#Morning tea distribution

[manasastuff-blog]

Morning Herbal Tea Distribution at Manasa Defence Academy #trending #viral #ytshorts

Discover the secret behind the morning herbal tea distribution at Manasa Defence Academy! In this video, we take you inside the daily routine at Manasa Defence Academy, where cadets start their day with a specially prepared herbal tea. Learn about the unique ingredients used, the health benefits they offer, and how this morning ritual sets the tone for the day. Watch as we explore the process from preparation to distribution, highlighting why this practice is an integral part of the academy's regimen. Whether you are a health enthusiast or curious about life at a defence academy, this video will provide you with insights and inspiration. Don’t miss out on this exclusive look at Manasa Defence Academy’s morning routine!

Call: 7799799221

Website: www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#ManasaDefenceAcademy#HerbalTea#MorningRoutine#HealthBenefits#TeaDistribution #HealthyLiving#CadetLife#DefenceAcademy#MorningRitual#Wellness#trending#viral#ytshorts#viralshorts#trendingshorts

[mistyjessart]

The Odyssey Modern AU: Christmas edition

For your consideration: the Odyssey but as a Hallmark Christmas movie where Odysseus travels to New York for work and is trying to get home to Hawaii?? (I needed a long domestic flight shhhhh it was either this or Vancouver to Newfoundland) in time for Christmas dinner with Penelope and Telemachus after missing it for the last 20 years straight

The Trojan War is some really big business venture or something that took literally forever for them to sign but they finally did it!!

Polyphemus keeps them after work threatening to get HR involved because they accidentally ate his lunch that he left in the fridge, Polites and some of his other coworkers get stuck there but Ody and the rest manage to escape the office

Athena is Odysseus' boss (and childhood friend) who told him to get everything done more efficiently so he could leave earlier but noooooo he didn't listen and guess who's cutting it close again

The wind bag: Aeolus (from another department, maybe distribution??) sends them home with snacks that they forget to declare and Poseidon the airport security guard sees them after Eurylochus opens the bag in the waiting area and pulls them into the security room until they miss their flight

Circe owns a local motel and wanted to kick them out because she doesn't trust so many dudes around her employees after past incidents, but her and Athena's mutual friend Hermes gives Odysseus some of her favourite tea as a peace offering and he tells her about his wife and kid and she's just like "fineeeeee okay you're a wife guy, I guess I can find you a room"

She calls them a taxi to the airport the next day and the driver Tiresias just keeps giving them ominous life advice and seems to know like... way too much about them and also they're not entirely sure he actually has his license

Odysseus gets a call from his mom like "where are you we're waiting for you" and he's like "I'm on my way home I promiseeeeeeeeee I'll be there this time"

The sirens are various sales reps at the airport

Scylla (baggage check employee) keeps some of them cuz their bags are too heavy so Ody and the rest head to the gate without them

Eurylochus brings snacks again (thinking Chicharron-style snacks, ones you're not supposed to bring on a plane) and Zeus detains them

The suitors are just the neighbourhours who bully Telemachus like "oooOOOOhhhhh ssuuuUUURrreee your dad is tOOOOtally gonna show up to Christmas this year" and making jokes about his mom

Athena (who did leave early and catch the original flight) scares them away and reassures Telemachus that his dad is on his way (while texting Odysseus "see I told you so")

She finds out Zeus is the one detaining them so she calls her dad like "please can you at least send Odysseus on his way, you literally know him, he's just a dumbass sometimes" so Zeus let's Odysseus go catch his flight but keeps the rest of them in security

Calypso is some lady he's seated next to on the plane who hits on him for the entire ten-hour flight

Poseidon, who got transferred to the other airport, recognizes Odysseus from before and pulls him into security again and Odysseus just rips into him until he lets him go

The neighbours are bullying Telemachus while he's out getting last-minute ingredients for dinner when some dude turns up and tells them off and threatens to get their parents so they all run off

Penelope's just like... "who are you and what have you done with my husband, how are you actually on time"

Insert sweet and sappy Christmas dinner with the entire family until Odysseus' sister goes "wait... where's Eurylochus?"

Eurylochus turns up at the door the next morning like "ODYSSEUS YOU MF I HAD TO CATCH ANOTHER FLIGHT-"

[charliemwrites]

Part 3 of angst with SpecGru (former 141) reader.

Who’s ready for Simon to face the consequences of his actions?!

(No content warnings)

The reunion is dry. Simon almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a new scar on your right cheek, and a tattoo sneaking beneath the sleeve of your compression shirt. You don’t look at him once, eyes either forward or on your own captain while he talks to Price.

“Good to see you again,” Price says to you.

It’s only then that your eyes shift to him, something distinctly unimpressed about the set of your eyebrows. “Good?”

“Yes. Good.”

You don’t answer, instead flick a look to the man on your right. Russ, Simon remembers from the files Laswell distributed. Wears a mask almost always as well. Something passes between you two in that glance, something Simon would dare say is mocking. Can all but see you rolling your eyes like you used to when the brass was blowing smoke.

“We’re not here for small talk,” your new captain interrupts. “Where are we bunking?”

The SpecGru team sweeps you away with them to their side of the barracks. The man on your other side, covered head-to-toe (Nikto, Simon’s mind supplies) casts a lingering glance over his shoulder at the rest of the 141.

“Brr,” Soap says when you’re all out of sight. “That was chilly.”

“No kidding,” Gaz says, grimacing.

Price sighs, runs a hand down his face. There’s a beat where it seems like he might speak, might comment on the ice radiating across the tarmac. Instead, he just shakes his head and waves them off.

Simon doesn’t let himself make a beeline for the barracks. For you. He made you leave for a reason. Two years doesn’t change anything.

He sees you at the mess later, with the rest of SpecGru. Russ’s hand arm around the back of your chair and your knee against your captain’s.

The seat you used to occupy with the 141 remains empty to this day. Not once during that meal do you glance at it, or them. Simon knows; he watches you the entire time.

You pad into the rec room kitchenette the next morning one feet quieter than they used to be. Your eyes register him, a little puff of air coming from your nose. Don’t say good morning — though neither does Simon.

“Tea’s in the right now,” he says when you reach for the left cabinet.

You don’t even twitch to acknowledge that you’ve heard him, pulling out the coffee grounds and busying yourself at the machine. When did you start drinking coffee? You used to make tea for everyone on the team first thing in the morning.

He’s about to say something when Russ swaggers into the room, still adjusting his mask.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he says.

You shoot him a smile, tilt your head as he kisses your cheek loudly through the mask. Simon freezes.

“Don’t feel like talking yet?” Russ asks.

You shake your head, offer him a sip from your mug. He accepts, winking as he hands it back.

(That’s new too. Used to be you couldn’t shut up in the mornings, chattering to whoever was nearby.)

“This is a public space, you know that right?” Simon rumbles.

“No shit?” Russ asks, eyebrows obviously arched.

You snort and lean up against the counter, cupping your mug in both hands. At least that’s a mannerism Simon recognizes.

He doesn’t rise to the bait, stands from his chair. He’s done with his tea anyway and he’s got shit to do before the team exercises later.

When he passes just within arm’s reach to rinse his cup out in the sink, you don’t tense. Or even move at all, except to take another measured sip of bitter coffee. (Didn’t you have a sweet tooth?)

He leaves just as Nova is stepping in, singing a honey-sweet good morning to you and Russ that makes Simon’s teeth ache.

The exercises are brutally efficient. Not a single member of the SpecGru team speaks to the 141 more than necessary to complete the objective. There are no words of praise or attempts at camaraderie between drills.

Which is not to say there isn’t any at all. Simon sees you scoop Nova up when she bests Soap at a tricky maneuver, laughing bright and bell-like while the rest of your team looks on. Nikto touches your shoulder after you disarm Price of his knife and you beam at him like the fucking sun.

It’s sets Simon’s teeth on edge. How well you fit with them — better than you even did when things were good with the 141. When one of you moves, the other four compensate, no one left unprotected, room left for stumbles or mishaps.

Your captain tugs your belt when you pass him, and you grin as you peck his jaw, before trotting off to a soft-eyed Russ.

Simon can feel Johnny’s eyes bouncing between you and him, waiting for… something. Fuck’s sake. Simon tamps down the agitation crawling beneath his skin and sets up for the next drill.

“Oi, we need to start mixing. We can guarantee that our teams will stay separate,” Price calls to your captain.

He grunts, but jerks his head at the rest of the SpecGru folks. You stay separate, adjusting your gloves as if nothing in the world is wrong.

“Wait, she needs to—”

“She needs to follow my orders,” your captain interrupts. “And her orders are to operate solo for this drill.”

You nod and dart off without another glance.

Simon’s fingers twitch.

“Something wrong, Ghost?” Keegan leers, thumbs hooked in his belt. “You don’t wanna work with me?”

“Fuckin’ Yanks,” he mutters.

Keegan laughs like SImon’s told a hilarious joke. Thankfully, he shuts the fuck up for the rest of the drill.

Your voice is back in Simon’s ear for the first time in two years, working as overwatch. You direct the teams like a master conductor, covering with perfect sniper shots where necessary. Earn a constant stream of praise and admiration from your teammates. In the real thing, you would have saved Simon and Keegan twice over.

Eventually, though, you’re expected to run drills paired with the 141 again.

Your expression doesn’t so much as shift when your captain says so. The rest of your team tenses though, Nova even opening her mouth like she wants to argue.

You cross the small but firm divide between the teams to stand by Gaz’s side.

“Jus’ like old times, yeah?” He asks, offering you a fist bump.

You glance at it briefly, then turn forward.

“Sure,” you answer, flat and toneless.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[jadeshifting]

— THE HOGWARTS NEWSPAPER

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

i’ve had this in my script and my drafts for a while, but i saw @beatrixshifts mention on my tl that it would be cool so that’s why i’m posting it >:)

(also, I did not come up with the name of the newspaper, i got it from another user yearsss ago, so cred to them !!)

“The Daily Prophet and their flobberworm of a head reporter can keep their drama— we don’t twist our stories to fit some stale Ministry narrative.” — The Editor-in-Chief of The Puffinton Post

THE PUFFINGTON POST is a chaotic yet strangely efficient operation run out of a repurposed classroom on the third floor (which is lovingly referred to as The Quillery.) run by a rotating team of overachievers, gossipmongers, and one sleep-deprived layout wizard, it’s both a battlefield of deadlines and the social pulse of the school. the editors use enchanted Quick-Quotes Quills to speed up production, though it’s anyone’s guess if the quills capture actual facts or just the juiciest version of the truth

HOW IT’S RUN

the team is led by an Editor-in-Chief (usually a loud, opinionated seventh-year), assisted by a handful of section editors who wield red-inked quills like weapons. each week, they hold heated brainstorming meetings, where the room crackles with enchanted floating parchment and enough spilled tea (literal and metaphorical) to fill the Great Lake. submissions are open to any student, but staff writers get first dibs on big stories—assuming they can charm the editors, who love a bit of drama

THE NEWSPAPER TEAM

REPORTERS . scout the juiciest gossip, biggest news, and weirdest happenings on campus. practically unstoppable, they’ll dive into the Forbidden Forest for a scoop if it means landing the front page

EDITORS . ruthlessly revise articles and argue over headlines, aiming for maximum drama without ending up on a professor’s radar

PHOTOGRAPHERS . armed with charmed cameras that capture moving images, they often risk life and limb chasing Quidditch players mid-match or snapping Peeves in action

ILLUSTRATORS . craft whimsical moving cartoons or hauntingly detailed sketches, depending on the tone of the piece

LAYOUT TEAM . use advanced spellwork to arrange articles, images, and enchanting advertisements that sometimes wink at readers

SECTIONS & NOTABLE STORIES

HEADLINE NEWS . covers Hogwarts’ biggest events. Recent splashy stories include “Are the House-Elves Planning a Union?” and “Hagrid’s Pumpkin Patch: A Site of Magical Growth or Magical Mischief?”

