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charmandabear · 2 days

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Office Hours - Chapter Twelve

Summary:

You finally work up the nerve to ask Astarion about his past.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags/Warnings: discussions of traumatic pasts, not just Astarion's, but Tav's as well, specifically partner abuse; depiction of a panic attack; mentions of (canon-typical) violence; spoilers for Heathers the Musical; somewhat feral kissing that honestly at this point shouldn't surprise anyone with these two

This chapter should be fine to read if you're not familiar with the plot of Heathers (movie or musical) but in case you want to read a quick summary, you can get that here.

I have officially retconned chapter 9 that Karlach got the home brewed beer from Lakrissa, not Aradin.

I can't believe I got the chapter out on both AO3 and Tumblr on the same day! It's been a few chapters since this has happened lol. As per usual, the screenshots are from @zipzoomzaria, although with me recently downloading the free cam mod I cannot take ENOUGH screenshots. I'll be uploading those soon.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Astarion’s chest feels cool beneath your cheek as you slowly blink yourself awake. You listen to the sound of his breathing for a few moments – not a necessary impulse for him, just one he never unlearned. You eventually turn your head upward to see him looking at his phone. He notices you stir and a smile spreads across his face as he puts his phone down.

“Good morning,” he lilts, rubbing your shoulder gently with his thumb. You strain your neck up towards him, wordlessly asking for a kiss. He leans down and obliges, his chilled lips working against your warm ones, still sticky from sleep. You adjust your arms so you can wrap your hands around his neck and run your fingers through his curls. He presses his palm against your lower back, pulling your chest flush with his. His movements are unrushed, languid and sensual, and you’re just enjoying the soft feeling of his skin against yours.

“Morning,” you hum sleepily, slow blinking like a contented cat. He props himself up on an elbow and as his visage comes into focus, you realize just how put-together he looks. He’s already wearing his glasses and his hair looks as carefully coiffed as usual. You frown. “How long have you been awake?”

“How do you want me to answer that?” He quirks an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly like I sleep.”

Right. Elves trance instead of sleep. You probably could have paid more attention in your humanoid biology class in high school.

“So what do you do all night while I sleep?”

“Read, mostly,” Astarion says with a shrug. “Sometimes I grade. Just killing time, really.”

“Don’t you ever get, like, bored?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Sometimes. More often than not I simply enjoy being near you.” His candor makes you flush, so you deflect with a teasing laugh.

“Ew, you like being near me? Gross.” You grin as you pull him back down to you, your hands curling around his neck and you kiss him, soft and slow. He slides his hand under your knee and pulls your calf around his waist. Your usual insatiable lust for him is tempered, and you just want to bask in his coolness like you have all the time in the world. He pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear, and looks at you over his glasses with those blood red eyes of his.

“What would you like, love?” he murmurs, and you yawn reflexively.

“Coffee, before anything else,” you reply, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. You roll out of bed and adjust your bra and shorts that got twisted overnight. You pad into the kitchen with Astarion close behind you, and he perches himself on a barstool while you pull out the instant coffee and set the kettle to boil.

“Darling, no, instant coffee?” he sneers as you scoop it into your mug.

“Don’t be elitist, it doesn’t make sense for me to make a full pot every morning when it’s just for me, and Keurigs create a hellish amount of plastic waste.” You turn up your nose at him, and he stands to take the mug out of your hands.

“This is not elitism, this is self-preservation.” He dumps the granules into the sink, earning a quick “Hey!” from you. “I’d rather like to be able to kiss you without the taste of rotten dirt in your mouth.” He picks up his phone from the counter and pulls up DoorDash.

“My breath doesn’t get that bad,” you mumble and cross your arms obstinately.

“Perhaps not to a mortal, but trust me when I say this will be better for both of us.” You glance over his shoulder and watch as he loads up the cart with expensive artisan coffee beans, a French press, and a stainless steel coffee grinder.

“Astarion, I can’t afford all that,” you press, trying to take his phone out of his hands.

“Then consider it a gift,” he lobs back at you, holding his phone above your head so you can’t reach it. You plant yourself on a barstool and sulk for a moment before actually processing what he said.

“Wait, so you can tell when I’ve eaten or drunk something made with low quality ingredients?” Your brain spins the rolodex of all of the times you kissed him after having some trashy food.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says with a regretful frown.

“And the night at the bowling alley when I was drinking that terrible beer?”

“Not particularly pleasant. But worth putting up with, because, well,” he clears his throat and flashes a coy smile, “it had been a while.” Your ears flush and he saunters over to you, planting a kiss just below your earlobe. Your hands rest on the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“But… coffee,” you pout, and he takes your hands and pulls you over to the couch.

“If you’re patient, my dear, it’ll be worth the wait,” he coos, sitting you down and pulling your legs onto his lap. “And speaking of waiting.” He brings your hand to his lips, running his nose along the blue-green veins in your inner wrist. “Do you mind terribly if I have my breakfast while you’re waiting for yours?”

Your breath catches in your throat as he gently grazes the point of one fang across the sensitive skin. “You’ve never fed from my wrist before,” you breathe, almost as though speaking too loudly might spook him.

“Does that make you reconsider?” His eyes flick up towards yours but his lips remain on your wrist, ghosting over the flesh. You shake your head, transfixed by his subtle movements. His lips stretch into a smile before he sinks his fangs into you, the sharp pain sending a twin bolt to your heart and your core before melting away into that sublime numbness. You’ve never watched him feed before, and you’re almost taken aback by how beautiful he looks. His lips pressed to your wrist, his hair falling into his eyes, his back expanding and contracting as his breath quickens. He must sense your gaze because he looks up, his red eyes sparkling. Your heart rate spikes, and it only takes a few seconds for him to smile against your wrist, reacting to whatever your sudden arousal changed in your bloodstream.

It feels too soon when he pulls away, despite the oncoming lightheadedness suggesting otherwise. Unlike his usual animalistic expression he wears after drinking your blood, he has a sated, almost goofy look to him. You giggle and swipe the red droplet from his bottom lip and suck it off your thumb.

His sleepy gaze moves to you, but when he sees you licking your blood off your finger, his features sharpen into the more predatory look you’re used to. He shifts your legs so that he’s towering over you, and you have no choice but to sink down into the couch on your back. He presses a knee between your legs and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He descends onto your lips and you taste the blood that still coats his. You arch your back into him and he slides his hand beneath you, pulling your center closer. He slides his knee upwards, pushing your thigh with it, and rolls his hips into your now spread cunt. You groan into his lips, hands scrambling for purchase on his bare shoulders. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and you’re about to wriggle out of them when there’s a knock at the door.

You both freeze, then suddenly you remember. “My coffee!” you squeal excitedly, pushing Astarion off of you. “They probably just left it right outside the door, babe, can you grab it while I reheat the water?” You clamber over the back of the couch and over to the kitchen while Astarion shakes his head at your antics.

He pulls the front door to your apartment wide open and a startled half-gnome stands there holding a paper bag full of coffee supplies. Their eyes travel down Astarion’s half-naked form, lingering momentarily on the growing bulge in his boxer briefs. They flush a violent purple before muttering a quick, “Sorry,” and shoving the paper bag in his hands. They practically sprint down the hall as Astarion calls, “Have a lovely day!” with an impish wave.

“Astarion, you scared the poor thing half to death,” you scold as he closes the door, and he responds with a nonchalant shrug.

“Probably more exciting than anything else they’ll see today, I did them a favor.” He brings the coffee supplies over to the counter and hooks his thumbs into your shorts. “Now, where were we?” He presses into your back and kisses the crook of your neck.

“Can I at least have my coffee before an orgasm?” you groan breathlessly, and Astarion chuckles.

“Who said that’s my intention?” he hums into your ear, causing you to shiver.

“Historical evidence,” you throw over your shoulder at him as you shimmy out of his grip. You pull out the various implements and stare at them blankly. You shift your gaze to Astarion and frown. “You bought all this stuff, show me how to use it.”

“Fine. Sit.” Astarion pushes you onto the barstool and begins to open the boxes with the French press and the coffee grinder. You watch him while he stands over the counter, and your eyes trace over the elaborate scarring across his back. You suddenly realize you’ve never been able to get this good of a look at it, he’s usually so carefully guarded. You’ve been afraid to bring it up again since that first night he told you about it.

You chew on your lip while he assembles your coffee, anxiously weighing the pros and cons of asking him about it. You want to ask him more about his past, but you can’t even fathom what it’s like for him to have lived more than three times your entire lifespan and still have an eternity to go.

He hands you the mug and looks at you expectantly. You snap out of your mini reverie and look down at the coffee in your hand, a few shades darker than you’re used to.

“Thank you, although I usually put in a little more milk than that,” you admit sheepishly.

“With that offal you had been drinking, I don’t doubt it. Try it first, I’ll put in more if you want.” He puts his hands on his hips as you eye him suspiciously. You take a tentative sip, bracing yourself for the acrid bitter taste, but are met instead with something smooth and rich. Still bitter, but tempered by a creaminess that has nothing to do with the milk. You look up at him with a pleasantly surprised look on your face.

“Okay, I hate to say it, but you were right,” you groan reluctantly. He smirks and tilts your chin up to give you a tender kiss.

“Still as sweet as ever,” he purrs, and a light flush rises to your cheeks. Then your mind wanders back to your earlier train of thought, and your brow furrows.

“Um, Astarion, can I ask you something?” Your voice is a little dryer than you’d like it to be. His eyebrows shoot up over his glasses, and he nods. You take his hand and lead him over to the couch, curling your knees into your chest and holding your coffee mug in both hands. “Can you tell me more about… about your scars?”

Astarion exhales a breath of relief. Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn’t that.

“Er, yes, well… How much do you know about vampires?” He looks at you carefully and you blink in surprise. Very little, and you’re surprised it didn’t occur to you to look up more.

“Besides the basics, I guess, no sunlight, mirrors, garlic,” you rattle them off in your head. He giggles when you say ‘garlic.’

“The garlic is a myth, but you’ve got the basics, yes. Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m able to bite you without consequences? Well, besides the dizziness, I suppose,” he adds with a sly grin.

“I guess not, no,” you frown, wishing that he would just tell you instead of this weird quiz.

“I am not technically a full vampire – I’m a vampire spawn. I was turned while on the brink of death by a vampire named Cazador Szarr,” he spits the name like it’ll poison him if it lingers too long in his mouth. “I was his slave for two hundred years, compelled to do anything and everything he commanded. Most of the time it meant luring victims back for him to feed.” Astarion’s eyes glaze over, and you slide out your foot to gently touch his knee. You’re at a loss on how you can possibly comfort him for something this traumatic, so you let him continue in his own time.

“And once, it meant lying still while he carved this into my back over the course of a night. He claimed it was a poem. He made a lot of revisions as he went.” He scowls at the memory. “I only found out that it was something written in Infernal after his death.”

“How did you escape?” Your voice is small, hardly able to comprehend what he’s telling you.

“Oh, that’s actually quite a fun story.” He lights up suddenly. “His six other spawn and I rose up to overtake him. It took years of planning, and we were under the constant threat of being caught. But we were successful, and we tore him to pieces.” His eyes sparkle with a bloodlust that you haven’t seen before and your heart pounds in your ears. You had said that you want to see the more predatory side of him, and you’re getting your wish. His face softens and his gaze refocuses on you. “That was about 100 years ago,” he concludes with a wry smile. He puts his hand on your foot next to his leg and pulls it into his lap, and you curl your toes against his hand.

“Well,” you exhale, still processing his entire story. “That certainly puts the trauma from my shitty ex into perspective,” you say with a pained smile, trying to make light of it.

“Suffering is relative, the enormity of mine doesn’t reduce yours.” He tilts his head as he looks at you, a silent question. He’s leaving it open for you to tell your story, but refrains from pressing.

“Well, it almost seems mundane in comparison,” you start with a heavy sigh, and he squeezes your foot lightly to encourage you to continue. “I’ve only had one even remotely serious relationship, and he was a piece of shit. Well,” you reconsider as you think of what those early days with him were like. “At first he just seemed like one of those ‘lovable asshole’ kind of guys, plus he had a Yorkshire accent, so clearly I have a type,” you say with a feeble laugh.

