Trix ᢉ𐭩 @trixstardust - Tumblr Blog

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Masterlist ₊˚⊹♡

Ensemble Stars ✶⋆.˚

• If You Want To | Tsumugi Aoba

• I Wanna Tie The Knot | Natsume Sakasaki

Sakamoto Days ✶⋆.˚

• It Ain’t Real Cherry | Shin Asakura

• Signed With A Home Tattoo | Nagumo Yoichi

Pokemon ✶⋆.˚

• Sugar and Ice | Corbeau

Hazbin Hotel ✶⋆.˚

• Just a Dose of You | Vincent Whittman

• Stay the Night | Human Alastor

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #enstars x reader #enstars x you #sakadays x reader #sakadays x you #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days x you #pokemon x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

ok.. so like not forcing u but I’m starving for a fluffy Natsume Sakasaki x reader fic again.. sobbing 😭 💖 I thought it would be cute if the reader/his s/o adores him a lot (just like I do) I just need some pure fluff 😭 ✨

i haven’t done any writing for a minute now but i would looove to do some soon especially for natsume aaa i also adore him anon ₊˚⊹♡ i do actually have an idea for a oneshot for him… you may have just motivated me to try write some of it down tn ᰔ

icarusdiesatdawn

There should be an equivalent to asking "how's the wife and kids?" that's like "so how's that fictional man of yours doing?"

Hi I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore the way you wrote Alastor in Stay the Night. Love me a man who Yearns. Probably one of my all time favorite depictions of human Al! Keep up the great work!

this is so sweet omg thank you so much <3 i’m so so glad you loved it and there will definitely be more !! you have no idea how much you made me smile w this anon :,)

Stay the Night ₊˚⊹♡

Human Alastor x Reader | WC; 2.2k | Fluff, Suggestive themes, Fem french ⭑.ᐟ

Every night with Alastor was like a dream, something taken directly from the pages of a familiar fairytale with magic weaved within even the simplest moments that the two of you shared.

The time you spent together naturally fell into a particular routine; the same club, the same music and your hands intertwined with his as he twirled you around the dancefloor until dangerously late hours of the night. He would briefly abandon your side to captivate everyone with the way he so effortlessly glided his fingers across pianokeys, although he would quickly return to you once he was satisfied with the amount he had dazzled the crowd, barely giving you the opportunity to tip back the last gulp of your drink before he was excitedly spinning your form in circles. His movements made you dizzy, hazy — a possible result of the burning liquid you consumed as opposed to his actions, or perhaps it was simply because you were so enamoured with him.

Every night with Alastor left you breathless and weary, yet you never grew tired of the pattern that had unintentionally formed between the two of you. It always felt new, exciting, like you didn’t repeat the events that occurred every time that you met with him, and you craved the blissful feeling that consumed you whenever he was in your presence. However, your favourite part of the night — if you absolutely had to choose just one — was this.

The speakeasy far behind you, the noisy chatter from those situated within it now reduced to soft, tipsy giggles and the occasional rustle as the cool breeze gently brushed between leaves. Dazzling lights replaced by the simple glow of the moon to illuminate the path that he accompanied you down every night you spent with him, your arm linked with his until he inevitably disconnected them to gather your hand. It surprised you slightly the first time, blushing within the warmth of his grasp before he effortlessly twirled you down the path, perfectly matching the routine he had previously guided you through on the dancefloor.

The lack of music would probably make this appear awkward to anyone else that witnessed the two of you in this state, but the joyful laughter that you released with every step he lead you in was a melody more perfect than anything the night’s musicians had produced, a tune more catchy than anything he had ever heard on the radio that only fuelled his movements with every sweet, infectious giggle that escaped from you. Your shameless actions would leave anyone certain that this was a display of drunken behaviour — a valid deduction and perhaps the truth to some extent.

You would have enjoyed just simply walking beside him with your arm comfortably wrapped around his, yet you came to anticipate the way he spun you through the detour that you always took on your journey home. As the true gentlemen he was so carefully raised to be, Alastor would never let you walk home alone — if you could even really consider it a walk home. A simple part of the night, something that anyone else would hardly await, but it somehow left you more breathless than he did at the speakeasy.

