#Fresh breath from cardamom

[adverbally]

Now My Bedsheets Smell Like You

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “fake dating/courting” and “scenting” | wc: 1,645 | rated: E | cw: sexual content | tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, getting together, scenting, first time, vaginal sex

———

Steve splashes another handful of water into his face, scrubbing at the dried sweat along his hairline. He’s still flushed, pupils still blown wide, but maybe Eddie won’t notice. Maybe Steve can sneak out before Eddie even gets up.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, after all. It had been Nancy’s idea for the two of them to pretend to court. Steve’s family name made him an Omega of high standing, and being seen with him could only improve Eddie’s reputation. It would only be until the end of summer, until everyone in Hawkins could accept that Eddie was innocent and let him go about his business without constant harassment.

Steve couldn’t blame Nancy, either. He was the idiot who had agreed to the plan. What could be so bad about spending more time with his new friend? Steve would make sure nobody bothered Eddie and keep an eye on his progress as he healed from his injuries. A little more touching in public, a little more scenting, sleeping over at Eddie’s occasionally, none of it was a hardship.

Until this morning, when Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed with the Alpha clinging to him, surrounding Steve with his smoky-sweet scent.

Steve knew Eddie smelled amazing. He’d spent many an evening curled up in his nest with the shirt he’d worn to hang out with Eddie that day, breathing in the mix of their scents— cardamom and vanilla layered with Steve’s sage and citrus. But to wake up with a nose full of Alpha, so warm and thick that it drowned out Steve’s own scent and made him lightheaded?

Well, that’s why Steve is hiding in Eddie’s bathroom now, half-drowning himself in the sink in the hopes that the cold water will bring him back to his senses. He should shower, probably, scrub any trace of Eddie from his skin so he can think clearly, get out of the trailer and breathe in the fresh summer morning instead of wanting Eddie so bad—

A knock on the bathroom door. “Steve? You okay?”

God, why does Eddie have to sound good, too, all raspy and deep with sleep? It makes something clench in Steve’s gut, makes him want to whine and lick the spicy sweetness directly from Eddie’s scent glands until Eddie gives in and fucks Steve cross-eyed…

Oh. Steve isn’t just regular horny, he realizes like a slap in the face. He’s going into heat. Eddie smells so damn good that he’s causing Steve’s hormones to riot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s next knock is more insistent.

“Don’t come in,” he blurts, burying his face in the nearest hand towel.

“Uh… okay?”

Steve sighs and braces himself on the edge of the sink. “Sorry, I know it’s early but I have to go.”

He can hear Eddie’s bare feet shuffling on the carpet in the hallway. “Was it— did I do something?”

Eddie’s voice sounds small, scared, and Steve made him feel that way. His heart breaks a little. “No. No, Eddie, of course not.” He needs to see him, touch him, reassure his Alpha. Before he can think better of it, Steve throws the door open and launches himself into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh. Oh, oh my god, Steve, you—” Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, lips grazing the swollen scent gland there until Steve shudders beneath the touch. “You smell so good,” he mumbles into warm skin.

Steve’s head swims at the feel of Eddie’s body pressed up against his, but he tries to stay focused. “I think you triggered my heat. So unless you want me to jump you in about ten seconds, I need to—”

“You don’t want me to help?”

When Steve meets Eddie’s gaze, all he finds is genuine confusion. “You want to?”

Eddie bites his lip. “I haven’t been pretending. The fake courting thing, I’ve been… I wanted to do it for real, so I treated it like it was real. And I know you’re not in charge of how your body reacts to stuff, but if this heat means you’re interested, too—”

Their lips crash together with too much teeth but Steve doesn’t care when Eddie is groaning and licking into his mouth like a starving man. His Alpha tastes as good as he smells, a little more peppery but complemented by the vanilla that bursts on Steve’s tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. He cradles Steve’s face in his blessedly cool hands, running his thumbs across Steve’s feverish cheeks. “I’ll take care of you, I just need you to say—”

“Yes, Eddie, please,” Steve gasps, rolling his hips against Eddie’s so he can feel Steve’s cock, hard and needy. He’s wet, too, wetter than he can ever remember being. He wishes Eddie would just push him up against the vanity and fuck him right there.

Like he’s reading Steve’s mind, Eddie guides him back into the bathroom and steals another kiss. “Okay, baby, how do you want me?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate to hook his fingers in the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down to his knees. He does the same to his own underwear and leans over the sink, catching Eddie’s dumbfounded expression in the mirror. “Here, just like this.”

Eddie catches on quickly, crowding Steve against the counter and sliding two fingers through the slick between Steve’s legs. “Fuck, sweetheart. Is all this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms, nudging his hips back into the pressure of Eddie’s fingertips circling his hole. Steve can’t hold back a gasp when they breach him with an easy glide.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Eddie murmurs in his ear. His lips trail down Steve’s neck, leaving little nips and kitten licks along the way until he reaches his scent gland. “Gonna be so sweet, so good for me.”

Another finger slips into Steve’s pussy alongside the other two. The fullness is just right, enhanced by the promise of more to come when Eddie finally gets his cock in him. Steve can’t wait much longer. “Eddie, c’mon, fuck me!” he pleads.

“Give me a minute, Stevie, I don’t wanna hurt you. Gotta make sure you can take me.” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck as he scissors his fingers apart.

Steve keens at the stretch, clenching down when he imagines how much better it will feel once Eddie fucks him, knots him. “I can take it, I can take it,” he babbles. “Please, let me take it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses to himself, his free hand dropping from Steve’s waist to squeeze the base of his cock. “Baby, I don’t know how long I can last.”

“I don’t care, we can go again. Ed, I need you, please—” His begging suddenly turns into a disappointed whine when Eddie’s fingers leave him, only to be replaced by an involuntary chirp as Eddie notches the head of his cock at Steve’s entrance.

“Okay, okay, oh, fuuuuck.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, gulping in breaths like the Omega’s scent is the only thing keeping him sane as he sinks into the tight heat of Steve’s pussy.

It makes Steve burn with jealousy, the fact that Eddie can smell him but not the other way around. He fumbles behind him to grab one of Eddie’s hands, drags it to his nose and huffs the sweet warmth of his scent straight from his wrist like a drug he can’t get enough of.

“Steve, oh my god, how are you even real?” Eddie’s hips jerk against his ass, grinding into him helplessly. There’s no real rhythm to his movements yet, caught up as he is in the whirlwind of heat pheromones, but it’s everything Steve wants at the moment.

“Alpha, smell like mine,” he purrs against Eddie’s pulse point. The skin is thin at the inside of his wrist, practically begging for Steve to bite until he draws blood and tastes cardamom and vanilla on his tongue.

“You, too,” Eddie groans, sucking hard at Steve’s scent gland as his thrusts find a steady cadence that knocks Steve’s hips against the edge of the sink. “Mine.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly Steve’s orgasm creeps up on him but Eddie is thick and hot in his cunt, and Steve’s cock is grinding against the countertop, and Eddie’s scent is right there in his face and in the stale air of the Munsons’ trailer and—

Steve can’t even choke out a warning before he’s coming, clamping down on Eddie’s cock and clutching his wrist for dear life as he makes a mess of the sink.

Based on Eddie’s strangled growl, he’s not far behind. “Ohjesusfuck, Stevie, I’m gonna—”

His knot catches painfully on Steve’s rim, just this side of too big, but Steve shoves back against him until it breaches him with a wet noise and a curse from Eddie. He can feel each spurt of the Alpha’s come filling him up, Eddie’s hands shaking against Steve’s hip and mouth, his hips grinding deeper and deeper where they’re locked together.

It’s good, so good that Steve’s knees go weak and Eddie has to hold him up as they both tremble through the aftershocks. It’s even better when Eddie starts whispering to him, sweet nothings like, “So good for me, honey. Felt so good, made me pop my knot so fuckin’ fast. Just a few more minutes and then once my knot goes down, we can go back to bed, nap some more before the next wave.”

Steve just purrs, content to be surrounded by— and full of— Eddie’s spicy-sweet smell. His Omega is satisfied for now, finally settled on Eddie’s knot, and the urgency bubbling in his veins calms. For once, Steve is looking forward to the rest of his heat, knowing he’ll be cared for by an Alpha with calloused hands and a soft heart and a scent that feels like a warm hug.

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part nine: friendship is magic

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none!

eight | nine | ten

Lando had never intended for it to become a habit. 

Habits got people caught. Habits made people predictable. Everyone knows that predictability is a liability.

And yet, somehow, he found himself walking through the door of Books & Brews again. Not every day (he wasn’t that careless). But just often enough that he knew exactly how the shop smelled when the espresso machine had just been cleaned, and how Y/N always hummed quietly under her breath when she was focused.

It was just coffee.

Just coffee.

The coffee here was good. Better than his usual place, certainly – better than any of that overpriced, industrial-strength shit he usually drank. Instead, it was smooth, just bitter enough to wake him up, but warm in a way that settled, almost comfortingly, in his chest. She always got the temperature right, the milk-to-espresso ratio perfect—not too bitter, not too sweet. If he had to choose between an overpriced, burnt-tasting cup from a chain and the one topped with fresh cinnamon and cardamom from Brews & Books, well, the choice was obvious. 

That was why he kept coming back. 

Not for anything else. 

Certainly not for her.

It was just coffee.

And maybe a conversation.

And maybe also the way she smiled at him, like he wasn’t the kind of man who had blood on his hands.

But mostly the coffee.

Lando leaned against the counter, watching as she poured hot water over freshly ground beans, her movements quick and practiced.

He took a sip, savoring the taste—strong, a little sweet, just how he liked it.

She watched him, her head tilted slightly as she seemed to contemplate something. “Do you read? Are you really not a book kinda guy?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, brought out of his stupor. “What?”

Y/N gestured toward the bookshelves lining the café. “I mean, you come here for coffee, sure, but I’ve never seen you even look at the books.”

Lando exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Not much of a reader, to be honest.”

She made a mock-offended face. “That’s tragic, really.”

Lando smirked. “What do you even read?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, and Lando immediately regretted asking—because of course she had an answer, and of course she went on a long-winded tangent about different genres, authors, motifs. And God help him, he actually listened.

Lando didn’t mean to keep coming back.

The first time was just because he needed something to sober up. The second time—well, it was on the way. Again, he blamed the coffee.

It was the way she made it, the way the bitterness was perfectly balanced without needing too much sugar, the way the warmth lingered just right against the chill of the morning air.

Yet, somehow, Lando found himself there more often than he probably should.

His schedule was unpredictable—meetings in the early hours, transactions that stretched deep into the night, fights that left his knuckles raw. But still, he stopped by whenever he could, when time allowed.

Those other places didn’t come with a girl who looked at him like she believed his name really could be Liam, like she actually believed he was some normal guy who had begun to develop an unreasonable caffeine addiction.

With a moniker like The Reaper, Lando was more than used to people being afraid of him. Maybe that’s why it was so intriguing when she looked at him like she was somehow happy to see him.

How odd.

The shop was quiet this time of the afternoon, a few scattered customers tucked into corners with books or laptops. And behind the counter—

Y/N.

She was sorting through a stack of books, pushing up the bridge of her glasses with her wrist when they slid down. Her hair was a bit of a mess today, like she’d been running her fingers through it absentmindedly. The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, the warm aroma of espresso and vanilla filling his lungs.

Y/N looked up from where she was restocking the pastry case, her eyes lighting up in recognition. And when she looked up and saw him, she smiled. It was small, barely more than a twitch of her lips, but something about it was… nice. Authentic.

Y/N was behind the counter but her head lifted the second she saw him.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “Oh, look who it is,” she teased, grabbing a cup without even needing to ask what he wanted. 

“Miss me?” he smirked, leaning against the polished granite.

Y/N scoffed, but there was amusement in her expression. “You wish. I just think if you’re going to be here all the time, I should start charging you rent.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. He leaned against the counter, playing it cool. “That’s not how coffee shops work. What if I just like the coffee? Best coffee in town, this is.”

Y/N snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Not even a free drink?” he asked, dramatically incredulous. The numbers in his account in the Caymans indicated that he could probably purchase this whole shop several times over, but he decided that it was probably best not to mention that.

“Absolutely not.” She set a fresh cup in front of him anyway, watching as he took a sip. She hummed, scribbling something on a notepad before tearing it off and holding it out to him. “Well, I was going to offer you a frequent customer punch card, but if it’s just the coffee, maybe I won’t...”

