in Logan’s eyes.

“You put your lips to the rim of the glass,” he finished. “It was on the—” He turns to Virgil, the motion whipcord sharp. “Virgil, go find the glass and have it sent to my— no, actually, bring it here. Time is of the essence.”

Virgil is off like a shot almost before Logan is finished speaking.

“And Remus,” he continues, “I’ll need—”

“You’ve got it, specs,” Remus says. “Whatever support I can give.”

Logan nods, and meets Janus’ eyes again. At least, he thinks he does. His vision is growing dark, shadows curling around the edges like fire-blackened paper, eating away everything he can see. The pain is distant again, and even his own heartbeat seems to be slowing. Logan’s voice sounds as if it’s coming to him through deep water.

“You can rest now, Janus,” he says. “You’ve done well. I’m going to cure you, I swear. This will all be over soon.”

One way or another, he agrees, but doesn’t say it out loud. Even if he could, he thinks it would upset Logan to say something like that. Would upset him to remind him of the very real possibility that this will not end well, that it is already too late. Because his vision is blackening and his heartbeat is slowing, and everything feels so very, very far away, and he doesn’t want to die but he might not have a choice in the matter.

Logan’s face is still hovering above his, and he thinks that if this is the last sight he will ever have, it’s the best one he could have asked for.

-----------------

He wakes to a pressure against his side and a bone-deep exhaustion, and he takes a moment to simply breathe, staring at the ceiling and reveling in the ease of it. He is so very tired, but his lungs inflate and deflate without pain, without anything catching and setting him to coughing, without having to fight his own body to get the air he needs.

Then, he turns his head.

Logan is asleep on a chair next to his bed, slumped forward so that his head is resting against his side, effectively trapping one arm. He is pale and drawn, his brows furrowed and hair sticking out in all directions, as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His glasses are still on his face, terribly askew, and on instinct, Janus reaches across his body, trying to correct them, perhaps, or to take them off entirely. But at the movement, slight though it is, Logan startles awake, eyes blinking wide open, lips parted as if to call out.

Then, his eyes meet Janus’.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, and it sounds uncomfortably like a revelation, like the answer to every prayer Logan has ever offered— and Logan isn’t religious, Janus knows, has never seen much point in worshiping distant gods. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he offers, wincing at the sandpaper-quality of his own voice. It’s the truth, though; he feels drained, mentally and physically, and he aches terribly, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was. “I assume you figured it out.”

Logan pushes his glasses back into position on his face, a little more aggressively than the motion should require. “Barely,” he says. “If you had consumed any more than you did, or if I had been even ten minutes slower, you would have died.”

He hums. “I certainly felt like it,” he murmurs, glancing away. “Thank you for saving me.”

For once, he means exactly what he says, but Logan’s expression darkens. “I shouldn’t have had to,” he says, sharp. “That poison—” He breaks off, sucking in a breath, looking away. He vigorously jabs at his glasses, pushing them even farther up his nose. “That poison was meant to target magic in a person’s system, and because you don’t have magic inherently, it turned to attacking your internal organs instead. Every attempt to heal you only fueled its effects. Do you know how I—”

He breaks off again, but Janus is stuck on something else, is stuck on targeting magic, and he has always been good at reading between the lines, so he knows exactly what Logan isn’t saying. Logan lives off magic, breathes it, practically is magic in every sense of the word. Had Logan taken a poison that destroyed magic, it would have destroyed him.

The Halledrinian ambassador chose his toxin well.

“In that case,” he says, “I suppose that this turned out as well as it could have. Obviously, getting poisoned myself was far from ideal, but better me than you, in this scenario.”

He knows immediately that this is the wrong thing to say; usually, he would have realized that before the words left his mouth at all, but his mind is still sluggish, his mouth looser. Logan’s face twists, becomes something thunderous and angry, and the warm candlelight that fills the room— his room, he notices, though he’s fairly certain he was in Remus’ infirmary before— flickers and dances as the air stirs, a slight wind buffeting the bedsheets.

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss. Were he in better form, he would know what to say here, how to soothe Logan’s worry and wash the past few— well. He has no idea how long it’s been. But he would be able to turn it all around, put the event behind them, if the words would only come, but they don’t, so here he lies, feeling powerless and a bit stupid.

“I didn’t,” he points out, and knows that the rebuttal is weak, that this won’t help. “Clearly.”

“The point is that you could have!”

It’s a shout, and Logan pauses, seemingly surprised at his own volume. He deflates, then, his shoulders slumping, all the fight flowing from him like water from a sieve. He hunches in on himself just slightly, his expression fading from fury to something much more tired, much more worn.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Janus can only watch as he scrubs at his eyes, almost viciously, and then stares at his hands. “I just— you nearly died. From poison that was meant for me.”

He sounds wrecked, as if that is the worst possibility he could imagine, and— oh.

“I would have died,” Logan murmurs. “It would have decimated my magic before I could do a thing about it, and me along with it.” He looks up, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and Janus wants nothing more than to wipe them away. He would try, he thinks, if he felt as though he could move enough to do so, if he thought Logan would allow him the liberty. “But instead of me, it was you. And I had to watch as you died in my place. If you hadn’t been able to communicate how you’d ingested it, I would have been helpless. I would have—” He breaks off suddenly, closing his eyes. “I would have lost you.”

Oh.

He wrenches himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way his muscles scream in protest, ignoring Logan’s startled exclamation. He pushes himself up, reaches out, and snags Logan’s hands in one of his. Too late, he realizes that somewhere along the line, he was divested of his gloves, and his bare skin makes contact with Logan’s. It’s like a bolt of lightning shooting up his arm, and he struggles not to show his shock on his face; he is no stranger to touch, but not like this, never like this, with his bare hand. And from the way Logan is staring, from the way Logan’s lips have parted, just slightly, he knows it too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, as fierce, as vehement as he can manage. “And call me selfish, but I am infinitely glad that I didn’t have to lose you.”

He meets Logan’s eyes. As difficult as this level of honesty, this level of vulnerability is for him, it needs to be said. He needs Logan to know, needs him to understand, needs him to realize that he cannot possibly regret this, if the alternative was watching Logan choke on his own blood.

Logan makes a sound, soft and wounded, and turns his hand so that he’s grasping at Janus’ just as tightly as Janus is grasping him. And then, he leans in close, bumping their foreheads together and then staying there, and Janus doesn’t dare to move. He can feel Logan’s breath on his skin, ghosting across his lips; an inch or two closer, and they would be kissing.

With one hand, Logan continues to hold his. The other curls around the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

“Never,” Logan says, “do that to me again.”

“I assure you,” he replies, “I don’t plan on it.”

For a moment they stay like that, foreheads touching, breathing together, and Janus’ eyes slip closed. Like this, he can almost forget that anything happened, can forget the pain, can forget how weak he feels. He’s here, and Logan’s here, and nothing else matters.

And then, the door slams open. He jerks back, startled, and Logan’s hand slips away from his neck.

Remus is standing there, gaping.

“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re awake.” He turns to call to someone down the hall— “He’s awake!—” and then, he’s rushing into the room, and Janus doesn’t have any time to prepare before he’s jumped onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him like a particularly clingy octopus, and he’s chanting a litany of words under his breath, things like, “You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay holy shit,” and other words that he can’t quite make out, and the hug is a bit too tight to be comfortable, but he accepts it anyway. He’s still holding one of Logan’s hands, and he is loathe to let go, but he wraps his free arm around Remus’ back.

“Everyone’s been very worried about you,” Logan says quietly. “Patton returned from the coast in the middle of it all, and he was quite distraught. And that’s not to mention how… irate Roman has been, and Virgil—”

“Speak for yourself,” Virgil says, leaning in the doorway. He crosses his arms, but the relief on his face is poorly disguised, and he must have truly been in a bad way if Virgil was that concerned. “Roman and Patton are on their way up, I think. They were talking to the asshole. The ambassador,” he adds when Janus tilts his head in a silent question. “Piece of shit admitted to everything. He’s not even the real ambassador; he killed the real one and took his clothes, tried to go after Logan to spark war between us and Halledrin.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Remus says. “Roman said I could, if I wanted to. He was real mad so I dunno if he meant it, but he said it, so it counts. I’m gonna stick a knife in his guts and pull out his intestines and feed them to him and—”

“That’s more than enough, I think,” Logan interjects, and Janus is glad of it. He’s used to Remus’ gory tangents, can deal with them well, normally, but he’s exhausted, and he thinks that consciousness will slip away from him any moment now. He can feel his eyelids beginning to droop, his body leaning against Remus’ more and more, and he highly doubts that he will make it to see Roman and Patton.

But that’s alright. He’ll wake up again and see them then. For now, he has Virgil here, and Remus, and he is still holding Logan’s hand, and he is tired and he aches, but he’s alright.

He meets Logan’s eyes, squeezes his hand, and smiles. And Logan smiles back.

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[waitimcomingtoo]

heeeey, in love with you, your writing and your blog 💖 Tbh I have read everything you have and I really in love with your writing. And I know that your request are close, but if you want could you write a Tom x reader where they have a fight and Tom has to leave a few days to promote his new movie and when he's back he sees like some of the reader's stuff are missing and thinks she left but in reality she's in another room couse she's awfully sick and doesn't want to get Tom sick too

Thank you so much anon!

Give Me a Minute to Hold My Girl

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom can’t find you after a bad fight

Masterlist

Tom was away a lot.

You knew traveling was a big part of his job, so you never did complain. That being said, it wasn’t easy having a boyfriend who was never around. All the missed birthdays, events, and art shows weighed on you after a while. You were more than proud of him, but you were growing lonely. He had a saying, something he said every time before he left you:

“Wherever I am, and wherever you are, we’re always looking at the same moon.”