QUIDDITCH CORNER . tracks team stats, with columns like “Is Gryffindor’s Seeker Actually a Golden Snitch Magnet?”

SOCIAL SPOTLIGHT . a slightly catty, endlessly entertaining rundown of who’s dating, who’s fighting, and who’s been caught sneaking butterbeer into the Astronomy Tower

MYSTERIES & ODDITIES . a deep dive into Hogwarts lore, featuring pieces like “The Hidden Staircase That Eats Shoes” and “Who Really Haunts the Fourth Floor Lavatory?”

OPINION & SATIRE . snarky takes on everything from new potion regulations to the controversial topic of house unity, with regular features like “Why Ravenclaws Think They Know Everything” (written by a Ravenclaw)

CREATIVE SHOWCASE . poems, short stories, and student artwork, like “An Ode to Dobby” or fine-tip pen sketches of the Black Lake’s grindylows

DISTRIBUTION

The Puffington Post is distributed every Friday morning via enchanted paper airplanes that zoom directly to breakfast tables in the Great Hall. the magic wears off if you take too long to read, so dawdling isn’t an option. prefects often complain about students reading under their desks during Charms, but professors secretly subscribe, too.

SPECIAL EDITIONS (every one is a chaotic affair, jam-packed with so much Hogwarts spirit you can almost smell the butterbeer stains on the parchment)

— THE VALENTINE’S SPECIAL : Love, Lies, and Lacewing Potions

this edition is dripping with enchanted hearts and aggressively pink margins, with stories like “Top 10 Secret Spots to Swoon Your Sweetheart” and “The Most Romantic Love Potions You Absolutely Shouldn’t Use (But Totally Will).” the gossip column goes full throttle, outing secret crushes (with questionable accuracy), while the Creative Showcase features poetry so sappy even Madam Pince has been caught dabbing at her eyes

— THE FIRST-YEAR SURVIVAL GUIDE : Sorting, Snitches, and Surviving Snape

released every September, it’s a crash course for newbies. expect practical tips like “How to Get the Moving Stairs to Chill” and “10 Ways to Not Cry in Potions (Impossible, But Worth Trying).” veteran students contribute anonymously to the “Unofficial Rules” section, which includes gems like “Don’t Look the Bloody Baron in the Eye” and “If Fred and George Weasley Offer You Candy, Run.”

— THE YULE BALL EDITION : Fashion, Feuds, and Footwork

a glossy, glitzy masterpiece with enchanted images of past Yule Ball outfits and step-by-step charms for fixing last-minute wardrobe disasters. the Social Spotlight section is essentially a pre-ball betting pool on who’s showing up with whom, while Opinion dives into debates like “Should Durmstrang Boys Be Banned from Stealing All the Dates?”

— THE END-OF-TERM SPECTACULAR : Grades, Gags, and the Great House Cup Debate

published in June, it’s part celebration, part roast. professors get “awards” (like Flitwick for Most Patient and Snape for Most Likely to Kill You with a Glare), and there’s always a cheeky exposé on house-point shenanigans. expect tear-jerking farewells to seventh-years alongside brutally honest year-in-review recaps, like “Was That a Troll in the Dungeon or Just Another Tuesday?”

EXTRA, EXTRA !!

— RIVALRY . there’s a (very one-sided) feud with The Weekly Wizard, a smaller Ravenclaw-run zine, though it’s been dismissed by most students as “too niche and painfully dull”

— BEHIND THE SCENES . the staff always keeps a stash of Honeydukes’ chocolate for late-night edits, and their mascot—a tiny enchanted quill named Zippy—flits around leaving motivational doodles on unfinished articles

if Hogwarts has a pulse, The Puffington Post is the enchanted quill jotting down every thrilling, bizarre, and scandalous beat

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[cutieeva]

I for I love you

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐔𝐩 𝐎𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥 Female reader

Warnings : Rape (Detail sex). Manipulation.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

She never before this certain incident met the council president Mizunuma Shirou so she doesn't have any thoughts of him until their paths are crossing and he seem to can't leave her. Oh, how she wish she saw the signs.

As she descend the wooden staircase, her delicate feet danced upon the worn steps, their gentle rhythm echoing through the hallway. The sun's radiant beams, streaming through the windows, illuminated her countenance of a bright smile spread across her face as she breathed in the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen, where her twin little sister was busy concocting a culinary delight.

"Good morning !" she exclaimed, her voice like music, as she leapt down the final steps, her feet barely touching the floor.

"(Y/N) oneesan, mind your enthusiasm". Matsuzaki Umi, her sister, gently chided, a warm smile spreading across her face as she distributed the steaming plates of food among their family. (Y/N) nodded contritely, her cheeks flushing with a soft pink hue, as she took her seat beside Riku, their younger brother, who gazed up at her with an affectionate grin.

Her gaze laid on the dish "Oh ! My favorite". Hugging her sister's waist she jumped on the dish making all chuckle. Their grandmother sipping her tea and (Y/N) is eating when the drumming of stairs sound lift her face seeing their little sister Sora add a clip on her hair as she sit beside (Y/N)'s another side.

"You are late". (Y/N) utter as an fact that Sora replied.

"I know but I have to look pretty". With mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She engulf the food after all this dish is both of their favorite. So was their father's— Her actions faltered, and her (E/C) eyes, a deep, expressive shade, lifted to her twin sister, before drifting towards the window, where the flag fluttered gently in the breeze. Her heart constricted, as if squeezed by an unseen hand, and the food, once a savory pleasure, now felt like a heavy, unyielding mass, difficult to swallow. A lump formed in her throat, and tears, like summer rain, threatened to fall, as the memories, long held at bay, began to stir, like the whispers of the wind.

With a resolute shake of her head, she forced the food down, acknowledging the painful truth: she must relinquish the memories that lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost. For she knew she lacked the resilience of her younger sister, who clung to the fragments of their shared past with a fierce determination, and the courage of her mother, who had found the strength to move forward, despite the ache of grief thus (Y/N) convinced herself that forgetting was the kindest remedy, a balm to soothe the ache of her soul.

─────

"Farewell !" (Y/N) exclaimed, her hand fluttering in a gentle wave as she bid her family adieu. "I love you all dearly," she added, her voice filled with affection, as she bestowed a tender kiss upon each of their cheeks. With a swift turn, she darted off, her feet moving swiftly to keep pace with Umi's leisurely stroll.

"And I love you too". Cheekily she kissed her cheek as she hand in hand holds hers. Umi whisper return the love words, looking straight when Gen Shiraki, the kind man asked if they needed a ride.

(Y/N) accepted with alacrity, "Yes, please," she replied, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Umi, on the other hand, declined with a demure smile, "No". Prompting Mr. Shiraki to chuckle at the sisters' contrasting natures.

"Then come". (Y/N) wave her hand to Umi in silence agreement of seeing her soon as they ride faster arriving the school gates, the sound of laughter and chatter carrying on the breeze.

She inclined her head in a gracious bow, her voice filled with sincere appreciation. "Thank you again, sir." Gen Shiraki smiled and shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"No trouble at all," With a gentle wave, he bid her adieu and drove away, leaving (Y/N) to watch him go with a sense of gratitude and she turn around to walk inside only to collide with someone causing her to stumble back yet a hand steadied her, its warmth seeping through her uniform.

"Oh, thank you". she exclaimed, her fingertips instinctively tightening around the sleeves.

"I am sorry". The person murmur a low, apologetic voice— her eyes only able to see the blue male uniform of their school.

"It's okay". She smiled, eyes only lift to meet within a second, the familiar frame of glasses and face came to her mind before she slide past him to reach her classroom as his name sink inside her mind.

"Isn't he the council president, Mizunuma Shirou ?" Her fingers touch the curve of the door, slamming opening to greet her friends and her sister she didn't saw in the entrance yet (Y/N) couldn't help but return their warmth, her own smile blossoming like a flower in spring.

──────

"Whoa ! Your and your sister lunches always look mouth-watering". (Y/N) proudly smiled, gazing her shoulder beside her sister.

"Oh course it will when the cook is Umi". Blush plaint Umi's cheeks as she ate the rice with her chopsticks when the sudden loud slams of window opening by boys and accompanied by the rustling of papers sliding down by the same windows sparking curiosity among the students.

"What is happening ?" (Y/N) whisper under her breath, her eyes scanning the commotion, as boys began to emerge from the school building, busily opening the metal bars that covered the dirty pond. A few adventurous souls even scaled the roof of that building, drawing gasps of amazement from the onlookers.

(Y/N)'s bewildered gaze drifted upward, locking onto the familiar pair of eyes. His own solemn ones melting soft, her breath hitch a little as he continue to stare unlike her thought of him looking away if not for the other boy coming down did Shirou blink recalling and glance at his watch before the other boy daringly or stupidly in (Y/N)'s view boy leapt from the rooftop, landing with a splash in the pond delivery shockwaves through the crowd.

Her own eyes widened in alarm as she spotted Umi rushing towards the reckless boy. "Umi !" she cried out, her voice laced with concern, just as the sound of cameras clicking by boys filled the air, capturing the chaos.

As (Y/N) felt a heated gaze upon her once more, she couldn't help but look up, meeting his unwavering stare. A strange sensation danced in the pit of her stomach, as a delicate blush bloomed across her cheeks. She averted her gaze, yet the weight of his eyes lingered, a palpable presence that left her restless and bewild.

──────

"Today was certainly an odd day," (Y/N) mused to herself, massaging her shoulders as she tilted her head, indulging in the satisfying crackle of her neck.

Just then, a shrill voice pierced the air, threatening to shatter her eardrums. "(Y/N) Oneesan, let's go!" Sora yelled, her voice a mere inch from her ear.

(Y/N) winced, her eyes widening in mock horror. "What ? Ouch ! Ouch !" she exclaimed, playfully slapping Sora's back while tenderly rubbing her abused ear.

"Hey! Why are you beating me?" Sora protested, rubbing her back. "It was you who didn't listen! I said let's go to that building to get his autograph. I bought this picture for 300 yen!" She held up the black-and-white photograph of the reckless boy, and (Y/N) nodded, finally acknowledging the enthusiasm.

"Then go yourself or take Umi," (Y/N) suggested, hugging Sora as apologize before attempting to walk away. However, Umi grasped her forearm, halting her escape.

"No, let's go together! I know you are free," Umi said, her eyes sparkling with persuasion. With that, (Y/N) was gently dragged along, her curiosity piqued by the old clubhouse building— a place she had never ventured into before.

