#soft boys being soft

[samstree]

Jaskier is easy to please.

It’s a surprise finding, Geralt thinks to himself. At least, it goes against everything he knows about Jaskier.

He’s born noble, spoiled and doted on by a loving family for eighteen years. He has the best education, one that gives him endless titles as a master of the arts and a position at the best university. He wears fine silk, dines with lords and ladies, and sings for kings and queens.

And yet, Jaskier’s eyes always light up when Geralt prepares a simple meal at the side of the road as if a chunk of rye bread is anything finer than what Lettenhove can provide for him. He always leaves the lecture halls of Oxenfurt at the first thaw of spring to catch Geralt’s early contract of the year. He delights in the most mundane days on the path and colors them bright with his songs.

“I wonder how many are as lucky as me. How many souls under the sky,” Jaskier says one night, lying on top of a thin bedroll, under a sky full of stars. “To have found what pleases them, and get to keep it.”

“The stars?” Geralt mumbles sleepily. The day has been long and he’s too tired for Jaskier’s bouts of musing. “You don’t get to keep them, Jask.”

“No, you oaf. It’s…” Jaskier trails off, huffing a smile against Geralt’s shoulder. “Never mind. Sleep for now. You won’t understand today.”

“Yes, sleep.”

“Sleep, and you just might tomorrow.”

Jaskier snores through the night on the ground. He wakes up at the first light of dawn, eyes bleary and hair mussed. He wakes up to Geralt, lying next to him and calling his name gently. A soft smile overtakes his face, their limbs still tangling.

☆  

Geralt just might understand.

Or he starts to, when he pays attention to those things that please Jaskier.

He makes a pair of gloves over the winter with leather and fur in his stash. The plain materials are nothing to be boasted, and his sewing is far from the best. Compared to Jaskier’s doublets and coats, lined with jewels and silver thread, these may as well be two lumps of rags, but somehow, Geralt knows deep in his heart that Jaskier will squeal with joy when he sees them on his birthday.

The sureness settles over his chest, spreading until it unfurls his toes like warm mead on a rainy day. He wonders how long this unnamed confidence has been with him but finds no answer. It seems his life is so full of Jaskier, that there are no traces of what came before his bright-colored existence.

On Jaskier’s birthday, the squeal ends up hurting Geralt’s sensitive ears, but the tight hug that lifts him off the ground makes it all worth it. The gloves never leave the bard’s person even in the worst of the summer days and are proudly shown off to every friend they meet on the road.

And then, Geralt learns ballroom dancing from Essi so he may invite Jaskier to a first dance after the bardic competition. Geralt practices and practices, but when the day comes and Jaskier is all close and eager, all the complicated sequences are forgotten like foams on the sea. The world narrows down to the way Jaskier leans into his embrace and those surprised laughs when Geralt steps on his toes. The first dance turns into a second, a third, and then a fourth. Before Geralt knows it, the music has ended. Jaskier keeps holding on in the silence, his chin resting on Geralt’s shoulder, his scent sweet and happy.

☆  

“So, you are Julian’s witcher.”

An unfamiliar figure appears next to Geralt as the night comes to an end. Jaskier has gone to collect the award from his placement, but there’s no need for an introduction. Golden hair, fancy jewels, sharp eyes—it must be Valdo Marx.

“If I am?”

“Ha!” The other bard nurses his drink. “You’d need my warning, witcher. That one, Julian, is hard to please.”

Geralt could laugh if he didn’t hold too much disdain for the man.

“Don’t believe me? You’ll see. I once filled his room with roses and lilies, composed him full cycles of fine music, but all I got was rejection after rejection. I’d give him all the flowers in the world, all the songs and poetry. But no, none of it was ever good enough for Julian. Our dear Julian, who needs the world and more.”

“Hmm.”

Strange. Jaskier has never needed a world of flowers and poetry.

A bluebell is enough to make Jaskier blush when Geralt picks it from a wild field and puts it in his hand. A simple letter is enough to lift his spirit when solitude weighs down his shoulders while Geralt is away.

The flower will be pinned behind Jaskier’s ear for the rest of the day, and the letter will be read so many times the edges are worn out by the time they finally reunite. One particular songbook in the Jaskier’s pack holds tiny wildflowers and old letters on every other page. That book is growing thick over the years, bursting with little souvenirs of their time together and apart.

Valdo Marx is long gone when Geralt realizes how far his thoughts have wandered. The dance floor is empty. All the bards have left. All except for one.

“Geralt?” Jaskier appears before him, searching, curious. “Goodness, I called your name four times. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Geralt blinks.

“You.”

“Me? What about—oh!”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s desperate and messy, done without so much as a thought. All Geralt knows is that he should kiss Jaskier. All the world could end right now and he should be kissing Jaskier. Their breaths quicken as their bodies press closer. Jaskier lets out a surprised gasp as Geralt opens him up eagerly, teasing him with every swipe of tongue, every quiet moan. He kisses the corner of Jaskier’s mouth at the end before meeting his gaze.

“Wow,” Jaskier breathes, voice hoarse and eyes hazy. He clears his throat. “Wow, Geralt, that was…”

Geralt holds onto the small of Jaskier’s back, practically keeping him upright with how unsteady his legs have become. He can’t help but preen, letting a grin tug at his lips. “That was…?”

“Oh, just…” Jaskier’s cheeks have gone pink. It’s adorable in the candlelight. He lets out a string of giggles, hiding his face in his hands and pressing his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. “You’ve kissed me, and now I feel like the happiest man on earth,” he mumbles into Geralt’s shirt. “So forgive me if I need a moment. Just a moment to let it all sink in, is all.”

Geralt kisses Jaskier’s hair and feels him suck in another shaky breath. “You are too easy to please,” he chuckles.

