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augustinewrites · 2 hours
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summary: realizing you've fallen for someone is hard. even more so when that person is miya atsumu.
part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab brought to you by augustinewrites and seiwas!) (a month and a half late but here nonetheless!) ps @seiwas ur my one true valentine
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you’d been planning to leave your boss’ party at a sensible 9pm. 
but one drink had turned into two, two had turned into three, then four. you’re just about to down a shot with osamu when his brother appears, resting an arm around his shoulders. 
atsumu is known first as osamu’s twin, and onigiri-miya’s biggest supporter second (third is a major league volleyball player, but you have to keep him humble). he orders a lot of food a lot of the time, always tipping spectacularly. during his team’s off season, he’s there from opening till closing, doing his best to bus tables and take orders. 
he’s been off for a few days, so you’d been seeing a lot of him lately. not that you really minded because, well–
atsumu is hot. 
you’ve known this for a while but refused to linger on the fact. you’ve done your best to lock it within the furthest recesses of your mind and throw away the key because he’s your boss’ brother. mixing business with pleasure has never been a smart move. 
the blond holds up his own drink and flashes you a charming grin, eyes darting up and down your figure appreciatively. you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find the perfect thing to say. 
“what are we toasting to?” you ask, clearing your throat to mask the sudden bout of insecurity you’re feeling.
“to good fortune, good health–”
“and good company,” atsumu adds, winking before the three of you tip your glasses back, liquor sliding down your throat. 
five drinks just turned into an incredibly questionable decision. the dyed blonde, volleyball playing type.
you hadn’t meant for it to happen, you swear. you hadn't meant to let him tug you into his brother’s (your boss’) bedroom and you hadn’t meant to kiss him. 
but it'd all happened so swift, so laughably cinematic. pressing up against a closed door as he fumbled for the handle. you’d shared messy, rushed kisses as hands slipped underneath clothes, but atsumu’s lips were warm and you liked how they moved against your own. 
“wait, wait–” you mumbled, pulling away for a second to look at him. “are we really going to–” you gesture between you.
atsumu gently nipped at your throat, humming. “why shouldn’t we?”
you shouldn’t because he’s your boss’ brother and your seasonal coworker. while not outright banned in onigiri miya’s code of conduct, workplace relationships certainly weren't wise. 
“i'm just saying,” he murmurs, the thumb brushing the top of your thigh making you squirm. “if you want to, i'm game. we don't have to make a big deal out of it.”
your nose scrunches at what he’s implying. rational, sober you who hadn't just been kissed dizzy wouldn't even consider this type of illicit exchange. whatever version you were tonight though

“wouldn’t it be weird? after, i mean.” 
“not unless we make it weird,” he says, glancing up at you through unfairly long lashes. “and
”
surprise melts into curiosity as you wait to hear what he has to say, but he trails off. he quickly tries to dismiss it with a shake of his head before moving in to kiss you again.
but you lean back and fix him with an expectant look. “no. what were you going say?” 
his cheeks flush before he lets his head drop against your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like you’re really hot under his breath. 
_____
in theory, no-strings sex is supposed to be simple, mechanical fun. 
and at first, no-strings sex with atsumu is. 
he’s good in bed, unsurprisingly. he puts his money where his annoyingly talented mouth is and leaves you trembling atop your bed sheets every time. he’s eager to learn you, making each encounter a little better than the last.
outside of sex, you don’t really see much of him. pro athletes rarely get any down time. when he’s not at practice he’s at the gym and vice versa. when he’s not at either, he’s out of town for a game. 
but still somehow, your relationship evolves (slowly at first, then suddenly at once as things often do).
you’d spent a lot of time together leading up to new year’s. grabbing a snack across the street during lunch breaks. christmas shopping together on the weekends. coffee dates on lazy, snowy evenings. you still go home with him, but it’s no longer accompanied by the blur of alcohol or the burn of desire. 
it’s different now. you still want him, but not just because he’s got wicked abs. 
you want him because he always remembers your coffee order. 
you’re treading a dangerous path. no-strings sex only works if there’s no connection other than physical. 
(which is why no-strings sex with atsumu changes on new year’s eve.)
tonight is different. he’s different. 
tonight, atsumu kisses your shoulder. your jaw. the tip of your nose. soft words of praise are whispered against your skin instead rather than grunts of pleasure in your ear.
you love the feel of his hands on your waist. his face beneath your fingertips. it’s a lot. it’s so much. it’s–
“i love you,” he groans, curling his fingers into the hair on the back of your head as he noses at your neck.