And it used to assuage you. You’d go outside on nights he was away and stare at the moon, wishing he was looking at it where’ve he was. You knew it was never true though. He was rarely in the same time zone as you and was definitely not spending his precious time staring at the moon.

You couldn’t help it. You were miserable. 

On a night where Tom came home three hours later than he said he would after being away for a week. He sent a short text alerting you that he’d be home late, therefore missing the art show he promised he’d be at after missing the last three. Upon reading the text just mere moments before your show, you decided your quota was filled. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights anymore. If he didn’t start shaping up, you were gonna have to start considering looking elsewhere for love. You loved Tom, but you had to love yourself more.

“Hi, babygirl.” Tom came behind you that night and wrapped his arms around your waist as you rinsed your brushes. He smelled like he had been using a new cologne, one you didn’t recognize. You stiffened a little in his embrace as you wiped off a brush.

“I thought you were gonna be home at 2.” You said quietly.

“Plans changed. Sorry I didn’t call.” He kissed the back of your neck with strangers lips.

“Do you remember what today was?” You asked for your own amusement.

“Oh uh…” Tom scratched the back of his head as he raked his brain. “Not your birthday.”

“No.” You confirmed with half hearted humor.

“Not our anniversary.” He continued.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Um…” he trailed off until his eyes landing on your paint brushes next to you. “Your art show. I totally forgot.” He rubbed his eyes. “It was today?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, never meeting his eyes.

“I knew it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Tom took your hands and looked at you apologetically. “I got pulled into a meeting about Spider-Man 3 and it just slipped my mind.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t place or anything.” You shrugged, not wanting a fight. “You can come to the next one.”

“This was the one where you paint on the spot right? Can you paint me a new one while I get changed?” Tom suggested as he brushed some hair out of your face.

“Sure. Anything specific?” You asked, warming up to him now that he was showing an interest in you again. The fire you felt for him was burning once again.

“Paint how you feel. I’ll be back soon.” Tom kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

You put a blank canvas on your easel and squirt some dark paint on your palette. As you painted, you heard Tom shouting and cheering from the other room. You decided it wasn’t worth it to get angry at him for playing a video game, after all he did have a long day. You kept the painting simple and void of color so you could get back to spending time with your boyfriend. When you finished and felt happy with your work, you called him back.

“I’m done, Tom.” You called out to him.

“Just a second. I’m in the middle of a game.” He called back. After ten minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t come into the room, you decided to add another small detail to the background of the painting. Tom walked in shortly after with a different outfit and freshly showered. You gave him a small smile.

“I can clean up and we can grab some dinner.” You said as you collected the used brushes.

“I actually gotta go soon, honey. I have meeting in Manchester tonight.” Tom told you timidly. You stopped collecting your brushes and looked at him.

“But you just got home.” You said, not bothering to hide your disappointment.

“I thought I’d come back for an hour to see you.” He said as if was no big deal.

“And then you spent that hour playing video games with Tuwaine.” You pointed out in anger. You felt the fire fizzle out.

“He’s never on, I didn’t want to miss him.” Tom said light heartedly in an attempt to cheer you up. “He’s the best at 2K.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really he was the best at 2k.” You said sarcastically. “How stupid of me to try to pull my boyfriend away from making virtual half court shots after I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“I haven’t seen him either.” Tom reminded you, only fueling your anger.

“But you gave your only free hour to him. When am I gonna get to see you, Tom? When you’re dead?” You questioned.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He held out his arms.

“Until your car pulls up.” You shot a look at his phone which you knew would be buzzing any minute.

“What do you want me to say?” Tom asked. “I work. I’m a working actor. People need me.”

“I need you.” You threw a sheet over your canvas and finished collecting your brushes, not wanting to look at him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, darling. I’m sorry. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He apologized. You shook your head before turning to face him.

“You spent last week in Mexico, Berlin, and Scotland. You’ve been to LA, Germany, and Vancouver this week. And now you’re off to Manchester? Do you mean you can’t be everywhere at once, or do you mean you can’t be anywhere I am?” You accused.

“I don’t pick where I go. If I have a meeting, I go. If I have a premier, I go. If I have to film, I go. It’s part of the job.” Tom defended himself.

“Chris wasn’t at the London premier.” You said quietly. You weren’t going to bring it up, but it felt warranted.

“What?” Tom asked at the random claim.

“Chris Pratt. He wasn’t at the London premier for Onward.” You told him.

“Okay?” Tom said in confusion.

“Do you know why?” You tested him.

“No.” Tom said after a minute of thinking.

“He was home with his family. He said his son started crying as he was leaving for his flight so he stayed. It was all over the news.” You told him. “Traveling is part of his job too, and yet he knows how to be there for his family. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Harry and Sam were there.” Tom pointed out.

“I don’t care about Harry and Sam!” You raised your voice. “I care about how the only time I get to see my boyfriend is when I’m scrolling through Instagram. Girls all over the world get to see you but the girl you swore you loved is lying at home in an empty bed. You can make time for millions of strangers but you can’t make time for me? Do you know how it feels every time you don’t answer my FaceTime calls but then you go on Instagram live? Do you have any idea how unhappy I’ve been?” You asked desperately.

“I have to tend to my fans, it’s a part-“ Tom began.

“Of the job, I know.” You cut him off as you stormed out of the room.

“What do you want me to do? Quit?” He laughed bitterly as he followed you into the living room.

“Would you?” You spun around.

“What?” Tom faltered.

“Would you give it all up for me?” You repeated lowly. “If I asked, and I wouldn’t, but it I did? Would you give up the money and stardom and power for me?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Tom sighed.

“Because I think I know the answer.” You said tearfully. You and Tom stared at each other for a long time. He could see how hurt you were and prepared to make amends.

“I love you.” He said meekly.

“Don’t give me that.” You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling.

“I do.” He said firmly but you didn’t answer. “What do you want me to give you, then?”

“A reason to stay, maybe?” You shrugged sadly as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’m seeing nothing but a lifetime of loneliness ahead of me because of your beloved job.”

“We love each other. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” Tom stepped closer to you but you backed away. His face fell at your indifference.

“I always thought it would be but…” you shrugged and pulled your sweater tighter around you.

“You wouldn’t leave.” Tom said starkly.

“I would if I had nothing to come back to.” You looked him in the eye. His eyes were red now too.

“I’m here. I’m what you have to come back to.” His voice wavered as he got to the point of tears.

“Tom, when are you ever here?” You laughed at the absurdity of his statement. “When have I ever had you to come back to you?”

“You think I like the traveling anymore than you do? I hate leaving you. I miss you like crazy when I’m away. It kills me to be apart.” He defended himself as he raised his voice.

“Oh, is that why you don’t answer my texts? Because being away from me killed you?” You asked sarcastically. “That makes total sense now. Although, I never really got the feeling you “missed me like crazy” when you were dodging my calls.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Tom apologized, knowing this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. “I’ll start coming home more, I promise.”

“Like you promised you’d come to my show?” You shot back, not yet ready to let him off easy.

“I just forgot! Am I not allowed to forget things?” Tom shouted.

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?” You yelled. Tom quoted down when he realized you were right.

“Darling, I cannot deal with this right now.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Can we please talk about this tomorr-” he cut himself off with a sigh.

“What?” You asked bitterly.

“I won’t be here tomorrow. I have press in New York. I have a flight out of Manchester after the meeting tonight.” He told you with dad eyes. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you.”

“How convenient.” Your voice cracked. It was at the point where you were plenty used to the goodbyes, but this one felt final.

“I was gonna tell you, I swear. It just slipped my mind.” Tom apologized.

“That’s been happening a lot, hasn’t it?” You snapped.

“You know this is part of the job.” He said weakly, hating himself for having to give you such a lame excuse.

“I do know that.” You nodded. “What I didn’t know is that I was gonna live my life freezing to death in the shadow of your career!” You shouted.

“Then get a new life!” He shouted back, eyes immediately displaying regret. You tilted your head as tears streamed down your face.

“Do you mean that?” You asked quietly.

“Maybe I do.” Tom shrugged as he stared you coldly in the eye. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. “I have to go.”

“Good. Go.” You snapped. He went to the door but stopped and looked at you.

“You’re gonna be here when I get back, right?” He asked timidly.

“Would you even notice if I wasn’t?” You responded as you went to retreat into the bedroom.

“Darling, wait-“ Tom began to follow you but you stopped in your tracks.

“I don’t have anything left here to wait for.” You told him and you watched his heart break.

Tom opened his mouth to speak but his phone buzzed again. He looked at it and sighed as you wiped a tear.

“Go. Your car is waiting.” You said.

“I can’t leave you like this.” He mumbled as he typed something into his phone.

“Just leave. You know how.” You said bitterly. Tom looked up at you at your words. He was in a bad way. His nose was running and his eyes were bloodshot.

“I can cancel on the press. I can stay home-“ he said desperately.

“This is not a home! This is a prison!” You yelled. “I am chained to this one man cult we call a relationship. Please, just go! You have people waiting on you, people you clearly find more important than me. You need to leave, because I will never kick you out. Go on your press tour. Go to New York. Go do your precious “job” and meet your fans. Go stare at the fucking moon. I don’t care. Just leave.” You yelled until your voice was ragged.

“You’ll never find someone like me.” Tom warned, saying anything he could to get you to stay.

“I hope to God that’s true!” You screamed.

Tom took a step towards you, but his phone buzzed again. He wiped a tear off his cheek and nodded.

“I’ll be back in a week.” He swallowed.

“Good for you.” You said dismissively as you walked into the bedroom and slammed the door. He stared at the door for a long time, about to knock when he got yet another text telling him his car was there. He swallowed thickly, pressed a kiss to the outside of the door, and left without another word.

“I’m home.” Tom called into his home a week later.