When Jaskier finds enough strength to stand on his own and pulls away, his eyes are full of wonder. They are full of Geralt. “Well, of course. It’s you.”

With Jaskier here in his arms, Geralt understands now. He is what pleases Jaskier, and he is lucky. Too lucky, perhaps. To be dear to this loud bard who smiles like a fool at the sight of him is a privilege Geralt would not deserve even if he lived ten lives over. He isn’t sure what to do with this fact yet.

So he answers. “Yes, it’s me.” He makes a promise. “I’m right here.”

Geralt leans in for another kiss, nuzzling Jaskier’s nose, but a finger halts him by the lips.

“You see, if you kissed me in such quick succession,” Jaskier says, swallowing, his eyelashes casting long shadows, “I may burst with joy right this moment. So have mercy on me, will you? Let’s just stay here. Just stay, and remember.”

Under Jaskier’s palm, a witcher’s slow heart flutters at the next beat.

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and remembers the moment. He remembers the moment when all the world’s luck is held within their palms, intertwining between their linked fingers.

☆  

It turns out, Geralt is easy to please too.

All it takes is a simple tune under Jaskier’s breath, a slow ballad, full of love and contentment, a private performance for one. It’s such a small thing, such a small joy when they are in the snowy mountains at the top of the world.

Geralt sinks into the big armchair in Kaer Morhen’s library, listening as the last note fades. His eyes flutter shut, tugged heavy by sleep and the burning fireplace. Jaskier put his lute down by the wall and settles on Geralt’s lap, tucking Geralt’s head into the crook of his neck.

“Is my new song putting you to sleep?” Jaskier asks. “Do you not like it?”

Geralt shakes his head, melting under Jaskier’s weight and attention. “Like the song fine. It’s just you.” He lets out a long exhale, his heart slowing. “Want to sleep when I’m safe.”

“Oh.”

Gentle fingers run across Geralt’s eyebrows, and he almost drifts off right there. “We should go to bed,” so he says.

“I’ll join you in a bit.”

Jaskier scrambles away, and the lack of his warmth makes Geralt grumble.

Jaskier huffs, taking Geralt’s hands to pull him up. “Just a few minutes. I have some tidying up to do.”

The world is blurry around the edges and the last line of Jaskier’s song keeps playing in Geralt’s mind. He mumbles an answer, his legs heavy. The bed that belongs to the two of them calls for Geralt with the promise of a mountain of blankets and furs to burrow under.

“Hold on.” Jaskier’s hand is on Geralt’s elbow. “The night is dangerous. Take this with you.”

He turns Geralt around to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

With his eyes barely open, Geralt winds Kaer Morhen’s halls until the darkness gives way to the warm glow of their bedroom, where the fireplace is lit and his lungs are filled with the clean soap on Jaskier’s clothes.

Geralt returns to bed safely, with a small kiss to guard him.

It turns out, he is easy to please when it’s Jaskier.

It’s as natural as breathing, like these small things, small joys, small kisses. And they are all it takes.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #fluff #soft boys being soft #first thing i've written in a month and i'm very pleased too 😌

[dr-lemurr]

Red, White, & Royal Blue sketches focusing on Alex

Original HRH sketches

#red white and royal blue #Firstprince #rwrb fanart #alex claremont diaz #hrh prince henry #soft boys being soft #drlemurr art #Tag if you’d like to see more RWRB

[wolfiemcwolferson]

"Will you stay?" + piarles 🙏😙

Bel, baby. CW for aftermath of Charles kissing the wall with his whole car and like, spiraling a little bit about tragedy and shit.

Charles had told him not to come, but Pierre had to - had to see him, had to look at him because -

Arthur lets him in, but his normal easiness has dimmed a bit and Pierre is panicked for half a second before he hears Charles from the direction of his room. "He's had a muscle thing." Arthur says with a roll of his eyes and Pierre nods, walking past him, clapping him on the shoulder.

Pierre knows what that means. He knows that Charles will be out in less than an hour and he'll sleep all night and Pierre should not feel guilty at all about going to celebrate with the team. That's what Arthur is saying.

He toes his shoes off and walks down the hallway towards Charles' bedroom, listening to Arthur in the kitchen. Pierre feels bad for him. He had a good race and deserves to be out, but he's here. Looking after Charles. He would never say that to him. Arthur would pick Charles every time.

Charles is curled up on his side, one arm over his head. "Art, did you bring me some water?" Pierre doesn't answer him, just pulls the comforter back on the opposite side of the bed and slipping into the bed.

He makes an effort to not look at Charles until he's settled on his back and has the comforter the way he wants and then he swings his head over to look at him.

Charles big beautiful eyes are looking at him - blinking wide. Pierre regrets settling down on his back so he twists, reaching over immediately and thumbing over Charles' cheekbone, smiling at him.

It's not the moment. Pierre had thought maybe it was the day. Maybe the pole in Monaco and the car that can drive and the season that was going well? He thought tonight might be the night for them, but then Charles in the wall and the endless red flag and it is not the night. But, that's okay. Pierre has been in love with him for years and there will be another night and they will finally walk through the door that's been open for months. Finally.

"You should be out." Charles whispers, "P4." The smile on his face is genuine and Pierre wishes it was the night. He wishes it was the time because he wants - Pierre wants this to be the moment and maybe that's enough. Because Charles was in the wall and Pierre couldn't breathe for half a second and drove his car on instinct - no thinking, only muscle memory.

Maybe he has to stop waiting for the moment. "I don't want to be out, Cha." Pierre whispers and he hopes Charles understands, even in his muscle thingy state. Charles inhales sharply. "You'll stay?"