“No, a northerner? Darling, want better for yourself,” Astarion grimaces, and you glare at him.

“Like I said, I have a type,” you sneer. “But after a while, it became clear that he didn’t particularly respect me, I think partially because I was studying theatre and he was in STEM. He constantly talked down to me, he hated it any time I disagreed with him, and he would go out of his way to piss me off because he thought it was funny.”

You see Astarion wince, slowly putting the pieces together. You don’t particularly feel like rehashing the night you saw Taming again, so you continue.

“His friends weren’t terrible, though, and he was never as awful to them as he was to me, so I thought it was my fault. Like, if I were just somehow less annoying, or smarter, or more interesting, then he would suddenly stop being an asshole. There were some nights,” you swallow thickly, surprised by how difficult recounting this is. You thought you had worked through all this with Jaheira. “Some nights he was so persistent that I would just let him have sex with me so he would shut up and go to sleep.”

You feel Astarion tense beneath your leg, and he’s clenching his jaw so hard you’re worried his teeth might shatter. You quickly continue to try to put him at ease. “I sometimes wish I could go back to my 20-year-old self and just give her a huge hug and tell her that she’s worth more than that dick. But I’ve grown a lot since that relationship, and probably because of that relationship if I’m being perfectly honest. Wish I could have learned those lessons without an abusive asshole, but we play the hand we’re dealt.” You shrug and stare blankly at the dregs at the bottom of your mug.

When Astarion speaks, his voice is icy and measured. “And what’s this man’s name?”

“Aradin. Aradin Beno,” you answer, keeping your eyes cast down. Your gaze shoots up to Astarion with a sudden realization. “You’re not allowed to kill him, Astarion,” you warn. You would have been joking had you said that thirty minutes ago. But after learning exactly what he’s capable of, a genuine spike of fear runs through your heart.

“But why?” he says in a whiny voice. “I can make it look like an accident, I promise!”

“No, no murder!” You kick your other foot out at him, and he grabs your ankle in a single swift motion. His sudden movement makes your mouth twitch as you suppress the smile spreading across your lips.

“Does the prospect of me being a killer make you feel something, little love?” he drops his voice and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t want to admit just how much it does, so you choose to remain silent instead. You watch him with unblinking eyes as he prowls over you, taking your empty mug out of your hand and setting it on the coffee table. The way his eyes sparkle and the flash of his fangs tells you that he knows exactly what it makes you feel.

“Are you? I mean– have you? Besides the one, I guess,” you stammer as your heart threatens to pound out of your chest. He looms over you, pressing his thigh down between your legs.

“Would it be better or worse if I said yes?” His lips hover over yours, and the noise that slips out of your throat is a little embarrassing. He closes the distance and kisses you roughly, slipping his hand beneath your lower back and digging his nails into your skin.

You’re certain you would feel differently if you saw it in person… but the mental image of Astarion covered in blood after just having torn Aradin limb from limb sets you off. Something surges through you and you suddenly flip Astarion onto his back. You straddle his hips and crush your lips together, struggling to control your hungry kisses. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling hard. He claws into your thighs, pulling you down onto his rapidly growing erection, and you groan into his lips. You move your mouth down to his neck, biting down, and your whole body seizes when you hear his breathy moan in response.

He pushes up off the couch, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist while you cling to his shoulders, your assault on his neck never relenting. He carries you back to your room and throws you down on the bed hard enough to bounce slightly. He looks borderline monstrous as he crawls back onto you, pinning all four of your limbs down so escape is impossible.

Your breathing grows heavy as he ravages you, your hands messily grabbing at any part they can reach. He tears at your bra with his teeth and you moan loudly, panting uncontrollably. He bites your skin, not to feed but to mark you, to cover you in punctures and bruises that brand you as his. You arch your back into him, asking for more. You want him to tear you apart, to leave you broken and consumed. You whine, your breath wracking through your lungs.

But before long, your vision starts to darken around the edges. You feel your heart pounding in the well of your throat – not the way Astarion makes your heart pound, but the way your anxiety does. You get lightheaded and your muscles grow weak as Astarion, unaware of your change in faculties, bites down on the soft tissue of your breast.

“Wait,” you call weakly, and grabs your hair and pulls your head back, pressing his lips against your ear.

“What was that, love?” he growls as his pointer finger tugs on your shorts.

“Star, stop,” you croak, and his entire demeanor shifts. He pulls back to look at you, his red eyes round and shining with concern. You’re a little surprised when the tears fall from your eyes unbidden, streaking down your temples and into your hair. You start hyperventilating, shaking as you lose control over your breath. You shove your fist into your mouth, hoping fruitlessly that the pain might ground you.

After a moment of staring at you helplessly, Astarion pulls you into his arms and you curl up face down into his lap, choking out sobs as you grip his thighs. Your throat tightens and you feel like you’re being strangled by your own larynx. You gag as your stomach heaves, trying to expel itself from out of your mouth.

Astarion rubs your back, rocking you gently. A soft stream of “shhhh” and “it’s okay, love, you’re okay,” pours out of his mouth. He breathes in and out slowly, and you eventually find your breath enough to steady it, lengthening your inhales and exhales to match his. You lay there trembling for what feels like hours until you manage to push yourself back up into a sitting position.

“Gods, I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was about,” you chuckle feebly, wiping tears and snot from your face. Astarion starts to reach out to touch your cheek, but he pulls his hand back hesitantly.

“Darling, you don’t need to apologize. Are you… are you alright?” he asks, voice unsteady. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes until your vision goes starry, then take his hands in yours.

“I am, yes. I’m sorry. I know you said I don’t need to apologize,” you add quickly as he opens his mouth to protest. “Like, I’m sorry that it happened as much as I’m sorry that I probably freaked you out.”

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, and you furiously shake your head.

“No, gods no. The opposite, actually.” You attempt to flash him a smile, but it just comes off as tired. “I think it just became too much too quickly. And I guess I’m not as… worked through… the Aradin stuff as I thought I was.” You frown at your clunky phrasing and he more confidently reaches out to stroke your cheek. You press your face into his palm, holding his hand to your lips as you take a few more long, grounding breaths. You finally drop his hand and look down at your torn bra, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, er… sorry about that,” Astarion smiles sheepishly.

“Honestly I’m more impressed than anything else,” you laugh as you start to try to scooch off the bed to get another shirt. Astarion puts his hand on your knee to stop you and walks toward your dresser. It takes him a few tries to figure out the right drawer, but eventually he pulls out a tank top and hands it to you. You inexplicably turn away from him as you put it on, suddenly self-conscious in front of this man who has seen you naked maybe a dozen times.

You pull yourself to the edge of the bed, your dangling feet not quite touching the floor, and reach out to him with grabby hands. He steps closer to you and lets you embrace his waist wordlessly. You press your nose into his ribs and take a steady inhale. His scent is so much more concentrated from this angle, all sweat and pheromones. He runs his hand through your hair and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again. He feels the wetness on his skin and pulls away suddenly.

“What? What did I do?” He sounds genuinely panicked and it gets an honest laugh out of you.

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just…” in love with you. Fucking hells, you haven’t even let yourself think those words before. You push the thought down, so very far down – you’re not even remotely in a position to confront it right now. “Do you think you can hang out for a bit? You don’t have plans today, do you?” You take a shaky breath. “I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

“Yes, my sweet, of course.” He takes your chin and tilts your head up so you’re looking up at him. “But will you please eat something? You’ve had nothing but coffee and I’m sure the blood loss isn’t helping.”

You smile and nod, standing to give him a proper kiss. The sudden movement does, in fact, make you wobble a bit. He grips your arms and glowers at you as your eyes scan down his bare chest and legs.

“Do you want, like, clothes? Maybe I can ask Shadowheart to run to your apartment and get you a fresh set?” You don’t mind staring at him half naked, but you figure you might as well give him the option.

“Well, as a matter of fact, do you think she would mind terribly feeding His Majesty? He gets awfully cranky if he doesn’t have his regular meals.”

“Huh, I wonder where he picked that up?” you ask with a coy smile and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Go eat.” He pushes you through your bedroom door. “And yes, please ask Shadowheart.” You laugh as you stumble through your living room to the kitchen. You pick up your phone from the kitchen island and pull up her number.

-Shade, are you busy? Can you do me a huuuuuuuuuuuuuge favor?

-what

It’s a bit on the early side for her, so frankly you appreciate the answer at all.

-Can you run to Astarion’s apartment to grab some clothes? And also feed his cat?

The typing bubble pops up and disappears a handful of times. Then, she finally replies:

-...what?

-Please Shade, it’s important. pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaassssseeeeeeeeeeee

-Moon Maiden, yes, calm down. I’ll come over to grab his keys.

“Okay, she said yes,” you tell Astarion as you put your phone back down on the counter and grab a sleeve of cinnamon raisin bagels from the drawer. He watches you carefully as you assemble your breakfast, almost like he doesn’t trust that you’ll actually do it if he looks away.

It doesn’t take long for Shadowheart to walk into your apartment without knocking. She’s wearing an oversized Next to Normal t-shirt and shorts. Her eyes first settle on Astarion sitting at the island in just his underwear and she stares blankly. When her gaze shifts to you, and she sees your puffy red eyes, she turns back to Astarion in a fury.

“What the fuck did you do?” she hisses, and you throw out your hands to stop her from committing murder. She stops just short of getting slathered in cream cheese from the knife still in your hand.

“Nothing, no, he’s good, I swear. Perfect, even.” You glance back at him abashedly. “No, it was just… Aradin stuff.” You mumble the last few words, and watch as Shadowheart’s anger deflates and then flares twice as high.

“Oh? Do I need to hunt this piss kid down?” she seethes, pumping herself up for a fight.

“No, she has forbidden murder, I already tried,” Astarion drawls, and Shadowheart’s expression dulls to a scowl.

“Fine,” she grumbles, then turns back to you. “Where am I going and what am I getting?”

“I’ll text you his address, just a change of clothes. Oh, and where do you keep His Majesty’s food?” You start typing out the message and Astarion takes your phone from your hand.

“It’ll be simpler if I give you instructions,” he says as he types out what looks like a novel. “Make sure you go to the fish market on Bleeker, not the one on Mayweather. And if they don’t have the nice fatty tuna, you can get the yellowtail, but only if it’s been caught within the hour. If they don’t have either, then ask for Thodric, he’ll know what to get.”

Shadowheart stares at him with a mixture of confusion and revulsion. “The little rat’s getting Fancy Feast and he’ll like it,” she finally says when Astarion hits send. You shoot her another pleading look and she groans. “Fine. Anything else for Your Majesty?”

“Oh, His Majesty is fine, but could you also grab my maroon cardigan and–”

“Gods, really?” she snaps. You’re chewing on your bagel when you finally process what she’s wearing.

“Wait, isn't that shirt–” you begin and she whirls around, her loose silver hair swinging down her back.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back,” she barks as she slams the door shut behind her.

***

You and Astarion spend the day together mostly in comfortable silence. Shadowheart does, in fact, give His Majesty the fresh fish he so desperately requires, but she only brings Astarion a pair of jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. He grumbles a resentful thank you, even if she didn’t bring him the maroon cardigan.

You’re lying on the couch leaned up against Astarion, who has borrowed your tablet to grade papers while you answer work emails on your phone. You get another reminder from the chair about season selection and you groan.

“I swear, we’re not going to have a season next year if we can’t fucking agree on something,” you bemoan, dropping your phone and rubbing your eyes wearily. “Plus, the rest of them feel like we need to settle on a musical first and then build the season around that,” you gripe, crossing your arms like a petulant child.

“Well that’s nonsense, the musical is always just a garish over-produced spectacle,” Astarion scoffs.

“But it’s the thing that makes the most money, so we are kind of dependent on it, as much as I hate to admit it,” you concede reluctantly. “Alfira really wants to do Heathers, and I read it, I just can’t get behind it as much as the rest of the faculty. I want to make sure the classical play is in conversation with it, and I can’t think of an interesting choice.” You slide your eyes to Astarion with a smirk. “Lucretius suggested Hamlet and I would literally rather fling myself out a window than direct Hamlet.”