Another calculated twirl dragged a further elated laugh from your lips, your slightly weak legs causing you to gracefully fall forwards with your hands settling against his chest. Dark brown eyes peered at you over small frames with a certain warmth laced within them; affectionate with a hint of playfulness. The dainty chains connected to his glasses swayed with the subtle tilt of his head, his grin growing to accompany his teasing tone. “Tired, my dear?”

Tired? You could never grow tired when you were spending time with Alastor, no matter how much he exhausted your form with his excessive twirls and dips. Your body wouldn’t allow you to feel weary in his presence, completely overcome by your desire to remain with him for as long as possible, even if your weak legs begged for you to fall beneath the plush sheets of your bed.

You shook your head, a bright smile on your face to pair with the energy you attempted to display. “Not at all. I would quite happily do this with you all night.”

He hummed, unconvinced when he detected the true exhaustion in your eyes; subtle in your efforts, but obvious to someone as perceptive as him. “As wonderful as that sounds, it would be rather selfish of me to keep you up all night.”

Your smile fell at the realisation that your night was now reaching its end, something that Alastor immediately noticed and aimed to fix by gently pinching your cheek. “Now now, none of that, sweetheart! You have quite the captivating smile. It would be a shame to lose it now and deprive me of the sight, wouldn’t you agree?”

The charming way in which Alastor spoke was enough to leave anyone’s heart fluttering in response, your own thudding at the compliment hard enough that you feared for a split second that he could feel each harsh beat against his own chest. You couldn’t suppress the grin that inevitably tugged at your lips upon hearing his words, his own smile widening in satisfaction at the fulfilment of his desire.

“Comme elle est belle! Much better indeed.” He exclaimed. “Now that we’ve fixed that little problem, let’s continue on our journey, shall we?”

He expected this to encourage you to resume your steps down the path, a contemplative hum escaping from him when it did little to motivate your movements. Your hands gripped at his waistcoat beneath your fingertips instead, tightening around the silky red fabric with the intention of keeping him close as you gazed up at him with that dejected look once again. It conveyed a silent plea, something that had grown so familiar to Alastor — an unavoidable moment you provided him with whenever your night would approach its inevitable end.

He sighed, not out of irritation, but in complete defeat. Although his smile remained, it appeared slightly weaker beneath your sorrowful stare, refusing to fall completely despite his own disheartened state that he effortlessly concealed behind his whimsical nature.

“Ma chérie,” Alastor muttered with his hands settling over the top of yours. His fingers wrapped around them to carefully remove your grip on his waistcoat, giving your hands a gentle squeeze as he cradled them within his own. “There’s no need to frown. I’m certain that this won’t be our last night together.”

“Do we need to end this night right now?”

He scanned your eyes for a moment — bright, but visibly weary nonetheless. A smirk graced his features at how evidently you were trying to fight the exhaustion you truly felt. “I believe it would be in your best interest.”

“I disagree.” You shook your head. “I believe that continuing the night would be in my best interest.”

“How persistent.” He teased. “I admire your efforts to spend more time with me, darling, but you underestimate the importance of sleep. A necessity to someone as beautiful as yourself!”

“If that’s what you’re concerned about, then let me offer you a compromise.” You spoke with a playful look that left him curiously raising an eyebrow. “Stay the night.”

Alastor blinked. “Pardon?”

“Stay the night!” You repeated with more enthusiasm now. “Sleeping at your side is a fair solution to both of our troubles, is it not?”

For once, Alastor was speechless, unable to form a witty response as he continued to blink back in surprise. He slowly released your hands, bringing his own up to adjust his glasses. “That’s… quite a bold request.”

Alastor leaned forward before you could respond, his face dangerously close to yours and his voice falling to a low volume. “Are you aware of what it sounds like you’re asking of me, my dear?”

“Very,” You breathily laughed. “but I promise that my intentions are completely innocent.”

Alastor hummed, amused by your response but seemingly unconvinced as he peered back at your batting eyes — dark, flirtatious and so dangerously tempting. Were your intentions truly innocent?

Almost like you could sense the thought in his mind, you continued on to reassure him. “Just sleeping. That’s all I’m asking of you, I swear it.”