───────

"Eww!" (Y/N) exclaimed, clinging to Sora in distaste as she gazed upon the ramshackle building. Her eyes widened in disgust at the insects scurrying about, the cobwebs clinging to the walls, and the visible particles of dust and dirt that seemed to dance in the faint light. "How can anyone live here ?" she wondered, her voice laced with incredulity.

As they made their way up the creaking stairs, the wooden steps groaning beneath their feet, (Y/N) avert her gaze from the tattered men's garment hanging from a nail. Finally, they reached their destination, and Umi reached out to open the door. However, before she could touch the handle, the door creaked open by itself, revealing two boys. One was their male classmate, and the other was an unfamiliar boy with an air of quiet confidence.

"Oh! Umi-san, and—" their classmate began, his eyes shifting to (Y/N) as he bowed respectfully. "(Y/N)-san." She returned the bow, her movements gracious and polite.

"Hey, Shun ! Couple of VIPs are here to see you," their classmate announced, glancing inside the room before waving for them to enter. (Y/N) waited patiently behind Sora and Umi, listening as the sounds of conversation and laughter drifted from within. As they stepped inside, a familiar male voice caught her attention.

"Welcome to the Lit Club or was it the Archaeology—" (Y/N) dusted off her pristine skirt, her eyes scanning the cluttered room before finally settling on the speaker. Her gaze met his. The president, and his part lips, closed, and then parted again "—Club ?" The smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he awaited the response.

"Today I am awefully seeing him". (Y/N) thought watching Sora go towards that other boy who paused staring rather at her twin sister making (Y/N) tilt her head as the boy's little blush didn't miss her sharp eyes.

"Does he like her ?" A smile lift her corners that came to halt meeting Shirō's heat gaze upon her again as the sat boy sign away giving the photo back.

"Wait, could you cut some stencils for Shun ?" The president propose to Umi. (Y/N) narrow her eyes. "We are all pretty busy with the anti-demolition campaign". He continued draft his eyes to (Y/N) who's unsatisfaction must be visible for him to chuckle a little, leaning on the table fill the piles of books.

"Your name may I know ?" He inquire.

"Matsuzaki Umi". She said, he turned his attention to Sora. "And you are her little sister ?" Sora nodded, her face flushing with a delicate blush as she introduced herself with a polite bow.

"And you?" Shirō's gaze shifted to (Y/N), his eyes glinting with amusement that made her feel slightly uneasy.

"Matsuzaki (Y/N)," she replied, her voice calm. "Umi's twin older sister." Shirō's eyebrows rose, and he clicked his tongue in surprise, nodding his head in approval.

"Older sister of both. Pretty amazing," he said, his voice laced with genuine admiration, his eyes never leaving hers. Shun, the reckless boy's eyes dart between them feeling a tension so does Umi.

Sora's oblivious voice cut through the silence, her words tumbling out in a enthusiastic rush. "Yes! Umi Oneesan, your handwriting is so pretty, unlike mine or (Y/N) Oneesan's !" (Y/N) furrowed her brow, a hint of annoyance flickering across her face.

"Hey, why would she—" (Y/N) began, but her words trailed off as Shirō suddenly held up a sheet of paper in front of her face. The white sheet was covered in neat, handwritten notes— physics forecast problems, (Y/N) recognized, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Here, she's a junior, isn't she?" Shirō asked, his voice low and smooth, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Doesn't she need help with physics for the upcoming exams ?"

"Yes". Her sister agree.

"Then, you need it because his exams forecasts are usually spot on". Shun praise to Umi making his friend laugh.

"Not guaranteed, you need to bring your own luck on the test too," Shirō warned, his eyebrow arching upward as he gazed at (Y/N), a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "So ?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her eyes sliding from Umi's pleading expression to Sora's excited one. The deal seemed too good to pass up— a win-win, indeed.

"Okay," (Y/N) sigh, a soft smile spreading across her face.

He announce to his friend "Then see you at six". He pat on Shun's shoulder making (Y/N) confuse. He turned to (Y/N), his hand inadvertently extended, as if to touch her shoulder. But she had already shifted away, and his fingers merely brushed against the air where she had been. He narrow his eyes. 

"Huh ? I will stay with my sister". No matter what, she can't left her sister alone with a stranger especially a boy despite their shared school affiliation.

Shirō's reassuring smile faltered for a moment. "It's okay, don't worry. He's a good guy," he said, but his words did little to alleviate (Y/N)'s concerns.

"No". Shirō's smile twitch a little. He look at Umi patiently making her look to her older sister.

"It's okay. I will be home before dawn. You should go with Sora and do the dinner on my behalf". Her eyes wide at her request. "Please". Umi request point to the physics paper. (Y/N) shot a glare at the smiling president, whose charming persona seemed to grate on her nerves for reasons she couldn't quite explain. She cast a final, scrutinizing glance at Shirō and his friend before relenting.

"Fine," she agreed, her voice resigned. Sora's giggle filled the air as she grasped (Y/N)'s hand, her face aglow with excitement. "But I'll be waiting," (Y/N) added, her expression solemn. Umi nodded, her smile widening in triumph, well aware of her older sister's soft spot.

"Well, then shall we go, ladies ?" He step towards her, (Y/N) step back.

"Yes". She spared one last look and walk away, clasp Sora's hand beside her and away from the president who's hand find the way on her waist lightly. She suck her breath a little at the action, steal a glance to find him engage in conversation with Sora sweetly.

The wholly walk to home was odd and in discomfort, not a single time he took off his hand on her waist she didn't object in fear of appearing overreacting and his gentleman manner raise her doubts over her reality more of why is she in so distrust him thus when he reached the home she didn't glance back, walked straight feeling his gaze over her back and until she disappear in her heaven.

From the narrow slit between the curtains, she watched as Shirō stood frozen, his eyes fixed on her house with an unnerving intensity. Time seemed to stretch and warp, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness, as (Y/N) held her breath watching him finally leave.

──────

"Heaven ! Heaven ! Heaven ! I am late". Settling her feet on her shoes she grab her backpack if not for her sisters she could absolutely miss the school. How could she ? Ah ! Grabbing her head she take a ran hoping for Mr. Shiraki to pass despite him already do so at earlier time.

"I am sorry". She apologize to Umi for delaying herself along her.

"It's okay. Mistakes happen". Smiling she wash the guilt away. Oh, such a sweet little Buddha has been her sister, (Y/N) is truly blessed. Thankfully They arrived at the classroom just in time, a mere second before the male teacher opened the door to greet the students. Their friends praised them for making a record-breaking arrival, despite being late.

(Y/N) laughed, her breath still shaky, as she brushed her hair smooth, trying to sit poise on her chair.

Matsuzaki Umi and Matsuzaki (Y/N), stand up !" the teacher barked, his voice like a whip cracking through the air. Umi and (Y/N) reluctantly rose from their seats, their eyes meeting in a brief, commiserating glance.

"I saw you both sprinting up the stairs to beat me to the classroom," The teacher continued, his tone sharp as a razor's edge. (Y/N) rolled her eyes in defeat, a fleeting gesture that escape the teacher's notice.

The teacher then offered a grudging concession. "Since you did manage to slip in before me, your punishment will be... lighter. Umi-san, you will collect everyone's projects, and (Y/N)-san, you will clean the library."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in dismay, her lips parting in protest, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. The teacher's stern expression brooked no argument.

"That's it. Sit down," he growled, dismissing them with a curt wave of his hand. Umi and (Y/N) sank back into their seats, their friends whispering sympathetic murmurs about the teacher's notorious strictness. As the class resumed, (Y/N) tuned out, her mind drifting into a haze of boredom and resentment, her thoughts consumed by the dreaded chore that lay ahead.

─────

A fit of coughs erupted from her lips as the dust from the unclean gaps between the stacked books in the library. Her mind curse the teacher in all the languages she knows even the thin, pink napkin wrapped around her face offered little protection against the motes of dust that danced in the faint light, melting into her nostrils and sending her into a paroxysm of coughing. She doesn't do good with dust, how cruel of him to put this one on her. Lighter punishment ? Really ? Even when they made it before him ? Why make the punishment lighter if he was giving it anyway.

With a flick of her wrist, (Y/N) ripped the napkin from her face, the cotton fabric fluttering to one of the wooden table like a discarded flag of surrender. She wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead, the gesture a fleeting respite from the dust-coated air. A quick rub of her itchy nose, and she steeled herself to tackle the task at hand, stacking the books back onto the shelves.

She meticulously returned the books to their rightful places starting from the lower rungs and working her way up. As she strained to reach the higher shelves, and (Y/N) couldn't help regret not seeking assistance. Her hands, though dexterous, struggled to manage the weight and bulk of the volumes, making each placement a deliberate and laborious process.

With a gentle touch, she balanced on tiptoe, her one hand's fingers wrapping around the shelf's edge for support. Her other hand cradled the books, carefully aligning them with the shelf's lip. In her absorption, she remained blissfully unaware of the subtle, yet telling, shift in her attire. Her crisp white blouse, once immaculately tailored, had ridden up, exposing a delicate sliver of bare skin.

(Y/N) gasp loudly, her lips part at the chill touch on her bare stomach. The silent library seemed to hold its breath as her eyes slowly drifted upward to watch another's hand, taller than her easily place the book and his body close the gap between them, The warmth emanating from his seemed to envelop her, making her feel lighthead. Her hearts racing and she immediately turn around to move.

Before she could process her thoughts, (Y/N) spun around. "Who are you—" her head collided with the shelf, sending it wobbling precariously. In the blink of an eye the pair of hands hold her waist and spinning her around to the opposite shelf and her (E/C) eyes watched in horror as several fat books tumbled to the floor with a resounding thud. Finally she glance in front the boy. Shirō smiling to her like nothing while he continue to cage her against the other shelf.

"Don't touch me," (Y/N) whispered, her voice a gentle warning and her hand brush to his wrist to remove his grasp from the wooden shelf. "And kindly maintain a respectful distance. It's essential to acknowledge the boundaries between a man and a woman". she added, her eyes flashing with a subtle intensity.

Despite her efforts, his hand lingered, his fingers wrapped around the shelf like a vice. (Y/N) gazed up at him, her eyes silently querying his audacity, their depths a whirlpool of unspoken emotions.

"Forgive me for attempting to discreetly adjust your attire and spare you further embarrassment". A cheshire smile curve to his lips. "Where's my gratitude ?" his voice a low, melodious hum.

"Sometimes I feel like we are not even talking to each other". Huffing she look around and then at him. "Thank you". Forcefully it came out. "Now, please move ?" She tries to nudge his hand yet to her surprise he step closer.

Her eyes wide slightly, she step back. Head touching the wood behind her. "Why do you seem to dislike me so intensely ? I do not recall offending you". His questions crease her actions and suddenly she couldn't met his gaze because what will she answer ? That because her intuition told her ? Or the uneasy feeling ? She had answers if she desire to sound ridiculous.

"Please move, senpai. I have work to finish before returning home". Polite her voice become. He notice, tilts his head in observantion like he was under a spell from the simply cadence of her words alone.