Lando stared at the scrap of paper. Sure enough, she had doodled a crude little version of one—ten boxes, half of them already checked off, complete with a lopsided drawing of a coffee cup.

His lips twitched.

“You really made this just now?”

Y/N shrugged, grinning and clearly proud of herself, but pushing her glasses up her nose out of habit. “I like to be prepared.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he took it from her. “Yeah? ‘N what’s the prize when I fill it up?” “...My undying friendship?”

Friends?

His brain had short-circuited a little at the casual way she had said it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it was something he should have expected.

She didn’t say it with suspicion. Didn’t look at him like she was piecing together the cracks in his story. No, she just said it like it was obvious.

Like he was just some guy who wanted to spend time with her.

Lando had no business having a friend like her.

Lando exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She crossed her arms. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to make him smile like that. Lando, who spent so much of his time analyzing humans and their microexpressions, couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it sooner.

She thought they could be friends.

Before he could even think twice, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and slid it across the counter. “Give me your number,” he said smoothly. “In case I ever want to pre-order my coffee.”

Y/N hesitated for just a second, her eyes flickering to his before she let out a small laugh. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Did it work?”

She rolled her eyes, but still, she picked up the phone to type in her number. 

“This only solidifies our never ending friendship. You know that, right? ”

Much to his own disappointment, he smiled. “That so?”

She nodded. “I mean, I do know your coffee order by heart, and we’ve had like… five whole conversations. That’s practically marriage in some places.”

Lando forced another signature smirk, ignoring the way something unsettled coiled low in his stomach. “Didn’t realize we had a whole thing going on.”

Get it together, Norris.

Y/N laughed, propping her elbows onto the counter. “You’ve been here, what? Four times just this week?”

Three. But who was counting?

“That’s gotta mean something, I’m telling you,” she teased, eyes flickering with playfulness.

Lando huffed, shaking his head as he reached for his coffee. He could play this off. He would play this off. He didn’t do friends. Not real ones. The people in his life existed for a purpose. Business partners. Associates. Soldiers. A hierarchy built on control, loyalty, and utility.

Not this.

Not her.

And yet, he didn’t correct her.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You talk too much.”

Y/N only laughed.

“Sure,” he then drawled sarcastically, lifting the cup slightly in a mock toast. “Guess that makes us friends then.”

Y/N beamed, like she had won something, before typing her number in with an ease that made Lando feel sick with himself. She then held her phone out with that same expectant smile, waiting for him to type his own number in.

She had no idea what he was, who he was.

Lando looked down at the screen, at the saved contact and told himself he wasn’t making a mistake. Objectively, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He was being selfish. He was putting her in danger just by existing near her.

But he was good at lying.

Even to himself.

For now, he told himself that he could have both lives.

For now, he convinced himself that nothing would go wrong.

a/n: made you guys wait, so i think today will be a double update day! i'm excited for the next one :)

[kirain]

Rook shaving Emmrich's mustache for him?

I also threw in some spice and hurt/comfort.

The water ran cold as Emmrich splashed it over his face, the biting chill pulling him from the mire of his thoughts. With slightly trembling fingers, he wiped a thin layer of shaving cream over his jaw, then paused to glance at his reflection. Even after a bath, he looked unkempt and hollow. His beard had grown in, scraggly and uneven, eclipsing his once distinctive moustache; his hair, usually gelled and neatly combed, hung limp and disheveled over his forehead; and the dark circles under his eyes hadn't yet faded.

This was not the man Vae had fallen in love with. This was a man undone.

His stomach churned as he recalled the exact moment she disappeared into the Fade, the soundless, heart-wrenching void that followed still haunting him. Now that she was back, alive and safe, it should have been enough, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed her. That he'd been powerless when it mattered most.

"She deserves better than this," he muttered to himself, gripping the razor tightly.

As the blade slid down his cheek, pleasant memories flashed in his head—Vae's laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the warmth of her hand in his. Then, the memories shifted: the sight of her being dragged into the unknown, her voice calling out his name before it was swallowed by silence, the paralysing confusion and helplessness.

Days turned into weeks as he threw himself into forging a new lyrium dagger—a desperate, sleepless pursuit to cut through the Veil and bring her home. Every failed attempt threatened to snap his sanity, his workshop cluttered with half-forged blades and inferior enchantments. He pushed himself to the brink, hoping, praying he could succeed. But with each passing night, lying awake and staring at the ceiling, the fear crept deeper.

She was gone, and she was never coming back. He would never see her again.

She was dead.

Suddenly, a sharp sting pulled him from his stupor, the razor clattering to the sink. A mistake he hadn't made since he was a teenager—he'd nicked his cheek. Blood welled along the fresh cut, a dark contrast to the pale cream still smeared across his face; a vivid reminder of his carelessness.

"Emmrich?"

Her voice. Soft and steady, like a balm to his frayed nerves. He turned to see Vae standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and concern. Yet, she looked radiant as ever, her presence filling the room like sunlight after a devastating storm.

"Vae..." He tried to hide the cut with his hand, but she was already walking towards him.

"Let me see," she said, gently pulling his hand away. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tender and sure, as she inspected the wound. "Never seen you do that," she teased, though her worry remained.

"It's nothing," he muttered.

"It's bleeding." Quickly, she pressed a clean cloth to the cut, her movements firm but delicate. "Emmrich, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself since we got back."

His resolve crumbled under her gaze, a quiet whimper escaping. "My love, I didn't handle your disappearance well," he admitted, his breath catching. "I thought I'd lost you, and I'm... scared I'll lose you again."

Vae's frown curved into a small, understanding smile. "Sit," she said, grabbing the razor from the sink.

Emmrich cast her a curious glance, but he obliged, sitting on the edge of the tub. The scent of his santal and black cardamom soap still lingered in the air, drawing a soft, approving hum from Vae as she straddled his lap. The intimacy was sudden, but welcome as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. As their bodies joined, her legs dangling behind him, she caught his chin between her fingers and tilted his head.

"No one can know the future," she said, her tone condoling. Slowly, she brought the razor to his face, her touch feather-light as she dragged the blade over his skin. "I'll never leave you on purpose. You know that. But if something does happen... you can't fall apart like this. Please, Emmrich. You need to take care of yourself."

"I know." He closed his eyes as she carefully scraped away the stubble, the act feeling more like a soothing caress than a chore. "I just can't bear the thought of living without you, my love."

Vae paused before placing her hand over his heart, willing him to look at her. When their eyes met she whispered, "I'll always be with you, Emmrich. And you'll always be with me. But one day..."

She trailed off, if only to spare his feelings, but Emmrich finished the words she wouldn't say. "One day... one of us won't be coming back from the Fade."

The thought made his chest ache, but he knew he had to accept it, and that he had to live on in spite of it. Yet, he couldn't shake the suffocating stab of panic, the vignette that circled his vision, the debilitating loneliness.

One day she would be gone—her voice, her touch, her; a fleeting moment in time, reduced to a memory. Or one day he would be gone, missing out on every laugh, on every smile, on every aspect of her life, unable to share it.

"That's why we have to cherish every moment we have together," Vae said, as if reading his mind.

The sentiment eased his tension, her thumb tracing the crease between his ribs. Though his throat remained tight, his breathing relaxed, the sensation relentlessly euphoric. She always knew exactly how to touch him, exactly what to say.

"Vae..."

"Hold still."

With a knowing smirk, she finished her task, gliding the razor over his skin with perfect precision. The moustache was trickier, more complex, but she managed, molding it the way he liked it.

Once finished, she grabbed a nearby towel, ran it under the tap, and wiped away the remnants of cream, exposing his freshly shaven face.

"There's my handsome man," she said, cupping his bare cheeks. "Not that you looked bad with a beard."

"I looked ridiculous," he chuckled, the sound tinged with both affection and relief. Then he reached up, gingerly tucking her hair behind her ear. "I love you, Vae."

"I love you, too." She leaned in, and their lips met in a passionate kiss, one so hungry she nearly knocked him back into the tub. "Take a bath with me?" she breathed, her pulse racing.

"But I already—" He smiled, reaching for her sash. "As you say."

For the first time in weeks, Emmrich felt whole again, the weight of his fear melting away in her embrace.

[the-kr8tor]

Can I please have Cardamom and ❣️??

So basically Hobie brown and reader are spider people, and they haven’t seen each other for like a looot of time. So then, Hobie decides to sneak in and he’s just so smitten by reader that he’s just a lovesick puppy for her

So yeah, thank you!!!

Thank you for requesting! I was giggling while writing this lol

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw injury, established relationship, spider person! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie. Fluff

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

When Hobie heard through the grapevine full of gossiping spider people that you've finally come back after a month-long mission in a dimension where the only difference is that garlic didn't exist, he half sprinted all the way from the other side of the society towards the infirmary. He can already sense your presence through the door as he practically rips it from its hinges.

With the back of the door banging on the wall, doctor spider groans audibly, eyes rolling when he hears Hobie's roaring voice echo throughout the busy clinic as he calls for you.

“Your lover boy's here.” Doctor spider says monotonously while he rips away the bp machine from your arm before you launch yourself at Hobie. “Doesn't he know that he's not allowed inside yet?”

“Hobs!” You sit up, ignoring a certain doctor. Clutching your side but despite the throbbing ache, you make grabby hands at the very happy Spider-Man bounding towards you.

“Love!” He weaves around fellow spider people expertly, dodging their hands, and their yells telling him that he's not allowed inside the busy clinic just yet. His eyes are glued on you while you sit on the cot; warm hands already upon his own the second he reaches you. “Fuckin' ‘ell, who did this to you?” His smile falters as he sees the various gashes on you, some are still fresh and angry on your precious skin.

“I'm fine,” you flex your battered fingers around his palm, thumbs rubbing along his life line. “Nothing I can't handle.”

He tips your face to the side gently with his index, wincing when he sees stitches just below your ear. “What happened ‘ere?”

“Got too close to Doc's arms. Don't worry, he looks way worse than I do.” You take his wrist, flipping and placing it atop your thigh while you flip away at the hem of his glove to massage along his tensed muscle. His concerned eyes continue to scan you for injuries, frown deepening with every bandage and bruise. Sighing, you reach for his cheeks, poking each of them playfully. “Hobie, I'm good, and I'm home in one piece. C’mon, you must have stories to tell that I've missed while I was gone.”

His soft smile returns, arms reaching for your waist, rhythmically tapping your hip carefully; a nervous tick of his. With a chuckle, you let him in your space, half hugging you as he rests in the middle of your legs, back half bent, and forehead pressed atop your shoulder as he breaths you in. Soot and all.

“We found out that Gwen's allergic to peanuts in the worst way.” He finally says after a moment of languishing in your presence.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” Rubbing his back, you can see that doctor spider has had enough from Hobie's ‘intrusion’, he walks towards you, clipboard and stethoscope in hand. You wonder if he's about to use it as a weapon.

“Yeah—” he senses the doctor stalking behind him. Before he could get a word in and kick Hobie out, in one swift movement, Hobie pulls the curtains closed around your cot. “Where were we?” You can hear the disgruntled doctor huffing behind the curtains.

Chuckling, you cradle his face in your hands, thumb ghosting over his lip piercing. “I think we were about to be on doctor spider's shit list because you were about to ask me to come home with you.” You smugly say with a scrunch of your nose.

Hobie grins lopsidedly, lips reaching for the pads of your thumb to press a quick kiss on it. God, you've missed that. You missed him. “I didn't know you were clairvoyant, lovie.” He lifts you up carefully, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he carries you at his front. His arms are tucked around you, careful of your injuries. “I've been growin’ garlic for you in the garden.”

You sigh longingly, eyes focused on him and not the angry Miguel silhouette behind the curtains. “I love you.”

“You're about to love me more.”

With a peck just below your jaw, Hobie opens the portal to home and jumps in before Miguel could even finish yelling his name.

[kikis-writing-service]

Spicy Curry (Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader) Chapter 6

Summary: Pro-hero DynaMight hides his developing hearing loss from the public. He doesn’t want them or the villains to know about what he considers his only weakness. His family knows. His best friends know. And now you, the owner of his favorite little curry shop, know. You want to live a quiet life & to protect your son. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself. You hide your identity, you hide your scars, and you hide your quirk. And then Bakugou, Katsuki walks in one day with dried blood on his ears, and you can’t help but help him.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Parts:  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |  6  |  7  | 8 | ? ? ?