Pierre scoots closer, sliding his arm around Charles' waist. He doesn't kiss him because he wants that to be something they share when Charles can...participate and remember and - He does bump the end of his nose against Charles', laughing when Charles does. "I'll stay, calamar." Pierre says, close enough that their lips brush a bit and Charles' chest hitches underneath his hand. "I'll always stay."

#piarles #the monaco curse #soft boys being soft #mild anxiety and mentions of Tragedy with a capital T

[mjbunnyluv]

Perfect Pumpkin

Tonight was the night! Izuku was giddy with excitement. The decorations were up, the snacks were out, and two perfect pumpkins were sitting on the kitchen table, ready to be carved. 

Orange string lights gave his apartment a comforting and eerie glow. The bat and ghost window clings made it impossible to miss which apartment was his when you walked past the building. While the television played Halloween movies, Izuku rushed about the living room, picking up missed items. He’d been so excited to have time off, that he’d gone a little feral in decorating. His favorite was the little haunted house display on the long table set up behind the couch. Porcelain miniatures glowed from inside while a mini fog machine set the scene. 

A knock on the door since a jolt down his spine. “He’s here!” Izuku squeaked.

Another knock sounded, impatient this time. 

“Coming!” He shouted before wrenching the door open. “Kacchan! You’re here!”

“Don’t sound surprised. I said I would be,” the blonde rolled his eyes. “Here, grabbed these on the way over.”

Two books were shoved into the freckled man’s arms. “What are-” he gasped seeing the covers. “Sticker books?! Oh man, they’re the old All Might ones with the seasonal stickers and activity pages. Kacchan…where did you find these?”

His boyfriend was toeing off his shoes in the genkan. He shrugged. “Found a seller online.”

“You’re the best!” Izuku squealed, throwing himself at the taller man and planting a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“Oi, get off!” Katsuki snapped, shoving him away with a hand. “Can’t believe you’re excited about shitty children’s coloring pages.”

“They’re not shitty, Kacchan,” Izuku rolled his eyes and padded over to the kitchen table. “We can do one together.”

“Whatever,” his boyfriend responded fondly. “Jeez, why does it look like a witch threw up in here?”

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?! I had so much fun putting all of it up. Oh and I got us pumpkins to carve and there’s a scary movie on tv that we can watch later, but you have to promise that you won’t make fun of me when I get scared.”

Katsuki smirked and pulled him into a crushing hug. “You’re fucking adorable, you know that?” With a little growl, he ducked down to nibble on a plump, freckled cheek, making Izuku break into a fit of giggles.

“Can we carve pumpkins now?”

“Whatever you want. You’re the one who planned our night.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to,” Izuku pouted up at his boyfriend.

“If I didn’t want to carve a shitty pumpkin, I would have said I didn’t want to.” Katsuki kissed his forehead. “Besides I bet my pumpkin will look way better than yours.”

“Hey!” Izuku poked Kacchan’s side, making the blonde jump and yelp at the assault on the ticklish spot. “My pumpkin will be way cooler.”

“Uh huh,” his boyfriend pulled back with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess, you’re gonna carve All Might.”

Izuku felt his cheeks grow hot and he avoided Katsuki’s teasing gaze. “Nooooo.”

“Predictable,” the taller man snorted. He rolled up his sleeves, showing off his muscular forearms. “I’ll show you how to carve the perfect jack-o-lantern.”

“Sure Kacchan, whatever you say,” he smirked and took a seat at the table. “Oh, there’s cider in the fridge if you want some.”

“Cool.”

Knives were lined up, paper was set up under the pumpkins and two bowls were laid out to collect the gourds’ guts. Kacchan, cool as he was, twirled a knife in his hand and winked at Izuku. Butterflies erupted in his stomach.

“Show off,” he breathed.

“You like when I show off,” Katsuki snorted. He stabbed the top of the pumpkin, sawing off the top. 

Izuku followed suit, though he wasn’t as smooth as his boyfriend. He needed to stand and use a lot of his strength to cut all the way around. The knife kept getting stuck.

“Here,” Katsuki got behind him, gripping his wrists. “Let me do that before you cut off a finger.”

“I can do it,” he pouted.

“Yeah, well, you’re doing it wrong,” the blonde clicked his tongue. He pulled out the knife and urged Izuku to grip it. Then, placed his own hand over and guided the knife back in on an angle. “Like this.” 

Izuku hoped Kacchan couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. 

“There you go,” his boyfriend huffed proudly. “Now you can scoop out all the guts.”

“Thanks,” Izuku smiled, pulling his bowl closer and swapping out the knife for a scooper. “Oh, we should save the seeds so we can roast them.”

“Only if you let me make spicy ones.”

“Of course, Kacchan,” he grinned, slapping another scoop of wet pumpkin innards into the bowl.

They worked in tandem. It was quiet save for the occasional scream on the television or a squelch as they cleaned the gourds. Izuku couldn’t keep a smile off his face. They were having a nice evening together, doing Fall crafts. Honestly, having Kacchan in the same room while he did anything made Izuku happy. 

“What’s got you so happy, Nerd?” His boyfriend huffed.

“You,” he shrugged. “I like spending time together.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki smiled. “I like spending time with you, too.” He settled back and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. “I am ready to carve this shit up.”

“Me too! I’m excited,” Izuku giggled. “I can’t wait to display them on the balcony.”

“Zuku, the chipmunks are going to eat them if you leave them outside.”

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “Now that it’s starting to get cold, there’s less for them to eat. I wouldn’t want to starve them just to show off a pumpkin for a month.”

“Too soft,” Katsuki sniffed, leaning over to peck his lips. “Missed you today.”

“You did?” Izuku asked, feeling his heart flutter.