“Well now, I don’t believe self-defenestration is necessary,” he laughs. “But you’ve only read it? Aren’t you the one always going on about how theatre is meant to be seen and not read?” He mocks you a little too well and you smack his knee.

“Fine, I guess I’ll see if there’s a recording available,” you mutter, picking your phone back up and googling it. “Oh, there actually is. A proshot is available… on the Roku app? I swear to the gods, there are too many apps these days.” You sit up and turn towards Astarion. “Will you watch it with me? Pleeeeaaaassee,” you add in a whine when he gives you a pained look. “If we don’t like it we can make fun of it together, I promise. That’s a better deal than you’ll get from 95% of theatre people.”

He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s bad enough you’re going to make me see it in the fall, you’re going to make me watch it again now?”

Your heart leaps at how casually he mentions still being together in the fall, but you quickly shake the feeling off. Instead, you divert his attention by offering, “What if Karlach and Shadowheart watched it with us? Karlach should probably watch it too, honestly, and then you and Shade can commiserate together as non-theatre people.”

He glares at you for another moment before putting his glasses back on and huffing a great sigh. “Fine,” he relents, adding with a glare, “you’re very lucky that you’re cute.” You giggle with delight and text Shadowheart.

-Do you wanna come over with Karlach tonight and watch Alfira’s pick for the fall musical? You can bond with Astarion over your love of expensive wine and the annoyances of dating someone in the theatre department.

-🍷👌🏻

You laugh at her response and go back to leaning against Astarion’s side, a small shiver running up your spine as he squeezes you a little closer to him.

***

Shadowheart and Karlach come by later in the evening, Shadowheart with two bottles of wine and Karlach loaded with snacks. They move around your kitchen, taking out bowls and glasses, while you take a sudden new interest in the ingredients for Doritos.

“And is it like, highly processed ingredients?” you frown as your eyes scan over the lines, some of the words familiar to you and some of them not. Astarion shrugs.

“I haven’t kept a detailed list of what’s fine and what isn’t, if that’s what you’re asking,” he drawls, looking over his glasses pompously, and you huff.

“Well then I’m going to eat them just to spite you,” you threaten, attempting to open the bag of Doritos menacingly. The gesture falls flat when you crunch down on a chip and it crumbles down your shirt. He takes the back of your neck in his hand and pulls your lips to his, his tongue swiping up cheese dust. You flush and he pulls away, contemplating the taste.

“Well it’s certainly not the most pleasant,” he finally decides, and you dejectedly put the chips down and pick up the wine Shadowheart has just poured. Astarion looks down his nose at the bottle.

“Decent choice,” he intimates with an approving look, and Shadowheart gives him a sideways glance.

“Ah yes, I heard you were a bit of a wine snob.” She tries to match his haughty energy, and doesn’t do a half bad job. “I saw what you brought,” she says, referring to the bottle still on the counter from last night. “It looks… fine.” The corners of his lips twitch upward and you can tell that he likes her, despite their constant bickering.

You and Astarion settle yourself on the couch while Karlach and Shadowheart sit on the floor. Karlach leans against the base of the couch, one knee propped up and an arm around Shadowheart’s shoulders. You smirk at your best friend, remembering your conversation of her insisting that she likes to sit on the floor, despite the fact that the two of you always sit on the couch together. Astarion, legs crossed and arm around you, pulls up the Roku app on your TV and finds the Heathers proshot.

September first, 1989. Dear diary:

A spotlight comes up on a young half-elf woman wearing a bulky denim jacket, big scarf, and a long hippie skirt. Veronica, it quickly becomes clear, is one of the more unpopular kids in school, along with her best friend Martha Dunstock.

“Wait, Veronica isn’t already one of the Heathers? And she’s already friends with Martha?” Shadowheart asks. The eponymous “Heathers” are the archetypical mean girls who rule over Westerberg High.

“No, is that how it is in the movie?” you reply. “I’m only vaguely aware of it, I just read the musical.”

“Interesting,” she muses, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah, she’s supposed to already be in the Heathers, and she doesn’t even speak to Martha until the last scene of the movie. I guess this way she gets a classic movie montage makeover.”

“That tells a very different story,” Astarion says, bouncing his foot slightly. “Following a protagonist who starts wealthy and popular rather than one who is an interloper into a position of power.”

“I wonder why they changed it,” Karlach says, and you nod in agreement.

“I can almost guarantee it was because of the success of Mean Girls and not simply a narrative choice they wanted to make,” you add, wrinkling your nose with distaste.

“Maybe,” Shadowheart takes a thoughtful sip of her wine. “Mean Girls was so heavily influenced by Heathers that it does seem like a nice homage.” She pauses for a moment, then giggles, “You know, I used to think that I had a crush on Christian Slater and I wanted to be Winona Rider, but it turns out it was the other way around.”

“Honestly, I think that tells me all I need to know about you,” Karlach teases.

Honey whatcha waiting for? Step inside my candy store. Time for you to prove you’re not a loser anymore.

The trio of Heathers pose centerstage, their synchronistic dance moves and bright color coordinated outfits creating a striking stage picture.

“Visually, it’s a nice stylistic choice,” Astarion notes, “but I wonder if the aesthetics will detract from the effectiveness of these three as antagonists.”

“Maybe,” Karlach says with a shrug. “But you know that Carm would have a field day with these costumes,” she adds, turning to look at you over her shoulder.

“Oh she absolutely would,” you agree, looking at their sharp blazers, plaid skirts, and thigh high socks. “But I think Astarion’s has a point, they’re almost too appealing to convey any real villainy. Plus, so many of these lines have become such an iconic part of pop culture that they’re almost meaningless. When the main Heather shouts, ‘Shut up, Heather!’ it feels more like she’s quoting a famous line than bullying her friend.”

“I’m sure Alfira will want to address that in the room,” Karlach nods.

Love this dead girl walking Love this dead girl walking Love this dead girl– Yeah– Yeah– Yeah– Yeah!!!!

After committing the social suicide of not bullying her unpopular best friend, Veronica decides she wants to go out with a bang – literally – and sneaks into the bedroom of resident bad boy JD. You still get an uneasy feeling about him as a character, but you’re trying to parse out your judgment of yourself versus your analysis of the text.

“Sorry,” Karlach shakes her head and holds out her wine glass, pointing at the screen. “Did we just witness that girl have a musical orgasm?”

“Surprisingly more common than you’d think in musical theatre,” you laugh, and Astarion pulls you into him until his lips are on your ear.

“Would you like to be my dead girl walking?” His voice is a husky whisper, sending a shiver reverberating through your body. You press your lips together and dig your nails into his knee to keep both of you in check.

-Oh my gods, I just killed my best friend! -Oh, and your worst enemy, so– -Same difference!

Veronica may have been the one to unknowingly hand a mug full of drain cleaner to the most popular and powerful of the mean girls, Heather Chandler, but JD was the one who knowingly handed it to Veronica.

“So they just immediately kill their primary villain?” Astarion scoffs in surprise. “Bold choice, I wouldn’t have expected it from a musical.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’ll be back,” you laugh. “Hey Karlach, who do you think should play Heather C?”

“Oooh, that’s a good question. I feel like it has to be Arabella, right? Who else has got the chops?” Karlach tilts her head to look at you.

“Arabella would also be really good as Veronica though,” you respond, shuffling through all of the theatre majors in your head. “Do you know if Mol is going to audition?”

“Maybe, but I think she wants to stage manage this fall.”

“Oh that makes sense, she’d be great at that,” you nod in agreement.

He’s hungry for a hunk Of the junk in your trunk

“Oh, weird. I don’t remember this song in the script I read,” you say with a frown. It was a while ago when you read it, but you’re pretty sure that this moment – when the high school jocks Kurt and Ram corner Veronica alone – felt a little more comedic and a little less sinister.

“Yeah, same,” Karlach says. “I feel like it was much sillier. Something about balls?”

“I think the hook was ‘you make my balls so blue.’” You try to force a laugh, but what’s playing out on screen is making you uncomfortable. The visual of the jock, Kurt or Ram, you can’t remember which, lewdly humping the air in front of a terrified Veronica doesn’t sit well with you. “This song being about date rape raises the stakes very differently from it being a blue balling joke.”

“Yeah, that’s so much more intense.” Karlach’s frown deepens as Veronica tries to pull her skirt down lower while the boys grab at her aggressively.

“I mean I get it, it’s a much stronger choice narratively, but we’ll have to be careful, give proper warnings and stuff.” You take a sip of your wine and Astarion gently rubs your shoulder.

“Okay, darling?” he hums in your ear. You nod but pull his arm around you a little tighter.

I worship you. I’d trade my life for yours. I’ll make them disappear.

There’s something so much more menacing about JD’s sung lines after having killed the jocks, Kurt and Ram, who tried to sexually assault Veronica. It makes your hackles raise, in part because you can see how toxic it is, but also because you can’t deny that it stirs something inside you. Just earlier today, you threw yourself at Astarion at the mere mental image of him murdering your abuser.

It’s okay if it’s just fantasy, Jaheira’s words ring in your head. Sure, someone saying that they worship you and committing homicide over it isn’t healthy in real life. But in a fantasy that isn’t hurting anyone?

But… how do you decide what’s harmful and what isn’t?

Can’t we be seventeen? Is that so hard to do?

After JD murders Heather Chandler and both Kurt and Ram out of a sense of misplaced righteousness, Veronica begs him to hold on to his youth a little longer and not let the trauma of his mother’s suicide make him grow up so fast.

You feel Astarion’s chest shaking slightly against your back. You glance up at him and his eyes are shining.

“Babe, are you crying?” you whisper and he glares at you.

“What? No. Shut up,” he spits as he wipes away a tear. You strain your neck and kiss his cheek.

VERONICA! Open the– open the door please, Veronica, open the door. Can we not fight anymore, please?

The repercussions of JD's streak of murderous revenge finally catching up with Veronica, she hides from him in her bedroom while he attempts to cry, scream, and sing his way back into her heart.

“This is the one,” you call out. “This is the song that’s all over TikTok with teenage girls saying that she should’ve opened the door.” The context is no different from when you read it – his violent outbursts mixed with unhinged sobbing still make for an energy that you don’t quite know how to respond to.

“I’m pretty sure they know it’s satire, it’s really over the top,” Karlach shrugs.

“Most of them probably do,” you say with a frown, remembering a concerning post that you saw somewhere that said ‘musical JD really loved Veronica while movie JD was just a manipulator.’

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Astarion says, pointing with his nearly empty wine glass. “You’re telling me that young girls like this behavior? Why?”

Shadowheart snorts. “Apparently there’s something appealing about a pathetic wet cat of a man,” she laughs, and Astarion pouts.

I wish your dad were good, I wish grownups understood. I wish we’d met before They convinced you life is war.

Veronica is pleading with a gun-wielding JD to not blow up the school during the pep rally when something suddenly clicks for you.

“Oh my gods, that’s the thesis statement, that’s what this whole show is about.” You sit up with the realization. “It’s not about mental health, or bullying. I mean it is,” you falter a bit, the wine sloshing around your brain. “But at the root it’s the parents’ fault. All of the adults in this show have been neglectful at best and selfish and bigoted at worst.”

“You know, if you want a good classical play with that theme,” Astarion shrugs, “then you should propose Romeo & Juliet.” Your jaw drops and you whirl around to face him.

“Holy shit, you’re so brilliant, I love you.”

Hey yo, Westerberg, tell me what’s that sound? Here comes Westerberg, comin’ to put you in the ground!

Your whole body freezes as the blood drains from your face. Somewhat delayed, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep you from accidentally revealing anything else. Astarion stares at you, his mask completely expressionless. Karlach and Shadowheart seem to remain oblivious to the monumental tension between you and Astarion.

Westerberg will knock you out And send you straight to–

Fuck.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion ancunin #professor astarion #aatarion fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #astarion x you #astarion/you #bg3 modern au #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 #office hours

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mettaloverxx · 2 days

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I AM GAY FOR UNDERFELL METTATON AND I NEED TO BE FED. PLEASE FEED ME /NF. YOU DONT HAVE TO. I JUST. I GOT SO DESPERATE A COUPLE MONTHS AGO THAT I LOOKED ON QUOTEV. I HAVENT BEEN ON QUITEV IN YEARS.