He immediately felt the chill of your fight hitting him. When he didn’t hear a response from you, he shivered in his jacket, suddenly feeling like he was wearing somebody else’s clothes. He set his bag down timidly in the ground and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the lack of dishes in the sink. You weren’t one for cleaning up after yourself and Tom had grown accustomed to coming home to a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. You’d usually wash and dry them together before settling down on the couch to watch a movie. Tom felt fear prickle the back of his neck at the empty sink. There was no way you’d actually left, Tom told himself. You wouldn’t just up and go without a note or a call or a text. Not that Tom was very good at answering your calls and texts. Tom took another step into the house and glanced around the living room. Your favorite blanket was missing and the room looked like it hadn’t been touched since Tom left a week ago. Your pile of movies was no longer next to the TV and Tom began to feel sick.

“Y/n? I’m home.” He called out again. His voice bounced off the walls but didn’t get a reply. His palms began to sweat as he walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. All of your coffee mugs were gone. There was an empty space in the middle of the cabinet where they used to be.

“Princess? Are you here?” Tom called out, desperately this time. When he was met with silence, he rushed into the bathroom. Tom washed his face with cold water and noticed your toothbrush was missing from the holder. He started at the vacant spot for a long tome before rushing into your shared bedroom. Upon entrance, he noticed your pillow missing. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in all week, and Tom feared it hadn’t. He flung open your closet doors and noticed a large gap in your clothing. All your favorite T-shirts were gone. After rummaging through the drawers, Tom found that your leggings, bras, underwear and socks were all missing too. Tom sat on the bed and out a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

You’d done it. You’d left him.

While he spent the week with friends and fans, you spent the week packing up your life. Tom snapped his head up when he heard the doorbell ring.

“Babygirl?” He asked as he rushed to the front door. He swung it open, only to find his next door neighbor.

“Oh, hey Tom. Glad to see you’re back.” His elderly neighbor smiled at him.

“Hi Shane.” Tom said weakly.

“I wanted to see how Y/n was doing. She left kinda late Thursday’s night and I haven’t seen her since. Been about a week I think.” Shane informed Tom. He perked up at the mention of you.

“You saw her leaving?” Tom asked. “When was this again?”

“Thursday. Sped off in such a hurry, you’d think she was in a race.“ Shane laughed. Tom looked past Shane and noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway.

“Did she say where she was going?” Tom inquired.

“Oh, no. My wife and I only saw her leave. We were visiting our son all weekend and got worried when we got back and saw her car was still missing. I rang the doorbell a few times this week but there was never an answer.” Shane said and Tom felt like crying all over again. “When I saw that you had come back if figured I’d ask you. Is she okay?”

“I’m sorry Shane, I don’t know.” Tom answered honestly.

“She’s not home?” Shane asked.

“Uh, no.” Tom looked back in the house and then back at Shane. “Shes not home.”

“Do you think it’s serious? Has she ever done this before?” Shane wondered.

“No. Never.” Tom shook his head.

“Have you tried calling her? You two are always so cute, I thought for sure you’d know where she was.” Shane said worriedly. Tom bit his tongue to keep from crying.

“We had a fight before I left last week.” He admitted, feeling like he needed to tell anyone who would listen.

“Oh, did you?” Shane said sympathetically.

“A really bad one.” Tom continued as his voice weighed heavy with guilt.

“That’s okay. Every couple fights. My wife and I have been fighting for 52 years.” Shane tried to cheer him up.

“Shane,” Tom sniffled as he gathered his thoughts, “I don’t think Y/n is coming home anytime soon.”

“No?” Shane asked sadly.

“I think she might’ve left.” Tom said with a shaking voice. “Left me.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Shane nodded in understanding. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“I’m so sorry, will you excuse me?” Tom closed the door quickly before his neighbor could see his tears. He leaned against the door and slid down it as tears poured from his eyes. He sobbed into his hands for a moment until he noticed something. Your easel was standing in the middle of the living room with a sheet covering it. Tom got to his feet and carefully approached the easel. He soon reached it and pulled the sheet off. The canvas was a mirage of gray and white with a portrait of a woman crying. She was holding half of her own broken heart and cradling it to her chest. In the background, a faint silhouette of a man walking away with the other half of her broken heart trailing on a string behind him.

Toms words echoed in his mind from that night: “Paint how you feel.”

That’s how you felt. Heartbroken, abandoned, and tethered, all because of Tom. Tom ran his fingertips over the painting as if were a piece of you. He tilted his head and smiled at it fondly, always blown away at how talented you were, even when painting your lament.

He noticed another canvas leaning against the back wall, also covered in a sheet. He walked briskly to it and ripped the sheet off.

Underneath the off white sheet was a portrait of Tom himself sitting on the world. He had a crown on his head and a bright smile on his face. There were tiny, detailed fans and billboards with his name on either side of him. He was in a suit and had his hand clamped firmly around a the sun. You had painted with bright colors, colors of the sunset and the sky. Your words from the fight came back to him:

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?”

On the other side of the globe sat a girl. Tom turned the portrait around and saw you. You were sitting alone, literally on the other aide of the world. Tom felt his heart break when he noticed you were staring off mournfully at the moon. On the top corner of the painting was a blue “first prize” ribbon. Tom distinctly remembered you telling him you didn’t place, despite you winning the entire competition.

That was enough for Tom. The tingling sensation started in his nose and he found himself able to see less and less of your painting as tears well up in his eyes. Body shaking sobs ripped through him as it finally sunk in that you had left him. He cried into his hands until he heard something coming from the guest bedroom.

A cough.

Tom almost thought he imagined it until he heard it again. Someone was coughing in the house. Tom scrambled to his feet and pressed an ear against the door. He heard silence for a while, then a sniffle. His heart pounded in his ears as he twisted the doorknob.

Tom opened the door slowly and heard a clanking from the floor. He looked down and saw a pile of your favorite coffee mugs, a few plates, and some bowls on the ground. He pushed them aside and fully stepped into the room. Sitting in the guest bed was a very pink-nosed and red-eyed you. You were lazily scrolling through your phone as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue. There was a bottle of bills and a bottle of cough medicine on the nightstand, as well as a sea of mugs. There was a garbage can next tot he bed with a mountain of tissues coming out as well as surrounding it. Tom felt like he was seeing a ghost and suddenly felt like a stranger in his own home. He looked around the room and saw all your missing clothes strewn around. You were wrapped in your favorite blanket and your pile of movies was next to a tub of ice cream by the TV. Tom blinked a few times in shock.

“Oh, you’re home.” You spoke and Tom snapped out of his daze. You didn’t sound angry, just congested.

“Y/n?” Tom whispered as if he spoke to loudly, you might disappear.

“Hi, Tommy.” You said sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Did you just get home?”

Tom watched your every movement as you scratched your head and reached for the cup of water next to the bed. He quickly got it before you did and handed it to you, taking a careful seat next to you on the bed. You gave him a grateful smile before downing the glass. You licked your dry lips a few times and sighed.

“Yeah. I just got in.” He said, never taking his eyes off you.

“I didn’t hear it. I’m on this medication that completely knocks me out. Oh, I’m sick, if you haven’t noticed.” You laughed sleepily. “I got the flu from one of my friends.”

“You’re sick? That’s why you’re in here?” Tom asked as hope burbled in his chest.

“I didn’t want to contaminate all your stuff.” You told him. “Can’t have you getting sick before Uncharted starts filming.” His heart warmed at the thought of you looking out for him even after the fight you had.

“Thank you, princess. I appreciate you looking out for me.” He told you sincerely.

“Uh oh.” You looked at him with a half smile. “You only call me “princess” when you’re really upset. What’s going on?”

Toms lip began to tremble at your words and you looked worried.

“Your toothbrush isn’t in the bathroom.” Was all he could find the strength to say.

“Yeah, because it was disgusting. I had to throw it out this morning.” You assured him.

“All your stuff is missing. Your clothes, movies, mugs.” Tom continued.

“Look around you.” You laughed again, gesturing to all your previously “missing” stuff.

“Shane is worried about you. He said you left Thursday and never came back.” Tom told you.

“Aw, is he? I drove to the hospital Thursday night because my fever was so high and the doctor made me stay overnight. I took an Uber back on Friday because I got sick in my car. Its at the shop getting cleaned until tomorrow. Would you tell him I’m okay?” You asked.

“Of course.” Tom nodded, feeling himself relax a little.

“Thank you.” You said. The room fell into an awkward silence. Tom toyed with what he needed to say in his head.

“I saw your paintings.” Tom spoke up.

“Oh.” You said causally, knowing the content of the paintings.

“You didn’t tell me you got first place.” He said softly.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad for missing it.” You admitted.

“Princess” ,Tom laughed sadly, “I feel terrible. I feel terrible about every thing. Every word I said to you, I regret it. I thought about you and our fight the entire time I was gone. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was miserable without you. And when I came home today and all your stuff was gone…” Tom trailed off as he got emotional again. You pulled him to you chest and let him cry it out. “I thought you left. I thought you left me.”

“I would never leave you.” You promised.

“But our fight.” He cried.

“All couples fight. The ill-timing and stress didn’t help. But I’m not someone who just walks away. Especially not from something like this.” You assured him as you stroked his hair.

“I hurt you. I missed your show, I didn’t talk to you when I was home.” Tom listed off his mistakes. “I abandoned you.”

“It’s the job.” You laughed sadly.

“No. I’m not gonna let that be an excuse anymore.” Tom pulled his head off your chest and you wiped his eyes. “You deserve better. So, so much better. I’m sorry it took you almost leaving for me to realize how much I need you to stay.”

“I’m sorry about the fight.” You told him weakly. “I said some things I didn’t mean.”

