jk I watched one of my favourite keigo edits on insta and I got inspired. happy birthday 2 me 🫶🏻 (the main fic I was working on is still coming, but idk when exactly 🥹)
fem!reader, no physical descriptions. pure birthday fluff with tiny little minuscule amounts of angst sprinkled in bc. well. it’s a birthday. I’m sick for my 20th, so reader is too 😔
you wake up to the sound of squeaky bedroom door hinges and a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of happy birthday.
barely awake but just alert enough to realize what’s going on, you smile and turn over on your side to face keigo. he walks in slowly with a large bag around his wrist and a cupcake with slightly squished frosting in his palms.
he sits on his designated side of the bed (the one closer to the door since he insists on being your hero at all hours of the day) and waits for you to sit up against the headboard before sticking a candle into the dessert and lighting it for you.
“make a wish, baby,” he says. with how dark the room still is in the early morning, his face is lit up from the soft glow of the flame. warmth settles in your stomach as you watch the flickering reflection in his eyes and you can only think of one thing worth wishing for.
please let this last forever. don’t let me mess it up.
you blow out the candle and he cheers, moving to sit right next to you against the headboard. you lean your head on his shoulder and he happily feeds you pieces of cupcake, feathers working overtime trying to catch all of the crumbs before they reach the bed.
when you finish chewing a piece, he says, “how are you feeling?”
you shrug. “okay today, I think. better than yesterday, for sure- I feel like I can breathe again.”
you don’t miss how he winces at your voice, definitely less congested than the last few days, but sounding even more rough from lack of use overnight. you try to clear your throat, but it turns into a coughing fit. “drink some water, angel, don’t strain yourself.”
the stream of water soothes the itch and you sigh in relief. keigo, not phased one bit by your sickness, kisses your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. “I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, sweet girl.”
you shrug and try to play off how his nicknames are affecting you so early in the morning. “it’s okay, keigo, it could be a lot worse. a cold on my birthday isn’t the end of the world.”
his eyes soften. “yeah, but I know you were feeling more hopeful about things this year… it’s not often you get like that about your birthday, so I just wish the universe was on the same wavelength as us about that.”
you look down at your lap and pick at a loose string on the comforter. he must see your lips wobbling, because he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.
it’s quiet for a second, but soon enough you’re sniffling in his arms and he knows it’s not your cold acting up.
“it’s okay, sweetheart, let it out.”
he understands birthdays are hard for you. he’s never pried into it, but he has his suspicions.
he could push, but he knows that your issues with your own birthday are far too deep-rooted to unpack in one morning before work. he’ll save it for a later date. right now all he wants is to see you smile again, so he’ll have to distract you from your thoughts.
“baby, you deserve the whole world. you know that, right?”
you shake your head. “I don’t, though. I don’t do anything deserving of what I’ve gotten so far… I don’t work hard enough, I don’t always make the best decisions for myself, I guess I’m a good person, but I could do so much better… I’m just so average. I barely even deserve-“
you end your rant with a half-hearted gesture in no particular direction, but he gets the idea and he frowns in concern.
“me? you don’t think you deserve…me?”
guilt keeps you from meeting his gaze again and he sighs.
his angel, his baby, the love of his life. the one. he just wants to take it all away.
you take things to heart too easily sometimes, so this moment might just be things you’ve let bubble up more recently… but his instinct and familiarity both tell him that these aren’t new feelings.
“sweet girl, I think it’s the other way around. I don’t think I’m very deserving of someone as incredible as you.”
you blink and finally meet his eyes again. “but…”
he doesn’t let you continue. “I would give you anything you asked for just for existing, baby. you don’t have to do a damn thing for my love.”
reaching over to grab the bag he had around his wrist earlier, he presents it to you with a wide grin and an excited glint in his eyes. “but I’ll start with this.”
you take the bag and pull out what looks like a scrapbook. the cover is decorated with foam stickers that spell out both of your names and badly cut paper hearts that look to be taken from sparkly card-stock. the book itself is made from faux-leather in your favourite colour.
your eyes travel up from the photo album to keigo, curiously. he’s happy to see a small smile forming on your face and he wipes away the last of your tears with a feather. “keigo, did you-“
he chuckles a little nervously. “I know it’s not the best work you’ve ever seen, but I wanted to make something by hand for you. I, um, I’ve never really done arts and crafts before.”
he recognizes the sound that comes out of your mouth to be the same one you make when you see a stray animal. he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but the smile on your face as you examine each page (twenty pages total, all hand decorated with printed pictures of you both documenting significant moments over the course of your relationship) makes him think the latter.