You came to the right place. I love fell metta very much as well! The lack of content for him is sad. But that's what I'm here for! [When I'm not lazy ofc- jghhgnf] now let's see here, how about some fluff?? It might be a little short due to writers block but i hope you enjoy anyway!

Warnings: none

Did not Proof read

Note: readers nickname for fellmetta is bug/ lovebug I do this for all fanfics I write for him ❤️

Mettafell x reader

🍓Strawberry kisses 💋

You sat on the couch listening to music. It's been a very slow and boring day. ever since metta left this morning for work, it feels like time is going 10× slower. You yawn softly and pick up your phone, and look at your previous text messages from earlier today with mettafell. Even though he was always busy with all the shows, concerts, plays, etc. He always somehow made time to text you little updates or to check up on you. But today, he wasn't texting you as much, feeling a little worried you decided to send him a text asking him how's everything was going. But before you could press, send you hear the front door opening you look over at the door and you see mettafell walk in. You smile and get up and make your way over to him. "Bug! I was just thinking about you! how did work go?" You wrap your arms around him into a loving hug, then look up at him

You immediately knew something was off by the way his face looked. Bug was good at hiding things due to being an actor, but sense you are so close to him, you've gotten good at reading him. You frowned softly. "I guess it was a bad day, huh?.." mettafell gently wraps his lower set of arms around you, returning the affection. "A bad day would be an understatement, darling. Ugh, it was...HORRENDOUS.." He let go of the hug and starts walking to the living room," the monster that I was supposed to be interviewing for my show canceled out at the last minute, someone put stains on my favorite outfit that absolutely won't come out!, There's an advid theft in the resort that keeps stealing expensive merchandise..and I'm not going to even talk about what type of magazine I caught burger pants reading on shift..." He does a robotic sigh and continues talking about his day while grabbing his spare charger by the couch he sits down and plugged himself in. You stayed quiet as you were listening to him and followed him to the living room. He looks over at you and says, "But never mind that darling, I need to charge. I'm very low on power. Give me an hour or two rest, yes?"

You gently sat down by him, watching his still body as he charged. It saddened you that he had a bad day. Maybe there was something you can do to make it a little better? You ponder for a moment before getting up and going into the kitchen with a smile on your face. you knew exactly what to do.

Mettafell powers back on. his body makes a soft, humming noise as he looks around, he doesn't see you. He was thinking you were upstairs, but then he hears running water in the kitchen, so he unplug himself and walks over to the kitchen he sees you washing a pan. "Hello darling, what are you getting ready to cook?" He says as he stepped closer to you. You stop washing the pan and turn around to look at him. How did you not hear him walk in? "Oh! Hi bug, I didn't know you were up already, I got you a gift," you said as you walked over to the fridge and took out a tray of chocolate covered strawberries and walked over to him. "I wanted to make you something special since you didn't have a good day. I know strawberries are your favorite, so I hope you like these"

Mettafell looks down at you, then the strawberries. It took him a minute to process this. You made his favorite desert for him. just because he had a bad day??? What?? His internal fans turn on "oh..sweetheart it looks wonderful." His eyes soften as he looks down at you and puts his hand under your chin to make you look up at him. He leans down and kisses your lips softly. You kissed him back, and it all felt like time went still, shortly after mettafell pulls away from the kiss and smiled his toothy fang grin. "Let's share them together, sweetie, we should continue watching those old human horror you were showing me to"

Your face was slightly warm, and you smile "ok love bug, I'll find a movie for us to watch tonight." You walk into the living room, and mettafell follows

You and bug spend the rest of the night sharing the sweet strawberries and watching movies together ❤️

#underfell imagines #underfell mettaton #underfell mettaton x reader

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nevarroes · 3 days

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I love your art. I find it interesting that you chose to draw this very specific feeding kink and get super indulged in it - with the willingness to lose a lot of people who might turn away from the art (as you started very differently). Was this always your *main* goal (to draw fetish art) or did it just develop with your OCs over time? There are a lot of very successful fetish artists so it really is all about audience, do you plan to approach this more, or do you think you will ever go back to be more "mainstream"?

First of all thank you!💜 and I mean hmm.... the thing with this question is I do not consider myself a fetish artist in that way anyways because I am uninterested in drawing this kink in a way that'd be generally applied, if that makes sense. Like I have no interest (and also didn't really have much of it before since it fit no character that I was writing) to draw any other character in such a dynamic or just to draw the kink, so it feels disingenuine to say that. I'd say I'm just drawing whatever I'm interested in oc- and dynamic-wise without really caring about who it may drive away or attract. it's none of my concern really since I'm not a professional artist that needs to curate what I post and I just see it as not attempting to separate any of my interests

So.... with that being said, no It was never my goal since I still don't think that's a thing I "achieved" or anything. however the thing that do I wanna point out is that back then I had a lot of personal issues with art. As in... even if I did a lot of OC stories that touched on kinks and other stuff in private I'd never post anything that is less than polished/rendered when it came to art, which made it seem like I'm only an illustrator or character portrait artist while nowadays I'm finally comfortable drawing simpler stuff as well as dynamics/interactions so I do think I'm where I wanna be in that regard. Again though I really do not care about who or what exactly my audience is, I don't intend or ever did try to actively build an audience. I appreciate everyone that sticks around right now and enjoys my content and I enjoy every interaction a lot, but I'm not trying to make a name in any specific niche or something like that, I'm quite literally just sharing my art and stories for fun and if that at the time aligns with fetish content to the extent that I would be seen as a fetish artist then I suppose it does, same as with mainsteam-y art, it doesn't really concern me🙏

#blakemail #if u would ask me what I would like to be known for if I had to choose I suppose it would just be character interactions and relationships #like i dont personally care what I‘m seen as much. some people are here because they think I‘m good on a technical level some for the kink #or everything in between #but if u asked me what my preferred thing is I suppose its that🙂‍↕️#btw i am not putting myself over a pure kink artist with this at all however i just dont think it applies #its the same reason as why I don‘t ever draw Gortash by himself #if you see what im getting at #its not about the kink #gortcas IS indulgent im not denying that but everything else I draw about their dynamic is similarily indulging to me

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demonslayedher · 2 days

Text

Filler Arc with Character Beats: Intro

Some time ago, I posted how I would direct a Gokangumi (Five Senses Squad)-centric anime filler arc to go between the Swordsmith Village Arc and the Hashira Training Arc, specifically what foreshadowing and character beats I'd try to make it hit, and what small changes I'd make to make it slip in as seamlessly as possible (like Muichirou being curious about the Mark and doing his own investigation into it before Amane simply tells them about it). As it turns out, over a year ago, I tried writing it in fic form, but lost steam after 5577 words because I didn't have the energy for a long fic. But I just reread what I wrote, and man, I looooove thiiiiis. So I'm sharing what I had below! It's basically Episode 1 of Hashira Training all over again, just with the same content presented in different ways from more fanfic-y character perspectives and off-screen character interactions, so this is nice timing for it since episode 2 of Hashira Training isn't out yet. No plans to continue writing it, but please enjoy the setup I had!

----

Nezuko…

“Good morning…”

Tanjirou relaxed deeper into his sleep as the sunlit scene replayed in his mind. For the first time in years, his sister had smiled.

Good for you, Nezuko… I’m so glad.

It was wonderful that she could walk in the sunlight again, and that she didn’t need to wear that muzzle. Finally, she could again speak for herself. All this time hadn’t been in vain.

All this time hadn’t been in vain.

Creating all those demons, granting an excess of his blood to the Twelve Moons, it hadn’t been for naught—Hantengu had lasted a whole night against the demon hunters so that he could witness a transformation Muzan had waited centuries for.

Kamado Nezuko…

His chosen demon, the one who had at last mastered the sun. A pesky one for how she had slipped out of his control, but with the hoard at his disposal, catching one demon wouldn’t be a major obstacle. Or so he had hoped to think, but Nezuko had stood her ground against Daki. With three of his Upper Moons already gone, that left fewer demons who stood a chance of containing her.

It was good he had so many of them, then. Muzan could stand to sacrifice any handful of them in pursuit of the chosen demon.

Hiura had heard a single twang and wondered if it was a biwa when he found himself in a different space than the cave he usually occupied. ‘Different’ rang though his head again to try to describe it, as there was no sense to make of it other than that he must had been in a dream. In any of his waking life, he was certain he had never seen a place like this.

“What is this? How did I get here?”

“What’s going on?”

With all those confused murmurs, Hiura’s dream was not his own, and he concluded that this must have been that space he had only heard rumors of. To his knowledge, only the Twelve Moon demons had ever been there, and there were many more demons here than twelve.

“Silence.”

Hiura shook when that voice spoke, and he spotted the eyes paired with that voice immediately—six eyes. It was his first encounter with any of the Twelve Moons, and it was just his luck that it was the most powerful one. He must have been brought here to die; there was no other reason Upper Moon One would waste time on lesser demons.

“Muzan-sama is present.”

All of Hiura’s shaking went still as his eyes scanned everywhere for the owner of that name. Up, down, sideways, nothing here made sense. There he was directly in front of him, red eyes blaring as icy as they did the night Hiura first encountered and tricked him into turning him into a demon. Tricking him was something Hiura knew he’d never be lucky enough to do again, and even a private inkling of it put him in danger. Muzan’s cells within him reminded him of that at every moment.

Before he had realized it, Hiura was bowing. Everyone was.

“Why do you all cower? You’re all demons who have pleased me.”

Pleased Muzan?

“You’ve eaten humans and gotten stronger. Developed the blood I’ve given you. You should be proud. Unless you’ve done something to displease me?”

Mind games! Muzan was playing them. They couldn’t dare take any pride in his presence. He was looking for a reason to find displeasure in them.

“None of you will speak?”

“Because it’s not enough yet,” thundered Kiritsuna.

Muzan’s lips stretched to a smile that narrowed his eyes. “Precisely.”

Damn that Kiritsuna! Always so self-assured, he must not have felt a shiver of fear in his life! Sucking up as always!

“Why would you have brought us here?” asked Zessou, always at Kiritsuna’s side. Dumb as rocks but always got away looking smart with that pretty face. What was he trying to do with his demon development, improve upon what used to be a lucky human form? Probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“I have three openings in the Upper Moons to fill. If any among you can fulfill for me a task, I’ll consider your promotion.”

The demons all grew excited, gasping or exclaiming with some shrill noises. Idiots, all of them. Muzan didn’t like them that much and they were all fools to think so. Hiura found this his chance to distinguish himself by a more productive question. “What task do you wish fulfilled?”

“A demon that has slipped from my control and uses fire against other demons, Kamado Nezuko. I want this demon brought to me, alive.”

Kamado Nezuko? That was a different name than Hiura had thought he heard before about that broad who got away. Fire, though. That was new and unusual. Not something Hiura wanted to deal with.

Not directly, anyway. If there was one demon to lure her out, another demon to contain her, then he could be the one to subdue her. The one to earn Muzan’s true pleasure.

“Why us?” asked some demon Hiura didn’t know. “Why not from among the Lower Moons?”

At this, Muzan’s smile was gone. “They no longer served any purpose.”

Although there was no sound, there was something like a weight pressing on all the demons, like it was across their shoulders and tied around their necks. Hiura wondered if this was Muzan forcing his will upon them to scare them, but he just as soon realized it was his own cells cowering in their own instinct.

If Hiura didn’t fulfill this request, he’d be dead.

“Prove your worth to me by fulfilling this task. My patience has already been tested enough.”

“Muzan-sama!” cried out one who was dumb enough to use that name. “More of your precious blood! Just a little more, and—”

“Moon Breathing, First Form—”

“What?”

“Breath Technique?”

“Dark Moon, Evening Palace.”

The demon who had spoken out and stood up was in pieces, having been torn apart by crescent blades. The other demons around her shrieked and cowered away from the blood. They screamed louder and sloppily scattered faster as Upper Moon One walked among them to the carnage, but Kiritsuna stayed put with no reaction to the blood splashed across his face, and not a tremor as the superior demon stood next to him. Upper Moon One lifted his hand over the gasping, crying demon spilled in pieces on the tatami, who squeaked, “Muzan… sama…”

“If you fail his expectations as you are… then this task… is meaningless to entrust to you.”