______
the lunch rush at onigiri miya has just started to slow down, so  and osamu are in the back office. you’re both hunched over a laptop updating the inventory when atsumu appears in the doorway. he slings a hand towel over his shoulder, casting a brief, hopeful look in your direction.
you stare hard at the screen as osamu glances between you both. 
“dishes are mostly done,” the blond says. “i'm gonna head home.”
(another hopeful look.)
“yeah,” osamu nods, catching the apron that’s tossed over to him. “feel free to grab something on your way out.” 
it’s then that you finally steal a quick glance at him, just in time to see his kicked-puppy look. it’s almost enough to waver your resolve, tugging in your heartstrings just enough before you turn away.
“trouble in paradise?” your boss asks once his brother is gone. 
“he’s the trouble.” you sigh. “obviously i’m the paradise.”
“i’ll say. something happen between you two?” 
you close the laptop, casting him a warning glance. “don’t you have onigiri to make?”
“yeah,” he shrugs. “but the scrub’s been moping around for weeks. not to mention he’s been playing ‘i wanna know what love is’ every time i get in a car with him.”
“sounds like a quarter-life crisis.”
osamu hums thoughtfully. “could be. or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been sleeping together and pretending everyone doesn’t already know you’re in love too.”
leave it to your boss to drop truth bombs in the middle of the work week.
“so what if he said he loved me?” you ask, throwing your hands up. “it wasn't– it wasn't like i love you i love you. it was
middle of sex i love you. he didn't mean it.”
osamu stared at you, as if trying to figure out if you were serious. “do you think he chooses to come here in his down time and work for free washing dishes? he comes here for you. the idiot obviously loves you. you’re really gonna sit here and tell me you don't love him too?”
you supposed
you supposed this wasn't your typical friends with benefits arrangements. late nights weren't just spent tangled up in each others bedsheets. they were spent drinking tea on the balcony of your apartment. they were spent giggling and cuddling on the couch, not really watching sitcom reruns all night long. 
you supposed that somewhere along the line, the scale between love and friendship had tipped out of balance. 
maybe
maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.
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dividers by @/enchanthings! please check out their adorable work!
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augustinewrites · 10 hours
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summary: realizing you've fallen for someone is hard. even more so when that person is miya atsumu.
part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab brought to you by augustinewrites and seiwas!) (a month and a half late but here nonetheless!) ps @seiwas ur my one true valentine
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you’d been planning to leave your boss’ party at a sensible 9pm. 
but one drink had turned into two, two had turned into three, then four. you’re just about to down a shot with osamu when his brother appears, resting an arm around his shoulders. 
atsumu is known first as osamu’s twin, and onigiri-miya’s biggest supporter second (third is a major league volleyball player, but you have to keep him humble). he orders a lot of food a lot of the time, always tipping spectacularly. during his team’s off season, he’s there from opening till closing, doing his best to bus tables and take orders. 
he’s been off for a few days, so you’d been seeing a lot of him lately. not that you really minded because, well–
atsumu is hot. 
you’ve known this for a while but refused to linger on the fact. you’ve done your best to lock it within the furthest recesses of your mind and throw away the key because he’s your boss’ brother. mixing business with pleasure has never been a smart move. 
the blond holds up his own drink and flashes you a charming grin, eyes darting up and down your figure appreciatively. you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find the perfect thing to say. 
“what are we toasting to?” you ask, clearing your throat to mask the sudden bout of insecurity you’re feeling.
“to good fortune, good health–”
“and good company,” atsumu adds, winking before the three of you tip your glasses back, liquor sliding down your throat. 
five drinks just turned into an incredibly questionable decision. the dyed blonde, volleyball playing type.
you hadn’t meant for it to happen, you swear. you hadn't meant to let him tug you into his brother’s (your boss’) bedroom and you hadn’t meant to kiss him. 
but it'd all happened so swift, so laughably cinematic. pressing up against a closed door as he fumbled for the handle. you’d shared messy, rushed kisses as hands slipped underneath clothes, but atsumu’s lips were warm and you liked how they moved against your own. 
“wait, wait–” you mumbled, pulling away for a second to look at him. “are we really going to–” you gesture between you.
atsumu gently nipped at your throat, humming. “why shouldn’t we?”
you shouldn’t because he’s your boss’ brother and your seasonal coworker. while not outright banned in onigiri miya’s code of conduct, workplace relationships certainly weren't wise. 
“i'm just saying,” he murmurs, the thumb brushing the top of your thigh making you squirm. “if you want to, i'm game. we don't have to make a big deal out of it.”
your nose scrunches at what he’s implying. rational, sober you who hadn't just been kissed dizzy wouldn't even consider this type of illicit exchange. whatever version you were tonight though

“wouldn’t it be weird? after, i mean.” 