“I have other gifts for you, of course, but I know you’ve been talking about having a physical photo album instead of a digital one for a while now, so I thought I’d try it. If you don’t like it, that’s totally okay we can-“
you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. “keigo, shut up, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. there are songs associated with every picture. you’re literally so cute, where did you even get the idea for that?”
he laughs against your lips when you say that and shakes his head. “you’re joking, right? you always have a song for every occasion, how could I pass up on the opportunity?”
you press your lips against his again and he melts into it, relived that you like his first (of many) gift.
he watches you flip through it a couple more times with a smile before taking it and placing it on the nightstand. “alright, birthday girl, you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”
“you’re going to work?” you try to keep the disappointment out of your voice, but he hears it anyway and he’s so happy he planned for this.
“nope! I’m all yours today. I booked it off months ago, I just want you to rest up a bit more. you’re still sick, remember?”
he snickers when your hopeful smile drops at the mention of your cold. “ugh don’t remind me. but if I’m going back to sleep, you’re coming with me. you don’t have an excuse anymore and it’s my birthday, so I have some sway.”
“you always have sway, baby,” he says while getting under the covers with you.
“yeah, but I’m extra convincing today,” you argue, and he knows if he doesn’t curb the conversation right now, you’ll never fall back asleep.
“alright, alright, come here. just rest,” he tugs you down to lay on his chest and reaches under your shirt to caress your back.
“hey keigo?” you ask after a minute, voice once again riddled with sleep.
“mhm?”
“when you eventually get sick and I have to take care of you, can we add to the scrapbook some more?”
it’s a given that you would continue it together, but he doesn’t say that because he knows you’re too tired for the realization to hit you yet. so instead he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “of course, angel. that sounds great.”
you’re lulled to sleep a few minutes later to the sound of his voice whispering the sweetest of sweet nothings.
“happy birthday, baby.”
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okay this is unedited bc it’s not even 7 am while I’m typing this and I don’t have time later to change anything, so I’M SORRY 😭
the other bday fic is coming I swear 🥹
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One More Night
A quick edit of a draft I've had in my notes for a while now.
Gn! reader x Scaramouche
Slight nsfw
Scaramouche despises hookups.
To be tangled within the sheets with a complete stranger, the idea repulsed him to no end. Honestly, it was rather pathetic. It was nothing more than a desperate act of attention. A despondent call to those terrified of estrangement. But archons forbid, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try at least once?
Besides, stress has been eating him up lately. He needed a way to clear his thoughts and forget. To let go and revel in the pleasure of losing himself in his inhibitions.
But there must be something wrong with his hookup. Weren't they supposedly a one- time thing? A way to have fun without getting attached?
So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?
Why does he insist on keeping you on his bed, with a part of him wishing you'd stay there forever?
He hated this so much.
Words can’t express how much he loathes this thing referred to as attachment. He refuses to let his emotions run rampant again and undergo the heartbreak of treachery. He’s been betrayed three times. He’s not letting you be his fourth one.
Yet here he was, in bed with you for the 5th time this week, lips locked in a fiery fit of passion. Your wrists were pinned above your head, it was scary how he didn’t want to let you go. How despite his repugnance towards devotion, his hypocrisy ruled with the thoughts of keeping you in place.
"You taste so fucking good…", he mumbles as his breath brushes against your lips. Your skin was redolent of fresh lemon with the base of woody amber, the bed sheets stained with the scent of your perfume. The air was heavy, choking the last of his self-control. He eyes you, taking shallow breaths underneath him as you tried to catch your breath. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as you never fail to provide him with the dopamine of having control. He dives in for another kiss, this time devoid of passion and merely fueled by his hunger. Hunger for you. For the delightful moans that slip out your pretty, little mouth when he pounds relentlessly into you. For the way your body arches when he rakes his fingernails across your smooth skin, all the while his hips snap forward to hit that spot deep within you. A certain area only he knows that would drive you crazy.
He was obsessed with this feeling.
He knows that he should've let you go already, that this is something that shouldn't be happening. But dear archons forgive him because being wrong never felt so right. You were like a poison who seeped into his veins, rewiring his brain to be filled with thoughts regarding you and you alone. You collapsed the building of his very morals, turned everything he stood up for into non-existent debris.
"One more night…" He mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It would be a comforting gesture, if not for the fact that he sinks his teeth into your skin and gnaws on it like a piece of meat. He’s sure that's going to leave a mark tomorrow yet it doesn’t stop the sinful moan that escapes your throat, an invitation for him to keep going. And he will most definitely keep going. His sense of judgement disintegrated when you hooked your arms around his neck, reciprocating his intense desire that tarnished both your bodies and short circuited your willpower. Nothing else mattered. Just you and his desire to have his way with you until he's satisfied.
A low chuckle escapes from the confines of his throat as he saw how much of a mess you became. A mess that belonged in his museum of you, framed, sculpted or whatever way its preserved. With a smirk that seemed to widen every passing minute, his fingers lightly trace the curve of your spine.
He just couldn't get enough of you.
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