Her scream was cut off as he grabbed her head and absorbed it into his flesh. The rest of the pieces of her rattled and kicked until a dead silence; limp, melting demon remnants. Muzan was long gone. Upper Moon One turned his back, leaving them with the words, “Talent will be rewarded… from whomever proves promise…”

Another twang from the biwa and he was gone. Another twang, and another demon disappeared, then another. As the tempo picked up other demons were standing and ready to disappear, and Hiura lunged his hands out to grab Kiritsuna and Zessou’s sleeves. “There’s three spots,” he said, hurrying to get a smile out at them before the twang of the biwa came for them, “spots to reward all three of us, together—”

Tanjirou awoke to the sensation of his Breath being cut off. "Ah!" he sat up with a start, which made Muichirou release his hold on Tanjirou's nose.

"Your response is still pretty dull," he said. He had an impish grin, a light in his eyes, and bandages here and there around his face.

"It's not as if you meant any harm," insisted Tanjirou, but he guarded his nose with both hands anyway.

"How are your injuries?"

"My foot might take some time. How about you and Kanroji-san?"

"We'll probably be back to work by next week."

"What? Amazing! I've got to work on my recovery to match you two!"

"We can't all be geniuses."

"That's right. I heard you're descended from the original Sun Breath user. Your crow told me and Kotetsu-kun."

Muichirou sent Ginko a look through the window, and she cowered from his gaze, for they both knew she wasn't very nice about it. "It's not a big deal. It's not as if I know anything about Sun Breathing. Mist Breathing is so many steps removed from it that I've only got tiny bits and pieces from my ancestors."

"There's got to still be something, though! I even had memories inherited from my ancestor."

"...huh?"

"At least, that's what Kotetsu-kun said. Now that I think about it, he probably only said that to make me feel better. Sorry, it's weird, I know."

"Make you feel better about what?"

"I thought I knew the person Yoriichi Type Zero was based on. The original Sun Breath user, your ancestor."

"Doesn't that not make sense, though? You're the only one in this whole Corp who knows Sun Breathing, after all."

"No, no, no, no, that's just because my family's practiced Hinokami Kagura for generations! There's nothing inherited about it, my father had to teach me everything!" Tanjirou waved his hand as fast as Zenitsu swiping a plate of dumplings.

"But how did your ancestors learn that?"

Tanjirou paused as he thought back to that vivid dream, and how he had asked that samurai how he must be sad with no successors. That samurai had to have had children later if Muichirou was there now, but something felt off about that. Not that he could say what was off about a passing fantasy in a dream, though. It wasn't even real.

"You've even got the same earrings."

"Eh? You've met him too?" he asked and put his hands to his ears.

"Yoriichi Type Zero."

"Oh," he thought back. Now that Muichirou mentioned it, that doll had indeed been wearing the same ones. Tanjirou had never asked his father what made the earrings special, but the samurai in his dream was wearing them too. That samurai still had them when he left, though, while he was saying he wasn't anyone special. He had to have been special, though, for the Kamado family wasn't the only one to keep memories of him. "The original Sun Breath user was mentioned in a diary of one of Rengoku-san's ancestors too. I don’t know if it'll help me use Hinokami Kagura to fight demons better, but his younger brother Senjurou has been searching through their family records to see if there's anything helpful."

"Maybe they'll find something there about the mark."

"Mark?"

"I heard that when I fought Upper Moon Five, there was a mark on my face. Around the same time it would have been visible, I felt my heart rate increase to about 200 beats and my body temperature rise. Based on the 39-degree temperature reading Kochou-san took, I assume it was higher than that."

"You can tell in that much detail? Wow!"

"You should have more physiological awareness while using Breath technique too, you know. Still, it did help to get the number from the thermometer. You should have seen her, I've never seen Kochou-san so shocked, even though I insisted I felt fine."

"Oh?"

"And then the little girl who was with her mentioned you could run a fever of 38 degrees for over three days and feel fine, too," he said, then smiled. "You might be in trouble."

"Oh..."

"You get it though, right? How the feverish state made your Breath technique more powerful?"

"Yeah," Tanjirou agreed, "I don’t know if my fever ever got as high as yours, but being in that state makes me feel like my Hinokami Kagura had more of the power its capable of, and like b-b-b-BOOM, BASH, and like... gggrrrraaaahhh, and... you know?"

"...huh?"

"I'm saying something weird again, sorry. There was something else that helped me fight Upper Moon Four, too. When Nezuko burned my Nichirin blade with her fire, it turned red."

"A red blade? Aren't those supposed to be rare?"

"I don’t know if it's like the red blade Haganezuka-san always wanted to see, it turned black again later. But when it was so hot that it glowed, it cut through demon flesh more powerfully than I've ever felt before. Maybe, you think, it's like the same thing? Getting really hot? That BOOM, BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA thing?"

"Huh? You lost me."

"Sorry..."

"It made sense until that last part. Nichirin Blades work because they've absorbed sunlight, so glowing red may be due to an increase in the power of the light. Makes it all the weirder that Nezuko can be in the sunlight now! Doesn't that make her invincible?"

Tanjirou's expression softened at the mention of his sister. "It's such a relief. I'm so glad she can walk around in daylight now. She's out of that danger."

"Still weird."

For someone who had known her for twelve years as someone who could walk around freely in daylight, there was nothing strange about it. To Tanjirou, this was a return to what was just.

In many ways, he enjoyed the return of a sister from long ago. Back in the Swordsmith Village, it was like he had his four-year-old sister back, playing with toys and enjoying being tickled, and as feisty for attention as any little kid. Maybe she'd have enjoyed putting her hair in braids back then too, though her 12-year-old self would have only mildly hummed to herself with pleasure having done up her hair as she liked without needing to bother anyone. Nezuko was always like that, even Nezuko of ten years ago was always patient and obedient and sensitive to others like Takeo and baby Hanako. Maybe if she had been stuck in a box every day she'd have had that much pent up energy back then, too.

Now that they were back at the Butterfly Mansion, Nezuko had the best person around for helping her work off that excess energy: Inosuke, or as he had finally succeeded in teaching her, Boss Inosuke.

"Cave Explorers! Cave Explorers! We're the Cave Explorers!"

"Caff effporor!"

"Wait! Wait up right there!" he pointed to the ground. "You see that?"

Nezuko leaned her head on Inosuke's forearm to see where he pointed. "Hmmm?" There on the ground, stumbling over roots twice its width was a fledgling, too young to have taken a purposeful dive. Inosuke ran over and skidded to his knees for a look, startling the baby bird with his snout and looming eyes, and it stumbled backwards with panicked cheeping. Nezuko knelt and cupped her hands behind it, and it nestled against them for safety.

"Ha! That makes this your mission, Underling! Take that kid and put him back up in the nest!"

Though he was already pointing to where he felt the nest was, he looked upward past his finger, and Nezuko followed the same glance with a curious 'hmm.' The nest was easy to spot, but higher than Inosuke anticipated. He felt a smidge of regret because he didn't want to put a girl on such a risky mission right away, especially not a girl so precious to Tanpachirou. Nezuko had no such hesitation, and her claws scratched the bark as she climbed. In a couple of tricky spots she looked around left and right first, but found new spots to grip as swiftly as Inosuke would have, so he found himself more and more pleased and excited with her progress.

Trouble came when Nezuko's long hair got stuck in the branches. It caused her some distress, but the nest was close enough that she could let her hair be pulled taunt as she stretched. "Hmm... mm!!"

"Like that! Just a little further!"

"Mmnhh!" she grunted and willed her reach longer. Vines poured out her veins onto the surface of her skin and her hand extended such that she could pick up the whole nest if she pleased. Her horn had little room among the branches and pressed against one in such a way that it made her head sink down against her neck uncomfortably, but she paid that no mind as she let the fledgling tumble from her hand to the nest.

"That's it, Underling, nice work! Whoa--watch out!"

A screech zoomed toward Nezuko. When she looked up to see the parent swooping toward her with talons arched, she guarded her face with her own arched claws. She caught the bird's foot, and it reacted by flapping and tugging and cawing. When the feathers flapped in Nezuko's face she closed her eyes and leaned backwards.

"Nezuko!!" Inosuke shouted her name. He could tell exactly where she was going to fall before the branches cracked. He dove and caught her inches before she'd have hit the ground rump first, and then chunks and splinters of branches rained on them. The bird kept screeching from the tree top as it settled into its nest, and Inosuke brushed the branches off the top of Nezuko's head as he asked, "Hey! Are you alright?"

"Thank goodness!" she popped her head up and smiled.

He looked her over for injuries, but had she gotten any, they were already healed. Blood was coming from somewhere, though, and as they both looked for where, they spotted a gash down Inosuke's forearm. "Hngh," he grunted in acknowledgement.

Nezuko's eyes were glued to a bead of blood that pooled and gathered weight, then broke free of the injury and ran a bright red trail down his toned arm. After it came similar crimson streams, leading her attention back to the broken skin and what layers of flesh might had been revealed.

She clenched her eyes shut, grit her teeth, and pulled herself away as though caught on a fishing line. That momentum took her to her feet and a few steps away from Inosuke. Inosuke could sense the tension down her arms as she squeezed her fists, but he had no moment to ask about it before Nezuko cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the forest, "Halp! Halp, halp!"

"Help? No, this is nothing, I'm not injured--"

"Ha-a-a-a-lp!!"

"I'm not injured!!"

"Not injured? Then is that paint? I didn't know you were an artist, Inosuke-kun."

He and Nezuko both looked to a tree behind them and spotted a Hashira in a butterfly haori perched there. Shinobu had the same smile as ever and descended on dainty feet. Nezuko approached her with long arms out for a hug, exclaiming with relief that someone had answered her calls, but without Nezuko taking notice, the impetus to hug her faded as Shinobu took a defensive stance. Nezuko, not conscious of this, stood in front of her to insist with gibberish that Boss Inosuke needed help, and Shinobu looked Nezuko up and down and far back up, to the tip of the single horn. She had heard about this form of Nezuko's, but it was unnerving to see it up close, especially when Nezuko posed no threat and basked in sunlight. Shinobu relaxed, then said to her, "the Butterfly Mansion is that way, Nezuko-san. You were calling to the mountains for help. The mountains. I might not had heard you if I wasn't on my way home."

"Thank goodness!"

"Fighting demons?" asked Inosuke.

"Picking herbs," she said, revealing a satchel. "There's a few in here I can spare for that, but all the bandages are at home. Let's go."

"I'm not injured--"

"I don’t specialize in delusions. If you keep saying that I'm afraid I'll have to send you to a different doctor."

Inosuke didn’t know what she meant by that or why it made her aura so threatening, but he didn't want any other doctors. He followed along, keeping an eye on both the girls from behind as Nezuko walked alongside Shinobu, towering over her in scale. As they neared the hospital Shinobu suggested Nezuko go play with Mitsuri while she has a chance before Mitsuri would be cleared to return to work, and the horn and vines faded as Nezuko shrank to a portion of Shinobu's size, hopped up and down and cheered, and then scuttled off.

"It certainly is a wonder to have befriended a demon," Shinobu remarked.

Shinobu and Inosuke continued to her office, where she instructed him to sit down and cooperate as she cleaned the wound and pulled out the splinters. He didn’t like that part, but the moment Shinobu expressed sympathy that he must be scared, he growled that there was nothing scary about it and proved it by staying as still as he could while she poked and prodded around. He convinced himself he wasn't whimpering. Without commenting on how brave he was, for this was of course obvious, Shinobu rubbed on some soothing ointment and began wrapping a bandage.

"This will be prone to reinjury if you catch it on anything. You don’t need stitches, but the skin needs time to heal."

"I'm not scared of this."

"Oh? Then you're not scared of it getting infected and filled with pus? I am."

"Why? It's just pus."

"I wouldn't want anything else to hurt you, after all the care I try to take of you. Is it so bad that I don’t want to see you hurt?"

Inosuke flushed behind his mask, his head went all spacey and fluffy, but something in her words and gaze made his neck tense up and his chest feel heavy. He relented, "You can put a bandage on it if you really want to."