“Always.” The blonde got up from the chair and walked across the small space to open the fridge. “I’m grabbing cider. You want some?”

“Okay. Oh I got that spicy popcorn you like. We can have that while we watch a movie after we’re done carving pumpkins.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t like that popcorn.”

“But you do.” Izuku sighed and stared at his boyfriend across the room. “I like doing things for you, Kacchan. Even if it’s just picking up a snack you like or offering to do your laundry when I sleep over.”

“Don’t need to,” Katsuki huffed, turning around to pour two glasses of cider. He carried them over and ducked down to kiss Izuku again. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

Heat flared over freckled cheeks. No matter how many times Kacchan used pet names, it still made his heart flutter. He took a drink of the cider just to have an excuse to hide from his boyfriend’s intensely soft gaze.

“Alright,” Katsuki grunted and cracked his knuckles. “Time to kick your ass in pumpkin carving.”

Izuku rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s not a contest, Kacchan.”

“Tch, everything is a contest, Deku. You know that.”

While Katsuki started using the pick to outline his design, Izuku stared at his pumpkin in thought. He had been planning on carving All Might, but now he wasn’t so sure that was what he wanted to do. 

“Need help getting started?”

Emerald eyes panned over to watch his boyfriend work. Kacchan’s tongue was sticking out slightly as he concentrated. He looked cute!

“No, I think I have an idea,” Izuku smiled. 

He got to work outlining where to cut eyes and mouth. Even going so far as to plan out how to carve an explosion of hair. Between sips of cider and bouts of intense concentration, Izuku’s design came to life. When he peeked across the table, Kacchan looked to be deeply involved in his carving as well. 

Butterflies flapping in his stomach again. It seemed like such a small thing - carving pumpkins, drinking cider, the promise of cuddling on the couch while watching a movie - but Izuku was overwhelmed with happiness. Being with Kacchan had also made him feel this way though. He was Izuku’s favorite person ever since the day they met. Though things had been rocky for a few years, everything worked out in the end.

“Done!” Katsuki smirked as he sat back and admired his work. “Best pumpkin ever. No way you’re gonna beat me, Nerd.”

“I don’t know, Kacchan,” Izuku smirked as he made the final cuts. “Mine is pretty terrifying.”

His boyfriend’s brows furrowed together. “So, you didn’t do All Might?”

Verdant curls swayed as he shook his head. “Nope.”

Katsuki squinted his eyes in suspicion. “On the count of three?”

Izuku couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he nodded.

“3…2…1!” 

They flipped their pumpkins and a sharp barking laugh left Izuku’s lips. “Oh my god! Is that supposed to be me?!”

“Tch, don’t be so surprised, Deku. At least It looks like you. The fuck is that supposed to be?”

Izuku’s face fell as he looked down at his pumpkin. “It’s supposed to be you. See, with the hair and your pointy teeth? Like the gremlin face you make.”

He looked up to find Katsuki staring at him like he had two heads. 

“I thought it was good.”

“What do you mean by gremlin face?” Katsuki asked, still confused.

“Oh, it’s like when you get really into a fight or sparring. You make this face.” Izuku pointed to the jack-o-lantern. “This is more exaggerated for Halloween, but you basically make this face any time you take down a villain.”

Scarlet eyes blinked at him a few times before Katsuki erupted into a fit of laughter. “There’s no fucking way I look like that! The eyes aren’t even level. What are you going for, Picasso?!”

“It’s not that bad!” He snapped back. “Why are there holes all over my face?”

“Hah?!” His boyfriend looked down at his own carving. “Those are your freckles, dumbass!”

“Freckles aren’t that big, Kacchan!” Izuku stuck his finger through one of them. “It looks like I’ve got craters in my face.”

“Fine, whatever,” the blonde snorted. “The squirrels are gonna eat them anyway. Not like it matters.” He knocked their knees together under the table and smirked at Izuku. “Mine’s still better than yours.”

“No way!” He laughed. “Mine is way better!”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Agree to disagree.” 

Izuku rolled his eyes and got up to clear the table. Moving the bowls of pumpkin guts to the counter, he began stripping out the seeds. He could hear Kacchan moving about the apartment and out of the corner of his eyes, Izuku spotted his boyfriend carrying their jack-o-lanterns through the living room. The telltale squeak of the sliding door signaled that he was putting them on the balcony for display.

While Izuku was washing his hands, his gaze landed on the television. A commercial came up announcing the next film, and he tensed. Arms wrapped around his waist and lips pressed against his neck.

“Are you mad at me?” Katsuki whispered against his skin.

“What?” Izuku gasped, whipping around and splashing water over the counter. “Shoot!”

His boyfriend let him go and cleaned up the mess.

“No, Kacchan, I’m not mad at all.”

Katsuki nodded, but stayed quiet. Izuku slid his arms over the taller man’s broad shoulders and smiled softly. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” the blonde whispered back before leaning down for a soft kiss. “Ready for snacks and a movie?”

Izuku pursed his lips and hid his face in his boyfriend’s chest.

“What’s the matter, Deku?”

Izuku mumbled something into his shirt.

“Hah? Speak up, Nerd. I can’t hear you.”

The freckled man tilted his head back with a pout. “I said…will Kacchan stay over?”

A blonde bow raised in amusement. “Tch, you scared?”

“M-Maybe I just want you to spend the night,” Izuku stumbled over his words.

“Uh huh.” Katsuki snickered. “You know, Izuku,” he sighed, pulling back to tuck a curl into place. “If you don’t want to watch a horror movie, we can watch something else.”

“But it’s Halloween.”

“So? There are Halloween movies that aren’t scary.”

“Yeah, I know,” Izuku shrugged. “You don’t like those ones, though.”