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Content Warning: This fic will contain mentions of past abuse from a “partner”, including sexual assault. It will also contain depictions of ableism, both from external sources and internalized ableism.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Steam rose in fragrant clouds as you stirred the simmering pot, the familiar scent of turmeric and cardamom filling the kitchen. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes that danced in golden beams across the worn wooden counter. Your muscles moved through the familiar rhythm of morning prep—chopping vegetables, checking inventory, preparing the bases for the day's curries—a dance your body knew by heart after years of repetition.

"Mom," Kouichi signed from his spot at the small table tucked in the corner of the kitchen. "I don't understand this." His small hands moved with growing frustration.

You wiped your hands on your apron, glancing at the clock. Still two hours before opening, but the prep list seemed to grow longer with each passing minute. With a deep breath, you moved to Kouichi's side, studying the kindergarten workbook spread before him.

"Which part?" you signed, your movements fluid and automatic even as your mind divided itself between his schoolwork and the mental checklist of everything still needed before opening.

Kouichi pointed to a sequencing activity where he needed to arrange pictures showing the growth cycle of a plant. You could sign the instructions easily enough—that wasn't the problem. The issue was explaining the underlying concept in a way he could understand. 

The homeschooling arrangement was only temporary—a necessity after the incident at school when his quirk had manifested. Ms. Onsawa had been understanding but firm about Kouichi needing time away to "develop appropriate control measures." The clinical phrasing had done nothing to soften the reality: your son had accidentally burned a classmate badly enough to require hospitalization.

"These pictures show how a plant grows," you signed, trying to explain. "You need to put them in the right order."

Kouichi stared at the images with a furrowed brow. "But how do I know which is first?"

That simple question highlighted exactly what you'd been dreading. You could communicate the instructions, but you lacked the teaching skills to help him understand the concepts. How did teachers explain these things? What approach would help these ideas click in a five-year-old's mind?

"Let's think about it," you signed, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "What do plants need to start growing?"

His expression remained blank. You tried another approach, but your explanations only seemed to confuse him further. The timer for the rice chimed insistently from the corner. The curry base needed stirring, the delivery of fresh produce would arrive any minute, and you still hadn't prepped the pickled vegetables that had become such a popular side.

You sat down beside him, torn between your roles as teacher, parent, and chef. This should be simple—Kouichi was bright and curious—but without proper teaching skills, you were struggling to help him grasp concepts that Ms. Onsawa would have explained effortlessly.

"I don't get it," Kouichi signed after your third attempt to explain, his small hands moving sharply in frustration. "It's stupid."

"You're doing fine," you assured him, though your stomach knotted with worry. 

The school district had offered minimal guidance for this temporary homeschooling situation—a packet of worksheets and a list of learning objectives for the kindergarten level. But packets couldn't replace a trained teacher who knew how to present information to young minds.

A sharp rap on the back door interrupted your thoughts. The produce delivery, right on schedule. You glanced at the clock, stomach dropping as you realized how quickly the morning was slipping away.

"I have to get that," you signed, giving Kouichi an encouraging smile. "Try to think about what a seed needs first. We'll figure it out when I come back."

The delivery took longer than expected—a substitution for the backordered ginger you'd need to adjust for, an invoice discrepancy that needed resolving. By the time you returned to the kitchen, the rice timer had long since stopped, and Kouichi sat glaring at the workbook. His expression was stormy, face flushed with anger, and you immediately noticed the visible heat waves distorting the air around his small body. The paper under his hands had begun to brown at the edges, curling slightly from the intense heat emanating from his palms. The plastic coating on the table beneath the workbook had started to warp, a small curl of acrid smoke rising from where his elbow pressed against it.

"Kouichi!" Your hands moved in sharp, urgent signs. "Your quirk!"

He looked down, eyes widening as he noticed the browning paper and warping plastic. The temperature around him continued to rise, his skin taking on the reddish glow that preceded a full manifestation of his heat quirk. Panic flashed across his face as he realized he'd lost control, which only seemed to intensify the heat radiating from his small body.

You moved quickly, careful not to touch him directly. "Breathe," you signed, your movements calm and measured despite your racing heart. "Deep breath in, now out. Focus on cooling down."

Kouichi tried to follow your instructions, his chest rising and falling with deliberate breaths, but his eyes kept darting to the damage he'd already caused. Tears welled up, threatening to spill over. "I'm sorry," he signed with trembling hands. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," you signed, keeping your movements steady and calm. "Just keep breathing. You can control it."

Gradually, the red glow faded from his skin as his temperature lowered. The air around him stopped wavering with heat distortion. You sighed with relief but couldn't ignore the scorched workbook or the permanently warped spot on the table—small but visceral reminders of how quickly things could escalate.

When you were certain his temperature had returned to normal, you fetched a glass of cold water for him. Your mind raced with worry. If a simple frustration with schoolwork could trigger his quirk activation, how could you ensure he was ready to return to school where stressors were multiplied and less predictable?

"I ruined it," Kouichi signed, looking miserably at the damaged workbook.

"It's okay," you assured him, though your stomach twisted with anxiety. "The important thing is that you controlled it. You stopped the heat when I reminded you."

He nodded, but his eyes were downcast, shame evident in the slump of his shoulders. You checked the clock again. Less than an hour until opening.

"Let's set the schoolwork aside for now," you signed, making the decision even as guilt pricked at you. "We'll try again after dinner when we have more time."

Relief flooded Kouichi's expression, his eyes brightening despite the lingering embarrassment. "DynaMight is coming today, right?"

"Yes, after lunch," you confirmed, watching his face light up. Today would be their first training session, and Kouichi had been counting down since you'd told him. The prospect of spending time with his favorite hero had been the only thing keeping his spirits up.

"Can I help you with the curry sauce?" he signed, already moving to wash his hands at the sink, eager to leave the schoolwork and the incident behind. The eager set of his shoulders as he reached for his step stool made you smile despite your exhaustion.

"Of course," you signed. "You're the best sous chef I know."

Together, you fell into the familiar rhythm of preparing the shop for opening—Kouichi carefully measuring out spices with the focused precision that always impressed you, while you moved between tasks with the efficiency born from years of necessity. For a brief moment, the worries about his education and quirk control receded, replaced by the simple joy of working side by side.

But beneath the surface calm, your mind continued its anxious calculations—how could you teach Kouichi effectively when you had no training as an educator? How could you help him control a quirk you barely understood? How much more damage might occur before he mastered his power?

The morning sun climbed higher, casting shorter shadows across the wooden floors as you flipped the sign to "Open." You couldn't help but feel grateful that Katsuki had offered to help with Kouichi's quirk. His expertise with powerful quirks might be exactly what your son needed. Though you tried to temper your expectations—after all, this was just one training session—you couldn't help but hope it might be the beginning of real progress for Kouichi.

You busied yourself with final preparations, pushing aside the nagging voice that wondered why a pro hero would bother helping a single mother and her son. Whatever his reasons, today might make all the difference for Kouichi, and that was all that mattered.

The bell above the door finally chimed, and your head snapped up as Katsuki pushed it open, the familiar scent of curry spices wrapping around him like a welcome. Relief washed over your face at the sight of him, your hands momentarily stilling above the vegetables you'd been arranging. Kouichi immediately looked up as well, his face lighting up with unrestrained excitement.

"You're here already," you signed, wiping your hands on your apron. Your movements betrayed a nervous energy that hadn't been there during your usual interactions.

"Yeah, well." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured I'd get here before the lunch crowd."

Kouichi practically vibrated with excitement, hands flying in rapid signs that Katsuki struggled to follow.

"Slow down, kid," Katsuki signed, his movements more fluid than they had been at the laundromat, evidence of late-night practice sessions he'd never admit to. "Can't understand when you go that fast."

You smiled at the exchange, something warm unfurling in your chest at how natural they looked together.

"Well, good thing I already prepared lunch for all of us," you signed, gesturing toward the counter where three bowls sat waiting. Kouichi climbed onto one of the high stools at the counter, eyes bright with anticipation, while Katsuki settled beside him with surprising grace for someone of his stature.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, interrupted only by Kouichi's occasional excited signing about the upcoming training. Katsuki savored the familiar spice of his curry, the heat perfectly balanced against the tender katsu. The food here had become a consistent comfort in his increasingly unpredictable life - one of the few constants he could count on.

"So," you signed after a few minutes, setting down your spoon. "About today."

Katsuki looked up, catching the shift in your demeanor. The casual calm was gone, replaced by the unmistakable tension of a mother preparing to entrust her child to someone else's care. Something about that protective instinct made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't prepared for.

"Kouichi's quirk is heat-based," you continued, your signs precise and methodical. "It manifests strongest when he's upset or frustrated. If his skin starts to glow red, that's the first warning sign. If you see steam rising off him, you need to help him cool down immediately."

"Got it," Katsuki nodded, absorbing the information with professional focus while trying to ignore how the afternoon light caught in your hair as you leaned forward, the golden glow making you look softer somehow.

"He needs frequent breaks. And lots of water—at least every fifteen minutes." Your hands moved faster now, driven by protective instinct. You bit your lip between sentences, a small gesture of worry that drew his attention to your mouth. "My number is programmed in his watch. If anything happens—anything at all—"

"I know how to handle powerful quirks," Katsuki signed, his movements gruff but not unkind. Something protective surged in him at the sight of your anxiety, a sudden urge to brush his thumb across your lower lip where you'd bit it. The thought sent heat crawling up his neck, and he quickly averted his gaze. His hands formed the signs with practiced precision, though still lacking your natural fluidity. "I've been training with mine since I was four."

You paused, hands stilling momentarily as you studied his face. The gentleness beneath his gruff exterior never failed to surprise you—how someone with such explosive power could communicate with such careful consideration when it mattered.

"This is different," you signed after a pause, the movements smaller, more vulnerable. "Kouichi is still learning to recognize when his quirk is activating. Sometimes the heat builds so gradually he doesn't notice until it's already dangerous."

Kouichi watched the exchange with growing dismay, his small shoulders hunching slightly. "I won't mess up," he signed, the movements small and close to his body. "Promise."

Your expression immediately softened. "This isn't about you messing up, baby," you signed, reaching across to brush his hair from his forehead. "This is about making sure everyone knows how to help if things get overwhelming."

Katsuki observed the interaction with quiet intensity, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in his chest. There was a tenderness in how you handled Kouichi's insecurities, a perfect balance between protection and encouragement. It reminded him of his own mother in a way—beneath her brash exterior and tough love had always been that same fierce protection, that same unwavering belief in his strength. But your approach was quieter, softer around the edges in ways his family had never been. Your gentleness didn't coddle or weaken—instead, it seemed to give Kouichi a foundation of security from which to be brave. Katsuki found himself drawn to that quiet certainty, that steady calm in the face of fear.

"There's a park about ten minutes from here," you continued, turning back to Katsuki. "It has a concrete area away from trees or buildings. I thought that might be safest for practice."

Katsuki shook his head. "I've got something better."

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of anxiety crossing your features that he found himself wanting to smooth away. "What do you mean?"

"UA training grounds," he replied, watching your eyes widen. "They're designed for quirk training. Fireproof, reinforced, with emergency suppression systems if needed." He leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting to something more earnest than you'd seen before, crimson eyes holding your gaze with surprising intensity. "It's the safest place in the city for him to practice. I wouldn't suggest it otherwise." The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt—this wasn't just convenience, but a professional assessment from someone who understood the dangers of an untrained quirk better than most.

You hesitated, and Katsuki could see the internal struggle playing across your face—the desire to provide the best opportunity for Kouichi warring with the instinct to keep him close, to minimize risk. He found himself watching your expression more intently than he'd meant to, noticing how easily he could read your concerns without you saying a word. It was the opposite of how he operated—keeping everything locked down tight, never letting anyone see what he was thinking. Your openness should have made him uncomfortable, but instead, he found himself waiting for your decision with unexpected patience.

"It's a bit far," you signed slowly, caution evident in each movement. "If something happens—"

"Nothing's going to happen," Katsuki stated with such calm certainty that you found yourself wanting to believe him. His steady gaze held yours, and for a moment, it felt like he could see right through all your carefully constructed defenses. "But if it does, I've got clearance to use Recovery Girl's office. Best healer in the country."