"And ? Tell me and I will let you". She glare at him, his voice low and smooth only for her to hear before darting to the window where the sky was ablaze with hues of orange, and the sweet, lilting songs of birds filled the air.

"Let me go !" Yelling she push his chest in attempt to run away he didn't move an inch.

"If you do not answer me I will make this book shelf fall over you". Her wide eyes met Shirō's, and for an instant, she saw a flicker of something akin to solemnity in his gaze, the earlier amusement dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Her sweet heart beat against her cages noticing fingers gripping the wooden shelf with an intensity that seemed to border on confirming his silent wish.

"Is he mad ?" her small fist clutching at his sleeve as if to restrain him from unleashing chaos."Fine. Don't do it". Her chest haven. "I do not hate you. You have given no reason for me to other than my self is not familiar with you that's why I tend to ignore or distrust you". She didn't lie. She doesn't know him is enough to not trust someone.

In silence she watched him. His onyx eyes, dark and unfathomable, bore into hers, reflecting her image like still waters. He stay still.

Her heart sank.

Then his fingers slip the wood and feet step away.

Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) slipped away, her movements swift and silent. He let her. His eyes lingered on the gentle dance of her braided (short/long) hair, the soft wisps swaying behind her like a dark, silky ribbon. The hem of her skirt fluttered subtly, beckoned by an invisible breeze. The soft creaks of the floorboards beneath her feet gradually fade.

"He is a mad man". She knows, holding her bag and running to her home wishing to never meet him again.

─────

"What ?" (Y/N)'s voice escaped her lips in a soft, bewildered whisper. She stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the surreal scene unfolding before her eyes. In her own garden, a long, white table had been set, adorned with fine china and crystal glasses. Her family was seated, their faces beaming with warm smiles. However, it was the unfamiliar faces that caught her off guard— men she had never laid eyes on, except for two individuals: Shun, and the president she had been desperate to avoid.

As she stood there, her presence finally registered by the president. He turned around, his smile widening, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he locked gazes with (Y/N).

(Y/N) dashed to her room with reckless abandon, nearly colliding with her twin sister in the process. "Huh? (Y/N) oneesan?" her sister exclaimed, expertly balancing plates in both hands as she continued toward the gathering "What happen to her ?" She serve to Shirō, smiling and Shun.

Shirō's gaze, however, remain fixed on the doorway, his eyes never leaving the spot where (Y/N) had vanished.

Shun noticing his distraction, nudge to him. "Hey, what did you do to her ?"

The president laugh, smooth in mirth. "Why ? Don't you know what a gentleman I am ? I did no such a thing". His friend narrow his eyes.

"Really ? Because you can be excessively persuasive I am afraid. I still remember how at the club you were pulling every trick in your head to agree Umi-San on helping me. I almost question your sudden change of heart that you didn't with the other earlier girls until I saw (Y/N)-San". Shun snicker recalling how in fool he was looking.

Shirō's expression turned wry, and he clicked his tongue in mock reprimand. "Well, why are you afraid I will offend (Y/N)-San ? Is it because you plan to make her your sister-in-law ?" Teasing his smile came and Shun's ears flushed a deep crimson as he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes darting away in embarrassment.

"By the way, I am going to find (Y/N). If someone appear to do the same. Help me by intruding them. Understand ?" The reckless boy raise his eyebrow however to his friend's adamant voice he nod.

"Love is something". He thought tune out the politics that usual keep the president deeply tied unlike now. 

─────

(Y/N) slumped against the wooden bedframe, her form sinking into the plush fabric like a fragile, caged bird. Her stomach growled with hunger, a gnawing ache that seemed to echo the turmoil in her heart. All because of that mad boy.

Knock. Knock.

"I don't want to go, Umi". She refused to budge, lost in the depths of her sorrow.

Knock. Knock.

(Y/N) huffed, her feet dragging lazily across the floor as she made her way to the door. She flung it open with a swift motion, her voice firm and resolute. "I don't want to !" Her eyes meet onyx ones.

Her breath hitch and she instinctively tried to close the door to his face. However, Shirō's lithe body proved to be quicker, his fingers gripping the edge of the wooden door as he let himself in. She step back, uneasily slit her stomach, feeling her sanctuary had been breached.

She warily step back few more, her eyes dart to her locked door and his figure who's eyes are over her room. Bright stickers and posters on the wooden polished walls brought by her father from his trips. Few family frames are hanged and rest on her study table.

"I am sorry". Her actions pause. He bow politely surprising her. "I am extremely sorry for my bad manners," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I have no excuse to offer other than I wanted any misunderstanding to be vanished between us." His lips pressed into a thin line, and a few stray hairs escaped his normally immaculate style.

"Why ? We are not close enough to matter if we have any misunderstanding or not". She said, her heart rest a little at the rational reason behind his impulse actions.

"Because..." His part lips tail off, his tongue swipe on his lips. "I like you". Her heart burst inside and eyes wide never noticing such reason. She swallowed under his firm ones. "I like you enough to make a fool of myself". He chuckle humorless. "Or more like madman to you". His corner of lips dip.

"Oh". In silence the word bounce. Her pulses beat like drums to her ears afraid of him hearing and her chest havening, looking away and at him again. Fisting her courage she voice her thought. "I am sorry I do not return your affections". She close her eyes, breathing.

Her eyes open and surprise to see him smiling sombrely. "Well, thank you for rejecting me properly rather cursing me". She nod, body gazing at the edge of her bedsheets as silence return.

His hand slide to his pocket and now did she notice him in casual clothing than the uniform she is used to. "What a adorable baby were you". He point to the family picture frame where her mother is present and (Y/N) is alone smiling widely unaware of her father's death. She should have been like her mother. A ache return in her heart and his onyx eyes notice.

"What happen ?" She shake her head.

"Nothing". Indeed that is. Nothing happen, everything is alright and fine. He stare at her and a sudden song turn their gaze to the window. She walk to her window see in their garden all the men and woman hand in hand singing and she smile, leaning on the wood and he lean on her hand discreetly. 

The following school days were a blur of chance encounters with Shirō because of her sisters, along group of other girls, had joined forces to clean the old schoolclub building, determined to save it from the principal's planing of tearing it down. (Y/N) had been invited to join, but she had politely declined, anxious to avoid any awkward interactions with Shirō.

Their brief, daily meetings were already proving to be a delicate balancing act. The silence between them was palpable, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. (Y/N) was determined to keep it that way, at least for now. She had no intention of sharing the story of Shirō's failed proposal with her sisters, knowing that it would only lead to further embarrassment for him. However she did notice the distant between Shun and her sister.

(Y/N) couldn't help but notice the palpable tension between Shun and her sister, Umi. She was aware of Umi's secret affections for Shun, having overheard their older sister wishing Umi luck with him before she left. Otherwise the way Shun and Umi's eyes would often meet had been a telling tale of their mutual interest. However, now it seemed as though Shun was actively avoiding Umi, as if her very presence was a curse.

(Y/N) felt a surge of protectiveness towards her sister and was tempted to confront Shun about his behavior. However, she hesitated upon seeing the way Umi was ignoring Shun in return, her expression a mask of normalcy.

─────

The sound of muffled sobbing capture (Y/N)'s attention. She turned to face the faint light peeking through the curtains, and her eyes landed on Umi's trembling form. The sight accompanied by heart-wrenching sobs, stirred a deep sense of compassion within her.

"How long did I hear her cry after Father's passing ?" (Y/N) thought, her mind wandering back to the painful days that had followed their loss. She gently moved closer, enveloping Umi's fragile body in a warm embrace and gently moving she embrace her body, patting tenderly like their mother used to do them when they won't go to sleep in their bliss childhood. For a moment, the tears subsided, and Umi's ragged breathing slowed. (Y/N) offered a sombre smile, her eyes filled with empathy, and gently kissed Umi's forehead. With a quiet resolve, (Y/N) stood up, deciding to prepare breakfast this time.

Hours passed, and Umi finally stirred, her skin bearing the faint marks of dried tears. Her feet made her way downstairs, the savory aromas wafting from the kitchen and the familiar sounds of cooking transported her to a different time. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "Mom..." Upon entering the kitchen, her gaze fell not upon their mother like her dream— her eyes draft to the garden nor father rather her older sister. She hum that tone and tears welled up in Umi's eyes, and she rushed to envelop (Y/N) in a tight hug from behind. The wooden chopsticks in her hand nearly slipping from her fingers however recover when the familiar cries enter her ears.

"I am here". She said, placing a hand over over hers.

"I know". Umi does, feeling not alone suddenly and gather the strength she needed to to face the challenges ahead.

(Y/N) after that could see that it helped her a lot because from then she didn't avoid Shun anymore, maintaining a peaceful balance so does (Y/N) with the president who always bow and bear few words as (Y/N) finds excuses to flee.

(Y/N) clapped her hands together in admiration, her eyes shining with delight as she gazed at the transformed building. The once-dilapidated structure now stood tall and proud, its surfaces gleaming in the sunlight like a magnificent mansion restoring it's former beauty. "You really cleaned this filth, huh ?" She compliment to which Umi blush, all the girls did a fine job along the boys (Y/N) believes.

"And me?" Sore ask, pointing to herself alike an adorable gesture.

"You too, pretty lady". (Y/N) chuckled and wrapped her arms around Sora from the side, pulling her into a warm hug. when Shirō's voice tore the lovely air.

"Bad news". His words cut through the air, his words like a cold wind that extinguished the warmth of their happiness. His next words only sealed their joys, crushing their spirits with the weight of disappointment. "The principal has decided to tear down the building after all," he said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of regret.

The air was electric with discontent as the group protested the principal's decision. Even passersby students stopped to join in, their voices rising in a chorus of disapproval. It seemed that no one was willing to accept the destruction of their beloved clubhouse.

Just as it seemed like the situation couldn't be salvaged, Shirō stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I propose a solution," he said, his voice calm and measured. "Let's go see the chairman Tokumaru that's been contracted to tear down the clubhouse. Perhaps we can persuade them to reconsider their plans."

The group's murmurs of discontent slowly gave way to a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to save their cherished clubhouse after all. With renewed determination they agree and Shirō suggest that Shun and Umi join him on the trip to Tokyo the following day. That's when (Y/N) step in.

"I will accompany her as well." With resignation, she acknowledged that resisting her sister's decision would be futile.

A subtle cheshire smile grace the president's lips amist the chaos.

─────

"Glad we came," Umi said softly, her hand nestled comfortably in her sister's as they navigated the bustling streets of Tokyo. The city, with its towering skyscrapers and endless streams of people, was a world away from their quiet hometown, and (Y/N) felt a thrill of excitement at the unfamiliar sights and sounds.

Their trip had been a gamble, but it had paid off. Chairman Tokumaru had agreed to visit their school the next day to assess the clubhouse and decide its fate. It was a chance they had desperately needed.

"Well then, I have to swing by my uncle's place". Shirō said. A fact (Y/N) was sheltered from and given the reaction of Umi, she was too unlike his friend.

"You have a uncle here ?" Shirō nodded, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "He lives here, and my cousins attend the best university in the city." Her lips parting slightly as she imagined the grandeur of his uncle's home. Shirō caught her gaze and smiled knowingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Want to see it with me?" he asked, his voice low and inviting.