“not unless we make it weird,” he says, glancing up at you through unfairly long lashes. “and
”
surprise melts into curiosity as you wait to hear what he has to say, but he trails off. he quickly tries to dismiss it with a shake of his head before moving in to kiss you again.
but you lean back and fix him with an expectant look. “no. what were you going say?” 
his cheeks flush before he lets his head drop against your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like you’re really hot under his breath. 
_____
in theory, no-strings sex is supposed to be simple, mechanical fun. 
and at first, no-strings sex with atsumu is. 
he’s good in bed, unsurprisingly. he puts his money where his annoyingly talented mouth is and leaves you trembling atop your bed sheets every time. he’s eager to learn you, making each encounter a little better than the last.
outside of sex, you don’t really see much of him. pro athletes rarely get any down time. when he’s not at practice he’s at the gym and vice versa. when he’s not at either, he’s out of town for a game. 
but still somehow, your relationship evolves (slowly at first, then suddenly at once as things often do).
you’d spent a lot of time together leading up to new year’s. grabbing a snack across the street during lunch breaks. christmas shopping together on the weekends. coffee dates on lazy, snowy evenings. you still go home with him, but it’s no longer accompanied by the blur of alcohol or the burn of desire. 
it’s different now. you still want him, but not just because he’s got wicked abs. 
you want him because he always remembers your coffee order. 
you’re treading a dangerous path. no-strings sex only works if there’s no connection other than physical. 
(which is why no-strings sex with atsumu changes on new year’s eve.)
tonight is different. he’s different. 
tonight, atsumu kisses your shoulder. your jaw. the tip of your nose. soft words of praise are whispered against your skin instead rather than grunts of pleasure in your ear.
you love the feel of his hands on your waist. his face beneath your fingertips. it’s a lot. it’s so much. it’s–
“i love you,” he groans, curling his fingers into the hair on the back of your head as he noses at your neck.
______
the lunch rush at onigiri miya has just started to slow down, so  and osamu are in the back office. you’re both hunched over a laptop updating the inventory when atsumu appears in the doorway. he slings a hand towel over his shoulder, casting a brief, hopeful look in your direction.
you stare hard at the screen as osamu glances between you both. 
“dishes are mostly done,” the blond says. “i'm gonna head home.”
(another hopeful look.)
“yeah,” osamu nods, catching the apron that’s tossed over to him. “feel free to grab something on your way out.” 
it’s then that you finally steal a quick glance at him, just in time to see his kicked-puppy look. it’s almost enough to waver your resolve, tugging in your heartstrings just enough before you turn away.
“trouble in paradise?” your boss asks once his brother is gone. 
“he’s the trouble.” you sigh. “obviously i’m the paradise.”
“i’ll say. something happen between you two?” 
you close the laptop, casting him a warning glance. “don’t you have onigiri to make?”
“yeah,” he shrugs. “but the scrub’s been moping around for weeks. not to mention he’s been playing ‘i wanna know what love is’ every time i get in a car with him.”
“sounds like a quarter-life crisis.”
osamu hums thoughtfully. “could be. or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been sleeping together and pretending everyone doesn’t already know you’re in love too.”
leave it to your boss to drop truth bombs in the middle of the work week.
“so what if he said he loved me?” you ask, throwing your hands up. “it wasn't– it wasn't like i love you i love you. it was
middle of sex i love you. he didn't mean it.”
osamu stared at you, as if trying to figure out if you were serious. “do you think he chooses to come here in his down time and work for free washing dishes? he comes here for you. the idiot obviously loves you. you’re really gonna sit here and tell me you don't love him too?”
you supposed
you supposed this wasn't your typical friends with benefits arrangements. late nights weren't just spent tangled up in each others bedsheets. they were spent drinking tea on the balcony of your apartment. they were spent giggling and cuddling on the couch, not really watching sitcom reruns all night long. 
you supposed that somewhere along the line, the scale between love and friendship had tipped out of balance. 
maybe
maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.
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dividers by @/enchanthings! please check out their adorable work!
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augustinewrites · 11 hours
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◩˚~ ANIMATED HEARTS DIVIDERS by enchanthings ~˚◩
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Info: these were all drawn & animated by me. please reblog/like if use!
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augustinewrites · 5 days
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beyond drained and tired this week :)
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augustinewrites · 5 days
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satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive
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gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.
not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 
he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.
he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—
“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”
“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”
your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 
“is that
”
“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”
he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”
“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 
“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”
“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card
”
his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 
the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 
“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.