Kouichi watched the conversation with rapt attention, his eyes darting between you and Katsuki. "Please, Mom," he signed, excitement radiating from every fiber of his being. "I want to see the hero school!"

Something in your expression changed, determination hardening beneath the worry. You reached for your phone, sliding it across the counter to Katsuki. "Put your number in," you signed after he looked up. "And I want updates every half hour."

"Every hour," he countered, entering his information with quick, efficient movements.

"Fine. Hourly." Your hands stilled, hovering uncertainly before continuing. "And you'll call immediately if—"

"If anything happens," he finished, sliding the phone back. His expression softened in a way that caught you off guard. "I'll take care of him. I promise."

His eyes drifted to your hand, noting the fresh bandage wrapped with careful precision where he knew the burn was. The sight of it made something protective surge in him—a feeling that surprised him with its intensity. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the edge of the bandage.

"You changed it," he signed, his movements becoming more natural with practice. "Good," he said aloud, the word rumbling from his throat.

His voice caught you off guard - you hadn't heard it since he'd arrived, and the gruff, slightly unused quality of it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. The simple approval in that single word settled somewhere deep in your chest, warm and weighty. Customers praised your cooking daily, but this was different - this was someone seeing you, not just what you could provide.

His touch, light as it was, sent a flutter of warmth through your chest that caught you off guard. You found yourself studying the planes of his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his usual scowl had softened into something almost gentle. It was dangerous territory, this awareness of him as more than just the gruff hero who frequented your shop. Of course you'd noticed his good looks before—anyone with eyes would—but allowing yourself to feel anything beyond that was a luxury you couldn't afford. A man like him, young and brilliant with his whole career ahead of him, wouldn't be interested in someone like her - someone with a complicated past and a life already built around different priorities.

You found yourself suddenly aware of how close he was, leaning against your counter, the familiar scent of caramel and smoke that clung to him mixing with the curry spices of your shop. There was something both unsettling and exhilarating about having him in your space like this—not just as a customer, but as someone who was becoming a friend. You pushed away the unwelcome flutter in your chest. He was here for Kouichi, not you. The sooner you remembered that, the better.

The bell above the shop door chimed, signaling the first customers of the lunch rush. You glanced at the clock, surprised at how quickly the time had passed, almost disappointed at the interruption.

"That's our cue," Katsuki announced, sliding off the stool. Kouichi immediately jumped down, nearly vibrating with excitement as he rushed to collect his small backpack from behind the counter.

You stepped around the counter to walk them to the door, your heart tight with the familiar ache of watching your child step into the world without you. Kouichi threw his arms around your waist in a quick hug before darting toward the door, already impatient to begin his adventure.

Katsuki paused at the threshold, turning back with unexpected gentleness in his expression. "We'll be fine," he said, his voice quiet beneath the bustle of arriving customers. "Trust me."

The simple request lingered in the air between you, weighted with meaning beyond this single afternoon. Trust was something you gave sparingly, a luxury you'd rarely been able to afford since fleeing your past. But something about the way he looked at you—steady and certain—made you want to take that risk.

"I do," you signed, the admission surprising you both.

A hint of color touched his cheeks, gone so quickly you might have imagined it. But the way his shoulders relaxed told you he understood the weight of what you'd offered. He nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement that somehow felt more intimate than a smile would have.

You stood in the doorway, watching as they made their way down the street—your small, excited son bouncing beside the towering figure of the explosive hero. Kouichi's hand found Katsuki's with natural ease, and to your surprise, Katsuki didn't pull away. Instead, his larger hand curled protectively around your son's, the gesture so careful and deliberate it made your throat tight with emotion. The sight of them together stirred something both hopeful and terrifying in your chest: the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you weren't as alone in this as you'd always believed.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

The journey to UA took longer than Kouichi expected, his excitement building with each train stop and street corner. By the time they reached the towering gates of the hero academy, he was practically vibrating with anticipation, his small hand clutching Katsuki's tightly as they were cleared through security.

UA's Gamma Training Field stretched out before them, a vast expanse of reinforced concrete studded with rubble piles and partial structures designed to mimic urban combat zones. Afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the terrain, glinting off metal support beams and highlighting the scorch marks and impact craters that told stories of countless training sessions. 

Katsuki walked a few paces ahead, scanning the area with practiced efficiency. He'd specifically chosen this training ground for its isolation and reinforcement—built to withstand the most destructive quirks in UA's arsenal. His own signature blast marks scarred several concrete pillars, permanent reminders of his time as a student. Behind him, Kouichi stood frozen in awe, his small mouth hanging open as he took in the sprawling facility.

"This is where you trained to become a hero?" Kouichi signed, his hands moving in quick, excited bursts that matched his wide eyes as he took in the vast training grounds.

The corner of Katsuki's mouth quirked up as he watched the boy take everything in. The kid's expression mirrored how he felt his own first time stepping onto these grounds—that mixture of intimidation and exhilaration that came with standing where legends had trained before him.

"Yeah," he signed back, hands more fluid than they had been even a few days ago. "I used to train here when I was a student." He pointed toward a particularly impressive crater in a nearby concrete wall. "That one's mine."

Kouichi stared up at the massive crater in the wall, his head tilted back to take in its full size. "Did you get in trouble?" he signed.

"Let's just say I got better at aiming," Katsuki signed. "Let's get started. First, I need to see what you can do."

He positioned Kouichi in the middle of a reinforced circular platform, then stepped back to give him space. The boy looked suddenly small and uncertain in the vast training ground, his enthusiasm dimming slightly as reality set in.

"I don't know how to control it very well," Kouichi admitted, his signs smaller now, closer to his body in a gesture Katsuki had come to recognize as insecurity. "What if I mess up?"

"That's what we're here to work on," Katsuki replied, his movements deliberately confident and steady. "This place can take whatever you dish out. Trust me."

He tapped his watch, activating a screen that would measure temperature variations in the immediate area. 

"Okay," he signed. "I want you to activate your quirk. Just a little. Show me what happens when you first feel the heat start."

Kouichi nodded, his small face setting in concentration. He closed his eyes, brow furrowing as he focused inward. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, almost imperceptibly, the air around his hands began to shimmer with heat distortion.

Katsuki watched intently, the monitor on his watch registering the steady temperature increase. Kouichi's hands began to glow with a faint reddish hue, like metal beginning to heat. The boy's eyes opened, looking to Katsuki for approval.

"Good," Katsuki signed. "How does it feel?"

"Warm," Kouichi signed back, looking at his faintly glowing hands with a mixture of wonder and apprehension. "Like I have a little ball of sunlight inside that wants to come out."

"Can you make it stronger?" Katsuki asked, eyes never leaving the temperature readings. "Slowly."

Kouichi nodded, his face tightening in concentration again. The red glow intensified, spreading from his hands up his arms. The concrete beneath his feet began to smoke slightly, and Katsuki could feel the heat radiating from where he stood several meters away. The temperature monitor jumped abruptly—100 degrees, 150, 200—climbing rapidly.

"Okay, that's enough," Katsuki signed quickly, stepping forward. "Now try to dial it back. Imagine turning down a stove."

Confusion flashed across Kouichi's face, followed immediately by panic as he realized the heat was still increasing. The red glow intensified, steam now rising from his skin. His eyes widened in fear as he stared at his hands, which were now glowing bright orange-red.

"I can't!" he signed frantically, tears welling in his eyes. "It won't stop!"

The temperature reading continued its alarming climb—300 degrees and rising. The concrete around Kouichi's feet began to blacken and crack.

"Yes, you can," Katsuki signed firmly, forcing his movements to remain calm and steady despite the rapidly escalating situation. "Look at me, Kouichi. Just breathe."

The boy's frightened eyes locked onto Katsuki's, seeking reassurance in the midst of his panic. Katsuki made an exaggerated inhaling motion, then exhaled slowly, nodding for Kouichi to follow his lead. The boy mimicked him, his small chest rising and falling in the deliberate pattern.

"Good," Katsuki signed, maintaining steady eye contact. "Now imagine water. Cool, blue water flowing over your hands, your arms. Picture it pouring over you, cooling everything down."

Kouichi's brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the mental image. Gradually, the intense glow began to fade from orange back to red, then to a dull, barely visible warmth. The temperature readings on Katsuki's watch slowly descended, and the steam rising from the boy's skin dissipated.

When the readings finally stabilized at normal human temperature, Katsuki approached, crouching down to Kouichi's eye level. The boy's face was pale, his eyes still wide with the aftershocks of fear.

"I'm sorry," Kouichi signed, hands trembling slightly. "I couldn't stop it."

"Hey," Katsuki signed, his movements surprisingly gentle. "You did stop it. It just took a minute."

Kouichi looked down at the charred concrete beneath his feet, his shoulders slumping. "I ruined the floor."

A short, gruff laugh escaped Katsuki's throat. "Kid, this place has seen way worse." He gestured at the numerous craters and blast marks scarring the training field. The shame gradually melted from Kouichi's face, replaced by tentative relief as he took in the evidence of past training sessions surrounding them.

"Take five," Katsuki signed, pulling a water bottle from his bag and tossing it to Kouichi. "Drink."

While Kouichi settled on a nearby concrete barrier, Katsuki pulled out his phone. He snapped a quick picture of the minor damage to the concrete and the temperature readings from his watch, typing out a message: Training underway. Everything's fine. Small patch of concrete will need repair, but nothing major.

A response from you appeared moments later: Just the concrete?

Katsuki's mouth twitched at your barely concealed worry. Kid's fine. No burns, not even winded. We're taking a break.

A few seconds passed before your message appeared: Thank you for letting me know.

Pocketing his phone, Katsuki turned back to Kouichi, who had already drained half the water bottle. "Alright," he signed. "I've seen how your quirk works now. Gets stronger with your emotions, right? When you're scared or upset?"

Kouichi's shoulders hunched slightly, his hands moving closer to his body as he signed. "Yeah. Sometimes I don't mean to use it at all, but when I get frustrated..." He trailed off, looking at the scorched concrete beneath his feet.

"Tch. Same thing happened to me when I was your age," Katsuki signed, his movements sharp and certain. "Blew up everything when I got mad."

Interest sparked in Kouichi's eyes, replacing some of the shame. "Really? How did you stop it?"

"Different for everyone," Katsuki signed. "But I noticed something when we were training just now. When you were thinking about water, your quirk actually listened. Your mind controls more than you think."

Kouichi's brow furrowed in concentration. "But when I get upset, I can't think about water. All I feel is hot inside."

"That's the real training then," Katsuki signed, his movements becoming more animated as he recognized the core issue. "Not just controlling the power, but controlling what's in here first." He tapped his temple for emphasis. "When you feel that heat rising, what's the first thing that goes through your head?"

"I get scared," Kouichi admitted, his signs small and hesitant. "I don't want to hurt anyone again."

"And that fear makes it worse," Katsuki signed, watching understanding dawn in Kouichi's eyes. "So we start there. Before any more quirk training, you need to learn how to keep your head cool even when your quirk wants to run hot."

Over the next hour, Katsuki focused on helping Kouichi recognize the early signs of his quirk activating. They practiced deep breathing exercises while Kouichi deliberately triggered small bursts of heat, teaching him to feel the rising temperature before it got out of control. Each time the heat started building, Katsuki would guide him through visualizing cool water, watching the boy's face scrunch in concentration as he worked to maintain the mental image.

They had several close calls where frustration or excitement made Kouichi's temperature spike suddenly, steam rising from his skin. But each time, Katsuki remained steady, demonstrating the breathing pattern until Kouichi could follow along and cool himself down.

By the third hour, sweat beaded on Kouichi's forehead from the mental strain of maintaining such intense focus. Quirk control was exhausting work, especially for someone so young, and Katsuki could see the fatigue in how the boy's signing became less precise, his attention drifting.

"Time for a break," Katsuki signed, gesturing toward the water station at the edge of the training ground. He refilled both their bottles, tossing one back to Kouichi, who caught it with surprising dexterity.

They sat on one of the concrete barriers, looking out over the training field now marked with small scorch marks from their session. Kouichi drained half his water bottle in one go, some of it dribbling down his chin in his eagerness.

"You're picking this up fast," Katsuki signed once the boy had caught his breath. "Better than I expected."

Kouichi's face lit up at the praise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Katsuki nodded. "You've got a powerful quirk. It's not easy to control something that strong right away."

"Were you good at controlling your quirk right away?" Kouichi asked, genuine curiosity in his expression.