“What didn’t you mean?” Tom asked as he gathered your hands in his and kissed them.

“I know I said there wasn’t nothing here for me to wait for, but there is. Of course you’re worth waiting for. You’re away a lot, and it sucks, but nothing compares to when you’re here. A few days with you is better than a lifetime with somebody else, I know it. It’s just hard to remember the good times when I’m sleeping alone every night.” You finally told him your feelings in a much calmer manner.

“Princess, I’m so sorry. This ends today. If someone needs a meeting with me, they can come to Kingston. I’m not gonna fly all over the globe to talk about movies for an a hour anymore when I could be at home with my beautiful girlfriend. You are so much more important than any job.” Tom promised you. “I didn’t answer you that night, and I honestly didn’t even know the answer, but now I do. I’d give it all up in a heartbeat for you, love. All the money and fame is nothing to me if I don’t have you.”

“Do you really mean that?” You asked him.

“I do. And I’m gonna prove it.” He swore. “I want you to come with me when I shoot Uncharted. And I want you there for the rest of my press tour. You can bring your easel and your brushes and paint all over the world.”

“Really?” You asked happily.

“Yes. People are gonna stop coming to see me and start coming to see you because you’re gonna be the most famous painter in the world.” Tom painted you a picture. “You have more talent than people could even dream of achieving. The world needs to see your work.”

“I’d love to come with you.” You told him with a smile.

“Then do it. We don’t ever have to be apart again. I can’t sleep if it’s not next to you anyway. We won’t have to look at the same moon anymore. I can just roll over and see you instead.” Tom cupped your face. “We’re gonna go to Berlin and Italy and Mexico, all the places you’ve wanted to see. You’re gonna see the prettiest sights and eat the greatest food and live the most wonderful life by my side. And we can go anywhere else you want to go too. Fuck it, baby, we’re going to the moon. Or mars. Wherever. It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. That’s all I need.”

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear.” You told him as a happy tear rolled down your cheek. “I don’t want someone like you. I just want you.”

“I just want you, too.” He grinned as happy tears welled in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologized for the fight.

“I’m sorry too.” Tom nodded tearfully as he reached forward to kiss you.

“I’m sick.” You reminded him as you pulled away slightly to dodge his kiss.

“I don’t care.” Tom shook his head as he pressed his lips to yours before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m never leaving you again. Just give me a minute to hold my girl.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning g @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts  @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human  @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

[ellitx]

💚 anon said: Okay gonna be a part two to the double yan butlers but making them vamp! So have this butler sandwich~

( Long af im so sorry i cant stop i need help)

submission

warning: blood, smut, yan behavior

You sat there clenching onto the hem of your dress with tears streaming down your beautiful face.

"Hush now beloved..." Himmel whispered, leaning in close on the shell of your ear and bringing a gloved hand to your cheek to wipe the tears away.

"May we remind you aren't alone, y/n~?" The man on the opposite side of you said coming in closer to lick the salty liquid down your face causing him to shudder lightly, even just the slightest taste of you is divine already wanting more.

"I-I know it's just having everyone that I come into that kind of contact with either seems to disappear or they're bored to sleep... it's like I'm cursed or something..." you say with a shaky voice and shallow breath. Hearing this made both of their hearts ache. Locking eyes with his other half for a moment filled with concern and a tinge of guilt. 

We're they being too selfish? Keeping you for your own desires and fulfillment..? Surely you felt the same way, you certainly did right...? 

The way you so easily let them in, to undress you, bathe you, please you and in turn themselves. Could it possibly be that your feelings had changed? Maybe it's time to test this they thought.

"Mistress, you know Venti and I care oh so deeply for you... and we'll do anything at all for you... so when you say you're alone it's a bit disappointing to hear.." Himmel breathes out taking a hold of your left hand and his twin grabbing the right, both lovingly stroking your delicate hands. 

"Oh how correct you are dear brother. It's quite heartbreaking not only to see you so upset but to hear that you're feeling as such, may we turn this pain into pleasure? We're always at your service my beloved."

Venti's question caused you to shoot a shocked and red-faced expression towards him. "W-what do you Mea—  Mm!" He pressed a finger to your lips and slowly pushed you down onto the mattress, with Himmel setting himself behind you, sliding his arms around you to hold you in place as his brother straddles the both of you, He peers down from above you with lust clouded eyes

"Oh you know exactly what we mean my princess~ We know wholeheartedly the feelings you have towards us and trust us in knowing the feeling is mutual. So when we see these vile suitors dare lay sight on you we couldn't help but, 'resolve' the issue." He whispered into your ear slowly leaving small love bites down your neck. Oh how badly he wants to sink his teeth into you. Just a whiff of your scent already drives him mad but he holds in his desire. 

Himmel snuck his hands up to pull down the top zipper of your gown letting the sleeves slump off of your shoulders to let his brother gain more access, and allowing himself to give gentle kisses and licking the opposite side as he holds you strongly in place.

"Mm...! So you two... were behind all of this...!?" you breathe out trying to keep calm while both of your dear servants are beginning to devour you. Himmel wrapped his legs around you, locking his ankles with yours, with Venti pushing most of his weight onto you to make his way back up to your ear.

"We were merely speeding up the process, angel~ And besides, by the look of things you, weren't even interested, no?" Venti cooed. 

You couldn't deny it. No feelings you had were towards any of the potential matches and frankly made you bored and uncomfortable. It was honestly a relief when the situation was brought to shambles.

"Mistress, you did tell me that you didn't even want to go back to him, correct...?" The man behind you questions. You shakily sighed recalling the words you said to Himmel earlier that afternoon, his hair and breath tickling your neckline. It was so hard to even respond coherently as they both let their hands run all over you— Venti at your chest and neck and Himmel having his hands wander up your skirt to feel your thighs.

"Mm... Yes..." Venti grins at your answer and chuckles, eyeing your near-exposed breast daring to make an appearance. "Y/n, don't you think it's time for a change of clothes? You look quite uncomfortable with this elaborate dress at the moment. Do we have permission to undress you?" Himmel suggested catching onto Venti and his desires, how badly he just wants to rip everything off and dive right into you knowing he must remain calm.

Squirming a bit due to the building excitement, you nod as your face painted blush red. "You may..." and with that the both of them helped you out of your clothes, slowly and carefully removing each article with the man behind you pulling down your zipper fully and removing your dress, while Venti took off the skirt underneath, leaving you only in your lingerie.

You curl up slightly embarrassed how both of them are hungrily eyeing your form. "Look... look at you y/n... you're so beautiful. Divine even. It's why we must keep you all to ourselves~" Himmel sighed pressing his chest against your back and snaking his arms around you while placing gentle but passionate kisses all over your neck.

"Oh how right you are dear brother. A true angel lay before us and I think she may lay blessing upon ourselves tonight~" Venti says climbing back on top of you, putting a leg between yours, his knee brushing against your core, making you shudder and lean onto the man behind you. It was so hard to resist them at this point you didn't even care how much trouble the three of you could be in if you got caught.

"Nng... I order you to both give in to any and all desires..." They both went wide-eyed in excitement.

"With pleasure my songbird~" the blue-eyed male almost moaned into your ear as he removed his own clothing and Venti followed soon after.

"On one condition... Please let me know beforehand if you decide to feast upon me..." you interject blushing madly in watching the two men undress before you. You notice how their eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. "Of course my dearest, we wouldn't do anything without consent, right dear brother?" Himmel states and gestures to Venti.

"Indeed our princess must be handled with the utmost care, with loving and sensual touches, no harm must come to her." He says leaning in to slowly kiss your cheek only to begin leaving slow sweet kisses down your jawline, with Himmel running his hands down your exposed waist feeling his bare hands smooth across your supple skin filled you with desire.

You held onto Venti's shoulders and leaned your back against Himmel's chest, they had you securely pressed between them, you could feel so much of them and how hot it was getting, and how much they needed you in turn.

Hearing a whisper from behind you "May I kiss you, y/n?" You turn and nod, letting Himmel latch his lips to yours, letting a sweet moan escape your lips as you felt Venti unclip your bra. "I feel so lucky to have such a sight in front of me… let me taste you please..." He almost pleaded in which you give out a shaky sigh, desperately wanting him to pull your sweet breast in his mouth.

"I did say you may give in to all desires, correct~?" you say teasingly. Almost immediately you felt him latch onto your breast almost desperately and gripping onto the other, swirling your nipple with his tongue making you let out a sweet moan that made Himmel grip your thighs letting his hands wander closer and closer to where you needed him most.

"Nnng... y/n, I want to feel how much you crave us," Himmel said, pulling your soaked panties aside and rubbing a finger through your folds as he flicked up to hit your clit. It makes your breath hitch as you shift your weight against his stiff member as well as feeling the other suck and knead at your tender breasts. Looking down and noticing how needy Venti was as well, it made your mind so clouded with lust it was hard to think straight.

"Ahh~ More... please...!" You plead. You appreciate them being slow and careful but you just wanted them to take full control and pleasure every inch of you. "As you wish~" Venti moves down from your breast leaving passionate kisses all the way down your body stopping at your core.

"My mistress is so sweet~ you don't know how much we love you so let us show you." He breathes out with his mouth hung open, you could see his fangs albeit small but much larger than anything human and it turned you on seeing Venti pleading up at you to let him devour your essence.

"Haa... please me... eat me... anything... I'm all yours." You plead. And in turn, he puts your legs over his shoulders as Himmel grips your hips in place with one arm while the other rubs your sensitive bud. 

You let out a shaky moan as Venti licks up your slit. "Mmm... so good y/n..." the vibrations from his moans resonated deep within you causing so much ecstasy to flow through you.

"Ahh...!! It's too much!!"