“Would you stop that,” Katsuki growled and tickled the smaller man’s sides.

“Ack, Kacchan!” He squawked. “St-Stop!”

Katsuki halted his assault in favor of crushing Izuku to his chest. 

“Let’s watch something else. Just cuz I like scary movies doesn’t mean I’m gonna be happy watching you be terrified.”

“Kacchan…”

“We will watch something else,” he emphasized each word by alternating kisses on each freckled cheek.

“Okay,” Izuku smiled. “I’ll get the snacks.”

Katsuki nodded and moved into the living room, pulling blankets from the bin beside the couch. Spicy popcorn and a bowl of candy clinked against the table when Izuku set them down. He returned again with their glasses of cider.

“C’mere,” Kacchan grunted, already settled on the sofa with his arms open. 

Izuku dove in, legs pulled up on the cushions as he laid his head in his boyfriend’s lap. The warm fingers that tangled in his curls filled him with contentment. 

“Mmm, what should we watch?” He asked, nuzzling his cheek into Katsuki’s thigh.

The blonde reached for the remote and navigated to the streaming apps. “I got something in mind.”

Those perfect fingers massaged Izuku’s scalp in a way that made his eyelids heavy. A familiar soundtrack started up, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Really, Kacchan?”

“What?” His boyfriend snorted and shoved his head back and forth gently. “The All Might Halloween Special is good.”

“I know,” he hummed back. “I’ve seen it over a hundred times.”

“You gonna fall asleep on me, Nerd?”

“Nooo,” Izuku whispered back, already feeling the warm, tingly relaxation of sleep on the horizon. “Glad you’re here, Kacchan.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki breathed before readjusting so he was laying on the couch with Izuku nestled against his chest. “This is the perfect way to prepare for Halloween.” 

No matter how much he fought to keep his eyes open, the steady thump of Kacchan’s heart beneath his cheek and the gentle movement of fingers in his hair sent him deeper into contentment. Izuku smiled and snuggled closer to his boyfriend. This was the best way to prepare for Halloween.

#bnha #deku #bakugou katsuki #halloween #pumpkin carving #jack o lantern #fluff #mha fluff #pro heroes au #midoriya izuku #cute #soft boys being soft #soft kacchan #fall activities #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #boyfriends bkdk #bakudeku #katsudeku #soft bakudeku

[velvethopewrites]

Eventually, he made his way back up to Dean’s face and kissed him again. It was hot and wet, and Cas could taste the want, the arousal in his mouth. Dean’s hands ran from his shoulders down over the swell of his ass and down his thighs. Cas had felt pleasure before in this body, but this, this right here, right now, with Dean, was everything. He could taste him on his tongue, smell his arousal in the air, feel his body below him, and the arms around him. It was everything he had ever wanted. And, it wasn’t just anybody. It was his Dean. His human. His person.

From Castiel’s Hidden Pussycat- by Macy2me

#soft boys being soft #destiel #fic rec #you guys this fic is so good! #dean and cas #Cas pov

[passivenovember]

A day late! (Again...) -- Barbecue & Heatwave for Mini Week Day One.

--

"You going to the cookout on Saturday?"

Billy rolls over. Imagines himself as a black bean patty sizzling on the pool chair in Harrington's backyard. Cooked through on one side and raw on the other. Bloody. He's summer personified. A yellow splotch on the corner of this town, wearing sunglasses to hide the inferno underneath.

"Why would I?" Billy wonders. He adjusts the straps of his spaghetti top, letting them droop around his biceps so the tan lines won't take root.

"It's for the family," Steve says, light and easy. In the way that says it doesn't really make a difference to him if Billy goes, either way, it's just another fact of life.

"Max'll be there," Steve reiterates. Like that'll make a difference.

And Billy's got a lump in his throat so he hums something non-committal. Reaches for the bottle of tanning oil Steve keeps in the mud room for him and doesn't say it.

That's just the point. It's for family, and Billy's the asshole stepbrother. Satanic. Satan himself. He's the freeloader who lines the floor in the room he shares with Jonathan and he's the asshole who gave Steve a scar on the angel kiss of his hairline, and that's it.

Just another fact of life.

Billy pops the cap to the oil. Doesn't even open his eyes to slather it on his legs, the movement's so practiced.

And he can feel Steve's eyes on him. Caught in the thin net of 'kini around his arms. Traveling past his cotton shorts, down the stretch of muscle at his thigh.

"So hot," Steve says under his breath.

Billy snaps a look at the boy, then, a trough of melted ice cream in his stomach sloshing high on walls of hope.

Harrington stutters. "You've gotta be hot, right? It's boiling."

Billy stares at him. Puts the oil back where it came from and says, "Cali's hotter." Because it is. If Harrington's ever gonna get out of the Midwest and find what’s good for him, he's gotta know what he's in for.

And Steve says, "Do you ever miss it?" With this wistfulness coloring his tone. 

Because he cares. 

Because he’s Steve.

"Only every day," Billy answers, leaning back on the sun chair because this is a nowhere conversation. They have these a lot. Big ideas that ultimately lead to a sign in the road because they're stunted. Stood in each other's way. Cut from a different cloth.

Harrington leafs through the magazine he's been holding all afternoon. It's silent for three seconds and then he's swinging his legs over the edge of the lounger to get close. To get a better look.

Billy rolls his neck to stare at him, stomach clenching at the pale, serious expression on Steve's face.

"Look," Harrington starts gravely, and Billy moves his sunglasses to the top of his head, working to keep his face calm. "It doesn't make a difference to me if you're there or not--"

Billy puts his glasses back on. "Great, glad we cleared that up." 