The question made Katsuki pause, memories surfacing of shattered windows, singed curtains, and his mother's explosive reactions that matched his own quirk. Those early days of learning control were just part of getting stronger - like building calluses or muscle.

"No," he signed, a hint of pride in the memory of how far he'd come. "Blew up everything in sight when I was your age. The old hag used to chase me around the house with a wooden spoon, but that's just how it goes when you've got a powerful quirk."

Kouichi's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with something like suspicion. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I don't say things just to make people feel better," Katsuki signed with a snort. "Not my style."

"Did you get in trouble at school too?" Kouichi asked.

Katsuki recognized the real question beneath the surface: am I the only one who hurt someone with my quirk? 

"Yeah," he signed, choosing honesty over comfort. "I burned a kid accidentally during quirk assessment day. Not badly, but still." He flexed his hands, remembering the horror on his teacher's face, the fear in his classmate's eyes. "It happens to a lot of kids when their quirks first manifest. The important thing is learning from it."

Kouichi's shoulders relaxed, the tension draining from his small frame as if a heavy weight had been lifted. "Mom says I can't go back to school until I have better control," he signed, his movements less hesitant than before.

"That's why I'm here," Katsuki signed. "We'll get you there. Just takes practice."

Kouichi nodded, determination replacing the fatigue in his expression. "I want to try again."

For the next hour, they worked with a small stone, practicing the mental techniques they'd developed. Instead of just trying to heat it, Kouichi had to hold the image of warmth in his mind, like sunlight on a summer day. When the stone started getting too hot, he'd switch to picturing cool rain falling on it.

By their fifth attempt, Kouichi managed to warm the stone just enough to be comfortable in someone's palm, maintain that temperature while counting to ten, then cool it gradually without any sudden spikes of heat.

"Yes!" Kouichi jumped up, fist pumping the air in excitement. "I did it!"

"Good job, kid," Katsuki signed, allowing a small smile. "That's enough for today. We'll come back tomorrow."

As they gathered their things to leave, Kouichi tugged at Katsuki's sleeve to get his attention.

"Thank you," he signed, his movements carrying a depth of sincerity that belied his age. "For helping me. And for saying I did good."

"You did do good," he signed back simply. Kouichi beamed at the straightforward praise, standing a little taller. The genuine approval seemed to mean more to him than any elaborate compliment could have.

"Let's go show your mom what you learned today," Katsuki signed, watching Kouichi's face light up at the mention of you. The boy had been practically vibrating with excitement to share his progress.

As they walked toward the exit, Kouichi's hand found Katsuki's again, small fingers curling trustingly around his larger ones. He pulled out his phone with his free hand, knowing you'd be waiting for an update.

"Just finished training. He's doing better than expected." The message felt inadequate somehow, not quite capturing the quiet pride he felt watching your son begin to master something that had scared him only hours before.

"That well?"

Instead of answering, he sent the selfie Kouichi had insisted on taking earlier - the kid throwing up an enthusiastic peace sign while Katsuki maintained his usual scowl, though his eyes betrayed a hint of pride. The late afternoon sun had caught in Kouichi's dark hair, highlighting the pure joy in his expression.

"You must be doing something right. He looks ready to take on the world."

His chest warmed at the praise, a smirk playing at his lips as he typed: "Of course I know what I'm doing." The familiar bravado softened at the edges, a gentleness he only seemed to find around you creeping in despite himself.

"I'm a fool to have ever doubted you," you responded, and he could almost see your teasing smile.

"You on your way back now?"

"Yea."

"Okay. I'll have dinner ready for you both. :)"

The promise of you waiting for them, of having somewhere - someone - expecting him, settled warm and deep in his chest. The setting sun painted the city gold, casting long shadows as they made their way back, and for once, he didn't mind that the world around them was quiet.

[violetseaslug]

se-mi x fem!reader, cafe au ☁️ ⋅ ☆

₊˚⊹ ⤷ " you wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart "

₊˚⊹ ⤷ squid game masterlist

☕ ₊˚⊹ pairings: se-mi x fem! reader

🍰 ₊˚⊹ contains: very brief mention of toxic relationships/friendships, the reader is in college/uni, se-mi has tattoos.... (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

🍮 ₊˚⊹ a/n: i did a poll for this fic and no eul didnt win but no-eul kissers must be fed too so my reqs are open for her!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Moving to Seoul was supposed to be a fresh start—new apartment, new routines, and a life free from the weight of past mistakes. every toxic friendship had been severed, every unhealthy ex left behind. here, in a city that never slept, you had only yourself to rely on.

At first, everything felt like a dream. your apartment was small but cozy, perched above a quiet bookstore. university was going well, and you had already made a handful of friends. but something was missing.

You needed a place that was yours—a cafe where the air smelled of warm vanilla and espresso. every cafe you tried had been too sweet, too bitter, too impersonal. none of them felt quite right.

Then, on a crisp autumn afternoon, you stepped into a newly built cafe on the corner. the scent of cinnamon and cardamom wrapped around you. soft lighting bathed wooden tables in a golden glow. It felt different.

And then, you saw her.

She stood behind the counter, scribbling a name onto a cup, dark hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders. A silver star adorned her nose, and tattoos peeked from beneath her sleeves. You realized, belatedly, that you were staring.

As if sensing it, she glanced up. Brown eyes met yours, and for a split second, time slowed.

Then she smirked.

She handed the finished order to a customer before tilting her head at you. The line had dwindled. You were next.

Somehow, walking those few steps to the counter felt like a journey in itself. Up close, she was even more stunning. Her lip piercing glinted under the light.

“hey there,” she greeted smoothly. “what can I get for you?”

Your mind blanked.

You had practiced your order in your head, but now, faced with her gaze, your brain betrayed you. “medium chai latte… not too hot, please.”

She tapped the order into the system, lips twitching. “anything else, beautiful?”

You froze.

Had you imagined that? The way she said it, so effortlessly. Your mouth opened, then closed again. She noticed, her smirk deepening.

“take-away or for here?”

You barely managed to whisper, “take-away.”

Turning away, she began preparing your drink, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. “are you done checking me out, love?”

Your cheeks burned instantly. “i wasn’t—”

She arched a brow.

“maybe a little.”

Her laugh was soft, warm. “thought so.”

The next few moments passed in silence—mostly. You pretended to look at the pastries, but your gaze kept drifting back to her. The way she moved, the way she twirled a spoon between her fingers.

Then, without thinking, you muttered under your breath, “god, you’re stunning.”

You meant to keep it to yourself, but the moment you saw her hands falter slightly, you knew she had heard. Se-mi paused for half a second, reaching for the milk steamer. When she turned her head slightly, you caught a glimpse of pink dusting her cheeks.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her usual teasing composure. “did you just say something?” she asked, eyes glancing at you from beneath her lashes.

You swallowed hard. “uh—no?”

She smirked, but the way she avoided your gaze as she frothed the milk told you she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted to seem.

Finally, she reached for a marker. “your name?”

You told her. She nodded, her smirk softening slightly. “pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Heat crept up your neck. Before you could reply, she finished scribbling on the cup and slid it across the counter, fingers brushing yours. A spark flickered at the brief touch.

Glancing down, you noticed something extra beneath your name—a phone number. Next to it, a small heart.

You swallowed. “se-mi…” You tested the name on your tongue, savoring it.

She caught your eye and grinned. “come back soon, okay?”

You left the cafe with a grin, sipping your drink. It was perfect—warm, spiced just right.

And so, you did come back. Again, and again.

At first, you convinced yourself it was just for the chai lattes. But each visit made that lie harder to believe. Se-mi always had something to tease you about—your flustered reactions, your lingering stares, the way you smiled when you said her name. Conversations stretched longer, from quick orders to entire study breaks.

She memorized your usual but still asked every time, just to hear you say it. You memorized the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she drummed her fingers when the shop was slow, the way her voice softened when she said your name.

Eventually, she stopped writing her number on your cup. She didn’t need to—you already had it saved.

And maybe, just maybe, that little cafe on the corner wasn’t just your go-to spot for chai lattes anymore.

It was the place where your heart found something sweeter.

[lou-struck]

Spooky Spikes

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

Flufftober Day 3- Halloween Practice

~Bokuto is excited for you to come to his Halloween volleyball practice so he can show off the costume you gave him.

Warnings: Bare butt cheeks (No Smut I promise very SFW), Bokuto is taller and has a bigger butt than the reader, Cursing.

There’s something about the fall that makes your little kitchen coffee corner feel just a bit cozier. The warm scents of cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom fill your nose as you brew yourself a steaming cup of chai tea. The ceramic mug is warm in your hand as you grip the pumpkin-shaped handle. Carefully walking it over to the sun-soaked kitchen table, the large window giving you the perfect view of your neighbor’s old apple tree. The leaves are just beginning to change from deep green to a crisp yellow around the slightly pathetic-looking fruits.

You raise the cup to your lips, letting your eyes flutter shut as you breathe in what can only be described as ‘Liquid Autumn.’ Blowing slightly on the wisps of steam to take your first sip. You hear a loud thudding sound coming from down the hall and pause. 

Usually, you would be concerned and follow the noise, but you live with your lovingly klutzy boyfriend Kotaro Bokuto. The Volleyball player has never been the quietest in the morning when he is getting ready for morning practice.

“Babeeee, I need help.” his boisterous voice calls from behind you, the sound causing you to jolt as a bit of your tea splatters over the lip of the cup, down your hand, and onto the previously clean tabletop.

“Kou, what do you need ~” You turn your head mid-sentence and lose your train of thought when you see the tall form of your boyfriend. But instead of his defined muscles and owlish two-toned hair, all you see is a long white sheet draped over him; the only thing you are able to see of him behind the sheet is bare feet that poke out from .” What the hell are you wearing?” 

“Boo!” he yells, too elated to answer your question, the happy yet slightly muffled sounds bouncing off the walls and throwing his sheet-covered arms up into the air. “Did I scare ya? I can’t see very well in this thing, so you’ll have to tell me what you think of my costume.”

Oh, right. Today is the MSBY Jackals’ annual Halloween practice. It’s just like any other practice, but the players get to wear some costumes as they play. Judging by your lovable boyfriend’s costume, he has forgotten that he actually needs to be able to play in his costume.

“Are you going as a ghost?” You ask, gently pulling up the sheet to reveal his thick gray eyebrows, pinkish cheeks, and ruffled two-toned hair. It must be pretty hot under there.

“Yeah, pretty iconic, don’t you think?” he winks, leaning in to give you a minty fresh kiss. “It’s a bit hard to see, though. Can you help me make some eye holes?” he asks, reaching a muscled arm just past you over to the knife block. Your stomach drops at the continuation he is making when he grabs your well-loved kitchen scissors.

“Babe, these are our good sheets.” you giggle, gently prying the kitchen scissors from his much larger hands. “We can’t just cut holes into them. And you are definitely not going to be able to play volleyball in that thing. You can’t even lift your arms to Spike.”

His features fall in the most heartbreaking way as he looks down at the linen sheet, mourning the loss of his Halloween costume idea. “But that was my big plan. I thought of it the other day when one of the trainers said that my spikes were scary.” His golden gaze drifts to the glowing green numbers on the stovetop. “Shoot, Practice starts in an hour and I don’t have another costume. What do I do?”

You place a comforting hand on his bicep and give him a reassuring smile. “We still have time to think of something for you, what did you wear last year? I don’t remember you telling me.” 

“I-I can’t tell you that,” he says quickly, his large hand coming up to hide the rapidly spreading blush on his cheeks; it’s too embarrassing to talk about.”

“But not embarrassing enough to not wear it to the gym surrounded by at least twenty people?” 

He still shakes his head adamantly. “I don’t have that costume anymore, we gotta think of something else.”

You furrow your brow in thought, 

“Wait, come with me; I think I have an idea.” You smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway eagerly. The still pristine bedsheet flows behind the two of you. 

In the back of your closet lies a clear plastic tub filled with old costumes and pieces from years past. You dig through the animal masks and wizard robes until you find what you are looking for. Your old Skeleton costume consists of an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of leggings; a realistic skeletal system print covers the entire thing. 

“Would these work?” you ask, holding up the pieces for him to take. The costume was baggy on you, but the stretchy material means that it most likely could fit your much taller, much more beefy boyfriend. 

His eyes light up when he sees the costume, and nods eagerly. “This will be great. I can actually play in these. He picks you up easily and spins you around the cramped closet space. “You’re so amazing Y/n. Where would I be without you?”