"You won't take it off, right?"

"Hngh..."

"Inosuke-kun. Promise me you won't take it off?"

"Fine. I promise."

She offered her finger. "Pinky promise?"

"What's that?"

"It means you'll break your pinky if you break your promise. You'll give me that proof, right?"

Inosuke felt what she really meant was that she personally would break his pinky, and he respected a threat like that, so he offered his and they shook. Shinobu's voice took a light and airy tone as she sang 'pinky promise' in tune with the movement, and Inosuke was awash with a sense of familiarity, and an odd curiosity for Shinobu. He stared as he pondered, and Shinobu could feel his stare from behind the boar mask.

"What is it?"

"Your pinkies are weak."

"That's not strange."

"Your face is pale. Are you alright?"

Her face betrayed surprise, and then she smiled deeper. "You can tell? That's amazing! It's just low blood pressure. There you go, you're all set. Be careful."

She hurried him out because she had work to do with the herbs, but Inosuke stood outside the office door a moment wondering where he'd heard that song before.

It was another day before Kanao returned from a solo mission. She had been on more of those lately than missions at Shinobu’s side. So long as Shinobu wasn’t away on her own tasks, Kanao would start and end every solo mission reporting to Shinobu. She occasionally had advice, but all Shinobu usually instructed her was simply to cut the head off the demon.

That made it feel simple. Kanao didn’t have to think any more than that, and it had worked so far.

But that was what made her afraid. What would happen if she couldn’t reach the neck, and had to decide something else to do? She was vulnerable when taken by surprise, if ever there was something she couldn’t see coming.

“Good morning!”

Kanao nearly jumped out of her boots the moment an unfamiliar girl’s voice yelled at her. There were just as soon giggling voices that she knew from Kiyo and Naho.

“It’s too late for ‘good morning’!”

“You should say, ‘welcome home,’ Nezuko-san!”

“Nezuko?” Kanao asked, and then she found herself face to face with gleaming pink eyes and a fanged smile.

“Welcome… home!”

What was—but this—she shouldn’t—but--, a swarm of broken thoughts swirled through Kanao’s mind, until at last she blurted, “Is it alright for her not to wear her muzzle?”

“Most people would ask about her being in the sunlight first,” said Aoi, coming up behind Kanao with a bemused smile. She took satisfaction in watching Kanao flush and look back and forth between her and Nezuko as it dawned on her.

“Good morning!” Nezuko added, and Kiyo and Naho started laughing.

When Zenitsu at last returned to the Butterfly Mansion, his sparrow was chirping away something or other at him. He could never make out what words that bird wanted to convey, but it was easy to tell when Chuntarou was angry. He had probably heard how much trouble Zenitsu was in with the Corp. Jiichan might know already, too.

The one time he tried to do something to help, and it was unnecessary. All blew up in his face. What was the point of ever having tried? Ever having tried any of this. All this time in the Corp, chasing some dream that he might be useful to someone someday, anyone, just one person, it’d all been—

“—Aa?”

A heartbeat thumped through his ears. A girl’s heartbeat.

Zenitsu looked up and was caught by the most beautiful—nay, that trite word could not capture it—the most sublime sight he’d ever encountered in his life. It was Nezuko, and she was glistening in the sunlight. She was smiling—smiling at him!!

He screamed.

The other girls surrounding Nezuko all covered their ears as Zenitsu, doing the only sensible thing there was to do at such a glorious moment, confirmed that this meant she was eligible to be his wife now. And then—heavenly sounds!—she spoke words to him for the first time.

“Welcome back, Inosuke!”

There weren’t many quiet places around the Butterfly Mansion when both Inosuke and Zenitsu were home, but since Tanjirou hadn’t spent any time with Zenitsu since they started their mission in the pleasure quarter, he relished in his company despite all Zenitsu’s threats about murdering Inosuke. It was hard to find an opening to get any words in, but Tanjirou found a way to make Zenitsu temporarily quiet and turn his mood around entirely when he thanked him for his words about Thunder Breath and told him how it helped save the day. As Zenitsu skipped off, Genya lied still with a pillow over his head, aghast with how Tanjirou always had such a way of defusing the people around him. He always had the weirdest thing to say.

He wasn’t so bad, though.

Over the course of Tanjirou’s recovery, Inosuke and Zenitsu kept coming and going on their own missions, as did Kanao, though she went on more without her master nowadays. Genya joined them as soon as the little girls got him healed up and fed and back to full strength. From what Tanjirou heard, the demons had been very active lately. Going out of their way to cause trouble instead of keeping to the shadows like they had for centuries.

The one who knew this best was Ubuyashiki Kagaya, confined to his bed and helpless to aid his children. It made meetings with his Hashira harder to find chances for, though any one of them would drop anything but slaying demons in order to answer his call.

“Oyakata-sama, please, don’t trouble yourself to sit up. You don’t seem well.”

“Thank you, Gyoumei,” he replied. Always one to have keen senses, Himejima had stopped him just before he gathered his strength to sit up and be polite with his visitor. He relaxed against his pillow and smiled in the direction of the Stone Hashira’s voice. “I know you’ve had your hands so full, taking over extra territories.”

“You say that like I’m the only one. Shinazugawa, Iguro, and Tomioka have stepped up just as much during Tokitou and Kanroji’s recovery.”

“I’m glad to have you all supporting each other. With Shinobu being busy, I know you’re all spread thin.”

“Could Uzui be convinced to lend a hand?”

“I’ve sent summons, but it doesn’t seem they are reaching him,” Ubuyashiki replied, smiling at the reason why. As the crow told him, one of Uzui’s wives had swatted him with a room and yelled that her husband was retired. He had thought of sending summons to the former Flame Hashira, but he was satisfied that he had only recently begun to take care of himself again, and he preferred to let him rest until the time was right. “Muichirou and Mitsuri will be back to help soon, but with how active the demons are now, I wish for you all to have more help.”

“We’re Hashira, Oyakata-sama. You can entrust us with anything.”

“You say that like you’re unconvinced of anyone else being useful.”

Himejima frowned, for Ubuyashiki was right. “With all due respect, the caliber of swordsmen is not what it used to be.”

“It’s unfair to compare them to the unusually competent Hashira I’m blessed with in this day and age. Their will is the same as yours, Gyoumei. What they need is a chance to rise to your level.”

“You wish to raise new Hashira, you mean?”

“They have a way to go, but they’ve shown amazing resilience in the face of challenges. Even Genya gained experience fighting an Upper Moon, didn’t he? I hope you’ll have more faith in him, and the rest of his batch. If possible, I’d like to see what they all can accomplish against more and more powerful demons.”

“Left on their own?”

“Maybe not right away,” he smiled. “But a mission altogether, that could be good for them.”

Tanjirou was eager to go help his friends and progressed smoothly in his functional recovery training. He made it a point to try to keep his body temperature down to normal levels so that Shinobu wouldn’t hold him back, though. She had asked him about it and smelled angry. For now, under Muichirou’s advice, he kept that phenomenon to himself and waited to hear what Muichirou might find out about it as he investigated what archives the Ubuyashiki family might have. Still, Muichirou was a Hashira, and he wasn’t likely to have much time for that, so Tanjirou would have to try to keep refining that skill on his own (as soon as he was out of Shinobu’s watchful eye).

Haganezuka came and visited him, delivering a sword like Tanjirou never laid eyes on. Although, having commented so, Tanjirou was rudely reminded that he had not only seen it, but he had laid hands on it and nearly ruined it forever. As Haganezuka seemed to be in pain from his injuries and exhausted by the sword polishing process, Tanjirou decided to ask him more about red blades another time.

While the others were busy, Nezuko was there to train with him, and she never tired when running alongside him and cheering him on. She misunderstood and thought she was helping when she lifted up the rock on a rope that Tanjirou was training with. It tasted so good to laugh with her again, like it came out of him in a way that resounded with hers. Nezuko’s laugh was irreplaceable, and it was back. If it weren’t for all the demons out there, he’d happily stay put and bask in it forever.

Chachamaru, one day, delivered a letter. Tamayo and Tanjirou were in ongoing correspondence, and they had already exchanged a few letters since Nezuko mastered the sun. Like always, Tanjirou showed it to Nezuko when she peered over his shoulder at the paper.

“It’s from Tamayo-san,” he explained to her. “She says there’s no need to worry anymore about the sun! Your cells aren’t going to go back to the way they were, you get to stay like this now.”

“Hmm!” she replied with a wide, bright smile.

“Let’s see what else she says. ‘…Like how her blood allowed another demon to break free of Muzan’s control, it might also be used to grant mastery of the sun to other demons.’ Isn’t that great, Nezuko? You could help Tamayo-san and Yushirou-san too!”

“Thank goodness!”

“Thank goodness, for sure! Let’s see. ‘Kibutsuji Muzan is sure to be looking for her…’” he trailed off, his mouth dry at the name that just rolled off his tongue. Nezuko did not seem to recognize the name as well as she’d recognize the cells, and she tilted her head as Tanjirou read on, more quietly. “’With all the increased activity, it will be very dangerous if any other demons know about her abilities. For Nezuko-san’s sake, would you reconsider leaving her in our care?’”

He looked up to Nezuko as soon as he said it, aghast at such a proposition after all this time. Nezuko stared back at him, questioning what such words implied. Did she realize it would leave them separated? When she had heard it from Tamayo directly that one time she had understood, maybe it was harder to understand from a letter.

Even without words, Nezuko had made herself well-understood back then. She had a will of her own, and Tanjirou had every intention to respect it.

He smiled and patted her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll never be separated again. You’re going to be fine. Niisan won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Thank goodness,” she beamed and hugged him.

Tanjirou hugged her back, grateful all over again for how far they’d come.

#my fics #character beat filler arc #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kamado nezuko #hashibira inosuke #kochou shinobu #kocho shinobu #tsuyuri kanao #tokito muichiro #tokitou muichirou #agatsuma zenitsu #shinazugawa genya #himejima gyomei #himejima gyoumei #ubuyashiki kagaya #and others briefly or mentioned #AND GOSH DANG IT I WROTE CUTE STUFF

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blujayonthewing · 1 month

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it's weird to me that online content on foraging and camp/ bushcraft cooking never seem to overlap, at least not that I've ever found?? foraging recipes are always like 'wild mushroom risotto with chardonnay and arborio rice' and bushcraft cooking is always like 'first, unpack your ribeye you brought from home--' like what is going on here, surely 'guy who wants to camp out and cook over a fire' and 'guy who wants to eat some plants they found in the woods' cannot be completely separate venn diagram circles

#I mean it's clearly not because I Am The Guy #it's just weird that there's no content like this that I've ever seen #you get catch-and-cook for mostly just fishing but sometimes other animals #which is great but a) incomplete b) nearly useless to me as someone who doesn't hunt and is TERRIBLE at fishing #and like. yeah I am not an idiot I know I could blanch and saute greens over a fire without needing my hand held about it #but I would still enjoy it as content? if that makes sense?#one of the myriad ways that dungeon meshi appeals to me personally #is the (apparently EXTREMELY niche) fantasy of 'what if foraged survival cooking was also like. good.'#what can I make with cattails 'well you can take them home and--' what can I make WHERE I FOUND THEM #'you can dry and pound the roots into a starchy survival flour' you are killing me. I'm begging you to consider a midpoint #where I am not in my home kitchen but I'm also not starving to death and have a very small and basic pantry with me #this is one of those things that I'm 'be the change' levels of annoyed about #but I'm not confident in my ability to make good videos lol #about me

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june-again · 1 month

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something something i'm not as interested in reading/writing x reader/r anymore something something

#june shines #bc. my boyfriend #periodt #but the dilemma remains because i still enjoy writing and want to scream about the characters #i guess it's the x reader part #which kinda alienates me from most writers on here!!!! which sucks a lot!!!!!#but idk there was also a point in like 2022 as well where i was experiencing this #and it never really stopped it only solidified #god but i still want to write here and for my favs and ahghhh #i just have to figure out a type of content i enjoy #i would be more suited for fanart at this point just because i can spend the whole time appreciating the character without coming up with a #-story i'm disinterested in #does that make sense #but i'm not very good at art! which is ok!!! i still enjoy it which is all that matters #but as far as fanart content creation goes i'm not really suited for it #anyways #certified yapper #i'm going to try to come back with some type of content after finals but we'll see what that looks like

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yourqueenb · 1 year

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I remember you saying that MAH would've been better as a short slasher, so are there any other books that you think would also have been improved if they were significantly shorter (like if they cut out a lot of filler chapters/scenes)? Or for that matter, are there books that you think would've been better if they were longer than the usual 16-18ish chapters that Choices usually does (to make the story feel better developed and less rushed)?