The way you attempted to convince him of your innocence was entertaining, and it entertained him more to see that you felt a need to do so. Whether you really meant every word you said or there was a different intention behind your request mattered little to him. His reluctance didn’t come from a place of disgust or lack of desire for the latter, but rather, he wanted to build up to that moment correctly — the proper way that you deserved, not just an impulsive exchange.

“Innocent intentions or not, sharing a bed with someone you’re not married to is improper.” Alastor replied lightheartedly.

You folded your arms across your chest, pondering in silence for a moment until that mischievous expression returned to your face, one that he was growing more and more accustomed to throughout the night. “I guess we’ll just have to get married then.”

Alastor’s lips parted to give a response, yet he found the words stolen from him once again, unable to form in the smooth, whimsical way that usually happened so naturally for him. He huffed and gripped the edge of his glasses to adjust them once more, a habit he was starting to form whenever he found himself attempting to regain his composure.

“You’re full of bold requests tonight, aren’t you?” He muttered. “But if I recall, it’s my job to ask you that question, although I don’t quite remember even asking to court you yet.”

Before you could even respond, Alastor settled a finger over your lips at the sight of them opening, almost like he sensed that you were ready to challenge him again with another comment. “Which I did intend to do tonight, might I add. I had quite the buildup prepared but instead you let that impatience of yours interfere with my plans.”

Disbelief painted your face, his words leaving you the one speechless now. He grinned in delight at how he had managed to switch your positions, absentmindedly beginning to trail his finger across your plush lips. Alastor barely acknowledged the silence that had settled between the two of you, too lost in how smooth your skin felt beneath his digits that continued to trace upwards, until his palm eventually flattened against your cheek.

“I suppose this way of asking you will suffice.” His tone was a little softer now, more gentle as he continued. “So, what do you say, ma chérie?”

“Are you serious?” You quietly asked, a hint of wariness in your voice, which only made him roll his eyes slightly at the fact that you even considered the possibility that he was anything but serious.

“Asking to court someone as a joke isn’t really my kind of humour.” Alastor scoffed, a sigh escaping from him when he caught a glimpse of your unimpressed stare. “Yes, darling. I’m serious.”

You scanned his brown eyes in search of that mischievous sparkle they usually held, an attempt to try and prove your suspicions. However, the more you searched, the more you were proven wrong, staring into dark eyes that displayed a lack of their usual playfulness, replaced entirely by something softer — gentle, adoring and utterly infatuated. You believed him at that realisation and leaned into the warmth of his hand now that your fears were dispelled.

“Then I would be honoured.” You finally managed to breathily respond.

“Merveilleux. Although I must say I’m the one who is honoured.” He slowly swiped his thumb across your cheek, deliberate and tender.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, granting him the opportunity to simply relish in the joy you radiated. His digit stilled against your skin, a result of how he began to lose himself in an enamoured trance that perfectly matched your own. Infatuation wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, something that he believed he would never experience and would probably scoff at when witnessing its effect on others, yet he found himself welcoming its warmth with you. He could only admire you for your ability to do such a thing — to reduce him to nothing but a besotted man in your presence.

With a soft exhale, he carefully retracted his hand, reluctant to continue at the thought of your disheartened reaction. “Now then— and do try your best not to pout when I say this, sweetheart— but I believe it’s time to return you home.”

Despite Alastor’s words, your smile fell into a look of disappointment, and the sudden shift in your mood encouraged him to gather your hand in his.

“Mon amour,” He leaned forward and pressed his plush lips to the back of it, his kiss delicate and fleeting before he drew back to peer up at you. “Did I not mention earlier how captivating that smile of yours is? If you show it to me again, I might even consider your little request.”

He tilted his head to the side as his voice lowered, a hint of hunger suddenly in his gaze.

“It’s not completely improper if I’m courting you, is it?”

#alastor x reader #human alastor x reader #alastor x you #human alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor #human alastor

Just a Dose of You ₊˚⊹♡

Vincent Whittman x Reader | WC; 1.3k | Suggestive themes, Implied sex, Smoking, Fluff ⭑.ᐟ

Continuous heavy pants began to even out to softer intakes of breath, the room growing more silent as the ability to breathe regularly was slowly regained. Blue and green eyes focused on the ceiling above, half open and slightly weak in the exhausted state that Vincent suddenly found himself in. He lifted an arm to drape across his forehead, instantly coming into contact with the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on it whilst he debated on where to place the other.