“ single and costumeless.” You giggle, returning his bear hug with as much strength as you can muster. “Wait, hang on,” you place your hands on his shoulders as you are hit with your second moment of brilliance that morning. “I think I have some face paint underneath the sink.”

~

After buying you a fresh tea to replace the one you hadn’t gotten to enjoy earlier, Kotaro insisted on dragging you to practice with him so you can see just how awesome his costume looks in comparison to his other teammates.

As the nosy little thing you are, it didn’t take much persuading to come with him. The scent of icy hot reaches your nose as the two of you pass the athletic training room where a few players are getting taped for today’s session. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna wear your shorts over the leggings? “You ask, noticing just how tight the leggings are on his muscled bottom.

“No, I don’t need it,” he says, looking down and giving his butt a playful little smack. “It would ruin the vibe of my Amazing costume.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you giggle as he dances towards the sound of volleyball. He certainly is the happiest volleyball-playing skeleton you’ve ever seen. 

“Okay, babe, wish me luck.” Kotaro grins, stopping just outside the gymnasium doors, leaning in towards you with his now skeletal-painted lips puckered. 

You place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly, “Wait, you don’t want to mess up your face paint. You say quickly, noticing the puppy dog eyes he is giving you. 

“I don’t care about that if it means I don’t get a kiss,” he says with a pout, crossing his arms in usual Bokuto fashion. He is already leaning in for your kiss. He knows just how effective his pouty face is on you.

“Good luck,” you smile, leaning in on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. 

He is so happy he practically skips into the gym, pushing open the doors and waving to you one more time before he goes to work.

Now alone, you turn away from the sound of squeaking shoes and spikes to walk up the steps to the upper bleachers, where certain spectators are allowed to watch without distracting the players.

You are now looking over the whole court and see the dozens of players scattered around as practice begins. Costume-wise, it looks like the majority of the players are wearing masks of some sort, making it hard to tell who is who. But eventually, you do see familiar faces.

The blond head of Atsumu Miya grabs your attention as he takes his place by the net, a long, flowing red and black vampire cape tied behind his neck. And judging by how muffled his on-the-court communication is, he must be wearing some of those cheap vampire fangs as well.

Shoyo Hinata Is wearing all black with a large pair of black feathered wings tethered to his back with little elastic strings. They flap clumsily as they fail to keep up with the redhead’s speed as he runs about the court with boundless energy. 

The Third Person you are able to make out is Sakusa Kiyoomi, a true master of disguise. He is wearing his normal practice clothes and really looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. The only thing out of place on his clean frame is the hastily stuck red and white name tag that sits crookedly on his chest.

With those great options to compete with, you can safely say that Bokuto’s costume is by far the best. You watch as the team tries to play. Atsumu keeps tripping over his cape when he jumps, and Little feathers from Hinata’s wings keep littering the court as he bounds around, and the other players keep having to take off their rubber monster masks to breathe and truly look miserable. It keeps you thoroughly entertained throughout the training session. 

In between sets in their practice scrimmage, Bokuto and a few others end up by your bench, and you’re able to hear a little bit of your boyfriend’s not-so-quiet conversation.

“Omi, do you like my faceeee?” He gushes, pointing to his slightly sweaty face paint. “Y/n did it this morning; Arent they sooooo amazing.”

His honest declarations of his love for you are one of the many reasons why you love him. He effortlessly brings a smile to your lips as he continues to show off his painted face. The design really wasn’t that difficult to make. You just looked up a quick tutorial of how to do it online earlier and were able to copy it fairly well.

“No fair,” Hinata whines, coming over to look at the carefully painted design you made. He looks up at you and waves with a big grin. “Hey Y/n, can you paint my face next year too?”

“I guess I can,” you call back to him. “I’m not a professional or anything so I~”

“Helloooo? Your boyfriends jealousy interrupts, waving his hand in front of the shorter man’s face, “They’re mine, getting my face painted by them is a Boyfriend perk.” 

“Oh shoot, is that a thing?” The ginger responds with wide eyes as the two of them finish their water break and jog back onto the court. 

“Watch me, Babe,” he calls, trying to shoot you a wink as he takes his place by the net. The ball is set, and you watch as Bokuto begins his approach; the ball is set high over the net as the owl-haired man leaps for it. Soaring high above the double block in his way, he brings his hand down onto the poor volleyball with a frightening force. The ball hits the ground and bounces off in the opposite direction.

But Bokuto’s kill is robbed of any kind of celebration because the minute his powerful legs land on solid ground, the impact causes those little skeleton-printed leggings of yours to rippppp right down the middle, revealing two things to you and the rest of the gym as a deafening silence falls all around you.

One, Kotaro Bokuto was not wearing any underwear underneath your now-ruined leggings.

And Two, his muscular ass cheeks.

He feels the breeziness down below and looks at you with wide eyes, clearly too stunned to speak, or move, or cover up. 

You are in the same boat as him as your jaw hits the floor and your eyes go right to the rip.

As you are captivated by the scene in front of you, no one else says a word. Some are too fixated on Kotaro’s bare ass cheeks that seem to shine under the fluorescent lights of the stadium, and others are wondering where the hell the volleyball he spiked went off to

A player in a rubbery haunted pumpkin mask steps forward, his footsteps echoing across the silent gymnasium, breaking the silence. His hand flies up to take off the mask, revealing a head of slicked-back black hair. 

Captain Shūgo Meian sighs, Looking completely done as he tosses your poor boyfriend a towel to cover the rip as he speaks. “Bokuto, while this situation is uhhh… unfortunate. It is still not nearly as bad as what happened last year.” 

Tagging: @eussstasss @enchantedforest-network

[shintaru]

Knb | signature scent pt.3

Pt.1, pt.2

Atsushi Murasakibara

TOM FORD

Lost Cherry Eau de Parfum Fragrance

Fragrance Family: Warm & Spicy

Scent Type: Warm & Sweet Gourmands

Key Notes: Black Cherry, Tonka Bean, Almond

Fragrance Description: Lost Cherry‘s candy-like gleam of exotic black cherry and liqueur touched with teasing almond gives way to a Turkish rose and jasmine sambac blend that penetrates the senses. The full-bodied perfume attains fantasy-like levels of insatiability.

About the Fragrance: "Like the plump fruit waiting to be eaten, Lost Cherry is powerful and insatiable. Notes of cherry liqueur and a touch of bitter almond drip into its heart, glossing it with a candy-like gleam."—Tom Ford

Tatsuya Himuro

Armani Beauty

Acqua di Giò Profondo Eau de Parfum Spray

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Marine Notes, Cypress, Musk

Fragrance Description: Acqua di Giò Profondo is a long-lasting men’s cologne that blends salty marine notes and addictive essences of cypress, lavender, and rosemary. This men’s perfume rounds out with subtle patchouli and musk notes to explore a new dimension: the deep sea. Acqua di Giò Profondo is refillable in all formats.

Seijūrō Akashi

TOM FORD

Tobacco Vanille Eau de Parfum Fragrance

Fragrance Family: Warm & Spicy

Scent Type: Woody Spices

Key Notes: Tobacco Leaf, Vanilla, Ginger

Fragrance Description: TOM FORD reinvents classic tobacco with creamy tonka bean, vanilla, cocoa, dry fruit accords, and sweet wood sap for a modern, opulent, and heady impression of confidence and power.

About the Fragrance: "Tobacco Vanille is opulent, warm, and iconic. Reminiscent of an English gentleman‘s club and blended with rich spices, vanilla, and tobacco flower, it leaves a powerful impression."—Tom Ford

Reo Mibuchi

TOM FORD

Noir Extreme Parfum Fragrance

Fragrance Family: Warm & Spicy

Scent Type: Woody Spices

Key Notes: Cardamom, Amber, Tonka

Fragrance Description: A bold intensification of the original scent, Noir Extreme Parfum merges amber, spices, and woods, evoking the private, daring aspects of the Noir man.

About the Fragrance: An intensification of the original Noir Extreme scent, Noir Extreme Parfum breathes a heightened concentration of spicy cardamom, spiked with the warmth of Shimoga ginger, and the rich sensuality of tonka bean and guaiacwood.

Makoto Hanamiya

Valentino

Uomo Born in Roma Green Stravaganza Eau de Toilette

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Bergamot, Coffee, Vetiver

Fragrance Description: A fougère fragrance for men born from the abundant gardens of Roma. This ambery cologne opens with the zesty freshness of bergamot and blends with rich coffee accords and sustainably sourced vetiver for a long-lasting, aromatic scent.

About the Fragrance: As the sun rises and shines over the eternal city, this men’s cologne takes you on a bold adventure into the extravagance of Roma and the many vibrant ways to be you.

[do-it-jakey-baby]

I wrote a teeny tiny Josh fluff, inspired by a friend’s dream. 😌

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

The door swings open as you trudge into the house after the day from hell at work. You throw your bag down and slip off your shoes, wanting nothing more than to sink yourself into a bottle of wine. You take in a deep breath and begin making your way through the house, but upon inhaling you’re hit with the scent of your favourite candle burning. You follow the notes of cardamom and amber, the fragrance wrapping around you like a warm, cosy jumper. Entering the living room, you notice that the room is dark, the flicker of candlelight illuminating your safe space in beautiful sunset hues. Josh is sat on the couch, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

“Come sit, Mama. I know you’ve had a rough day.”

You plant yourself next to him, peering around at the scene before you. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the table in front of you, the colours of spring blooming at their brightest. A warm mug of cocoa, steaming on it’s slate coaster. A bottle of Rioja with two crystal stemmed glasses. A bowl of sweet and salty popcorn, fresh from the microwave. Your favourite film, cued up onto the TV.

Josh places a blanket over your legs and you sigh, your eyes brimming with tears.

“Thank you so much.” You breathe, the tears threatening to spill over.

“My love, anything to see that beautiful smile of yours.” He takes your hand in his and places a gentle kiss to your skin.

“When we’re done with the film, I’ll go upstairs and run you a bath.”

You throw your arms around his neck and plant tiny kisses over every inch of his perfect face. He’s always taken such good care of you, nothing is ever too much.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl. So very much.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[cookiesuga55]

Under the Harvest Moon 🍂

Slice of Life au: Sweet Witch Jungkook x Tubby Werewolf Namjoon

Jungkook dropped his satchels of herbs on the counter top and sighed in relief at the weight of his potion bags being lifted off his shoulders.

It had been a long, fruitful day in his shop selling tangy brews and sweet goodies with spells lovingly baked into them. Even though the witch's cozy little shop was making a healthy profit from the busy autumn season, Jungkook was tired from working so hard and drained from expending so much magic. He felt ruffled from the chilly wind gusting through the fallen leaves outside. Jungkook combed his dark curls back and breathed in the sweet, warm scent of home. Cardamom with a woodsy, earthy depth and a sprinkling of bergamot over the top like fresh rain.

Namjoon.

The scent seeped into Jungkook's skin and helped his muscles to unwind.

Jungkook turned at the sound of bubbling. Namjoon must have cooked a pot of simmering stew that sat on the stove, knowing that Jungkook would come home sleepy and in need of a shoulder rub. He snuck a taste and groaned silently at the flavor.

In search of the culprit who made him dinner, Jungkook padded down the hall, following the warm cardamom scent of his boyfriend. His scent became more potent the closer that the days approached the full moon, and with it rising tomorrow, Namjoon's scent filled their cottage like a boiling pot of warm spices and fresh orange rinds.

Jungkook found Namjoon bent over the stone and iron hearth in their bedroom, gently blowing on the embers as he fed it another log.

"Hi, puppy," Jungkook crouched down next to him and Namjoon peeked over, his scent blooming with happiness as he greeted him with a little lick. "You made me soup? What a sweetheart." Jungkook settled his hand between the werewolf's fuzzy pointed ears on the top of his head, and Namjoon's fluffy tail behind him began wagging instantly.

"I thought you might be tired after such a big week-" Namjoon instantly moved to push his face into the side of Jungkook's neck and nuzzle in affectionately. Jungkook chuckled, sitting back on the thick rug and pulling at Namjoon's sweater to encourage his big pup to come with him. His boyfriend's version of a hug or a kiss was scenting, and Jungkook really didn't mind at all. He understood that Namjoon had different needs, especially when it was this close to the full moon. Another night, and his wolf would completely surface and demand Namjoon to run through the woods and unleash his wild, beautiful spirit.