Himmel quickly pulls you in to swallow your moans with a deep kiss. "Shh mistress... we can't allow ourselves to be too loud.." Himmel said. It was so hard to hold himself back from sinking his teeth into your beautifully exposed neck while he rubbed your core how he wanted to desperately switch position with his brother but your pleasure was his top priority.

The stimulation from both of them was almost too much. You felt hot tears run down your face as you gripped onto Venti's hair for anything to hold you together as if you couldn't control your hips that you ground against his face as well as rolled against Himmel's erect length. You felt the climax building, that twisting coil in your womb threatening to spill out.

"Haa... Haa...! I'm so close...!" You breathe out trying to remain as quiet as possible. 

"Yes.. feed me~! Let me drink your divine essence!" Venti begged into you. While gripping onto the hand that Himmel offered to you, you came down so intensely it made your whole body shiver. Pulling away from you to wipe his face, Himmel couldn't help but drag his hand to collect any remaining slick and lick it off his fingertips.

"Always ever sweet my songbird..." He gazed straight into your e/c orbs with his pupils blown wide. "But I can't help but want more..." he bends down to where his twin was recently to lick all of the slicks that covered your thighs, he was about to combust. He has held back for so long. Hearing your heartbeat right next to his ear, the crimson essence he so desperately needs is just inches away.

"Y/n... May I please bear fang to you... right here." he pokes your soft thigh ever so slightly. 

"Ohohoh, wanting a drink so soon dear brother?" His twin teases. 

"Ashamedly, yes... you got to drink the beloved's slick after all..." He bends down awaiting your answer as Venti repositioned himself behind you with him breathing down your neck.

"Y-you may..." you nervously grip onto the sheets awaiting the incoming pain as Venti rubs your arms to offer some comfort. "Shhh just relax... if you’re so tense it'll be more painful..." He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. You take a deep inhale as you feel Himmel sink his teeth into your soft flesh.

Your life force was flowing into him. It was so addicting, so sweet, and in addition to the slicks still left over on your thigh, nothing could beat this he thought. Both were gently holding you still. You couldn't ignore Venti’s ragged, almost feral breathing pattern, and not soon after feeling something cold and wet drop on your shoulder, you turn to look at him, mouth hung open of a drooling mess.

"I'm... haa... going to be honest, y/n... I don't think I can..." you nod to him and pull your hair out of the way leaning your head to the side.

"As a reward... for earlier..." He goes wide-eyed and grins and gently wraps both his arms and legs around you, biting down on the nape of your neck, your delicious wine filling his system as he hums in satisfaction.

Himmel pulls away carefully after his fill, almost immediately cleaning and wrapping the small wound in cloth and finishing it with a small kiss. "Thank you so much, my beloved, but Venti please be gentle with her..." Himmel says leaning in front of you as you grip onto him and focus on your breathing to distract yourself from the sharp pain going through you. 

"Mhmm..." He mumbled, getting in a few last drops before he pulled away.

"Thank you, mistress. You're ever so kind to us, now let us repay you~" Venti said whilst cleaning and covering the wound. Himmel gently lays you down with you perfectly on display for the both of them with him going on top of you with Venti behind you.

"There is still one more thing we wish to have desired, to make love to you, y/n'' He bent down to quietly whisper in your ear. Feeling how hard they both were, you wanted to fulfill all of their wishes. You could only nod knowing how badly you also wanted this.

"Please... I only have a love for the both of you..." With Venti wrapping his arms around and pushing his cock between your cheeks and Himmel slowly lining himself up with your heat, taking your hands in his, you lock eyes with his icy orbs.

"Ahh~!" You moan, throwing your head back onto his twin’s shoulder as he enters you. It felt so euphoric to the three of you. Venti grinding himself against you, Himmel slowly filling your walls and feeling them so close to you, it felt like you were overheating but you couldn't get enough.

"Nnng... my love you feel so good...! So warm..." Himmel praises gradually increasing the pace. Feeling them both slide in and out of you filled you with immense pleasure. You couldn't help but rut your hips in tandem with theirs.

"Y/n~! More!" The man behind you pleaded, gripping your hips for more of the friction he craved, causing you to grind up against him more, your end was coming already so quickly with how good they both felt.

"Ahh...! Guys, I don't know how long I can make it...!" Your walls clench around his length with him hitting that sweet spot each time making you see stars. You gripped Himmel’s arms, holding on for dear life.

"Don't—  Ahh... Hold it...! My beloved...! I'm close too!!" Himmel moans into you kissing you so deeply, swirling your tongue with his. That tight knot again comes loose with a few more thrusts from both of them spilling it all over the sheets with Himmel releasing on your stomach and Venti coming onto your back.

After a few moments of recollection and clean up, they both embrace you and swore to never let you go.

—

(Im off to jail again and i hope the formatting is okay -💚 i just wanna feed you not more work )

—

Holy shit—

Anon, you’re feeding us so well mmmpowowushasjjs

OM NOM NOM NOM

daddy vampire venti and himmel?

OM NOM NOM NOM

[tamagochiie]

holding hands with haikyuu boys (part one)

genre: fluffy oneshots

characters: yamaguchi tadashi, tsukishima kei, & sugawara koushi

a/n: i wrote this out of pure neediness and desperation. please someone get me a boyfriend, i'm dying for some cuteness.

warning: your heart about to bURST (1/2 joke)

—yamaguchi tadashi

he has naturally clammy hands and it embarrasses him. so, when you hold his hand for the first time, you're the one who initiates it. he'll try to (literally) slip away from your grasp, but you'll only tighten your grip.

he'll apologize the whole time you two hold hands.

since then, he'll always make sure to keep his hands a little on the less clammy side. he'll wash his hands, and even carry around alcohol to rub on his hands before he gets to hold yours.

The early morning air is crisp and as clear as the sky. The flowers scattered around the neighborhood are finally at full bloom, soaking up the sunlight and basking in their soil damped by last night's rain.

Its a perfect day.

Well, it would've been almost perfect if your boyfriend had been walking beside you, holding your hand rather than pacing ahead of you.

You pout, looking down to the palm of your hand, realizing it had yet to feel the warm touch of Yamaguchi's. And the more you think about it, it only registers now that he hadn't made any attempts to hold your hand. Not even a mere, gentle brush against it.

Nearly six months since you became a pair, but not the slightest bit of effort to hold your hand. You can't help but let it urk you; and the longer you hold onto the thought, the less effort you give in to holding your tongue.

"Hey, erm, Yamaguchi?" He hums in response, his head lulling side to side as if his thoughts are elsewhere. He doesn't have to be facing you to know he's got that dopey smile plastered on his face, enjoying the spring air. "Why haven't you held my hand yet?"

The tension in Yamaguchi's shoulders are visibly seen from where you stand. The air between the two of you grows thick the longer you stay in the silence, and even you begin to feel tense.

Spinning on the balls of his feet reveals Yamaguchi with his cheeks beet red, flustered enough to be stuttering. "Oh, uhm—Well, you—you see..."

You furrow your brows, tilting you head to the side. You can't help but smile as you watch him turn into a string of short breaths and unfinished sentences.

"C'mon, Yams." You encourage him, and the sight of your smile eases Yamaguchi enough to spit it out.

"I-I have sweaty hands!" He admits, his eyes peel away from you and move to the ground.

Confusion etched in your face, your lips slightly part yet not a single sound escapes you. "What...?"

"My hands are naturally sweaty!" Yamaguchi stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, growing self conscious. "W-When you hold hands, it's supposed to be romantic, right? What's romantic about holding hands with someone that sweats more than they can talk?"

"Pfft—"

"You're being MEAN!"

"I'm sorry!" You apologize, unable to completely hold back your laugh. "But that's so cute! Oh, c'mon even you have to admit that it's a little cute!"

"It's not cute!" He argues, glowing a bright red. "I shared something deeply embarrassing!" He whines your name like a child, only making you laugh even more.

"Oh, c'mere, would you?" You motion him over and though it takes him a while, he eventually does. He treads towards you like a puppy, watching carefully.

When he's close enough, you hold out your hand to him. His eyes widen and he twists away, "No."

"Give me your hand." You insist, jolting your hand.

"No!"

"Hold my hand, damn it!"

Yamaguchi flitches at the sudden raise of your voice. You expect him to shy further away from you—runaway even. But instead, after giving it  some thought, he reluctantly inches towards you.

You observe the way Yamaguchi hesitantly slips his hand onto yours. His eyes glinting in fear, but the moment his skin comes to contact with your own, you feel him melt into the palm of your hand almost immediately.

You do notice the subtle sweatiness of the palm of his hand, but you don't mind it. You completely ignore it when Yamaguchi gathers the right amount of courage to weave his fingers in between yours.

There's a tickling feeling rising from you chest, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. All the air you've taken in goes straight to your head.

Is this what floating feels like?

You think about holding your breath, hoping that it'll somehow stop time and keep you both here. But the moment ends when you feel Yamaguchi try to slip away.

"No!" You shout, glaring at him. "Don't you dare! I'm enjoying this!"

—tsukishima kei

he'll always want to hold your hand, but his inability to let go of his pride, even if momentarily, gets the way of him initiating it.

he'll drop hints; brushing his hand against yours every now and then, sometimes looking at the palm of his hand and asks you if you think his hands are too big, and when he's desperate enough, he'll pout around you until you catch what he wants.

tsukki isn't much of a fan of cold weather, but ever since he started dating you, he began to like. but it's only because it was an opening for him to naturally hold your hand whenever he could.

Though you and Tsukki sat in the library, eyes buried deep into your own books, you were very much aware of what Tsukki had been doing, or at least trying to do for the last hour.

Every five minutes or so, you'd feel Tsukki graze his hand over yours. Whether it be him trying to reach over to other  side of the table for something that wasn't there, or when he'd  mindlessly try to shove his hand back into his jacket pocket, you saw right through him.