"No, thank you. I have to go with Umi". She decline, holding Umi's hand tightly when he playfully came near her making Shun and Umi's eyes narrow.

Near her ear, his creamy voice  whisper "Don't you want to give your sister space to talk whatever tension they are having ?" Her (E/C) eyes shot to him. So he did to know, well he is the cunning genius. Her gaze shift to the unaware pair and the image of her sister crying laying on their bedroom ache her heart. They already lose their father, she can't watch her sister's first love tore from her anymore.

"Right. Shirō-San, please give me a tour". She smile sweetly. Her twin tilt her head in confuse of her change of heart. "Umi, go by yourself. I will see you soon". She nod with reluctantly.

"Okay". Umi said, waving to (Y/N) and she watch the pair walking away from the president and herself.

"Let's go ?" She shake her head. He raise his eyebrow.

"Wait for a hour or two until it's confirm she is on train then I will go by the train too". The moon's ray shone upon them and his even face melt to staid.

"Unfortunately the last train is with your sister's". Her eyes wide at the information she didn't consider.

"What ?" She out loud ask. "Why didn't you said that earlier ?" She doesn't wish to be with him, she only pretend to, turning her way to find which path they went to the train station she begin walking when his fingers wrap around her forearm.

"It's not safe to wonder. Let's go to my uncle's place". She didn't spare a look.

"No. I will go".

"Did you forget so easily why you are here with me in the first place".

"Wouldn't be if you told me that train is the last one". And Shirō knew it, despite the true fact that's why he hid it. He won't let her go when he corner her so hard, alone with him.

"Let's go. You will safe when we leave tomorrow morning. The city isn't kind to outsiders even less to students". (Y/N) finally turned to face him. The shine in her eyes had dimmed. She nodded slowly, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

As they strolled through the colorful lit streets, Shirō's grasp on (Y/N)'s wrist remained a steady, reassuring presence. His fingers wrapped around her wrist like a lifeline, pulling her closer whenever the shadows seemed to deepen or a stranger's gaze lingered too long. Despite her initial wariness, (Y/N) found herself surrendering to the sense of security that came with being by Shirō's side.

As they arrived at their destination, (Y/N)'s eyes widen in wonder at the breathtaking sight before her. The grand, elegantly designed house rose like a jewel from the night, its polished facade glimmering with a soft, ethereal light. His fingers tightened around her wrist as he rang the doorbell, and a lovely woman with a warm, inviting smile welcomed them into the warm, golden glow of the inside.

"Oh, Shirō, come inside!" she exclaimed, her voice like a gentle melody, as she ushered them into the haven of the beautifully lit house. Then her eyes fell to (Y/N) who bow respectfully. "Oh ! Who is this beautiful guest ?" The woman hid her mischievous smile behind her palm.

"Hello, I am Matsuzaki (Y/N). A junior in Conan School". She introduce herself.

"And his girlfriend, I presume ?" Her lips part to deny.

"Not my girlfriend". He beat her to that. Her aunty narrow her eyes. "Yet". He mouth that escapes (Y/N)'s her gaze that wander to the opulent designs that adorned the walls of the house. The intricate patterns, the lavish furnishings, and the exquisite artwork all blended together to create a space that exuded refinement and luxury.

His aunty giggle earning the girl's attention. "Pardon ?" She furrow unaware of the smiling when a unfamiliar man enter the hallway.

"Oh, nephew. How come you are in Tokyo ?" His uncle inquire, eyes falling to the girl beside him and their interwine hands.

"Well came for a work for school and is successful".

"That's my boy". His uncle pat his shoulders proudly. "And she ?" Mirth playing his depths.

"Hello, sir. I am Matsuzaki (Y/N). A junior in Conan School". She bow again. The man bow his head slightly.

"Your girlfriend ?" He tail off. She shake her head. His eyes went to his wife in disbelief who mouth. "Yet". He nod, understanding dawning.

"Well, welcome. Rest here tonight—" He look at his nephew.

"Yes, we will take our leave tomorrow". (Y/N) nod, a little discomfort from the pairs of eyes on her as she carefully place her shoes off, walking underneath the wooden floor to the room she was said guestroom and his own separate room that they built seeing how he visits frequently. His cousins are older in university and not in home in favor of studies, will return in their holidays. She soak the informations taking the towel and spare clothes of one of his female cousin to change into after a warm bath.

The bath had been a serene oasis so was the dinner, a lively, laughter-filled affair, with his relatives proving to be charming, witty, and warm. Unlike the peaceful, subdued atmosphere of her own home, this household pulsed with energy and vitality.

As they chatted and asked her questions, (Y/N) felt a sense of ease wash over her. Despite their curiosity, they didn't pry or push her to reveal more than she was comfortable sharing. Instead, they listened with genuine interest, their smiles and laughter putting her at ease when she lay on the plush guestroom bed, surrounded by the soothing silence of the night. She knew she was in good hands.

─────

Her eyes flutter open to meet the pitch darkness. Her eyes confuse stare at it in daze at the question of why she woke up when no memory of nightmare or fear is within her. She swallowed thickly, her throat wet with no need of water then why ? For few minutes she merely stare, half lid her eyes and barely awake.

Finally her eyes lid close, her head roll to the side and she moved to the side to sleep, yawn creeping in and eyes open slightly to wipe the tears when the breath stuck in her throat and heart install the fear within. Staring into to darkness meet someone— close, sitting at the edge of her bed. Widely stare back at her.

The sleep vanish in seconds and tears of her unfortunate time fill her eyes, sliding to soak the pillow of other's given. Her body still like an doll unable to fight or flight like she was entranced by...what ? Human ? A woman ? Man ? She doesn't know which result to fear a man or creature when both are worse fate. Man will tear her body and creature will— her life.

Light sobs echo the inky darkness when soft creaking perk her ears, it is moving, coming closer as her eyes grow familiar with the void of light when her eyes surprised to find a boy— more frightening— Shirō.

"Shirō ?" She mutter under her breath, a smile in response he lift his lips. "What are—".

"No, call my name. You never did". His voice low and deep unlike the smooth and creamy light one. It's scarying her. His onyx eyes boring at her, his smile, his inappropriate night suit, even his presence in her room.

"What are you doing ?" This time her voice slice the air. Firmer, stern. Little courage gather.

"What am I doing you ask ?" He response with her question, his knee climb to her bed, her eyes move to the notion, sitting up lightly when his pair of arms slide under her body easily. Her breath hitch and eyes close. Her brows furrow.

"What are you doing ?" Her palm push his chest pulling herself off of him when he tower over her to embrace her, each of his legs either of her sides. Her breath ragged, their bodies press together it mold under their clothing to touch one another. He breath in that, smile wider.

"I asked what are you doing ?" She screamed, her knee raise to kick at his private part only for his palm to slide beneath her waist to her bare knee, caressing as he part her legs to put on his own leg dangerously touching her clit under the thin cloth.

Crimson flush color her face, her skin prickling with gooseflesh as tears welled up in her eyes. Shirō's smile, meant to be reassuring, only seemed cruel to her. Her nails dug deep into the flesh of his hands, drawing blood, yet he merely hissed softly, his hands continuing their exploration of her waist above her clothing. He leaned in, his eyes locking onto her lips, she notice, looking away and his mouth pressed against her cheek instead— yet he wasn't dishearten, to feel when he wasn't even allowed to gaze at, He inhaled deeply, seeking her scent. Pity, the soft fabric that filled his sense. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, and he could taste the faintest hint of her.

When a huff escape his lips as she pushed him away, nearly allowing her to flee the bed, brushing her skin against his fingers only to swiftly closed around her wrist, pulling her back onto him. Now, his back rested against the bed, while she hovered above, a vision of loveliness in his eyes. Her unbound (H/C) tresses cascaded around their faces, forming a curtain of secrecy, shielding their illicit intimacy from the world. Tears fell from her eyes, landing on his cheek like delicate, glistening petals.

"Oh dear". he croo, he lean in, undeterred by her struggles to recoil. His lips grazed her cheek, and his tongue darted out to taste the salty tears that stream down her face. A shiver course through her fragile form as she attempt to strike him, but her fists were swiftly capture by his grasp, her wrists pin behind her back like a bird in flight, its wings clipped. Her face contorted in a mask of sorrow and terror, her eyes wide with desperation.

"Help ! Help ! Help !" She scream her lungs out, hoping the couple to hear, her stain eyes glance at the closed door she knew locking however him still inside is a mystery her mind under this distress can't fathom. Her body tremble, her innocence threat to dishonor. She cries, blindly screaming for help. Never did she knew how helpless does it feel to be under a man's grip. A man she thought her classmate, a little unusual also the man that claim to like her. Is this how one treats their beloved ? or was it a punishment ?

She felt herself being drawn back, her fragile form pressed against the yielding bed, her tears and screams hoarse from the unrelenting anguish. And he devoured them all, his kisses a ravenous consumption of her despair. "No one is coming to save you. Uncle has night duty, he is not home. Aunty takes sleeping pills so.." His words trailed off, surrendering to a sinister smile, a smile that born from a cruel winner and beads of sweat glisten his forehead. "No one can hear you". His lips grin at her. Anticipation and lust entwined like serpents lace with it. "I like you— no" He shake his head like a grave mistake was utter. "I love you that's why let's be one ?" His eye lids half flutter from the intoxicating he is feeling from sheer closing gaps of their bodies. Her breast is like a feather brush against his hard one and her trembling form like a baby deer in his embrace.

Oh, heart pupils decorate in his eyes that blind his morals and she was push into this abyss. His grip on her wrists tighten as his other hand slide to his pocket and took out his uniform tie to wrap around her skin softly yet firmly and finish with a knot she can only shake yet not be free. Her (E/C) eyes reflect his monster self of how she viewed him, wailing in hopes of anyone hears her in name of miracle and save her from his hell on earth. Oh how she wish to be branches of tree if that will save her from his hunger like daphne did.

"Stop it ! Stop it ! didn't you apologize and accpted when I rejected you ? Please stop it. We can still go back—". Her words half from his chuckle inside the silence room.

"Oh, how cute you thought I did it sincerely not an act to pull you closer to me. To earn your trust". Her heart sank.

W-what ? An act ? An facade to rape her ? To fool her. "My love, also where we can still go back ? You think of me mere stranger not even friends that I could had cherish". A lump on her throat settle and she can't help choke cry.

"Please don't do this. I am sorry for not trusting you. If you don't do this then I promise you will be my friend. I won't utter a word about this". Still she pled shamelessly, for her honor and life. If her purity is shed then her life is ruined, no one will marry her nor can she ever forget this scar that will forever imprint on her. "See, I didn't say your proposal to a soul. Not even Umi ! My sister". In rumble she spoke, words tangle within one another and he only lean under her chin, on her neck to pepper kiss.

"My love, I would have accepted this offer if it was a punishment but what I doing isn't out of one rather out of love. For us to be together forever". His lips, aflame with passion, bestowed tender kisses upon her smooth skin, as she lay, entranced, her gaze uplifted to the ceiling above, her eyes, like sapphires, shining with tears, blur the ceiling.

Her wrist are burning.

Throat aching.

Eyes numb.

Body tied.

She is trapped.

Cornered like a prey.