“uh, babe?”
“hm?”
“how do you take this off?”
_____
“well, i connected it to this piece—”
“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 
“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”
“then why won’t it come off?”
it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.
“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”
“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—
the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 
“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”
“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.
“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 
“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”
“put it away!”
“i could, but—”
you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 
“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.
“i might need more than a second
”
you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.
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augustinewrites · 6 days
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My first post here and it’s TodoBaku with their new hairstyle :b
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augustinewrites · 6 days
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Always have your bestie's back !! â˜șïžđŸ«¶
The event was fun 😔👍
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augustinewrites · 6 days
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𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡
“I never noticed your eyes were this [colour].”
“Your heartbeat’s really loud.”
“You asleep?”
“I like this, being so close to you.”
“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”
“You’re so, so, so pretty.”
“I just — I’m breathless, okay? Whenever I’m with you, it happens.”
“You make my heart beat so quick.”
“You always know how to make me smile.”
“You’ll always be safe with me.”
[Kisses the other on the cheek]
“Always.”
“I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with you.”
“All my choices lead me to you.”
“I’ll never give you up.”
“I sleep better if you’re around.”
“You snore in your sleep. But
 it’s adorable, okay?”
“I like this. A quiet breakfast with you.”
“There’re billions of people on this planet, and I love you. How incredible is that?”
“I trust you.”
[Holds the other’s hand when they think the other won’t notice]
“You keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?”
“Let’s push all of these stuff away. I wanna dance here right now with you.”
“Are we really doing this? Are we really slow-dancing?”
“When you laugh like that, it just — you’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“No, sorry, you laughed. I 
 I never saw it before. It’s — pretty.”
“You haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.”
[Puts head on the other’s shoulder]
“I will never let you go.”
“You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”
“You wrote me a song?”
“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”
[Suddenly feels around the bed to search for the other’s hand / body when they’re sleeping]
[Extends a hand when they see the other was searching for it while they’re sleeping]
“I just feel calmer. When I’m with you.”
“You’re not in bed. I came looking for you.”
“What are you doing up? Come to bed.”
“It’s weird. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up. Now, it’s like I don’t wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling.”
“I don’t mind sharing the blankets with you.”
“You’re cold. Come here.”
“You always do that. You always warm me up.”
“Stay.”
“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.”
[Hugs for a very long time]
[Puts feet on the other’s lap]
“I’m so proud of you, you know that?”
“I love you.”
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augustinewrites · 6 days
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dilucs intervention in the alchemy event made me laugh dhdh boy came with one goal in mind !!
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augustinewrites · 7 days
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♡ one of the best days in Wriothesley’s life is when his daughter gets big enough to have tea parties with him.
he absolutely has bought her a beautiful ceramic tea set, something dainty but crafted to be durable for little hands, with lots of pastel flowers painted onto the sides.
donned with lopsided pigtails, her chubby fingers wrap around one of her papa’s large ones as she leads him to the tiny pink table in the middle of her bedroom. he sits down on one of the wooden chairs, his knees comically drawn up too high as he hunches over obediently to allow the toddler to place a hat on him, and maybe a stuffed animal in his arms before she puts a plastic piece of cake on a plate and hands him his tea cup.
Wriothesley plays along so well, asking for extra sugar and cream and showing his little girl how to extend her pinky while drinking her tea, helping her stuffed animals also enjoy their drink. He fully converses with his daughter too, her giddy laughter and babbles only adding to the magic.
it’s only a matter of time before Wriothesley brews a real pot of tea, carefully pouring the contents into the tiny floral teapot, it can’t even hold a full cup of tea, but he brings it to the table and watches with a toothy smile as his little girl carefully pours him a cup with her pink tongue poking out between her lips in concentration. He’s so proud of her.
of course you’re invited to join these parties, sitting side by side with your husband while your daughter attempts to feed you another plastic macaron.
He also is absolutely the kind of girl dad who sits so patiently while she paints his fingernails, or insists on putting glittery eyeshadow on him. Anything for his little girl.
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augustinewrites · 7 days
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she has a flower for you!
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augustinewrites · 8 days
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augustinewrites · 8 days
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baby is not a baby anymore🎉
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augustinewrites · 9 days
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The last character you drew/wrote about is now stuck in the last game you played. How screwed are they?
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augustinewrites · 9 days
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rkgk
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augustinewrites · 10 days
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based on this
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your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 
“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness
”
“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”
the comment about his
colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be
intense.”
“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 
of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 
“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”
“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 
his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 
“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”
______
business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 
you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 
“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 
you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”
the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.
“father!”