Bachelorette Party definitely would’ve been better as a mini book instead of a regular length one. And I’m really not sure why that wasn’t something they considered. There was no reason for it to go on as long as it did, especially because it was neither entertaining nor funny. It was just really stupid imo. Courtney was annoying as hell, and her smiling sprite was terrifying. And I couldn’t stand Aisha and that damn briefcase. IIRC, that was the main reason the story dragged on for so long. The best thing to come out of that book was Ash Tanaka, but I feel like people forget about him because he was unlucky enough to be a part of BP.

Witness and MTFL both had the issue of an unlikeable MC. But I feel like that issue wouldn’t have been so pronounced if both books were shorter as well. All Witness MC and Cassian did was screw and argue for like 25 chapters. And they literally had MTFL MC wait until the 100th damn chapter to decide who she wanted to be with. Not to mention that god-awful first person narration along the way.

I think this last one is controversial, but Immortal Desires was also far too long. It just dragged week after week because the first 9 or 10 chapters were the same thing over and over again. Hang out with Cas. Hang out with Gabe. Oh no, our Mom’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong so we have to stand trial in front of the council again! Rinse and repeat 🙄 If they hadn’t wasted so much time on all of that, the ending wouldn’t have been so rushed and awkward now that they’ve decided to make a book 2

#choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices app #choices ask #maybe ID would’ve been more bearable if I had spent diamonds on it #but I had absolutely zero motivation to because of how boring the base story was #I liked Gabe as an LI but not enough to wanna get extra scenes with him #and I wasn’t interested in making MC stronger through the talismans #all of this said though I still don’t think I personally would’ve enjoyed any of these books even if they were shorter #bc they had more issues that just length #anyway though I don’t think any of PB’s books would necessarily benefit from being longer #of course there are books that I wish had gotten sequels but that’s different #I think there are lots that are at the right length #they should’ve just used certain chapters for character/plot development instead of filler if that makes sense #so basically instead of removing chapters altogether just change the content of them

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izzymalec · 10 months

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hey besties!! i've finally caved and starting today (saturday, 15. july) i'll slowly but surely (more surely than slowly) post things from other media as well 💔

everything will be tagged w the media name + the #not sh (that geniuely nobody has blacklisted but it's for me), if there are any triggers etc pls let me know so i can tag accordingly!!

this also means that my sideblog @deemacs will no longer be active bc anything that would've gone on here will now be on main

also this itty bitty change will be accompanied by tiny little changes in my (v faithful) icon and header (these aren't actually related, it's just good timing honestly)

thank u for reading and happy tumbling!!! 🩷🩷🩷

#txt #saskia talks #not sh #i'm mainly changing my icon bc i got a new laptop a whole back and i'm so so bothered by how the skin colour looks on there #and i'm bothered by how the legs disappear in the purple in the header #and how the colours of the icon and header don't match #so it's mainly those things changed i'm taking the opportunity #bc i kind of identify w those things on here so they're staying akdjsksj #the multifandom change is bc i'm more on here again and idk now i kinda want to enjoy it fully on the blog i love the most??#and not just sideline that enjoyment if that makes sense #like the shadowhunters content will he tagged the same it's still the main thing #but i want to have the full fun with the rest as well #and idk i'm just not feeling the side blog life for other fandoms anymore #i first wanted to do this on august 6 bc that would have been my 11 year anniversary on this webiste #but i don't want to wait also it's ridiculous bc it's not actually a big event or anything lmao #but yeah!! now the second week of may isn't as special anymore (kidding it still is the most special week of all)#+ explanation for the change: i just feel like this blog has become more personal to me again (?) (due to being more on here probably)#and it just feels right to make it more personal with current interest as well #shadowhunters is so deep in my heart tho i'm not getting rid of that #but i want to share other things as well idk i'm probably repeating myself nvm good night #not good night i drafted this at like midnight few days back but meant to post it much earlier today but uh here we are!!#new icon and header drop in like an hour ig i gotta go cook & eat and watch wwdits

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agendabymooner · 4 months

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tfw pure indulgence is starting to feel like a job bc you’re a pathological people pleaser 🫠🫠

#convo with mooners #I just wanna write dawg 😭#my demons are winning to just provide shitty contents that make sense to me #and feel bad because ppl don’t like it #how do y’all get out of that because I can’t #literally all I’m thinking about are stuff that people would genuinely enjoy but then I would immediately become a victim of writer’s block #anyway what do you guys think about a new dad!f1 driver scenario #you prob wouldn’t like it but hey it came up to me #I miss writing for shits and giggles (I still do that but not as much)#shoot me some asks <3 #writers on tumblr #f1

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marshmellowtea · 1 year

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tbh i feel like my interest in willmartha would skyrocket 200% if it wasn’t treated as the fandom’s Golden Fluffy Healthy Ship

#not gonna tag this cuz i’m just taking aloud but this is about the who’s lila characters if you couldn’t tell and we’re curious #like honestly i still think i wouldn’t be that interested in it even without that baggage #martha just. does not interest me lmao and i think they both have more compelling dynamics with other characters #but in the fan content i see for it it feels like. super idealized?#which honestly that one its own is fine. whatever. doesn’t interest me cuz i like mess lol but there’s nothing inherently wrong with that #it’s just when it’s put up against willtanya that it. causes an issue for me #cuz as much as it seems to have died down i can tell at the beginning the fandom had a lot of hostility toward tanya #and agaibst willtanya as a ship #and obviously. i’m a huge fan of both of those things #and it puts a bad taste in my mouth when i get the vibes that willmartha is meant to be this cutesy healthy (better) alternative #both from a willtanya pov but also a ‘you don’t have to think a ship is healthy to enjoy it’ pov #and also from a ‘willtanya doesn’t have to be unhealthy and under better circumstances it could’ve worked you guys are just mean’ pov #i just #really really hate this idea of martha getting pushed forward like ‘see?? here’s will’s REAL perfect partner!! they won’t have any strife!!#when first off all any relationship would have some form of strife #and second of all is just a really boring interpretation of a ship i already feel super bored by #idk if any of this makes sense i’ve just been thinking about this rn hfhfdhvdg #in some alternate universe i could see myself theoretically liking this ship but eugh #the presentation of it bothers me idk idk #marshy speaks

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sing-me-under · 1 year

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When will the XD finale arrive so I can get a confirmation on the exact nature of Season Two because I’ve been running on the interpretation that c!Tommy and c!Dream are either straight up dead or totally reset and not memory loss because I fucking hate the amnesia narrative for disc duo.

I think it’s a stupid take because the whole point was for the CCs to not be burdened by their characters’ dynamic, so projecting the S1 characters onto the S2 versions isn’t fair to the CCs or their Cs.

I can see a total reset or straight up new characters for disc duo (and probably Tubbo and Jack), but I’m also curious as to how the other content creators (specifically the Eggpire group) will continue into S2 because we know that their lore will be continuing.

So far, what I understand is that The Incident (which isn’t the Nukes) will be causing memory loss of some kind but that The Incident will be referenced repeatedly in the future. An amnesia plot for many of the other content creators aside from disc duo isn’t surprising to me because they already had amnesia plots ingrained into their S1 lore.

#personal #dsmp #as much as I wish there was better communication between the CCs #I’m not surprised #dissappointed but I didn’t expect much better #I just wish there was more information on what’s going on #I’m still enjoying the DSMP because I’ve long accepted it’s flaws #also respect Phil’s choice to leave the SMP #Every one is still mourning #and Phil’s character was so closely entangled with Technoblade’s #as long as c!Phil keeps his memories #I couldn’t imagine him existing on a new map without Techno #especially when other characters either didn’t remember or didn’t know him #But also don’t hate on The Incident because we don’t know what goes on #Phil’s reason to leave makes sense to him #but it’s not a general reason that would apply to the content creators unrelated to Techno #or who have no significant relationship #S1 DSMP literally cannot continue #take Aimsey for example #as long as the original map exists #nothing can be done because the audience refuses to let anything be done

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kentopedia · 6 months

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ HOME COOKED MEAL — nanami kento

you bring itadori home for dinner & he gets to see a different side to kento

contents. aka you dig up some teenage photos of nanami, fem!reader, husband nanami, fluff, yuuji being your adopted son, i haven't watched the new ep (& i won't) but there is enough nanami angst so i am here to fix that — 1.7k

when you got ready to leave the school, your jacket on and bag tugged over your shoulder, you passed yuuji itadori in the halls, his expression suspiciously similar to a kicked puppy.

yuuji perked up a bit as you walked by, offering you a small smile and a wave. and though you considered heading on home for the night, eager to see your husband, you slowed, hesitant to leave the poor kid all alone.

“everything okay, yuuji?” you asked, frowning as he rested his elbows on his knees, studying a stain on the floor of the school.

“hm?” the teenager glanced up, eyes bright and wide. his sweet smile was back on his face, so innocent and kind. for someone who had been through so much already, he was more caring than many people that you’d met in your life. “oh, everything’s fine. everyone’s just out on missions, so i feel a little…” he pulled up one shoulder in a shrug. “useless.”

you knew it must have been hard for him, being a student that wasn’t quite like the others, having to train a little differently, adapt differently. but yuuji took it in stride, and he handled it better than any normal person would.

with a nod, you secured your bag around your other shoulder, shifting your feet. “it’s just going to be you here tonight, then?”

he hummed, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. “i think so. some of the others might be around, but they’re resting up.”

“oh.” though you were certain yuuji had no qualms about spending an evening on his own, the thought of it made you feel like you were leaving a kitten out in the rain. almost pitiful.

yuuji waved before you could say another word, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “have a good night! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

the car ride was spent listening to yuuji tell you story after story, the boy opening up to you in a way that he hadn’t quite related to any of the other sorcerers, even gojo.

you smiled to yourself, enjoying his stories as you wondered how to tell kento that you were bringing your student home for dinner.

there was still a bridge to cross between them, and though you knew they both liked the other more than they let on, kento hadn’t quite connected to the boy like he wanted to.

you hoped that by inviting him over, yuuji would see that kento, truly, wasn’t as intense as he let on. he was sweet, caring, and he did have a sense of humor… even if gojo didn’t really believe that.

you led yuuji into the house, and stopped him when you heard the sound of kento in the kitchen. his mission had ended earlier than yours, and he’d offered to cook tonight; there would be more than enough food for the three of you.

“i’ll be right back,” you said, tapping yuuji on the shoulder. “let me go tell kento you’re here.”

you’d considered letting your husband know before you arrived, but you hadn’t wanted him to protest. kento would try to make a fuss of having a guest over, even if it was only yuuji, and he certainly didn’t care about formalities.

your heart skipped when you reached kento, his back turned, finishing up the meal that was steaming on the stove. even just standing in the threshold of the kitchen, you were overwhelmed with all of your love for him.

but it didn’t take much… it never had. you’d always been sickeningly in love with nanami kento.

your footsteps were soft as you snuck up behind him. “kento,” you said, just above a whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. you kissed the muscles between his shoulder blades, listening to the steady thrum of blood pumping through his body.

“hi, sweetheart.” he’d heard you approach, and he turned, eyes softening when he glanced at you over his shoulder. “everything okay at the school?”

you nodded, squeezing him tighter. even though you’d seen him just a few hours prior, it felt like a long time—time apart when you were battling curses always dragged as you worried for each other’s safety. “did your mission go okay?” you asked.

he took your hands from around his waist, bringing them to his lips softly. “everything went fine. dinner’s almost ready so—” then, he noticed your guilty expression, one that you were clearly horrible at hiding. “is something wrong?”

you smiled innocently. “no! i just… brought a guest.”

kento’s eyebrows raised, his smiling falling quickly. “well, you could’ve told me before.” he sighed, shaking his head as he turned around to face you.