Fuck this. Fuck Steve. Fuck him for always finding the crack in Billy's armor and digging his well-intentioned fingers into the sore spots.

Steve blinks at him, probably. Stutters out, "Wait, no--"

But Billy's pissed, now. He's hot. Burning incendiary and he could take down this whole patch of trees when he says to the cloudless blue sky, "It's fine. You don't want me there, I get it."

"Man--"

"I was looking for a reason to bail anyway. Something concrete." Billy snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Joyce and everyone have been riding my dick about making this a priority, you know? But you said it yourself. It's for family."

The silence is loud. Like a punch landing on a pane of sugar glass. It splinters and carries outward, into the trees, and Billy's huffing and puffing.

Big bad wolf.

He can't bring himself to stop. To get a hold on it. 

“It’s fine,” Billy says again. He needed to hear it, because everyone was blowing smoke up his ass. Putting on one hell of a show, with pancakes from Joyce and dubies from the Freak and late night talks with Will, and El, letting Billy borrow her summer clothes. Hopper showing him how to use a drain snake, and. 

It’s okay. 

Steve was just the first to admit it.

But Steve’s voice is small. Fragile. "Billy, we want you there.” He says.

And all at once, that’s it.

Billy can’t take it, anymore. He sits up. Starts gathering his shit, or. What he’d thought was his. But everything in his life, everything that’s him, belongs to someone else. The beach towel is Joyce’s. The sunglasses are Jon’s. His heart. 

His heart is right here. On this sun lounger. Three feet away.

Steve says, “Where are you going?”

And Billy wants to say home. But then he says, “Byers.” Because that’s all he can choke out.

And Steve’s tripping over himself. Realizes he’s let the cat out of the bag. Says, “I was gonna ask you, anyway. Or tell you anyway, even if you didn’t go, but I wanted the timing to be right–”

“But you told me now,” Billy snaps at him, and. His arms deflate at the look Steve gives him, and all at once, Billy feels ridiculous. His spaghetti straps are still hanging low, almost showing his tits, and. 

He yanks them up, embarrassed. “I’m glad you told me,” Billy mutters. “I mean. Imagine if I had gone. And made my mom’s potato salad that Joyce keeps asking for, only to find that–”

“I’m in love with you,” Steve says.

Billy blinks at him. He’s still wearing his sunglasses, so everything is rose gold. But Steve always is. Just another fact of life.

Steve says, “That’s what I meant. I wanted to wait for the cookout to tell you because there will be fireflies. And lemonade,” He looks at Billy, then. Frowning so deep his eyes practically disappear into his head. “Billy, I know it gets loud in your brain, sometimes. But we want you here. I know I do. I can’t imagine my life without–”

The pavement burns his feet when he walks away. Cooked through.

–

"You're coming to the party on Saturday," Joyce says to the potatoes she's sawing open with that shitty little white-handled pairing knife. "I know it's been hard for you, sweetheart. Adjusting." The knife gives up halfway through each potato so she uses her fingers to tear them the rest of the way.

Billy doesn't blame anyone. They grow 'em big out here. Potatoes, boys. Wasps--

"I think it could be good for you, though. Reintegration to society, or at least to the family--"

"Knife's a piece of shit," Billy says, twisting the cap off his soda.

Joyce peers over her shoulder at him. The flyaways from her long, sleek braid frame sharp, motherly annoyance on her face. The heat of it could probably cut Billy in half if she knew where to aim.

"It was my grandmother's," Joyce says. Like they're on the same page about the whole thing. Like she was saddled with it. A responsibility Joyce never wanted for herself but decided being sentimental was better than choking bitter.

Keep reading

A dull old paring knife is the best they can scrap together when it comes to family heirlooms, probably, and when Joyce says, "Close the fridge door, I've got jello cooling," Billy lets it rattle when it shuts. The coke bottles rouse in an argument over who will get the knife when Hop kicks the bucket in twenty years and Joyce outlives them all.

Their money's on him. What use would the others have for a knife?

Joyce, as if reading his mind, puts the thing down. Pinturns on her hip so she's looking at him, the full force of those eyes raking him clean. There's a ring of sweat on the collar of her blouse. She rubs at it, says, "It's fuckin' hot."

"Heatwave," Billy says. "We get them all the time in California."

Joyce looks at Billy like he just admitted something, eyes molten and soft. "You really don't want to come to the cookout?" She wonders.

But the truth is, Billy’s coke bottle is already turning lukewarm against his palm. And whatever Steve was feeling for him has probably gone cold in the middle, so Billy shakes the sweat out of his eyes and says, "No point."

"Is this because of Steve?"

Billy shrugs. Admitting something.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Billy knows this woman. She’s not his mother, not really, but Billy knows that like his mother, Joyce would like him, still. She’d keep him around. Billy sniffs instead. Points to the potatoes and says, “Thought that was my job,”

And Joyce starts a little, looking at the jagged little pieces with a soft smile on her face. “You seem tired,” She says. “A mother knows these things. Thought I’d take care of it for you.”

That feels right. Like an admission. 

Not his mother but A mother. A good one. 

Billy puts his coke on the counter and washes under his nails. With the Byer’s family heirloom pressed right on his heartline, a stretch of country road that will always lead to Steve Harrington, Billy tells her everything. 

And Joyce holds him through what comes after.

#harringrove #harringrove week #angst with a hopeful ending #barbecue #heat wave #soft boys being soft

[cinnamoncoffees]

Is WIP Wednesday still something? Because I’m doing that thing where I want to finish this new fic before I start posting it, but I’m also super excited about it? So. Uh. ❤️🤍💙

But the point was, he hadn’t actually been on a date with anyone in forever, and sitting in the back of the movie theater (“It’s a cinema, you heathen.”) holding hands with Henry like it was the most natural thing in the world was… Well. It was really nice.