While as his teeth sank into the delicate skin of her neck, he savored the fruit of his labor, her flesh tasting like ambrosia to his depraved palate. Oh how, how has fantasized about this moment– with her beneath him, her tears flowing solely because of him. His body seemed to possess a mind of its own, his hands tracing the fabric of her clothes, his tongue licking every inch of her skin, and his teeth biting into her collarbone, leaving his mark. She whimper, in pain and disgust of his loving.

Soon his hands become impatient, greedy, one pair reaching out to touch her ankle, prompting her to freeze in terror of any movement only feel him began to move down, his hands gliding along her skin until her feet rested on his palm. He kiss her ankle with the gentle touch of a butterfly alighting on a flower to his lips tracing a path up the bridge of her feet as he slowly raised her white gown, inch at inch, he kissed each newly exposed patch of skin with the tender devotion of a lover. Yet, in her mind, she knew him as her ruiner.

His eyes, closed in rapture, snapped open to behold the heavenly sight between her tender legs. Yet, he continued his gentle assault, raising her cloth higher, his lips dancing across her hip, tracing the curves of her stomach, and teasing her navel with delicate nibbles. His tongue swirled within the tiny indentation, sending shivers coursing through her frame, before meandering up to her ribs, peppering kisses along the way. Finally, her bra came into view, concealing the alluring mounds he had longed to behold. He pressed his lips to the clothed nipple, the fabric a thin barrier between his skin and hers. His mouth wandered to the bare expanse between her collarbone and shoulder, then glided along her arm, tracing the sensitive inner to her tied forearn. His onyx eyes stare through his lashes never left over her skin and his lips run to her wrist. Kiss the bump side and finally halt to one of the finger.

His palm enveloped hers, their fingers intertwining like the tender shoots of a vine. His gaze rose, locking onto her tear-stained eyes, her beauty piercing his very soul like a shaft of pure crystal. His eyes, burning with an unyielding passion, held hers captive, the reflections within her clear ones forever etched in her mind like a cruel reminder of his actions.

As he leaned in, his mouth engulfing one of her finger with a ferocity. She hiss, a soft, anguished sound, more tears slid down her cheeks like autumn rain. Her lids fluttered wildly of wings belong to trap bird to finally opening to reveal the biting red mark on her ring finger.

She knew, in this monent with unwavering certainty that this was merely the beginning, not a fleeting moment of madness, but a simmering obsession.

More reasons to fight him and she gather the strength to jerk her knee upward, aiming for his stomach. However, he caught her leg, his lips meeting knee in a sweet and gentle kiss. His fingers deftly parted her legs, and he touch the edge of her delicate panties, slowly drawing them down. She writhed beneath him, her body straining against his grasp as she can, shameless pleds return and his ears deaf focusing on bare dry clit he knew is pure and only for him to taint and belong.

"Stop ! Stop ! Stop ! Please stop !" She sniff. If this is crossed she is gone. She is forever ruined and he only tilts his head, smiling dart his eyes to her clit to her sob face and can't help feel himself turn on more. His restraint hot inside as he lick his one finger and touch the clit for her to cry louder, a melody despite her horse voice and he bend down to press their cheeks together and close his eyes while hers wide at the feeling of his finger enter her coated walls that she never even touched apart from cleaning.

"It hurts ! It's weird ! It hurts !" Punching his chest she shut her eyes at the strange emotion slit her stomach from him inside her and he in response kiss her open mouth. Even her walls are tight, it's latching onto his fingers so hard he moans, fantasizing how it will feel to be inside her. A trail of sweat slide from his forehead and the demons fighting inside him slide two more fingers at once to haste and she sharply scream.

Her breath tremble and nails dent on his tan skin of crescent and he smiles wider knowing he would adore it at the morning, savoring all the moments of time. "Stop ! Stop ! stop ! Please. It's hurts". At once he pulled his fingers and before she could flutter open her eyes when more tears slide at the violenting feeling she wasn't ready to embrace and all her dreams of futures and fairytales romance she imagined of how sweet it feels to be one with who she loves is shatter into million pieces she knows can never be mend.

The sheer agony and disgust wave wash her, a scream tore her throat, burn her lungs and trail of liquid glide her legs she cried in silence, fearing what it is until her eyes glance to stop few drops of blood and she cries louder. She is dying.

"You are killing me ! Stop ! I am bleeding !" Veins bulge her skin as he wither frantically. Her stomach is brim of fullness she never felt, just then, a husky chuckle echoed in her ears, sending her into a frenzy. She dug her nails deeper into his skin.

"My love, it is sign of your purity taken by me forever. Something that will belong to me and can never return". His own face bright red and a devilish smile paint upon his lips, stretch ear to ear and his finger quickly tug his spectacle out for him to touch their forehead, his mind convincing the tears are of pleasure, the screams are of joy and her denial is tempory. She just doesn't know they are meant to be.

Naive (Y/N).

His (Y/N).

Patiently he still inside her, his member fully inside her. For seconds he wait before moving and the horror she felt before only increased when the head of his member started to push into her. As he delved deeper into her radiant warmth, a strangled whimper escaped her lips, and her eyes squeezed shut. She trembled, attempting to shield herself if not push him away, but he remained unyielding.

His passion was a palpable force, driving him to claim her entirely, feel her entirely that with a fierce yet tender urgency, he tore asunder his nightshirt, casting it aside like a discarded shroud. Then, hands that trembled with longing, he drew their bare bodies together, his skin aflame with desire.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and tears flowed from her eyes like crimson rivers, mingling with the blood that flowed from her legs. Yet, even as she wept, her body seemed to unable protest to his, caged into his embrace like wax in a furnace. His thrust increase at each as if the patience he wove disappear for her. He moan and breath at the feeling of her coated walls clench him around, her nails dent his skins says all the unspoken words.

He simply takes her unspoken words as letters of love words she wish to kept herself. She desires him as he does, only not as much as him. But his love is vast and expansive enough to fill the voids within her, to bridge the gaps that separated her from her own heart. To fill their love until she learns to open her heart.

"I love you". He confess, he thrust hard. She whimper, her teeth sank on her bottom lip to seal.

"I love you". His midnight hair dance with each movement and his lips kiss hers. The honey coat her lips that he can't help swirl inside as he thrust hard, deeper and more.

"I love you". His onyx eyes stare at her half lid ones.

"I love you". He mutter within. Her exhausted (E/C) eyes brimming with tears, trickle down her skin at gentle closeness, spilling down her skin like a bitter confession.

"I love you". Sliver saliva lace their lips from her harsh separation as she moved her face and his thrust deepened, prompting her hand to swing up in a slap. Pain burned and her stomach churned at the full of her insides however he tilts and his face lit up with a radiant smile, the heat color his skin more as grasp the hand that struck him, pulling it to his lips for a tender kiss.

He then thrust deep inside a part that made her back a graceful arc, like a flower unfurling its petals in bloom in his view. Her breath caught, suspended in the rapture of the moment. "I love you," he whispers, his words igniting a fiercer passion. With each confession, his movements quickened, fueling the fire that burned between them. Her lips, pressed together in a fierce attempt to contain her cries, began to bleed, a testament to the intensity of their desire. His hips stuttered, momentarily losing rhythm as he poured out his heart, his love, and his soul into her.

As his fingers traced the curve of her back, they deftly unlatched her bra, releasing the final barrier between them. Her breasts, now unfettered, swelled forth, inviting his touch. He claimed them eagerly, his lips closing around the tender buds as he suckled her.

In the thrall of bliss, his eyes drifted shut, his senses overwhelmed by the pleasure he bestowed upon her. Yet, even as he surrendered to the ecstasy while violenting her lower. The other hand fondle her other breast, such happiness he witness he pull away to coat the other one and again his hips return to gentle, tender and slow she believes her nightmare to be finish. The sun will raise and bright her day, protect her from the monster.

A new liquid of ropes inside her that grip from her thigh to taint the pure white sheet and finally his monstrosity actions came to halt, before she protest dots of white light swallow her entirely.

─────

Sora bounced up from the doorstep, took (Y/N)'s backpack in hand, and exclaimed, "You're so late! What took you so long ?" But her enthusiasm was met with silence. Her sister walked past her, gaze cast downward, her hair a curtain of secrecy. "Hey ! Are you ignoring me ?"

Undeterred, Umi chimed in, her warm smile a beacon of welcome. "Come sit down! Did you eat anything? I made your favorite dish!" She set the steaming plates on the wooden table yet without a word, her sister brushed past her, climbing the stairs to the solitude of her room. Both the sister confuse and worried of her strange behavior, never did she do that without an upsetting reason.

As soon as (Y/N) stepped into her room, the door closed behind her like a protective shroud. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor with a soft thud. Tears burst forth, streaming down her face.

The morning had been a blur of pain and terror, etched into her memory like a scar, from the second She recalled waking to find him changing her dress and his subsequent smile and pretense of normalcy and her vomiting the food serve by the couple to them sharing train to her home was hellish. To be near her abuser was to be trapped in a living hell, where every glance, every word, every gesture was a fresh torment. She couldn't bear to meet his eyes, fearing the darkness she might see there.

Cries pour out when sounds of knock interven, her palm hold the doorknob and attempting to steady her voice. "Go away". She needs no one. She needs some time. Alone.

The response was unexpected, a gentle voice pierced her heart. "You want your mother to not see her daughter's face after so long?' The words were like a key turning in a lock, releasing a flood of emotions.

She twisted the doorknob, and the door swung open, revealing her mother's sweet face. Their eyes met, and (Y/N) felt her composure shatter. She collapsed into her mother's arms, tears streaming down her face as she envelope in a warm, comforting embrace. Her mother's smile dull with concern.

"What happen ?" She ask her daughter however met no answer she settle on patting her back like she used to when her lovely children were mere babies to lure them sleep. She hum a little, standing and hugging her tight to provide a silence message she is there. The rest of family peek fron downstairs quite with curiosity yet smile at her getting the comfort she needs. They are unaware of what occurs yet all they know is she needs someone's support like Umi did few hours ago when confronting the truth that saved her love.

─────

The next day their elder sister layed on bed, decided to not go school and they agreed despite the question wondering on their mind of why. Sora and Umi left while (Y/N) slept the day away, feeling the pain inside her legs. the sounds from downstairs roused her. Her stomach growl in hunger and she descend to the kitchen, where her mother waited, clutching a lunchbox eerily similar to Umi's.

Their eyes met, and her mother's expression turned gentle. "Sweetie, Umi forgot her lunch. Your siblings are out, so could you please drop off her lunchbox and head back home?"

(Y/N)'s gaze drifted to her mother's dress, noting the hint of a departure. She nodded, a plan forming. She will only give her when he isn't present.

It seem to be proven wrong when she found the classroom empty so she searched for Umi's bag and stuff the lunch box and returning to home when one of their shared female friend pull her to the school club saying it's important. (Y/N) protested, but her friend wouldn't budge. As she reluctantly followed, she collided with her sister, who was rushing with Shun. Their eyes met for a fleeting instant.

"I'm coming !" Umi yell, already disappearing around the corner.

"Excuse them. Something very important is happening to them". The voice behind her, crawl her skin, her entire body still.

"Escape ? It's great to young". An old voice from behind echo along laughter.