You smiled to yourself, You're clever, Tsukki, but not that clever.

You noticed him growing a little agitated, tapping his fingers against the side of his wooden chair. From the corner of your eye, you saw they way his glass tilted just a little bit when he crinkled his nose, and the sudden fall of his chest when he sigh in frustration as he shifted in his seat.

For someone who was usually so stoic and unbearably hard to read, it amused you how painfully transparent Tsukki could be when he wanted to hold your hand.

You gave it another few minutes and let him grow antsy. Eventually, you took a breather.  The chair creaked beneath you as you slumped against the backrest.

You twisted your attention to Tsukki, reaching over to him and tapped the against the plastic of covering of his headphones.

Flinching in place, he turned his head to look at you and in a swift motion, slipped the headset. He looked at you with a crease between his brows and a frown painted across his lips, but you kept your amusement plastered across your face.

"What do you want?" He whispered, scowling at you because you probably interrupted him when the song he had been listening to had perfectly synced with the flow of the story.

You leaned in, making him blush. "If you want to hold my hand, just do it."

—sugawara koushi

the first time he holds your hand, it feels like you've slipped into a pair of perfectly fit mittens. there's a ease in your chest and you feel like the only hand you were ever meant to hold was suga's.

he isn't shy, but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable either.

but when your sad or feeling overwhelmed, he'll hold your hand and trace little circles over your skin to help calm you down.

Suga gently tilted your head onto his shoulder as you sat there swept away by the river of the emotions you had carefully boxed shut and kept hidden in a corner.

You had spent the beginning of the week imagining the storm that awaited was still too far off to touch you. But before you knew it, it was the middle of the week and it had drawn closer. So, as an attempt to ease yourself, you had thought of yourself as a buoy, believing you could withstand the harsh winds of your parents' constant nagging and judgement, and  the violent waves of tests and quizzes crashing into you all at once.

But you couldn't.

By the end of the week, the tides had finally rolled closer to home, and in one breath, you had been dragged off the shore and thrown into the heart of the sea.

But just when you thought you were too far gone, there stood your lighthouse at the very center of it all, Sugawara Koushi. Eyes full of love and hope as it searched for you, pulling you out of the water the moment he found you.

He hummed a soft tune in your ear as you cried the rest of your pent up frustration off your chest. He held your hand with both hands, massaging your palm as you caught your breaths.

Like steam, your sense of peace rose from the pit of your stomach all the way to your chest. You could finally breathe.

"Do you still wanna to talk about it?" He asked, bringing your hand up against his cheek.

You shooked your head, "I just want to stay like this a little while longer."

You felt the warmth of his skin in the palm of your hand. The weight that had settled onto your chest began to float off it when he tenderly kissed your hand.

[radiation]

gonna post progress pics from my volo painting and write a bit about my process since some1 asked for them!

excluding adjustment layers this has 20 layers in all. i wont show all of them bc some of them just have minor differences but ill show my general progress

sketch. just super loose but has enough visual clarity to be able to work off of and not have to fix issues caused by poor anatomy etc later

background color + painting under sketch. to choose colors, i go on the color wheel and just kinda choose colors freely and almost randomly & paint w them by very lightly pressing with a hard round elliptical opacity brush set to a large size, blending other colors on top of them this way. i dont use this brush the whole way through but honestly i couldve and it still wouldve turned out good

a lot of trial and error but because were doing it so loosely its pretty easy to find something that works quickly (also sorry the painting is so dark at this point oops)

developed painting a bit more and upped saturation in some places using an adjustment layer.

to get a lot of the color variations im getting here, i colorpick from other areas of the piece, ie colorpicking from the face and using it as subtle lighting for the hair, seeing i like how those colors look, and using that as a jumping off point and using a more intense pink for the hair shading. you can also see i got some of the yellowish on the sleeping bag or whatever tf he has on his back from the hair/hat/etc, just brushed it on there really lightly and it looks cool. another place i like to colorpick from is where the sketch overlaps with the colors underneath, it creates some interesting desaturated colors.

you can also see im developing linework a tiny bit here, its pretty early on and a lot of it will be painted over later anyways but i start being like, okay the 3d forms i've been making are working, let's draw on top of the sketch a bit to encapsulate those areas

but yeah uhh definitely a lot of this is just testing stuff out when i'm this early in the painting, i am aaaalways in motion, never stopping and just working off of instinct and what looks cool. and if i mess something up, i can just erase it and i'll have the layer underneath to fall back on.

also im just straight up not thinking about anything at this point unless im trying to closely replicate a reference image, which i didnt do very much. i use reference for eeeeeeverything i make. i took a pic of myself at a similar angle to this and then loosely based the sketch off of it, looked at pics of volo, later on looked at some reference of how ppl paint fabric, grabbed some pics of how i drew one of my ocs who makes a similar expression w his eyes, grabbed images of other digital paintings i'd made! because i wanted to work in a certain style i'd done maybe only twice before. for reference images, i use pureref, which i would highly recommend to any artist, especially ones without dual monitors (like me). basically just allows you to make a reference board and pin it on the very top of your screen

just developed more in the same fashion, then threw a couple adjustment layers over it. i toned back some of these adjustments later but yeah. you can see the lineart really starting to come together, a lot of the color variation on it colorpicked from accidental overlapping colors that ended up looking cool. btw i need to make it clear i do lineart and rendering on the same layers. also i did the stripes on the pack just by using a multiply layer, then giving it more love on the layer immediately above it so it doesnt look cheap

more rendering, got a vignette going w a multiply layer. actually started using reference for fabric folds. theyre really simply done honestly and dont look like. amazing. but they work

painted over the vignette in the background to make it a bit more interesting & not just a gradient, more rendering as usual, threw in some subtle highlights to make it a little more interesting! i probably couldve gone further with them honestly. also decided to do a really subtle outline around him cuz it looks cool. lineart is basically done at this point and this is where i started to think i was just about done

desaturated it a little bit, re-added some details i forgot about, generally fiddled with stuff and corrected some mistakes, added signature. and its DONE. i think this took me about four-four and a half hours? yeah something like that

other general notes:

-probably favorite part of this is the sleeping bag or whatever the hell that thing is on his backpack

-not entirely happy with how i did the fluffy part, it has some really cool color shifts but it doesnt feel like a proper 3d form all the way through to me. definitely pretty 2 dimensional in spots, but i was like eh i dont care enough to fix it

-although i think the pose works well enough, its definitely another example of me using pretty static poses and basic composition in my art. which isnt too terrible but i really need to start getting outside of my comfort zone on that stuff. this definitely couldve looked cooler if i developed the pose more and did better foreshortening but i didnt cuz that shiht is hard to me. im really awful at foreshortening

-on that same note, i worked off of the first sketch i made and didnt warm up beforehand which you do NOT want to do. thumbnail stuff out and make multiple sketches. 80% of the time the sketches following the first one will be better

-IM NOT AN EXPERT lots of stuff i still need to learn dont follow this 1:1

OVERALL im really satisfied with this though especially for how quickly it took me to make it. & i hope this was interesting, lmk if you have any more questions on my process !

[himbo-only-zone]

Can you please write some headcanons for Kiyotaka with S/O who is a reserve course student and tries to find something they're good at? I kinda like this dynamic and I'm looking forward to reading what you can come up with ^w^

kiyotaka with a s/o in the reserve course

content warning: (small) panic attack, but turns into hurt/comfort.

Anon, I love youuuuu- this request is absolutely adorable!! Thank you for sending it in!! This was so fun to write.

- Mod Anna

• You had been struggling. Quite a lot, actually. You were part of the reserve course, and that took a pretty bad toll on your mental health. Getting into Hope's Peak through money wasn't exactly the most respected thing, and you wanted to prove yourself! That meant finding a talent.

• You brought this up with Taka while he was helping you study for your next test. You saw a light in his eyes as he stood up excitedly. “May I assist you, S/O?! It would be lovely to help you find the talent you long for! Although you probably have more than one!”

• He was pretty oblivious at times. He didn't even realize that he was complimenting you, so if you brought it up, he'd probably burst into flames by his blush. But he was so excited to help you!! It made you feel so warm inside.

• The next day, he came over with a ton of bags in hand. It had many things that could possibly be your talent. He sat them down and started getting everything out, beginning your mission with everything.

• The first thing he pulled out was a canvas, brushes, and paint. He had a giant smile on his face, presenting the items. “You could be the Ultimate Painter!”

• You reluctantly agreed to paint with him, having a feeling as though this wouldn't go to well. It ended up with paint all over yourself, and Taka somehow spotless. His white uniform was still as bright as ever, not at all affected by the mess. However, it wasn't a success.

• You kept trying things. And trying things. And eventually, you got frustrated and in your head. You sat down on the floor, feeling overwhelmed. “Taka ... I'm sorry, but this isn't working ... I don't have a talent, i-it's obvious! I'm just a reserve course student!” you yelled, tears pouring down your cheeks.

• He stood there for a moment, feeling a bit out of his element. He slowly bent down in front of you, taking your hands. “Hey, hey, uh ...” he trailed off. He used his soft voice for once. It was so warm and less commanding. It was sweet, really.

• “You have so much potential for greatness, S/O. The most potential out of anyone here. You can't be born with talent, you have to work for it. And you'll be great at whatever you work at! You're ... you're really special. And I'd never doubt your talent, whatever you find.”

• You stared into his beautiful, ruby eyes for a moment before wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, not wanting to touch you. He thought for a moment. “Uhm ... may I hug you?” When he got a violent nod, he gently wrapped his arms around you.

• You two stayed there for while, holding each other. He got brave enough to carefully press a kiss against your temple. He was so red, and it was absolutely adorable to you.