And they did kiss a little bit, until Alex remembered he did actually want to watch the movie, so he tangled their fingers together, and shoved popcorn into his face so he could focus.

Which didn’t stop his brain running ten steps ahead, and imagining what might happen after, or on another date, or what his wedding suit would look like – which was filed very quickly into the Things We Don’t Tell People If We Don’t Want to Scare Them Off file in his brain.

Alex shook his head to try and clear that particular image, squeezed Henry’s hand, which got him a soft smile at least, and they finished the movie without incident.

#not yr #I know! #rwrb fanfic #wip wednesday #Alex and Henry #soft boys being soft #file this one under #bisexual disaster Alex Claremont-Diaz #red white and royal blue

[wombywoo]

tequila

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #my art #ghost comics being acknowledged in this household? more likely than you think 😔 #this is based on ira and silvi's au btw ^^ #mmm yes english bastard #I must cocoon him in a soft corn tortilla and sprinkle with cilantro and lime 🤌 #guess who's sippin tequila now boys 🤠

[taktitty]

Staring problem

#the foxhole court #neil josten #andreil #andrew minyard #all for the game #tfc #tfc fanart #my art #aftg #just the boys being soft #because they deserve it #but also I have no self control #intimacy is more than sex- sometimes you just gotta be with your person #Neil heart eyes josten #Andrew this is nothing Minyard

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic #liminal scarecrow #scaredad scaredad scaredad #not pictured: scarecrow frantically googling to see what he can feed Danny without killing him #and also going through everything in his kitchen to find something that isn’t spoiled #he lives like a 20 year old bachelor in terms of food. just takeout and moldy bread in there #maybe a can of soup if he’s feeling adventurous #scarecrow: ah yes I am feeding him soft foods to keep my lead on the GiW alive. No sentimental reason whatsoever #danny who is about to start bawling his eyes out: #the boy had to battle resurrected food for years. he is NOT used to being fed actual edible things #danny: scarecrow could kill me at any moment. that’s why he’s feeding me and worrying about my health and safety #btw HUGE shoutout to the riddler for cramming an entire gaming pc into a 2007 microsoft computer #or some shit like that #and just giving it to scarecrow. for free. just bestie things

[mothdogs]

Fucking obsessed with this manga and Ultimate Dad Senshi

#between Laios being best boy/himbo and whatever the hell kind of lesbian shit marcille has going on… #and chilchuk being a bastard with a soft heart … #ough I love them all so much #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #senshi

[samstree]

Jaskier is crying in his sleep again.

It’s a jerk, a subtle whimper, and Geralt wakes with a deep breath. He reaches out to touch Jaskier’s arm. The bard is facing away and curled into himself. The muscles under Geralt’s palm are trembling.

“J’skier?” he mumbles.

It’s been happening every day, right after Jaskier was put on the strong sleeping potion. His insomnia got bad enough that he couldn’t get a wink of sleep for entire nights, and the days were even harder to go by. After Jaskier fell from the stage in a dizzy spell, bruising his wrist, a visit to the healer was called for.

The potion works, but only just.

“It’s a dream.” Geralt shakes Jaskier’s shoulder. The curtains block out any hint of moonlight, so he speaks to the pitch-dark room. “It’s not real.”

The side effect hits hard, muddling Jaskier’s mind. His nightmares have been nonsensical. The first night, it was Roach growing wings and flying away into the sky. And the night after, it was the mansion of Lettenhove becoming a giant ship and sailing away.

They are nonsensical, perhaps, but with a pattern. It’s easier for Jaskier to know that no one is leaving him behind when he’s lucid, but his subconscious is another matter.

Last night, it was Geralt, turning away on top of a mountain, never looking back.

“Jaskier?” Geralt calls out gently, his chest aching. Despite it all, the hurt brought by a dream isn’t any less real. “Wake up for me.”

The trembling fades, followed by a gasp.

“Geralt.”

For a moment, they just stay in the dark, Geralt trying to wipe away the tears. They hit the pillow before he can, breaking the silence.

“It was only a dream.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier turns around, shuffling the covers around. He ends up on Geralt’s chest, pressing him into the mattress, just a tad too desperate, too fearful. Geralt catches his bandaged wrist to avoid hurting the scrape in Jaskier’s palm.

He doesn’t need to ask about the nightmare, not with Jaskier’s grip around his waist so tight.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt presses a kiss on the back of Jaskier’s fingers. He wishes he could kiss away all memories of the mountain. “I’m right here. I won’t leave.”

“I know,” Jaskier answers, voice small. The potion is still strong, slurring his words. “It wasn’t you.”

The sleeve of Geralt’s nightshirt is soaked through, but he keeps dabbing Jaskier’s face, tucking away his hair. Talking helps Jaskier, the hushed conversations in bed, hidden by the secrecy of the night.

“Who was it then?” Geralt asks, ready to defend Jaskier from any imaginary hurt in the world.

“Silly, it was me,” but Jaskier sniffles, “I left.”

Geralt pauses.

“Oh.”

“In the dream, I left you. I didn’t love you.”

Jaskier’s injured hand tugs at Geralt, linking their fingers together, guiding him to the quick thrumming of a human’s heartbeat. It’s the beat of Geralt’s world, the rhythm of all his songs.

Geralt kisses Jaskier’s hair, his eyes closed. His lungs are filled with the bitter scent of anguish. “Are you okay?” he asks, carefully.

Jaskier shakes his head, his lashes wet against Geralt’s neck.

“It felt real.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Like a part of me was lost.”

Geralt runs a hand down Jaskier’s back, murmuring sweet nothings. He needs to chase the ridiculous notion away, the idea that Jaskier might be just a little less loyal, less brave, less strong. He’d never.