"I have an announcement to make today, at this joyous celebration too." Shirō spoke, his gaze locked onto her back, a smirk spreading across his face. The Chairman Tokumaru and principal turned to him, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Matsuzaki (Y/N). I love you". His confession roar and the crowd erupted into a frenzy of delight, their laughter and applause echoing through the halls. The venerable principal's countenance fell, his jaw agape in astonishment. Meanwhile, Chairman Tokumaru chuckled with unbridled glee, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Be my girlfriend ?" Shirō asked however she knew, it was a demand. A order.

Yet, amidst the tumult, (Y/N) remained frozen, her back turned to Shirō, her heart racing in utter dismay.

"Say yes !"

"Say yes !"

"(Y/N)-chan say yes !"

"Say yes !"

"How romantic !"

"Say yes !" The deafening chorus swelled around her, a cacophony of cheers and applause that threaten to consume her. The voices grew louder, a maddening din that pierced her eardrums and blurred her vision.

The chaos reached a fever pitch, the faces around her began to distort, their features melting like wax in a furnace. The colors around her bled together, a sickly palette of hues that seem to drown the very air around her.

And then, darkness descended, a suffocating shroud that snuffed out the light. The memories she had desperately sought to bury came flooding back, like a dam breached by the torrent of her emotions.

The husky chuckle, the hands that had roamed her body with an uninvited intimacy, the pain that had left her scarred and shattered– all these and more came rushing back, a nightmare from which she couldn't awaken that she run.

She run out from the suffocating room.

All the students laugh mistaken such act of shyness, the principal roll his eyes and the another man wink at the boy— a sign of good luck he response with a bow. He didn't follow her. He didn't need to when he will come and have her easily. 

─────

And again she wasn't ready. Because right in front is him sitting alongside his parents and her mother is grasping at the words convey by Mr. Mizunuma. A Cheshire smile came upon Shirō's lips as he propose to marry (Y/N) in order to protect her honor for their 'reckless passion of night'. The words dripped with hypocrisy

"I love you". He mouth and never has she despite those three words more, coming as they did from his lips

FIN

[rottenpumpkin13]

In honor of the baby delivery question that was in honor of the menstrual pad question, how would AGSZC (+ the Turks and Rufus, ifyw) react if they were asked how babies are made?

Assuming a child asks?

Sephiroth: Pulls up a powerpoint presentation he claims to be kid friendly purely because he included a rainbow title with fun lettering. "When genetic material from two compatible donors combines through sexual intercourse *next slide is detailed medical diagrams* "The male reproductive organ releases sperm cells which propel through the vaginal canal at speeds of 0.2 to 0.3 meters per hour." *more infuriatingly anatomically correct diagrams* "Please, do not cry. This is a perfectly healthy and normal depiction of human birth. Look, the mother even appears happy. Perhaps she won't abandon her child."

Angeal: *sits down with a warm smile* "When two people love each other very much, they share a special kind of hug and decide to express that love in a physical way! Just like how a seed needs rich soil and tender care to grow into a beautiful flower, new life needs—*gasp*—"NO SEPHIROTH, PUT THOSE DIAGRAMS AWAY!"

Genesis: "Ah, like the goddess's tender embrace of morning dew upon spring flowers, two souls entwine in passion's dance, the sacred union of dawn and dusk, where heaven meets earth in passionate embrace. Shall I recite the poetry of the Kamasutra?" *Pulls out an actual book* *gets tackled by Angeal*

Reno: *takes a drag from his cigarette* "When two idiots forget to wrap it up, a screaming hell-spawn is born and they have to deal with it for 18 years."

Zack: "Okay buddy, let uncle Zack break it down for you nice and simple! So there's this thing that happens... like when you... uh... you know how when chocobos... and then they... but with people it's... and then... CLOUD HELP ME OUT HERE!"

Cloud: *turns bright red* "Well... um... so... there's this... thing? That happens? With... parts? And... uh....and then somehow the cells do something with other cells and....Oh! I know! My mom said something about the dragons bringing the babies down from the mountain caves, but only if you leave out a bowl of Nibel stew every full moon for nine months! And you can't forget to hang wolf fangs over your door or the mountain spirits might swap the baby with an evil entity which—" *Zack covers his mouth because the child is now crying*

Tseng: Is cheerful and sweet but makes no sense. "Much like how Shinra absorbs smaller companies, there's a delicate negotiation between two interested parties. When the proper paperwork—by which I mean copulation—is filed correctly, a new subsidiary—that is, a baby—begins development. Think of it as a very complex tea ceremony, where timing and precision are everything!"

Rufus: *stroking Darkstar while reading reports* "A specialized delivery service employs large storks to distribute infants to suitable households. The process is quite straightforward and requires no further elaboration."

*Tseng whispers urgently in his ear*

"...I'm being informed that sex is involved."

[strawberrystepmom]

bakugou x f!reader. part 3 of a mini series called by heart. part 1 can be found here, part 2 can be found here cw: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content, weddings. | word count: 2.8k, reading time: ~12 minutes

The morning after. 

You managed to rise at the same time as Katsuki, his incredibly loud alarm blaring through the wall that both of your beds are against on opposite sides. It only sounded once, naturally, yet you found it impossible to go back to sleep knowing he was stirring just a few feet away. 

He robbed you of the opportunity to witness him covered in dawn’s first light. Does he look like he’s on fire, a mythical hero from an old tale when the sun streams through his downy blonde body hair and tinges it red? Could you ever convince him to linger between the sheets after that alarm goes off, wrapping your thigh over his and kissing the planes of his chest?

Shooting up, you decided to simply start your day instead of following such a dangerous line of thinking down an unknown path. 

One workout, shower, and ‘got frustrated while getting dressed and left a tornado of sequins and leather shoes behind’ scenario later and you are finally making your way down to the resort’s restaurant for brunch. 

Katsuki, of course, is already sitting at the place designated as his with his name. Yours is directly next to him. 

You’re in a better mood today and didn’t concoct any plans to make him grovel for forgiveness overnight. It’s like turning over a new page in a fresh book, getting to know each other all over again for the first time. 

Right?

Sighing to yourself, you guess that probably only works with people whose secretions you don’t remember the taste of. Or something.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you inhale in and out for one beat and hold your head high walking toward the table. There’s no reason not to take last night at face value and see the hatchet as buried. You’re a few steps away from finding out if it is or not either way. 

“Morning,” he offers as you come closer.

His table setting has only minimally been rearranged, tea on the left and water on the right. You pause for a moment to watch him slowly start to change your setting too, moving your coffee mug and water glass around and fluffing your napkin.  

“Good morning, I hope you slept well.”

He snorts at your formality and refuses to encourage it further, instead reaching for the sugar he knows you take in your coffee and tearing the wrappers in half, pouring a stack of three into the bottom of your mug. 

“I can’t believe they’re using sugar packets at a place like this.”

Giggling, you pull out your chair to sit down, leaning close to him in the process. 

“You’re such a snob.”

If this assessment were coming from anyone else he’d be wildly insulted but it’s you. So you get the ‘he’s used to your incessant ribbing’ eye roll. 

“Is it really that horrible to want to see people get what they pay for?” 

Steadying your chair by pushing the toe of his dress shoe against the leg of it that rests closest to him, he pours coffee over the sugar while you sit. He leans over the table and picks up a spoon, stirring your drink to make sure everything is distributed the way it should be (read: the way he thinks it should be), tapping it delicately on the ceramic lip when he’s finished. 

“Look around this place and imagine how much it costs - it’s absolute bullshit there are packets instead of cubes.”

It never fails that you forget how refined he is between your periods of time spent together so it’s a treat to see the careful consideration he puts into nearly every move he makes. What he lacks in soft skills with his words he makes up for in impeccable manners when they matter the most, habits you’re sure his mother gave him no choice but to adopt to offset his natural unruliness. 

Finally situated and seated, you turn toward your male counterpart and grace him with a wry half-smile. 

“Better let Deku know they’re slighting him out of at least one yen per grain of sugar.”

The tension that flared during your conversation last night appears to have been put to rest if you’re comfortable enough to make a joke. Unfunny as it is, it’s a good sign that you’re ready to move on. Finally discarding the spoon, Katsuki folds his arms over his chest and glowers in your general direction.

“Are we…?” 

He doesn’t want to be any more of an asshole than he’s already been and assume, so he trails off. You pick up your coffee and sip, placing it down with a smile. 

“Good?”

A solemn nod from him, arms still folded. “Yeah.”

Pretending to waffle for a minute, you puff out your lips and look around the dining room, humming to yourself. 

“Hmm…I have a few more questions but consider yourself off the hook. For now.”

Exhaling loudly through his nose, you find yourself wondering if it isn’t a sigh of relief. What, exactly, he’s feeling relieved about is anyone’s guess. You have no plans of letting it derail your day that is going to be filled with brunch, hugs, and girl time with the rest of the bridesmaids that will be arriving today so you change the subject.

“How was Midoriya this morning?”

You place perfectly made coffee down and reach across the table to dish up berries onto his plate and yours, subtly reminding Bakugou that the groom to be isn’t only his friend, turning your body to fully face him. 

There’s no sense in asking how you even knew the two of them went for their usual morning run together, he’s well aware that info came directly from the bride. The blonde shakes his head thinking of his lifelong friend’s ear to ear grin when discussing his soon to be wife. Even while feeling a little anxious he didn’t bother to hide his joy and how lucky he feels to spend the rest of his life with a woman he unashamedly called his other half. 

Clearing his throat upon realizing it feels a little heavy with emotion, he decides to choose his words carefully. The term other half has danced around in his mind since Izuku said it hours earlier.

What does it mean to be someone’s other half? Is it to make them better? To fill in their gaps and let them do like in return? 

It’s a lot to consider. Too much, actually. He reaches for his water and takes a sip, coming to senses enough to speak. 

“I can tell he’s excited, he asked me to read over his vo—-“

“There you are!”

Before he can finish that thought, another sound Katsuki wasn’t looking forward to hearing all weekend captures the attention of the other guests who turn their heads to see the source. 

His mother. 

“And you too!” She calls, pointing at the occupied spot next to her son to which you respond with a wiggly fingered wave and a lazy grin.

Mitsuki Bakugou, aging gracefully and claiming naturally, approaches the two of you with the same determined smile you’ve seen her son wear on a few occasions. She and Masaru made it last night between the welcome dinner and his time at the bar with you. Their son welcomed them with mostly fake reluctance. 

Truthfully, he’s happy they’re here. They’ve cared about Izuku as much as they have him throughout their lives and it seems only right they witness the newest beautiful branch of the Midoriya family tree sprout. 

He simply doesn’t want to deal with both you and his mom at the same time. You’re high maintenance in different ways - she with her fierce spirit and you with your unfortunately difficult to ignore nature - and he has a duty to fulfill. 

“I asked her to tone it down this weekend,” he mumbles under his breath and sips from the water he’s now nearly white knuckle gripping.

You fake pout in his direction, reaching to pat one of his cheeks but he dodges you at the final second.

“She’s just excited to see her handsome baby boy. Have a heart.”

If side-eyes could kill, you’d be a cadaver yet it doesn’t deter you from leaning in closer, the space between your chest and his shoulder getting too small for comfort. 