• When you found your talent, he was first to praise you. He was showering you with words of encouragement, a bright smile against his lips. He even helped you fill out a scholarship application for the main course!

• When you were accepted, he made sure to stay by your side and help you out as much as possible. He looked so happy, being able to be in classes with his lovely S/O. He couldn't help but feel so happy, seeing you happy with your talent. He truly loved you, and he loved seeing you shine.

[scabopolis]

Omg congrats on 600 followers! Honestly any fake dating with Jonah x Amy would be amazing, although I love number 44 and/or 48 on your Google Docs <333

This is my first Jonah x Amy fic and I offer two caveats: 1) I’m still not sure if there is a particular vibe people who read for this pairing preferring, so...here we are, and 2) I have only made it through 4x12 of Superstore but am pretty familiar w/ what happens the rest of the series. 

Prompt: “You know we’re not actually dating, so why did you propose to me in front of my family?” / “I’m sorry, I panicked.” --- Title: the scene of the complication Fandom: Superstore Pairing: Jonah/Amy Other Characters: My crippling insecurity writing for a new fandom, sleep soft mornings, dumbs being dumb (but, like in a cute way) Additional Tags: friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, alternative universe where Amy’s HS pregnancy test was negative and she and Jonah met in college Word Count: ~2,100 ---

It started with a chance meeting ten years ago, and somehow it’s brought Amy Sosa here: awake in her childhood room with Jonah Simms beside her, sleeping off upwards of half a dozen tequila shots. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew that day they met in the lecture hall that Jonah was a person who would make her life exceedingly more complicated. 

And ten years later, here they are, practically leaving complicated behind in the rear view mirror. 

(“What are two hopes and one fear you have for your first lecture on your first day of college?” the guy sitting to her right asks. 

Amy doesn’t answer at first but this stranger just waits for her, all blinking, bright eyes and freshman eagerness. It’s barely morning. Is this her life now? 

“Hope one,” she says, holding up a finger, “that I’d sit next to someone quiet. Hope two,” she holds up another, “that no one would talk to me before I managed to find coffee.” She holds up a third finger. “And this moment right here is what I feared.” 

For some reason, her shortness delights him. His smile is open and affectionate, and he nods in appreciation. 

“Noted.” 

And Amy fully intends to never speak to this wide-eyed panda boy ever again, but then their General Psychology professor informs the class that the person they’re sitting next to will be their assignment partner for the semester. 

The next lecture her partner – his name is Jonah, she learns – brings her a cup of coffee and doesn’t speak a word until she takes a long sip. 

Complicated.)

Jonah snuffles in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering slightly. His hair is doing that thing it does when he’s hot or drunk or has run a hand through it too many times, where a single lock of hair hangs in the middle of his forehead. Amy resists the very real urge to brush it away. Because, yeah, she has those kinds of thoughts a lot and they also make things complicated. They’re friends. Maybe even best-friends, but definitely not ‘tenderly brush a lock of your hair away’ friends. 

Do those kinds of friends even exist? 

Jonah stirs again, and now that it’s clear he’s actually waking up, Amy reaches for her phone and opens Candy Crush. The last thing she needs is to get caught staring at him like some weird stalker.

“Oh, god,” he groans, his voice scratchy. He stretches out with another groan, his foot bumping against Amy’s as he does. Rather than move away, he kind of just rests it there on top of hers. And this is something she is all too familiar with. Drunk and/or hungover Jonah is yet another complication. More accurately, his propensity to cuddle indiscriminately is a very real complication. 

“I need—” Amy reaches for the glass of water on her night stand and hands it to Jonah, stopping him mid-thought. “Do you have—?” She hands him two ibuprofen. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” She looks back at her phone. 

Jonah swallows the two pills and drinks the entire glass of water, and then lays back down, curling slightly into Amy’s side.  

“I made so many mistakes last night,” he says.

“I’m aware. As are your 80 Instagram followers.” 

“I liveblogged it?” 

“And tagged everything with the hashtag ‘best noche ever.’” He groans again and turns his face into Amy’s side. She sets her phone back on the nightstand. “What got into you?” 

“Your dad is intimidating.” 

“My dad?” 

“Yes. Your dad. And then he and your brother kept pouring me shots—” 

“I knew this had Eric’s fingerprints all over it.” 

“Well, it was kind of my fault, too.” 

She frowns. “What do you mean?” Jonah doesn’t answer and Amy kicks him under the covers. He looks up at her. His eyes are red-rimmed but also so sleepy and soft. Complicated. “Jonah.” 

“They kept asking me questions. About you and me. And I was so worried I’d say something wrong, I kept taking shots to avoid answering.”

“You could have found me.” 

“I know, but—” he trails off. 

“But what?”

“I want them to like me.” 

“Oh, Jonah.” She gives in and brushes the lock of hair off his forehead, and he looks up at her. “They’ve known you for 10 years. They’re never going to like you.” 

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” 

“I do have one more question.” 

“Okay.”

“You know we’re not actually dating. Right?” 

He closes his eyes and nods. “No. Yeah. I know.” 

“So why did you propose to me in front of my family?” 

“I panicked.”

“Panicked?” 

“Your dad asked what my intentions were, and there were just so many shots. 

“And that’s why you shouted ‘I intend to marry her!’?” 

Jonah flips the comforter over his head. “I just got wrapped up in it all.” His words are muffled from under the comforter.

She’s glad for the moment of respite, with Jonah unable to see her. If Amy didn’t want things to careen so off track, she probably shouldn’t have agreed to let him come to her dad’s retirement party as her fake boyfriend. 

(“I don’t see what the problem is,” Jonah says, spooning more cashew chicken onto his plate. “You don’t still have feelings for Adam, do you?” 

“No. No. God no,” she says. “Absolutely not.” 

“Alright. I’m clear on the no.” 

“It’s just the last time I saw him— Well, you know.” 

“I recall, yes.” 

And he does. Jonah knows all about Amy’s high school boyfriend. The one she liked but never quite loved. The one she broke up with when the pregnancy test came back negative. The one she slept with again the summer after their senior year of college. 

(An event that occurred in no small part because Jonah was dating Mindy and the two of them were talking about moving in together. Maybe moving to the west coast together and Amy realized there was a very real possibility she was going to be left behind. 

Jonah doesn’t know that part of the story.) 

Adam is also the guy who thought having sex in her childhood bedroom meant Amy wanted to get back together. He’s the guy bringing his very beautiful fiancée to her dad’s retirement party. Because he’s also somehow the guy who still helps her dad with home improvement projects. And Amy is just Amy – the one who doesn’t visit St. Louis enough, and is using her very expensive liberal arts degree to work as a survey researcher for Cloud9, meaning she’s basically paid to manipulate shoppers. 

And, not that it should matter, but she’s also very single. Has been for a while now. 

She mostly blames the man stealing chow mein from her plate for that. She blocks Jonah’s chopsticks with hers, and a piece of cabbage goes flying. 

“Stop that,” she says. 

“You’re not eating it.” 

“I’m too annoyed to eat.” 

“If you only ate when you weren’t annoyed you’d starve.” 

“I hate you.” 

She pushes the chow mein around her plate. God, when she thinks about it, this really is Jonah’s fault. If she could just find a way to get over this stupid, dumb, little crush that has creeped up – without her permission, mind you! – then maybe she could actually—

“I could do it,” Jonah says, interrupting her thought spiral. 

“Do what?” 

“Go with you to your dad’s retirement party. Be your fake boyfriend.” 

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. Besides, I am very close to getting your dad to like me.” 

“He’ll never like you.” 

“It’s not that I didn’t like the painting—” 

“—How would this even work?” she asks, cutting him off. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think we act like we normally do, but maybe you can hold my hand and be nice to me.” 

“Eww.” 

Jonah smiles around a large bite of cashew chicken. She really needs to stop hanging out with him so much – he’s become immune to her insults. It’s rude. 

And him as her fake boyfriend is a terrible idea. Truly awful. If Amy is looking to get over her crush and make things between her and Jonah less complicated, there are better ways to do it. 

Except. 

Except she kind of wants to. 

“Okay. Let’s do it,” she says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” she says decisively. “But if you try and kiss me, I’ll cut your lips off.” 

“That seems like a proportionate response.”)

“So, to be clear, I told you kissing wasn’t allowed, and you thought that left proposals on the table?” 

He groans again from under the comforter. It’s a little sad and a lot pathetic. Poor guy. 

She pats the comforter in the area of what she hopes is his shoulder. As annoyed as she is at having to untangle these threads, it’s not his fault. Not really. She knows her family is relentless. Amy slides down and flips the comforter over her head as well. 

Jonah rolls over onto his side to face her. Amy does the same. 

“It was better than Adam’s proposal.”

“Adam proposed?” 

Amy nods. “Ish. If I remember correctly he said, ‘I’ll marry you if I have to.’”

“Yikes.” 

“Right?” It’s cozy under this blanket. Intimate even. “You did say some nice things. Even if they came out kind of slurred.” 

“Amy—”

“Sexy, huh?” 

“I really didn’t mean to shout that to all of your dad’s—”

“Because it’s not true?” 

“No!” Jonah winces and Amy isn’t sure if it’s ‘I have a hangover’ induced or ‘I am revealing too much’ induced. “It’s true. Of course it’s true. You are very, you know.” 

“Sexy on a completely objective level? Or, are you saying that you, yourself, Jonah Simms, think I’m sexy?” Jonah goes completely still. Amy isn’t even sure he’s breathing. It’s entirely uncharacteristic and a little unnerving. She pokes his cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Big time, yeah.” 

That does enough to break the tension under their blanket enclave, both of them laughing, at first awkwardly and then more genuine. Once they stop to catch their breath, Amy notices they’ve shifted closer together. 