He considered for a brief moment on extending it out to offer the form beside him a chance to come closer. However, the thought was brushed aside just as quickly when he felt it shift away to the edge of the bed, giving him the opportunity to simply allow his arm to fall over the now empty space next to him, still warm from the previous presence that occupied it. Vincent pushed himself up at the sound of rustling fabric and the feeling of the bed becoming empty, your risen figure blurry in his weariness and without the help of his lenses.

Grasping his glasses from the nightstand, he slid the thick frames into place, granting him the ability to observe you more clearly now. His earlier discarded white shirt wrapped around you, a cigarette placed between your lips as you leaned against the windowsill. You pushed open the window to allow the cool night breeze to enter, although the temperature was lower than you anticipated, grazing your bare legs that Vincent’s shirt failed to cover with a cold chill.

He was about to scold you for your decision until the flicker of the lighter interrupted him, his words stolen from him completely when the flame cast a gentle orange glow over your face. The way it illuminated your features was enough to make him speechless — a realisation that made him gulp nervously — before the vision was selfishly removed from him once the flame had ignited your cigarette, leaving only the natural glimmer of the moon upon you.

This was a sight he could get used to.

Vincent slowly fell back against the headboard with a smirk, his voice taunting. “You’re allowed to do that over here y’know. Doesn’t have to be all the way over there, sweetheart.”

“Trying to get me back into bed with you already?” You teased back.

“Always.” He spoke, smooth and deep, your actions inspiring him to search through the drawer next to him and ignite his own cigarette. His gaze remained firmly on you, admiration laced so clearly within it as he inhaled with a cloud of smoke spilling from his lips soon after. “You should wear my clothes more often. You look good in them.”

“And you look good without them.”

Vincent breathily laughed, playfully raising an eyebrow at how your eyes flickered across him, so shameless and enamoured. The plush sheets settled around his waist to give you a tantalising display of his sculpted bare chest, dark hair scattered across that trailed down his toned arms. Your tongue swiped across your lips in appreciation for the sight, unintentional but out of your control. Your approval of his current look was only soldified by his disheveled hair, contrasted strands of dark and light streaks loosened out of his usual immaculate style — a result of your fingers mercilessly tugging at his locks previously in the night.

Thick, black frames rested on his face, blue and green eyes still slightly dazed behind them. The mismatched trait was something you hadn’t seen until meeting him, a feature that made him more unique, more attractive. A beautiful aspect that you could appreciate more up close without the barrier of lenses, although you enjoyed how he looked when he wore his glasses. Vincent would probably argue with you that he appeared better without them, the choice of leaving them off becoming more frequent these days; he seemed to reserve the sight mostly for you, sliding them into place once beads of sweat had cooled and heavy pants had subsided.

“Careful, doll.” He muttered and paused to take a drag from his cigarette. “That’s a dangerous look you’re giving me.”

His words pulled you out of your trance and left you laughing softly. You pushed yourself off the windowsill and took steps towards him with a shrug, feigning ignorance. “What look?”

That look you always gave him, hunger and desire so painfully evident, but with a hint of something else weaved within it. Admiration, maybe — something people often looked at Vincent with, although it was different when it was from you. He considered appreciation to describe it, perhaps even affection, and the possibility that you actually saw him for more than whatever he was to you at the start of these exchanges — for who he was, not just what he was.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, he pondered over the thought that it could even be love that he detected from you, but that wasn’t possible; that wasn’t something either of you were here for, or at least that’s what he told himself at the beginning. It was difficult not to think about something more than just this with you, especially with each night you spent beneath his sheets, leaving him thinking deeper with each exchange, becoming more attached with every shared touch.

You walked around the bed to his nightstand, burying your cigarette that had reached its end in the conveniently placed ashtray. Vincent mimicked your actions with his own, slightly taken aback by how you immediately climbed on top of him after he had done so. Knees settled at either side of him, chest to chest, your arms securely locked around his neck; you had been in this position with him so many times before, yet this time he felt like his heart could stop at the closeness.