Jungkook nuzzled back into the cute scenting. "I am worn out... Thank you for the kisses, honey." Namjoon nosed over his pulse and dragged his tongue delicately across the skin until it was flushed pink. Once Namjoon was satisfied with his own smell completely engulfing Jungkook's, his boyfriend crouched back on his haunches with the typical rosy flush to his cheeks that scenting always brought him, and he pressed a slow, soft kiss to Jungkook's lips to give the witch his version of comfort and affection.

Jungkook sighed in bliss and tilted his face up, eyelids fluttering as Namjoon's mouth lovingly gave and gave. Once Jungkook was feeling much more relaxed, with his lips swollen pink from nibbles, Namjoon offered him his hands to stand. Jungkook happily grabbed his large paw-like palms and was easily lifted right to his feet with the werewolf's strength.

Jungkook looked up at his tall boyfriend and leaned into him, already so much happier and fulfilled, replacing the worn, empty feeling he had after closing up the shop. The base of his skull and his fingertips were tingling deliciously with the feelings of his magic stores replenishing as he was cared for. Namjoon so easily poured into Jungkook and recharged him.

"Are you hungry, big boy?" Jungkook already knew the answer. He smiled playfully and rubbed Namjoon's belly over his sweater. Jungkook adored the deep warmth that Namjoon's wolf radiated out of him, cozied up by lush padding that filled in his tummy and got thicker as the days steadily got colder. Namjoon ran so much hotter than humans, and Jungkook loved his squishy, personal heater.

Namjoon chuckled sarcastically. "You know I'm always hungry-"

Jungkook did know. Especially with the full moon and Namjoon's transformation so close. Namjoon's wolf would be begging inside of him to eat and eat and eat until the beast's huge appetite was sated. Namjoon described his tummy as an 'insatiable pit' as his gluttonous wolf craved every good taste and feeling.

Jungkook pulled Namjoon out to the kitchen to ladle up the soup for them both as Namjoon cut thick slices of homemade rosemary-crusted bread, and toasted them over the fire.

Soon, they were both snuggled in front of the flames with large steaming bowls in their hands and a big stack of bread that Jungkook nibbled at, and Namjoon inhaled. After eating and chatting comfortably, Jungkook leaned back in bliss against their cushions. He enjoyed how warm and full he was, and how the pleasurable tingling of his recharging magic made him feel like he was a cat basking in sunlight. He blinked slow and lazy as the flames crackled and Namjoon curled against him. The wolf kneaded right at Jungkook's favorite spot between his shoulders and up his neck. Jungkook wanted to mewl and purr just like a kitten as he was adored.

After so long that Jungkook's once-tight muscles felt like wet noodles, Namjoon grunted softly. The wolf's belly growled in the quiet room, and Jungkook peeked his eyes open, rolling over to half lay on top of his boyfriend. "Are you still hungry, baby?" Jungkook slid his palms up underneath Namjoon's sweater and rubbed into the soft fat. His belly was a bit bloated from the whole loaf of bread he had scarfed down, now expanded as it absorbed the three large bowls of soup. "Do you need more stew, pup? I can get you some." Jungkook kissed his nose and watched as Namjoon's full cheeks pinkened when his belly growled right into Jungkook's hands.

"It won't be enough-" he shyly mumbled and Jungkook understood, he did. Namjoon's wolf was overly demanding and frankly, a bit bratty when it came to food.

Jungkook wanted to give back to his boyfriend. He sat up, slinking behind him. "Up, pup." He hauled Namjoon up to lean back against his chest and lounge with him. Jungkook's arms wrapped around Namjoon's waist and pushed up the sweater to his chest, settling on his warm belly. His fingers tingled in anticipation to help fulfill his mate in the same way that Namjoon always recharged Jungkook.

"I can help."

Namjoon whined in protest, squirming as Jungkook rubbed slow circles over his belly with both hands, letting his fingertips give just the tiniest bit of magic so the wolf could feel it tingle and melt into his tummy deliciously. "Kookie, no- you've been working so hard and deserve to rest. I don't want to make you use any more magic. I'll be fine, really."

Jungkook scoffed and made a playful noise of dismissal, then pressed a kiss right between his wolf's fluffy ears. "Sharing my magic with you is never draining, Joonie. I want to. Please let me help, sweetheart. I can make your hungry wolfie calm down so we can get a good night of sleep together."

Namjoon started to protest again, but Jungkook didn't listen and let the magic flow like buttery sunlight through him, opening himself up to it. Namjoon's comfort and safety always made it so much easier to do, like Jungkook was connected to an endless flowing river of energy rather than pulling from a finite reservoir. His hands felt warm like they always did when he practiced magic, and he sent the tingles into Namjoon's soft, hungry belly.

Namjoon's sweet protests about how he didn't want to drain Jungkook dissolved into a low, breathy howl straight from his pleasured wolf. Underneath Jungkook's hands, Namjoon's belly began to fill, softly swelling as Jungkook rubbed his tummy and focused on feelings of extreme satisfaction to give them to his pup.

"Isn't that nice?" He cooed as he filled up his hungry werewolf with a satisfying weight deep in his gut. Jungkook thought about the food thickening and multiplying into a hearty stuffing, mixed with the dense heat of gorging himself and the tingling satisfaction of heavily overeating. The warm curve underneath his palms grew, giving him more to rub over. Namjoon groaned throatily in agreement as he melted back into Jungkook's chest even more, his belly pushing out until it was completely full of the witch's love and magic, making Namjoon feel like he had just feasted in the woods during a full moon. He licked his lips and panted, feeling pinned in place.

Namjoon made a low keening moan of satisfaction, and Jungkook chuckled. The witch rubbed over the domed crest of Namjoon's thickly distended belly, and he gave the top a loving pat so his gut made a dense thud.

"There you go, pup. Nice and fat." Jungkook began kneading the heels of his palms into the swell as Namjoon laid against him in a melted, panting puddle. Jungkook massaged his wolf's bloated gut just like he would when making his popular cinnamon and clove love-potion bread rolls. Namjoon's belly slowly began giving more and more as Jungkook kneaded the stuffing into him while cooing little praises. The wolf hiccuped and belched between happy whimpers, until his gut was soft and malleable in Jungkook's hands.

"That's it~" Jungkook rubbed both sides and dug his fingers into the doughy gut, letting just a bit of his magic to seep into Namjoon's belly and encourage the onslaught of food to settle into warm, cushiony weight. Namjoon burped from the quick buildup of pressure, and his belly pudged out into Jungkook's adoring hands.

"Jungkook-" Namjoon mewled and Jungkook giggled, taking advantage of Namjoon's lazy state and sneaking in more yummy tingles of magic to encourage Namjoon's stuffing to settle in, causing his belly to round out with more supple fat.

"What?" Jungkook feigned innocence and patted the new chub, enjoying as Namjoon's belly gave a cute plump jiggle in his hands. "Your greedy wolf will fatten you up overnight anyways... I'm just helping nudge you along."

Namjoon's paws came to his wrists and held his hands in place against his tummy, still panting with his tubby belly quickly rising and falling. It made the soft chub gently bulge out between Jungkook's spread fingers as he inhaled.

"Thank you, Kookie. I feel so much better... So full. My wolf is so happy-" he was cut off with a deep belch, and the witch almost cooed as Namjoon's tummy softened even more.

Jungkook asked caringly. "Is your belly full enough, tubby pup? Do you need any more?"

Namjoon sleepily shook his head no. His chest was rumbling with contentment. "This feels perfect. My wolf will be satisfied all night long." Jungkook bent down and kissed Namjoon's forehead, letting his magic trickle to a stop after sneaking just a bit more yummy weight into his puppy's greedy gut.

"I felt that," Namjoon chuffed happily, and arched upwards to grin back at Jungkook. The witch innocently shrugged, and was thanked by his big werewolf lifting Jungkook's hands up to Namjoon's mouth and kissing over each of his finger tips.

Namjoon grunted and flopped over, shoving his bulging belly down into Jungkook's waist so the witch fell backwards with an "oof-". Warm pudge plopped down on either side of Jungkook's waist and hips. Namjoon smiled even wider down at his willowy mate pinned to the furs underneath his thick, meaty weight.

Namjoon knew that Jungkook was busy and overworked with his bustling shop, but he still had to ask. "Kookie... are you able join me tomorrow for the full moon, like last time? I know you've been so busy at the shop and it's okay if I have to spend this moon cycle alone- I just want you to know I'd like you to join me... but only if you're up for it-"

Jungkook had already started brewing the potion a few days ago that would let him transform into his own dark wolf to compliment Namjoon's caramelly one. All it needed was one more night to cure under the light of the stars. Jungkook loved running through the meadow and forest with his mate as Namjoon and him yipped and chased each other.

Jungkook's eyes twinkled up at Namjoon as the witch combed through his wolf's hair and scratched around his silky ears. "I'll always join you for your moon cycle, Joonie. You don't have to ask."

Namjoon beamed so brightly in delight that Jungkook couldn't help but smile in return.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

as diwali starts to roll back around again i can’t help but think about eli. i know there was a reference in one of his fics to holi (when i tell you i SCREAMED) and it made me so happy (I SCREAMED)

anyway. would it be possible to receive a little snippet about eli’s feelings this time of year? no pressure ofc i’ve just got the brainrot

(It's true! Eli was born and spent his early childhood in India, before his parents moved to the United States when he was twelve years old. His earliest memories take place in northern India - his family is from Uttar Pradesh)

-

When he turns all the lights out, the lamps flicker and dance with a warm yellow and orange, placed on small tables on either side of his bedroom door. The rest of the room is lit with candles only, but at the doorway - the boundary between his own space and the space that others inhabit every day - he has placed the diyas. He has more in the window, just two small ones, but still.

Diyas - the small earthenware lamps he has lit using cloth wicks soaked in oil, bought from a store where a woman had greeted him with grandmotherly familiarity and a lyrical voice that had nearly split his head in two with a powerful memory.

Eli had stared at her while she gave him cheerful advice on which brand was best on something - he doesn't even remember what any longer, although it must be one of the things he bought, because he didn't argue with her.

But it wasn't her he was listening to. It wasn't the flat florescent light of the store he saw.

He heard his mother's voice, saw her lighting the lamps, her hand on his head as he pressed against her leg, holding tight to the sheer fabric dotted with gold threads in tiny circles she wore over her loose skirt. He remembers it being blue, and that single detail hurts in a way he can barely breathe past.

She had dressed to go visiting through the neighborhood, where everyone else also had lamps and there was laughter and singing everywhere he looked, and the house smelled like sugar and spices from what she had been cooking to take and share, but they hadn't yet left.

Nazadeek se dekhen, Jairaj, had come the memory of her voice. Eli had frozen in the aisle, staring at the woman, her lips moving but his mind was years ago and thousands of miles away. Bhay par aasha. Andhakaar par prakaash. Kya aap dekhate hain?

He had bought the lamps in a rush - a half-dozen of them, without question. Then he'd ended up leaving with another two hundred dollars' worth of anything that made his head hurt worse, anything familiar. He felt like he must look completely insane to those who watched him, squinting against a migraine and sweeping what felt like entire shelves into his rickety basket, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

Somehow he wound up with eight separate chutneys, an armful of spices in what he thought must be the exact jars and brands hiding underneath his thoughts, waiting to break free. Coriander, cumin, cardamom, mustard seeds, fenugreek, fennel seeds, tamarind, ajwain, asafoetida, chiles, fresh curry leaves even. He couldn't stop. He found bread, not just naan but paratha, ready-to-eat, in a refrigerator towards the back, and shoved it into his basket as well.

Paneer, he remembered paneer, cheese so fresh it squeaked sometimes between your teeth. His mother would fry it until it was brown and he would come home from school sometimes to a snack of chili cashews and spiced paneer, along with her smile and her voice calling, Jairaj!

The whole damn store smelled like something he had once known as well as his own hands, and now was strange to him and he chased the memories, even as his head hurt worse and worse.

Next to the cash register, there were little plastic containers with familiar round balls of dough inside, soaking in syrup. Eli's voice had caught in his throat, and he had wordlessly shoved one of the containers at the cashier, who had given him a slightly puzzled smile and wished him a good day.

Sitting here in the doorway, enjoying the lamplight coming from the diyas, he pops open the plastic container, inhales the strong scent of sugar and rose, with a hint of pistachio.