“You’d never,” he tells Jaskier. “The world could end and you’d never choose to leave.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“Never too much in you.”

Jaskier hums, his voice ridden with sleep and tears. He’s tired himself out with crying, now drifting off again.

“I don’t want to sleep. This dream…it’s terrifying.”

None of the previous dreams of being abandoned made Jaskier fearful of sleep, but the act of abandoning Geralt…

“You need the rest,” Geralt says, stroking Jaskier’s hair slowly. “Dreams only deceive.”

“Except when they are good, you said.” Jaskier lets out a soft sound, his breaths evening out.

“It’s a good rule.”

Geralt counts the rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest, knowing his good dreams never deceived.

It’s come true. Twenty years of dreaming to have Jaskier in his arms, in their bed together, and it is now Geralt’s reality. All he needs to do is chase away a few nightmares.

Geralt ends up staying awake until dawn.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #mild angst #nightmares #established relationship #soft boys being soft

[hellenhighwater]

There's nothing like moving a pile of rocks in and out and around to remind you that you are simply not as yoked as you used to be

#not having to lift 150lb speakers over my head several times a day has made me go WEAK #I'm SOFT #well technically I've always been soft i only exercise if it's a project or a fight or hiking #anyways this is not actually that much rock so it's not bad but boy i miss being able to just rip stuff up #augh my thirties!!!!!

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Cont of this

*Wails profusely at the idea of reader walking in on Katsuki and baby play fighting in the nursery*

==================================

The thick mahogany door separating your hall to your living room creaked loudly as you pushed it open before kicking off your shoes. You sigh in relief; you adored your friends, but by god could Mina and Denki talk.

“Katsuki? Keiko? I’m home my babies!” You shouted into the silence of your usually noisy home, before realising that Keiko could be down for a nap.

The delicious aromatic smell of Katsuki’s noodles filtered through the air and enticed you to your spotless kitchen. A small note was left on your kitchen island with Katsuki’s neat handwriting.

Hope you had a good time out with the losers, food’s in the fridge and Kei had his bottle. We’re probably upstairs in the nursery

- love, Ki

You smiled at his loving note, before prepping the food and tucking in.

==================================

After the delectable dish of noodles and vegetables, you meandered your way up the stairs to the large nursery you had for Keiko. You crept the white door open slowly, before tears started pricking at your eyes.

Katsuki was laying on the floor with your chunky baby resting on his chest with a tiny Dynamight costume on. Katsuki was making Keiko punch his face, revelling in his laughter.

“What the hell?! Why is this hero so damn strong?!” He pretended to be scared as he gently manoeuvred Keiko’s tiny fists to make contact with his cheeks. Keiko was giggling away, drooly mouth flashing his proud daddy his singular tooth. Katsuki let out little “pew pew” and “whoopash” noises at every point of contact.

“No more Mr Hero! I’m too weak, don’t punch me again!” He faked groans of pain as he repeatedly made Keiko punch his cheeks, before delivering the final blow.

Katsuki slumped his head to the side as he made convincing sounds of death.

“Blehhhhggg,” he moaned as he died. Keiko laughed loudly as he tried to plunge for his daddy. Katsuki let out his own laugh as he snuggled his baby closer to him.

“This certainly looks like naptime,” you laughed out loud as Katsuki jumped.

“Uhhh. He woke up?” He offered, embarrassed you saw him admit defeat for his son. You shook your head playfully as you approached your two heroes.

You picked Keiko up as he cooed in your arms.

“You did a wonderful job of beating your daddy up, Keiko,” you nuzzled your face into his slightly pink cheeks, earning a babble.

Katsuki smiled widely at his family before groaning at the way his legs had gone numb from the assault from his son. He joined your hug, swaying the three of you softly together. Katsuki pressed small kisses to each of you as Keiko burbled away. You nuzzled your face into Katsuki’s neck, smiling when you feel him smile back.

“I missed you both today,” you murmured. Katsuki continued to smile.

“We missed you too, didn’t we little guy?” He nudged Keiko, who yawned sleepily in response. He rubbed his eyes before nestling into you, breaths slowly deepening as you gave him a gentle goodnight kiss.

“Time for a real nap now, isn’t it sweetheart?” You murmured, giving your husband a pointed look, who only let out a breathy laugh.

“Ain’t my fault he’s a damn good hero.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou #domestic bakugou #just him. with his family. ISJRJRNNGNF #*spongebob voice* the gang’s all here. AUGH #Him being so soft and gentle with his baby boy I’m salivating

[sulkybender]

*chants* Zukka

#zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #boys being soft #boys being safe <3

[essektheylyss]

Genuinely, I just cannot comprehend anyone saying that Laerryn vs Essek in a duel would be an even fight.

Laerryn is a con wizard with the Tough feat, mechanically, just to START. She will kill a sitting politician at a moment's notice without worry. She's maybe the most overfunded wizard in history. Essek is a dex wizard who almost got taken out by a pair of magic sleep handcuffs. He defaults to utility caster. And, while both of them will become unhinged if the person they love is threatened in anyway, Laerryn will straight up take down the world in the process and Essek is just as likely to physically drag Caleb out of the fight instead of retaliating.

I'm sorry, but there is literally no contest here. Essek would be a very pretty stain on the ground in seconds. God forbid women do anything.

#i know that in a duel he would not be going for utility spells but like #it would take SO MANY aoe spells to chew through laerryn's hp and in that span of time he would already be burned to a crisp #nobody @ me about it it's not that serious I'm just laughing #LIKE HELLO #Essek is a very soft boy with very sharp edges and Laerryn is the closest a wizard gets to being a tank.