His hands instinctively rested on your hips, the way you pushed close enough that your noses gently grazed together leaving him breathless, and then he finally answered. “That look. Like you want to devour me.”

You laughed, a hand settling on his shoulder whilst the other reached up to trace your fingertips across his jaw, soft and slow enough to make him shiver. “I do. It’s hard not to want to when you look good enough to.”

“Careful.” Vincent warned you again in a low voice, a smirk on his face until you wiped it from him completely by bringing his face close to yours and pressing your lips against his.

Your action was tender at first, gentle enough to surprise him, until you worked a little firmer, a little hungrier. It motivated him to knead the flesh of your hips in his grasp, which only seemed to encourage you to go further, your tongue carefully gliding across his bottom lip. Vincent’s grip on you grew tighter, his mind hazy, completely drunk on the taste that flooded his senses — tantalising enough to make him hum in delight.

Vincent loved control — he needed to have it over others — yet around you, he had none whatsoever. To regain at least some back, he disconnected your lips before your actions inevitably went further once again, but lost it just as quickly with the words that fell from him. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a pretty simple question, sweetheart. Easy enough to answer.”

“Nothing?” You barely managed to answer, your response sounding almost uncertain.

“Great. Let me take you out then.”

You paused, offering him only silence for a moment. When he tilted his head at you, confused but entertained at how speechless you were, you finally pushed yourself to respond to him. “That’s not something we do.”

“You’re right. Aren’t you clever, doll?” He teased with a few gentle pats to your hip, which resulted in you giving him an unimpressed glare. “But I would like to start doing that.”

“Really?” You muttered and received a nod back, your look of disbelief soon turning into a soft smile. “I would like that too.”

Vincent offered you a small grin of his own back, and then suddenly his cheeks were dusted with a subtle shade of pink, his eyes avoiding yours as he attempted to suppress any excitement that threatened to show in his tone.

“Do you like aquariums?”

#vincent whittman #vincent whittman x reader #vincent whittman x you #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox x reader #human vox #human vox x reader #human vox x you

allthingswhumpyandangsty

Where did your Jjba x reader content go? I really liked it.

omg i really didn’t think anyone would notice this </3

so all my jjba oneshots were posted when i started writing again after years and as i wrote more my writing developed a lot more imo so when i would reread them i’d notice a drastic quality difference in comparison to what ive recently posted?? the plan was to rewrite everything but at that point i had plans for other works in different fandoms and i just never got around to it </3 im so glad to hear that you did like them tho :( maybe when sbr comes out and my interest is revived i’ll get back to it!!

leggerefiore

theglitchywriterboi

I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3

stevviefox

Passing along for all the writers out there!

Sugar and Ice ₊˚⊹♡

Corbeau x Reader | WC; 2.1k | Fluff ⭑.ᐟ

“Swing by our office again if you want to have some fun.”

The verbal pass that Corbeau presented to you was an opportunity for him to continue frequently engaging in the entertaining battles that only you and your pokemon could provide him with now, yet every time you stepped out of the elevator and into the office that had become so familiar to you during your countless visits, he was never greeted by the friendly gesture of an outstretched pokeball that promised the thrill that he seeked. Instead, you would sweetly plead for him to accompany you to one of the many cafes situated around Lumiose City, insisting that you simply wanted to sample the menu of each one due to being a new resident, although Corbeau was certain that it was an excuse to conceal the true need you had to caffeinate your weary form — a deduction he had made after noting the evident exhaustion in your eyes that silently conveyed a sleepless night in the battle zones.

Your cafe visits had somehow perfectly blended into Corbeau’s daily routine and, despite the fact your interactions never seemed to take place within the comfort and privacy of his office like he had initially desired, the little adventures into the city ended up being just as enjoyable; it was a good chance to take a break from his work, liven up his own exhausted state with the warmth of coffee, and even if it was in a public setting, he got to spend time with you, at least.

Today’s plea laced within desperate and shimmering eyes — something he couldn’t ignored even if he tried — left him dragged to Cafe Gallant, a location not too far from the Rust Syndicate building, but one he was certain that the two of you had already visited once before. Corbeau refused to voice the realisation to you, especially when your visibly exhausted state alone demonstrated your lack of care on where exactly you acquired your daily coffee from right now. All that mattered was that you had that beverage nestled between your hands, that same, specific order where any bitterness provided by the coffee seemed to dissipate within the amount of syrup and sugar you requested, and the countless amount of ice cubes that filled the cup soon left trails of water down the plastic surface.