This would be the perfect moment to flee from the scene of the complication. But the complications don’t seem so terrible at this specific moment. She blames that lock of hair of his.

“How long have you held this opinion?” Jonah frowns at Amy’s question. “Regarding my sexiness?” she clarifies. 

“Amy—”

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I just want to—”

“Really? You really want to have this conversation?” 

Jonah stresses the ‘you’ and Amy knows why he does. There isn’t a topic or feeling that is off-limits to Jonah – he’d happily discuss every feeling he’s ever had. It’s her. It’s always her. 

Their faces are so close they’re practically sharing the same pillow. It takes no effort at all for Amy to close the distance between them, lightly brushing her lips against his. As quick as it began it’s over, and even in the dim light under the comforter, Amy can see Jonah’s eyes blown wide. She’s sure she looks just as shocked and she’s the one who did it.  

“You said if I kissed you you’d cut off my lips.”

“Which is why I kissed you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Makes sense.” Jonah taps out a slow but erratic rhythm against the side of his leg. She just knows he’s trying to stop himself from verbalizing every single thought in his head. “To be clear, was that a friendship kiss, or—” 

So Amy kisses him again. This time Jonah recovers quickly from his shock, winding a hand into her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head. It’s just unbelievably good. 

“Okay,” Jonah says, his voice unsteady as he pulls away. “That answers that.” He traces her jaw with his thumb. “Any chance we could do it some more?” 

Amy rolls onto her back, putting some distance between them. “I don’t think so.” 

“Wait. What?” 

“Your breath is awful.” 

Jonah breathes into his hand and sniffs it to confirm. “What if I brush my teeth?” 

Amy sighs, long and exasperated. “I suppose that would be—”

Jonah is out of the bed in seconds, scrambling for his overnight bag, and Amy presses her lips together to hide her smile. From the way Jonah smiles, soft and delighted as he backs out of the room, she isn’t fooling anyone. 

So far past the point of complicated, she thinks, her heart still racing. But then again, maybe complications that make her feel like this are okay.

[tsukishumai]

Date Night w/ Atsumu, Osamu, Suna

Warnings: Drinking, Smoking (weed)

A/N: repost bc I checked and my posts weren’t showing up in the tags 😭 sorry if you’ve seen it already.

Pls enjoy (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

Atsumu

“Where are we going?” “It’s a surprise!”

Whenever Atsumu said those words, it meant one of two things: he’s put a lot of thought and effort into this and you’re about to have the best night of your life... or he’s done nothing, is winging it and kinda hoping for the best.

It’s been about a 50/50 success rate so you really don’t know why you’re gonna get.

“Tsumu, I swear to god, if this is like that one time by the beach...” “shut yer trap! We’re almost there!”

He opened the door to a small, studio like space, waving his hand and motioning for you to enter. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but let out a tiny gasp once you were able to take in your surroundings.

Canvases perched up on easel stands lined the room, chairs set up in front with a little table next to the easel topped with paint supplies and wine glasses.

You turned to him excitedly. “Paint and wine night!?”

“Paint and wine!” Atsumu exclaimed, “Ya been complaining bout how ya miss doing art, so I thought we could do it together. I would’ve liked a private class, but they only did group sessions.”

“This is perfect,” you said, taking a seat and inspecting the supplies. Atsumu couldn’t help but puff out his chest in pride.

The room soon filled out with the other guests, the instructor coming in a few minutes after everyone’s arrived.

Atsumu chose a red wine, you chose a white. You were only supposed to be served by the glass but he insisted on a bottle each, and you weren’t the only one that has a hard time saying no to him.

“Babe,” he slurred halfway through the night, “is mine supposed to look like that?”

“Tsumu, we’re supposed to be painting an ocean... where did you get that red paint?” “I dunno, I just found it.”

The instructor tried to ignore the both of you giggling like idiots, but they had to step in when Atsumu started flinging paint at you with his brush.

“Miya-san, please stop chugging the wine.”

You chuckled at Atsumu grumbling next to you, trying to steady your hand while adding in your final details.

“Aaaand done!” Atsumu beat you to it. You take a second to glance at his canvas.

“Atsumu... what the hell is th-“ “it’s called abstract art, okay?! Ya normies wouldn’t get it!”

Where the hell did he learn ‘normies’ from?

You laughed at his canvas the entire way home, much to Atsumu’s chagrin.

Still, you hung it up on the wall by your bed, just so it could be the last thing you saw every night before you drifted off to sleep.

Osamu

“Where’d you hear about this?” Osamu asked reluctantly.

“I saw a post about in on Insta! My friends went last weekend, and they said it was amazing!” “I didn’t know you had friends?” “You know what, Samu...”

When you arrived at your destination, you couldn’t help but smile at the wide-eyed expression on your boyfriends face.

Hyogo was hosting a food festival, encouraging up and coming chefs to rent out booths and test out any and all unique recipes they could think off.

Booths on either side lined the road, crowds of people holding plates of food that Osamu didn’t even know existed.

“Which one should we try first?” You asked, but Osamu was already walking up to stand claiming to sell “Sushi Burritos”

“We have to do this strategically,” Osamu said, looking at the paper pamphlet he received from one of the information stands, “We should only get one thing from each stand so we have room for dessert. It looks like all the dessert stands are on this end, so we’ll just do one big circle.”

You nodded and gave him a salute, happy to be dragged around by the hand.

You’d never seen Osamu so animated, eyes darting from one booth to the next, ears practically steaming.

Your favorite was watching him take his first bite out of whatever creation you bought from the stall in front of you, his eyes would flutter close and the satisfied hum slipping from his mouth always brings your lips up to a smile.

“Let’s try this one next,” he said, leading you up to an onigiri stand.

The worker handed you a plate with three perfectly formed onigiri, your mouth watering at the scent wafting into your nostrils.

You took a bite... and another one... but your brows knitted together together after each chew

“Something wrong?” Osamu asked

You shook your head. “No, nothings wrong... it’s just, ever since I’ve had your onigiri, nothing else can really compare”

Osamu desperately hide the blush that was quickly spreading across his cheeks. “Oh really?”

“Yeah! You know, Samu, if you opened up an Onigiri shop, I bet it would be the best one in the country.”

Osamu laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he lead you to the next destination.

“You think so?” “I KNOW so.”

Osamu shook his head. “I couldn’t pull something off like that.”

You stopped in your tracks, tugging on his hand and forcing him to face you. “Osamu, I think you could do absolutely anything you set your mind to,” your tone was serious for a second before shooting him a wide grin, “and you would do it better than anyone!”

Osamu smiled, watching you run off to the next booth, thinking that if he had you by his side, then he could probably rule the world.

Suna

Suna has never ever striked you as the “hiking” type

So when he said he wanted to take you to a spot he used to frequent in high school, you were surprised, but oddly excited.

“How’d you find this place?” “You know... exploring.”

He took you to a park that was a 20 minute train ride from his apartment. The park was situated at the base of a mountain, and further back behind a canopy of trees was the beginning of a trail that you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know it was there.

Suna walked ahead, extending his hand behind him for you to take. He laced your fingers together, trudging along the path side by side.

The trail wasn’t really much of a hike as it is a walk. The terrain was relatively flat most of the way, green leaves bordering each side of the path.

Suddenly, Suna stopped, pulling you over to the side and moving aside branches and leaves.

“Rin? What are you doing?” You asked curiously, but he just said, “Trust me.”

Past the foliage was another trail, one that looks like it wasn’t meant to exist in the first place, formed only by repeating footprints that climbed up the slope.

Suna held out his hand for you to take, looking like he had every intention of climbing up the side of this muddy hill.

“Uhhhh, Rin, I don’t think we’re supposed to -“ “I said trust me, didn’t I?”

You grumbled at him, throwing snide remarks and thanking god that you wore an old pair of sneakers today.

It took about 10 minutes of climbing until you reached the top, walking past a couple of trees to reach a clearing.

In the middle of the clearing was a tree stump, different logs of various sizes encircling the stump. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what it was you were looking at.

“You brought me to your old high school smoking spot?” “Hell yeah, I did.”

Suna walked ahead of you, sitting down on one of the logs and digging through the backpack he was wearing.

He stood up, and laid down a small blanket on the log, sitting back down and patting the spot next to him. You chuckled, taking a seat next to him.

“If you wanted to get high, we could have just done it at the apartment?” You said, but Suna just shrugged. “It’s nice to have a change of scenery once in a while.”

He dug out his bag, zipping it open and setting his grinder, blunt wraps, and weed on the tree stump.

You’ve always liked watching Suna prepare your blunts. He’s let you try doing it once or twice, but you could never get it to roll as tightly as he does.

You hear the telltale click of a lighter, Suna dragging the flame across the seam of the wrap before bringing one end to his lips, and lighting the other.

Once it was lit, he took a few deep drags before passing it over to you. You brought the blunt to your lips, taking in a deep breath, holding it until you felt your lungs burn, and letting out a big puff of smoke.

“Whoa there,” Suna commented, and you laughed in between fits of coughing.

“It’s been a tough week.” “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

The two of you sat there, you weren’t sure how long, exchanging stories about your week, making each other laugh with corny jokes you read online, showing each other tik toks and just enjoying each other’s company.

The blunt was finished long ago, and you notice Suna’s shoulders were much less tense, his facial features finally easing into a calm expression.

“Practice has been tough, huh?” You asked, and he let out a big sigh.

“Yeah... but it’s alright. S’long as we still get to do stuff like this, I’ll survive.”

You tilted your head as he stood up. “Where you going?”

“Let’s go, it’s getting cold and I got the munchies.”

“I am way too high to climb down that slope right now.”

And that’s how you got Suna Rintarou to give you a piggy back ride down the side of a muddy hill.

A/N: also sorry for the shittt format I’m on mobile :(