“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”
wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 
“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 
wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”
“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”
_____
sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.
nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 
“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”
wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”
“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”
both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.
“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”
she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.
“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”
“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”
it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'Ă©tait une promesse.” 
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augustinewrites · 11 days
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as a captain in the luofu’s sky-faring commission, you’re no stranger to late nights. there’s always lots to do. there are expense reports to sign off on, mission summaries to type up, patrols to assign. the workload is never ending. 
“here are the reports you requested, captain,” a young, bright eyed cadet says as she places a stack of papers onto an empty corner of the desk. “and your coffee.”
“thank you.” you take the cup, flashing her a grateful smile before taking a quick sip. the warm, bitter sip of espresso is exactly what you need to get through the tail end of your night.  “i've sent you all the maneuvers we’ll be practicing next week, as well as patrol assignments for the month. if you have any questions–”
a few gasps cut you off, the attention of your fellow pilots drawn to the entrance. 
“it’s general jing yuan!” they whisper giddily. 
your brows furrow slightly. “jing yuan?”
“yes, love?” 
you startle slightly when a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a shock of white hair entering your peripheral as the most powerful man on the xianzhou luofu nuzzles the crook of your neck.
“dismissed. i’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” you say quickly to the starry-eyed pilots in front of you. they scramble quickly, leaving you alone with your husband, who gives them a lazy salute.
“i missed you,” he murmurs, his breath smelling strongly of osmanthus wine. 
“and i, you,” you assure him, twisting in his hold to face him and patting his cheek lightly. you see now that he’s dressed down in only the soft material of his shirt and trousers, forgoing heavy leathers and armour fashioned for a general.
when was the last time you'd seen him so relaxed in public? unburdened by the needs and conflicts within the luofu? 
jing yuan preens at your attention, grasping your hand to press a kiss to your palm. he gazes at you, cheeks rosy and eyelids already beginning to droop. “shall we take our leave then?”
gods, he’s starting to lean, resting his body weight against yours so you’re struggling to hold him up. “you certainly should, love. i’ll meet you at home once i’ve finished my work.”
“i suppose i shall wait for you then,” he concedes with a great sigh, suddenly pulling away. it appears your suggestion has fallen on deaf ears, because jing yuan drags an empty chair over to your desk, plopping down into it. 
given his drunken state, it’d be unwise to leave him to return home unsupervised. you wouldn’t be there to stop him from purchasing an unreasonable amount of baked goods (again) on the way home. 
“fear not, lover,” he grins, crossing a leg over his knee as he makes himself comfortable. “i shall endeavour to be as silent as a mouse while you work.”
you highly doubt his ability to do so, but know that arguing with him is pointless. once the general makes a decision, his mind is impossible to change. 
so he sits as quietly as he can manage, fingers drumming rapidly against his knee as he hums. it takes you a minute to identify the tune, but when you do your pen stops.
“is that our first dance song?”
“indeed.”
his chair scrapes the floor loudly as he drags it next to yours, leaning his head against your shoulder. 
“jing yuan,” you sigh, rubbing your temple. “i can’t work when you’re like this.”
he takes your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. “do you find my affection
distracting?”
“incredibly.”
you very nearly cave when he brushes your hair aside, nosing at the side of your neck before pressing his lips to your pulse. “then it appears i’m doing my job as your husband.” 
you stare hard at the expense reports, trying your best to focus with your lion of a man clinging to your side.
you feel a little guilty when you pull away from him, a whine escaping his pouting lips. you stand, straightening your uniform and stepping back to avoid his grasp
“stay here,” you instruct. “i’m just going to run to the archives room.”
jing yuan, as expected, does no such thing. 
giggles and odd looks are cast in your direction at the sight of an arbiter general trailing after you. 
“helm master!” he suddenly calls out, voice echoing through the building. your gaze darts to where his is fixed, spotting yukong walking towards you both. “i command you to relieve my wife from her duties for the night.”
she glances between the two of you, amused. “well, who am i to ignore an order from general jing yuan?”
“it’s really not necessary–”
yukong places a hand on your shoulder. “go.enjoy your night. besides, i doubt anyone will be able to get any work done with him moping about until you finish.”
she heads back to her post before you can protest, leaving you alone with the very satisfied general.
“come along, dear,” he says, scooping you up with ease and heaving you over his shoulder. he lands a firm smack to your rear when you squeal, arguing to be put down. “let’s head home and see if we can recreate the rest of our wedding night, hm?”
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a/n: little drabble for @mydiluc for letting me ramble on about our fave men at random hours of the day â˜ș thank you my starshine sugarplum cupcake angel i appreciate you!!
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