The temperature of the iced drink seemed like a reasonable choice during the warmer spring visits, a necessity in the summer, but the current cold, winter breeze that sharply grazed against your now bright red fingers left him raising an eyebrow in clear judgement at the fact your order remained at an icy level; he almost felt guilty that his own hands were currently wrapped around a hot mug with freshly boiled liquid inside providing him consistent warmth whilst your digits continued to numb further around your freezing plastic cup.

“You’re gonna freeze.” Corbeau finally spoke from across the table, amber eyes trailing up from the drink still securely in your grasp despite how your hands burned from the sheer cold within them. His gaze soon settled on you, soft with obvious regard for your wellbeing, yet you simply released a light laugh, brushing off his visible concern with a shake of your head.

“I’ll be fine!”

Almost as if you were trying to prove a point to him, your lips wrapped around the straw to take a sip of the sweetened beverage, the tantalising taste of the syrup coating your tastebuds just enough for you to ignore the icy temperature for a brief moment until a shiver inevitably ran throughout your body. The sight of the tremble you displayed caused Corbeau to release a quiet sigh, eyes fluttered shut as the gentle noise escaped from him.

“If you insist on still drinking iced coffee, at least choose an indoor table.” He muttered with his grip instinctively tightening around the warm mug after witnessing your shivering form.

“I like sitting outside.” You shrugged back and took another sip of your coffee, which only resulted in another chill spreading throughout your body.

“Well, aren’t you difficult?” Corbeau huffed, a small smirk gracing his features. Your lips parted in preparation to give him an equally witty response but you found yourself remaining silent as you examined the man now tugging his chair to be dangerously close to your side. The lack of distance left your cheeks tinted a subtle shade of pink, your eyes batting slowly in confusion when he pushed his mug of untouched coffee further in your direction. Upon noticing your puzzled expression at his actions, he nodded towards his coffee, the steam emerging from the liquid promising more warmth than what you were currently experiencing. His smirk seemed to relax now, replaced by a smile more gentle. “Drink up.”

Your gaze shifted down to the drink settled in front of you, the heat rising up from the liquid and brushing against your face; warm breaths grazed the cold tip of your nose just enough to begin increasing the low temperature that had accumulated within it, tempting you to take a gulp of the coffee to further thaw out the rest of your body. “But… This is yours?”

“Really? I had no idea.” He teased back, that smirk returning once again. A small, breathy laugh escaped from him at the deadpan expression you wore, his head shaking slightly as he returned to a more serious state. “Try not to worry too much about that. I’d really much rather you drink this than have to call for someone to carry your frozen body back to the office.”

You rolled your eyes at his words - dramatic wasn’t enough to describe Corbeau. Sighing in defeat, your fingers wrapped around the porcelain, the heat stinging your numb digits, yet you welcomed the pain; it was a small price to pay for the eventual warmth that would spread to the corners of your body that required it most. One hand abandoned the mug, your fingers on the other slotting through the handle to raise it up to your lips with a moment of hesitation at the potential burn the liquid could provide your tongue with. Another small price to pay, you concluded, tipping the drink back and embracing the sharp feeling that you had already anticipated. You ignored the slight sting that clung to your throat, instead savouring the way a sickly sweet flavour lingered on your tastebuds with a few confused blinks as you stared down into the lowered mug.

Maybe you had expected something a little different from Corbeau’s order - something a little darker in appearance with a flavour so strong and bitter that it was almost impossible to drink. However, as you really took a look at the porcelain’s contents this time, it wasn’t a pool of darkness like you would have assumed from a mob boss, but rather, a milky beige, and you sampled another gulp to confirm if the previous taste was a result of your imagination.