He is absolutely going to pass out from the pain in his head, but not before this.

Not before this.

He reaches inside, picks up one of the gulab jamun, and bites into it. Tears sting as he chews and run hot down his cheeks. Behind him, thousands of miles east, thousands west, a lifetime away no matter how you measured it, there were people laughing just outside the window as his mother offered to let him have just one taste before they took the rest for sharing, in a neighborhood lit with a thousand lights in every window, at every doorway, declaring that darkness did not win, that evil could not vanquish good, that hope remained even after despair.

Maybe his mother is still sitting, somewhere, with her own diyas lit and maybe even with the rangoli in its geometrics and curves laid out in fine colored sand seeming to dance in the light. Maybe his mother still cooks to share with a neighborhood full of lights.

Maybe she thinks of him, out there, wherever she is. Maybe she remembers a boy named Jairaj, when the remnants of that boy no longer can.

Eli weeps. He cries while he eats every single perfect chewy sweet ball in the container, and for the first time he can remember... Eli prays.

He can't remember the right words.

But he hopes that the memory that he did know, once upon a time, is enough.

[christinescupofcoffee]

“Spanish Moon”

Kurt/Krist, Blood for Cream universe

The moon hung high over Krist’s head as he lay flat on his back on the cool, damp grass. He swore that Kurt had never bitten him, but the feeling of blood had rushed through him with utmost vengeance. He had a feeling that he would be dancing with the feeling of being next to a vampire for quite some time after that point, and he had another feeling that he was going to relish every part of it as well. He let out a low whistle as he tried to bring himself back down to earth again from the feeling of the orgasm from before.

He had no memory of when he had last come like that. In fact, he had no memory of when Kurt had gone so hard on him in the way that he did.

He rolled his head over the pillow of reeds for a look over at Kurt there in the bushes. His blond hair seemed to glow with a kiss of pure gold, and his pale skin looked to be the same shade as pure porcelain. He had not even broken out a single sweat.

The breeze from the Puget Sound was cool and crisp, and the air smelled faintly of rain and tea leaves, perfect for a rendezvous with a vampire.

Moonlight washed over his head and shoulders, and a thin layer of sweat caressed over his brow and the side of his neck.

Krist showed him the tip of his tongue: he swallowed, and it felt as though he had had not a single thing to drink all day long, and his throat was almost dry and parched.

Kurt glanced back at him with a playful little grin on his face. Krist couldn’t recall the last time he had been that satisfied, perhaps not since when Andy was alive.

“You wanna do that again?” he offered him.

“I dunno,” Krist confessed as he ran his long thin fingers through his thick mop of hair. “I have never been able to do more than three rounds.”

Kurt then lingered over him, his hands down on the ground on either side of his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you until your stomach’s full,” he whispered into his face. “Away from the world and away from the kiss of death, and I feel another round in you.”

“I’m gonna pass the fuck out,” Krist confessed in a broken voice. “I need something.”

Kurt ran his fingers through his hair, and he bowed down next to Krist, next to the bush which separated them from the rest of the brackish waters which collected by the shore’s edge. Moonlight filtered through the branches of the shrub, which in turn gave him enough light to make something.

The aroma of tea leaves wafted over Krist’s nose, at which point he reached up and rubbed his eyes.

“What are you making?” His voice cracked as he hoisted himself up onto his elbows.

“You’ll see,” Kurt told him with a slight click to his tongue. Tea leaves grated into a small cup there in the soil, and then Kurt stirred in some water heated by the crucible there in the branches. Krist caught a whiff of something spicy and peppery, as well as the smell of hot ceramic courtesy of the crucible itself. He hoped that it would be something delicious as Kurt gave it another stir and handed the little white china mug over to him.

“Drink,” Kurt beckoned him, and Krist gingerly brought the tea up to the tip of his nose. The combined aroma of the cardamom, the ginger, and the cumin reminded him of Andy’s old girlfriend Xana and how she always had those little Hatch chilis from New Mexico on hand at her place. With his eyes closed, Krist tipped the china mug into his lips and took a sip of the tea.

“Spicy,” Krist remarked in a low voice. “I assume this is all fresh.”

“It absolutely is and it should help with the feeling,” Kurt promised him in a single breath.

Another sip, and Krist was met with the feeling of pepper on the pad of his tongue. The feeling of spice that he never believed that he would ever experience with Kurt. It was as if his best friend had gone off somewhere and found this new thing to add some extra pizzazz to everything.

The tea was hot and the kiss of spice only added to the feeling of the moon over their heads. Indeed, the last orgasm was falling away from him and Krist could fixate on him with no problems whatsoever. Keeping one hand on the mug, he sat up all the way and looked on at Kurt, whose face was blanketed in pure shadow.

“I should rub myself down with Crisco,” he joked.

“That can be arranged,” Kurt chided.

“I rub myself down with Crisco and let you fuck me silly under the northern lights,” Krist continued.

“Those spices are doing their thing, eh?”

“Maybe. It could be that you’re looking really fine right about now, Kurt.”

Kurt showed him the tip of his tongue. “There he is,” he teased him. “Although I need to know if you aren’t faking it, Krist.”

“If I was faking it, would I tell you that I think I really can show you what else I’ve got in here courtesy of the tea?”

“I dunno, would you?” Kurt asked him; Krist down the rest of his tea, and he set the mug down on the soil between them. He then raised a hand to Kurt’s face as if to kiss him, but he never came any closer.

“I want you,” he began in a low breathy whisper which floated in on the breeze, “to shove your hand up my dick and give me a lesson on how to properly jerk off.”

Kurt hooded his eyes, which was only accentuated by the moonlight around them.

“And there he is,” he declared once again.

[grief-worn]

@maythedicerollinmyfavor sent 🥞 to whip up a yummy meal!

There's never a good time to be sick. It's always some level of inconvenient. Hardly anyone ever asks to be sick. Shadowheart definitely did not ask. Yet here she lay, stuffed up and grumpy beyond words.

There's never a good time to be sick. But when you're racing the very flow of time itself, chasing down cultists and unraveling political corruption and saving the whole bloody world, she might dare to say this is the worst time to be sick.

Shadowheart lets out a raggedy cough, the phlegm dangling behind her tongue, refusing to dislodge itself. Dawn is still creeping its way past the skyline, bathing the Elfsong Tavern in a wash of milky orange. She's sequestered herself to a lone corner, far away from the others, forced to take a rest day while her friends mill about the room to don their armor and prep the morning. She wishes to join them, but the feverish grunge worming its way through her system is stubborn beyond belief. Her usual remedial supplies have barely put a dent in it, and it's severely hindered her ability to cast even the simplest of healing spells.

Wyll had scribbled up a list of items to purchase from the local Baldurian apothecary, but with everything else on their plate, that errand is laughably low on the priority ladder.

With a roll of her body and a guttural wheeze, Shadowheart turns under her blanket, glaring into the wall. She can hear Gale clang his pots and pans, no doubt whipping up something impressively appetizing, but she'd lost access to her sinuses quite a while ago. She can't smell a damned whiff. Furious, she shuts her eyes, hoping to block out the world until this ailment deigns to grant her mercy.

She must've drifted off somewhere in the middle of cursing the gods and pleading for death, because a tap at her shoulder has her nearly squawking in surprise. The cleric jolts upright, catching Gale standing at her bedside. He's giving her that gooey-faced grin, the kind that has his eyes twinkling, and she snorts. It's unclear whether she meant to make such a noise, or if she just breathes like that now.

"Yes?" she snips. "Here to point and laugh at a dying woman?" Her edges have softened considerably since her time in the Shadowlands, but it's still her, and she still possesses the potential for toxicity.

After a pathetic sniffle, she wipes at her nostril, hunching over to pout and mope. "I'll be fine. You don't need to coddle me." Her words come out clogged, goopy and sad.

It suddenly dawns on her why he bothered to come over at all. In his hands is a bowl. Clumsily painted porcelain, with a chip in its lip. It's stacked high with a mound of slop. Fundamentally ugly, but decorated with a flair unique to a Dekarios. There's a spiral of honey, drizzled atop boiled oats. In the middle, he's provided a little gathering of fresh berries and a few crumbles of a goat's cheese. It's just porridge, yet enhanced and sweetened, just the way she likes it.

"Oh. Is this … is it mine? For me?" Thoughts go every which way, scrambled, lagging two steps behind from the fatigue and a bit of sheepish embarrassment. Her immediate reflex is to turn him away, but gods, it smells divine, and her stomach is as hollow as an ocean trench. "Well. I won't sully your generosity. Th … Thanks. Thank you."

She brings the bowl into her lap, plucking at the wooden spoon dipped beneath its gunk. A bit hurriedly, she carries the first bite past her lips, eagerly swishing the concoction about her mouth. She can taste the earthen barley, mixed in a sugary cream, and tinged with cinnamon and cardamom. Shadowheart's guard is nonexistent now, and thusly, she lets out a high, content whimper. Absolutely delicious.

Oh. Gale is still here?

"… excuse me? You're free to go now." she says, cheeks still stuffed with her breakfast. "I'll find some way to repay you. Go off and make me proud, wizard."

[gautiersylvain]

i was tagged by @chloefrazer to answer these questions for one of my ocs! i filled this out for vati, my bg3 oath of vengeance paladin

i'm tagging @bhaalbabe, @kirkwall, @zahra-hydris and anyone else that wants to do this 💃

ANIMALS

bengal tiger, caracal, gray wolf, blackbuck

COLOR

burgundy, charcoal, eggshell, marigold, ochre, opal, sage, tuscan red

MONTH

september (the transition from summer to fall) - the days are still long and the sun still warm on your skin, but the leaves are changing colors and you know it's only a matter of time until autumn arrives in earnest. savor the transition, the reliability of the seasons, for all things must end but so too they will begin again.

SONGS

daylight - david kushner (try to follow your light, but it's nighttime, please don't leave me in the end) king - florence + the machine (i am no mother, i am no bride, i am king) the horror and the wild - the amazing devil (witness me, old man, i am the Wild)

NUMBER

4

PLANTS

acacia arabica, dendrobium, snakeroot, jasmine, cardamom

SMELLS

campfire, myrrh, saffron, citron, rosemary

GEMSTONE

rose quartz

TIME OF DAY

sunset

SEASON

fall

PLACES

the beach, the elfsong tavern, wherever astarion is

FOOD

bhindi masala, samosas, omelettes, biryani

DRINKS

rose milk, fresh fruit juice, noon chai, lemonade

ELEMENT

earth

SEASONINGS

cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, cardamom

SKY

sunset, a kaleidoscope of colors from inky black to vivid yellows, reds, and pinks. the kind of transition from day to night that takes your breath away

WEATHER

mist

MAGICAL POWER

crusader's mantle - radiate a holy power that emboldens nearby allies, their weapon attacks deal an additional 1d4 radiant damage

WEAPONS

the blood of lathander, shield of devotion, radiant light

CANDY/DESSERTS

anything fried and/or sugary - jalebi, labanga latika, malpua, phirni, panipuri

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL

horseback, she learned to ride at a young age and feels at home in a saddle

ART STYLE

rococo

FEAR

abandonment, loved ones voluntarily leaving her. loss, loved ones dying and being unable to stop it. loss of control, loss of bodily autonomy. being emotionally vulnerable.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE

one of the erinyes, ancient greek chthonic deities of vengeance

PIECE OF STATIONARY

a piece of parchment, elegant script becoming more sloppy down the page, ripped out of a notebook to burn in the fire

THREE EMOJIS

🐴🛡️🌟

CELESTIAL BODY

polaris, the north star - a constant, steady presence in the sky, helping the lost find their way

[rosinaperfumery]

With the new dawn arises new hope.

Levar del Sole poeticises on the skin. Literally translated as “rising of the sun”, Levar del Sole is the perfume inspired by the immortal phoenix. A symbol of renewal, whose scent breathes new life onto the person it is sprayed upon in a baptism of new beginnings.

Opening to fresh citrus nuances and the nurturing aura of delicate rose, these hand-picked roses were chosen especially for Levar del Sole from India’s perfume capital, Kannauj.

With cardamom, violet and lily at the heart, Levar del Sole eau de parfum breathes prosperity.

New beginnings unfold and transformations are made, as the senses lean into the deliciously comforting blend of musk, Tonka bean and caramel at the base.

#levardelsole#casamorati#xerjoff#rosinaperfumery