“sorry, i thought i’d surprise you.”

kento’s lips drew into a thinner line. “honey, please tell me gojo satoru is not in my house right now. he’s not welcome here anymore, because the last time he almost destroyed our fucki—” kento glanced up, his words falling away as he glanced over your shoulder. “itadori. hello. i didn’t realize you were there.”

you turned, releasing kento as yuuji gawked back at you. he’d caught in such a loving embrace with kento. yuuji’s normally stoic teacher was in the middle of swearing, blonde hair tumbling over his forehead. kento had replaced his suit with casual wear, and his contacts had been taken out. in place of them were wire-rimmed glasses.

“nanamin!” yuuji gasped. “you look so different.”

“yes, well, i apologize for my apperance.” kento sighed, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “i wasn’t aware we were having guests.”

“one guest. its just yuuji,” you said, poking him in the middle of the chest as his professional tone returned, so easily taking over. “i don’t think he cares what you’re wearing.”

“no, i don’t!” yuuji backtracked, eyes wide as he shuffled forward. “no, you look cool, you don’t look so…”

kento raised his eyebrows, amused, even if yuuji couldn’t detect the humor in his expression. “so what?”

the boy’s cheeks turned pink, embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “um—”

“you don’t look like you’ve got a stick up your ass.” you said, voicing yuuji’s obvious thoughts as you kissed kento on the cheek with a short laugh. of course, it was only to embarrass him further in front of his student.

kento feigned a scowl, but didn’t push you away, his gaze firmly planted on yuuji. “that’s because i try to keep my relationships at work strictly professional.”

“really?” yuuji grinned, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, his posture relaxing as he grew more comfortable in your home. “not very professional to marry someone you work with, is it?”

you laughed loudly, already caring so deeply for the boy that you’d known for such a short period of time.

“that was certainly an accident,” kento muttered, but his fingers lingered on your spine, tracing each of the bones. “i’ll have you know we were not working together when we got together.”

“really?” yuuji’s curiosity spiked. “how long have you been together, then?”

you thought back to when you were teenagers, when kento had a haircut that he had since regretted, and smiled mischievously. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through old photos, back from when you were just kids, the images grainy and of much lower quality than the ones from your recent vacation.

“hey, don’t show him those!” kento protested. he reached for your phone, but you scrambled under his arm, stretching your hand out to give yuuji the device. “itadori, don’t—” kento’s voice held a hint of panic, his cheeks hot with embarrassment as he grabbed you around the waist, trying to stop you from giving yuuji the phone.

but it was already in yuuji’s hands, and you laughed loudly, knowing that while you looked a little more awkward than you did now, your appearance had changed near as drastically as kento’s.

yuuji squinted his eyes at a sixteen year old nanami, blond hair long enough to reach his eyes, dressed in an all black ensemble, an earbud in one ear. kento was hardly smiling, but you beamed next to him in the photo, dressed more childishly than you were now, but just as pretty. the image from when you still fumbled around each other, unsure how to admit that you were both in love.

a roar of laughter left yuuji as kento’s expression fell, and he released you, snapping the phone out of itadori’s palm. “that’s you, nanamin? no way. how did you…” yuuji glanced between you, squinting his eyes. “well, i guess looking at you now it makes sense.”

“i know,” you agreed, covering your smiles with your palms. “we looked a little silly together back then. i saw the potential in him, but satoru certainly loved to make fun of us, didn’t he, ken?”

“i have absolutely no desire to relive those days.”

yuuji laughed. “you were just like fushiguro, i bet!”

“scarily similar,” you agreed, as kento rolled his eyes beside you, putting your phone in his pocket to keep you from scavenging any older photos to share with the kid. “and he still loves to listen to—”

“don’t finish that sentence or i’ll save this dinner all for myself.”

yuuji eyes flew up to his hairline, but you just snorted, knowing that kento’s threats were about as scary as a puppy.

“he’s still sensitive about it,” you whispered to yuuji. “gojo and his friends made fun of him all the time.”

“oh really. just me?” kento retorted under his breath.

“you must have been pretty popular, then!” yuuji grinned. “if you were friends with gojo. he said all the girls in school loved him!”

kento made an irritated sound, stirring the spoon roughly against the pot. “well, satoru is the last person you should listen to. he has an ego bigger than the sun. and my wife is leading you astray. she was not similar to satoru, she was painfully shy, and it took weeks for either of us to talk to each other.” kento took the pan off the stove, peering over his shoulder at you. “and she is very lucky i love her too much to dig up any embarrassing stories of her.”

“well, stories about me aren’t that interesting anyway.” you laughed, pointedly turning your back to kento. “yuuji, the good news is, i’ve got some more photos in kento in the old photo books. let’s go see them!”

#i hope this shows up in the tags bc i’ve been fighting with tumblr ugh #kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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sexbot300 · 3 months

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‧˚₊•୨୧ Ya know, just crushing on your friends older dad (toji pls corrupt me) quick messy drabble of his fine ass

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

It just started off as tiny thoughts… Broad ass shoulders, thick thighs, huge arms that can put you in a chokehold… You can go ON. You couldn’t even bring yourself to admit the way this man could absolutely degrade you and you would smile in the entirety of it.

‘Sleepovers are so fun’ another one of your thoughts. Not only do you get to stay over with your friends but there is eye candy to admire every once in a while. You just so happened to be wearing your shortest black spandex shorts that accentuate every curvature of your ass and a cream-colored cropped tank top that spills out half of your cleavage. I mean! What if it gets stuffy and sickly hot when you sleep? Completely innocent!!

This leaves you in a predicament. Megumi asked of you to get a snack downstairs, but poor you! Too short to reach the top cabinet :(

You huff and puff while standing on your tippy toes, sleek cabinet opened, one hand gripped at the edge of the granite countertop for support. Your other arm outstretched, nails lightly grazing the colorful box of candy your dear friend wanted. With every muscular push from your calf muscles, you bounce a little and recoil the exposed parts of your body.

Sneakily, unaware, a presence loomed behind you, enjoying the pathetic little effort of what you decided to call “clothes.”

A musky scent engulfed your senses as a chiseled body pressed up against you. Before you had time to process what was going on, the body proceeded to press slightly more against you, adding on pressure. Your hand that was once extended to grab the box, soon had a veiny, stronger, and massive hand gripping onto your wrist.

What you can make out to be a pelvis, pressed against the own fat of your ass, paired with another hand clutching the indent of your waist aided in lifting you up. Soon your feet were completely off the ground and you couldn’t help but feel something, hard, press against you. You quickly understood that this was him offering a helping hand, as the thicker hand stretched your own to grab the box. By the grace of God, you managed to grip the object that got you in this dilemma without dropping it.

“There you go, you got it.” A rumbling occurred against your back as his chest released the deep voice that almost felt taunting. The voice that spoke was smooth, laced with a grin.

Slowly looking up you realized he hasn’t dropped you yet. Ass still pressed against his dick, feet in the air. Did he notice your light blush scattered across your face? No, play innocent. Staring, you found his emerald eyes that showed every hint of amusement, his scarred lip that curved up a bit and his raven hair that fell across his face. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to die right then and there or leave every bit of dignity behind. He looked down at you like prey, you decided to play in.

“See? Wasn’t so bad.” He spoke in a silky voice, never losing his smirk. You only gave him a look of pure innocence; brows furrowed, rosy lips puckered out, and big doe-like eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Fushiguro. I really appreciate it.” His cock twitched. “But, can you please put me down now?” Lacing every word you say with the most saccharine voice you can muster.

His face only softened up. “Of course.” As he let go of the tight embrace on your wrist, he still held a firm position of his pelvis against your ass. Your toes slowly touched the ground but clumsy you, you dropped the box onto the counter! Still maintaining eye contact with the man that looked like he wanted to dig his teeth into you, you let out a tiny, “oops!”

Proceeding to fully touch the ground you quickly look down onto the countertop to grab the contents. But oh, no, no, no. You just had to be a brat. Slowly arching over, you wiggled your ass against the older mans hard on. Eliciting friction to your cunt that needs to be touched so desperately wasn’t the smartest idea. But the other man found himself even further amused by this, his clothed dick loosely making out the indents of your folds. You finally grabbed the box you ‘dropped.’

You blinked looking at him, feigning innocence while his grin deepened. “I can go now Mr. Fushiguro.” Quickly, he slender fingers dug into your hip bones making you pathetically let out a gasp. Forcing your ass almost impossibly close against his dick, even with the barrier of clothes. He slowly, rocked himself up and down, creating lewd noises you choke back.

“Go ahead… give it to them upstairs. I can then accidentally “drop” your panties on the ground as well.”

You blankly stared, mouth agape suppressing any noise, while he still rocked you back and forth on him. “What’s with the blank mind now princess? We’re still playing fair aren’t we? It’s about time you got dick from the man you practically eye fuck.”

He let out a chuckle, “Sick girl. Don’t worry. You won’t need to dress like a slut in my house any further. I’ll take real good care of you, if you can just shut up and take it.”

You pulled your bottom lip in slightly sucking it, testing your luck, knowing that this day will finally come. “Okay, Daddy.”

An even wider grin appeared on his face, “Looks like you came already trained for me? Good girl. Hope that little cunt of yours can take the abuse your mouth should be getting instead. Go, now.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly jumped out of his embrace throwing the candy at Megumi, Nobara, and Itadori leaving them in a confused state. Muttering some excuse of having to need to use the restroom… for the rest of the night oddly.

:(((( poor little cunt, couldn’t sit down properly for days straight. He made sure to ruin your hole so no one else got to :(

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #dilf toji #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk x y/n

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sttoru · 9 months

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𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !

⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.

⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .

you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.

therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.

he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.

“are you cheating on me?”

blunt and straight to the point.

satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”

he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.

“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”

you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.

“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.

the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.

but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.

“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.

you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”

without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”

your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?

“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.

you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.

you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.

but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.

you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.

shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.

when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.

you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.

“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.

he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).

“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.

the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.

many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.

you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.

there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;

‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.

you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.

“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.

“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”

he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.

you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.

“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.

it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.

you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.

“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.

satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo x you #satoru x reader #jjk fic #everyone boooo this bcs i hate the way it turned out ☝🏽☝🏽

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alteredphoenix · 10 months

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Random question but how true is it when people say that there’s a “yuri tax” if you’re looking to get your fix from Seven Seas.

#i honestly can't remember where i first saw the term from #i think it might've been from a post saying how most of the titles that get picked up are from seven seas #like if you want yuri you go to them #like i'm pretty sure some other companies have titles in that genre #but probably nowhere near as seven seas do #idek what made me think this #but it's something that crosses my mind once in a while #b/c when i do i recall how seven seas has the tendency to omit content from their LNs #some of which were yuri LNs #and i would still be disappointed now as i was back then #if that still turns out to be the case #i enjoy my content being uncut #so it rubs me wrong even more if it's being done to a yuri LN #i'm not sure if this is making sense but i thought i'd throw my thoughts out there

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finelinefae · 3 months

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flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop.

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N)

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?"

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night.

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall.

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman.

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her.

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed.

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms.

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked.

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly.

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy."

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'"

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm.

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck. Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals.

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear.

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry.

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did.

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her.

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does.

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her.

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is."

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?"

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door.

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box.

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching.

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened.

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair.

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else.

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine.

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?"

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss.

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered.

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed.

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please,"

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything."

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck.

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck.

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket.

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin.

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon.

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now.

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots.

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her.

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange.

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower,"

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed.

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck.

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?"

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him.

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed.

"You're too cute."

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips.

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt.

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface.

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone."

She smiled.

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things.

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning.

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him.

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard.

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat.

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo.

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly.

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom.

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it.

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth.

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her.

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve.

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush."

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something.

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly.

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?"

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes.

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh.

"Yes daddy," She murmurs.

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave. Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty."

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants.

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers.

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it.

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb.

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful.

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole.

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck.

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut.

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?"

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-"

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand."

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises.

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers.

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting."

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired."

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest.

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily.

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

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