Syrupy sweetness invaded your senses almost immediately, a level of sugar that could put your regular order to shame; did he get several extra shots of syrup? A few drizzles of honey, maybe, or perhaps a whole stick of caramel, although the taste seemed to suggest a combination of all three as opposed to just one or the other. You gave Corbeau a questioning look, one that silently conveyed your disbelief at the fact that he regularly drank this without suffering from toothache, and a hint of wondering if maybe this wasn’t actually his usual choice, but instead a decision based on catering to someone else’s palette.

He easily detected these thoughts you had, especially with the way your smile seemed to increase and how you gave him a knowing look now, his amber eyes widening slightly behind his lenses. Corbeau wasn’t one to allow himself to fall victim to your teasing very often. That was something he generally took the lead in by always finding a new method to make you shiver and blush, and he certainly wasn’t going to give you the opportunity to flip your positions now. “What? Didn’t expect me to like my coffee sweet?”

“I didn’t expect you to like giving yourself cavities.”

Corbeau laughed lightly and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to appear threatening, a playful smile tugging at his lips and betraying his efforts. “Maybe you should just be grateful that I’m doing you a favour. I’m not even asking you to do anything for me in return.”

“You must really like me then, Mr Corbeau.”

His cheeks were left a soft shade of pink at that — so much for not allowing himself to fall victim to your teasing. Corbeau wasn’t sure which part specifically had made him so flustered; was it the smooth, playful way in which you purred his name like that, or was it the fact you called him out for something that was so painfully true? He cleared his throat a little awkwardly as he shifted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, unable to bring himself to retaliate with his own playful comment, which luckily, you were completely oblivious to. You were far too focused on tipping back more of the coffee that he had given to you, low hums of satisfaction erupting from you at the heat gradually building up within your body despite the amount of sugar that also coursed throughout it now.

Hot coffee really was what you needed, the sweetness — although a little extreme — an added bonus, yet its warmth wasn’t quite reaching your free hand resting on the table in front of you. You clenched it, desperately trying to regain some feeling in your numb, red fingers, but every movement left them in the same state. Resting them against the mug’s surface was probably the best option to recover your digit’s ability to move, or perhaps sinking them in the boiling liquid directly would be a better solution. However, before you could act on either of your thoughts, Corbeau reached out and clasped your hand within both of his own, your icy skin against his enough to send a chill throughout him.

Your lips parted in surprise at the unexpected contact, your heart thudding a little quicker when he tightened his grip and proceeded to trace his thumb over your smooth skin in slow, soothing circles. Every delicate swipe encouraged you to shiver in response, something you hoped he couldn’t feel beneath his fingertips. However, the slight smirk he wore whenever you involuntarily trembled with each gentle graze was enough to suggest that he did feel your little movements in the protective shield he had created around your hand. His touch was warm, comforting, and your heart practically begged for you not to question his actions in case he retracted from you and ended this blissful moment occuring between the two of you. Unfortunately, your mind was far too loud in comparison to the voice of your heart, guilt evident in your eyes whilst you peered back at him.

“Won’t your hands be cold too?”

Corbeau’s expression softened upon hearing your words, something he noticed only ever seemed to happen whenever he was around you. “They’re fine. I didn’t keep an iced coffee in mine like someone else.”

You hummed with a shrug of you shoulders. “Worth it.”

Corbeau scoffed; unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t simply ‘worth it’ to you because you got to experience that sickly sweet flavour you craved so much like he assumed was your reasoning, or even the fact that you had gained an extra mug of coffee as a result of your actions. Your decision to keep your drink that familiar icy temperature that you loved so much — although a questionable one in the current winter days — had ultimately led you to this. An exchange that went beyond any kind of fleeting touch you had shared so far, a deeper, longer amount of contact that felt just a little more certain now as the pad of his thumb drew intricate patterns over your smooth skin. To be cradled so tenderly in his hands, to feel every delicate trace of his fingertips that conveyed a small amount of fear that you might break beneath his movements if he applied even the slightest amount of extra pressure — that was what made your frozen digits worth it.

Before you could fall any deeper into the emotions he so effortlessly stirred within you, you encouraged your playful demeanour to return whilst fixating your gaze on your connected hands. “How much debt will this favour put me in?”

That tender grin reappeared once again, his eyes trailing down to where your own had settled. Corbeau gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the numbness dissipating with a small amount of warmth now beginning to spread throughout it.

“I suppose I don’t mind doing this for free too.”

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