“Oh that’s perfect! Hold on, let me get my camera…” 

The woman of the hour has finally made her way over. Her son grits his teeth and looks away, refusing to bother hiding his annoyance. It’s the most childish habit of his that has hung over into adulthood. If it were seen as less uncouth to simply physically remove yourself from situations you don’t want to be in, he’d just do that. 

“Hurry up,” he warns with arms folded over his chest. 

“Not until you uncross your arms,” his mother sing-songs from in front of the two of you, phone covering her features. 

He unfolds his arms and lets them dangle rebelliously at his sides. You lean in as close as you can without potentially getting bit, putting on your very best photo smile, sitting frozen. 

“Pull that woman closer to you or so help me...”

Without any warning, Bakugou’s arm snakes its way around your shoulders and pulls you against his side. Attempting to keep your smile and show no surprise, you clench your jaw tightly knowing he’s almost certainly doing the same. Big fingers cup your shoulder, almost tenderly, and his smile is tight but there when you steal a glance at him and just like that the flash goes off. 

Backing her phone away from her face, his mother beams. “I might need to frame that one!” She flips her phone around to show off the photo.

His arm around your shoulder, the trace of a real smile on his face and not just the fake one you assumed he had. You, face turned to look at him with tenderness you’d usually reserve for a man you’d be calling your lover. 

To the unfamiliar, you two would look shockingly…together. 

“It’s good, mom. Thanks for taking it.” 

He pushes the phone away, hoping to get this ordeal over with sooner rather than later. His mother is insisting on sticking around, picking around the table and making little notes about what she sees aloud. Of course this is no big deal to her.

“Sugar packets?” 

The Bakugou matriarch wrinkles her nose in disgust while plucking one from their ceramic home causing you to swallow a laugh. Katsuki throws up his hands as if to say “told you so”.

“I said the same thing and she acted like I was crazy.”

Mitsuki hums to herself, placing the packet back in its cradle and zeroing in on you with a smile. “Well when it’s finally you two’s turn we’ll make sure there are cubes, won’t we?”

The warmth drains from your face, eyes widening and before you can catch yourself to prevent the horrified expression from being seen you’ve been spotted. Such open disgust has told him more than you ever will. The blonde next to you snorts bitterly and looks away yet again in an effort to distance himself from the situation. 

“Lighten up, I’m just messin’ with you both.” She digs in her purse, eventually giving up and dropping her phone inside. “Anyway, I need to go find Inko. I need to see how she’s handling all of this for when it’s finally my turn.”

Kissing her son atop his head and ruffling his hair, she wiggles her fingers at you while taking her leave with no idea about the mess she’s left behind. 

“Are we…?”

It’s you asking it this time, a little alarmed by his distance and silence and that his eyes haven’t even bothered to turn toward you since you were caught.  

“Yup,” he emphasizes the “p” with a popping noise while leaning across the table to dish up his plate. “Have some questions just like you but we are so fucking good.”

Despite his obvious annoyance and the way he speaks through gritted teeth, he spoons out portions of each of the dishes on the table onto your plate alongside his own. 

The meal is consumed wordless and awkwardly, his eyes staying glued to the edges of the room until it’s time for you to go join the bridesmaids at the spa. 

[lightseoul]

prove it

synopsis. bakugou katsuki starts acting differently after your last conversation. you finally arrive at an agreement. (part 1) (part 2)

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~24 yrs old), lots of cussing

word count. 3.6k words

a/n. the last part of the series! thanks so much for all the love on the first two parts, everyone! i had such fun writing this <3 again, reblogs, tags, and comments will be highly appreciated!

You barely slept a wink that night.

After that exchange with Bakugou, you immediately left his office, not even bothering to greet his secretary (partly because you couldn’t bear the possibility of her overhearing), and headed straight to your desk.

A feeble attempt at going back to work was made, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you actually got something done.

Even as you commuted your way home and got ready for bed, your brain wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation, lingering especially on his loaded confession.

He still loves you.

What now?

Sadly, just because you're marred by sleep deficit and boy problems doesn't mean you get to miss out on work. You now walk down the hallway of your floor on the way to the break room, desperate to inject some caffeine into your system to get you through the day.

And to help you focus and get your mind off of Bakugou fucking Katsuki, thank you very much.

You’re one foot into the room when it suddenly dawns on you how you consumed the last pod of your favorite brew yesterday (before all the shit went down), which means that you’re now out and caffeine-less.

Fuck.

“Well, don’t you look like shit.”

Mikuri hums from her favorite spot on the sofa, a cup of what you think is green tea in her hands.

“Thanks?” you mumble begrudgingly as you plop yourself across from her, mood growing sourer by the minute.

“What’s up with you?” she sounds amused, a brow quirked in question.

You sigh, smoothing the wrinkle on your blazer you didn’t have the energy to iron out that morning. “Am sleep-deprived and out of coffee. Not everyone can be chipper like you on this fine day, I guess.”

“No, you’re not?”

You sit up, eyes narrowing, “You mean to say I look like shit normally and not just because I didn’t get enough sleep?”

She frowns, “You know that’s not what I mean. What I meant is that no, you’re not out of coffee.”

“Look,” she gestures to the beverage area with her free hand.

Your brows shoot up in response as you take in the freshly stocked shelf.

Weird, you think to yourself.

You were normally the one to restock on that specific flavor, being the only one on your floor who is partial to it.

Unless…

You shake your head to rid yourself of the unwelcome thoughts, willing to crush the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Mikuri doesn’t get the chance to comment on your unusual behavior because the Performance Management head of your HR team pops in through the door, a grin adorning his face.

“Good morning, boss! See you in 15.”

Yamakawa, the Recruitment head, rifles through her documents before standing up to distribute them to you and the other sub-department leads.

She goes around the room to hand you what seems to be a substantial amount of pages, “Here’s the status report on Bakugou’s new sidekick.”

“Already?” you splutter, gaining the attention of your direct subordinates. You straighten up, slightly embarrassed. “I thought they’re just starting today?”

“Yeah, well. We figured you’d want to hear it,” Yamakawa says as she gets seated and goes through her copy.

“Get this,” she continues, “he’s way more cooperative than we predicted him to be. Moriyama-san, or Water Jet Hero: Aqua Girl, is already in his office, discussing—” she glances at the report, “—battle strategies and joint training schedules as we speak.”

The others hum in acknowledgment as you sit there, still struggling to wrap your head around what was just said.

“And no one coerced him to do this?” Tanaka, the Performance Management head, pipes in. You whip to look at Yamakawa, anticipating her answer.

“Apparently, he emailed Moriyama-san yesterday himself to set the meeting.”

Delighted noises erupt across the room as you stare at the Recruitment head in disbelief.

“This is great news, right?” the Socialization head exclaims. “If we’re talking long-term, Bakugou’s workload will definitely lessen with a good sidekick around, meaning we’ll get fewer angry outbursts and a more decent-to-be-around boss!”

You know they’re making sense, and that this is supposed to be amazing news to hear as the HR department head, but you can’t help the tinge of anticipatory dread rising in your gut.

“Why don’t you seem happy?” Tanaka asks you, before turning to the others. “Hey, why isn’t Y/N happy?”

The unusual events don’t end after that.

To your surprise, Bakugou starts to attend meetings that concern him, instead of the usual—letting Kirishima do all the coordinating with you and your department. He’s even offered to help you with your analysis report on his new sidekick (quite awkwardly, at that), which you so quickly and frantically declined in front of everyone.

You suspect your subordinates are starting to deem you as weird, too.

If they only knew.

Regardless, with each passing day, you seem to be seeing more and more of him around the office, and needless to say, it’s messing with your head.

The always-stocked shelf of coffee isn’t helping either.

It’s gotten to the point where it’s starting to affect your sleep as well, with how much you overthink these sudden changes in his behavior.

In an attempt to get your mind off him and the confusing mix of hope and dread circling your stomach, you start to drown yourself in work.

Ah, your ever-trusty friend: avoidance.

You stand by the coffee machine as it does its magic, your foot tapping against the floor impatiently. You glance at the wall clock, which reads 8:01 PM.

You sigh, grabbing the freshly brewed beverage not even a second after the machine dings.

It’s been two weeks since that heated conversation with Bakugou, and one since your self-mandated oath to bury yourself with work, at least until your thoughts get a little bit less muddled and Bakugou stops acting differently.

“You’re still here?”

You startle from your absentminded stirring and look toward the source of the voice.

Speak of the devil.

Seeming as though he’s fresh from a shower, you stare at Bakugou as he stands by the doorway of the break room.

You eye the duffel bag that’s slung over his shoulder.

“You’re leaving already?”

Fuck, you think to yourself. Now you feel like a creep for knowing that Bakugou leaving two hours after his shift is considered early in his dictionary.

And now you feel stupid for answering his question with another question.

What’s gotten into you?

“Yeah,” he answers curtly, not offering much of an explanation. “What’re you doing working overtime?”

You place the mug on the marble countertop and cringe when it makes a loud, clashing noise.

You turn back to face him. “Have to work on the biannual report.” You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can, “It’s due soon.”

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, shifting on his feet.

“Well, thank you for your hard work,” he offers. “And for—uh—helping me choose my sidekick.”

Your stomach whirls in delight despite yourself.

You clear your throat, “Again, I was just doing my job.”

At that, he deflates ever so minutely, so you follow it up with: “But you’re welcome. I heard you’re thinking of hiring another one?”

“Yeah, just to help with the workload,” he nods. “I met him yesterday.”

“...You’re right, by the way,” Bakugou adds after a few seconds pass without you saying anything.

“Huh?”

He looks away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t like how similar we are. But he’s good.”

You have no idea how he knew you said that.

Scratch that—it was probably Kirishima.

Damn that meddler.

You clear your throat again in an attempt to change the subject and drop the conversation in its entirety.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

Bakugou meets your eye again, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to say something, then hesitates.

He opens his mouth ever so slightly before closing it again, eyes still fixed on you, before simply saying: “You too.”

At that, he turns on his heel and trudges towards the elevators.

Once you’re sure he’s out of sight and earshot, you bring your hand up to clutch at your heart, which is going at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Shit.”

You can’t still be in love with him?

“What?!” Mina hops on her feet, almost knocking your glass of iced tea off the table.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop doing that,” you seethe, looking around your go-to café. It’s unusually barren on a Saturday afternoon.

You look back at her, “People stare, you know. And besides, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!” she parrots incredulously.

“Just—” you scramble for words, “please sit back down?”

At your pleading tone, Mina finally gets seated, but her pinched eyebrows tell you she’s far from being done with the conversation.

“Fine,” she relents, “but you’ve got some explaining to do, missy.”

You sigh, “Okay. What do I have to explain to you?”

“Wha—” she starts, aghast, “I mean—first of all, why the fuck are you asking me to contact your blind date when three weeks ago, you were practically disgusted with the idea of going on one?”

“We talked,” you shift your eyes away from her. “Bakugou and I.”

Mina snorts.

“Let me guess. You realized you still love him?”

Your head whips to look at her, “Mina!”

“What?” she spits back. “Don’t use that accusatory tone on me.”

“I have the right to use this accusatory tone on you. I have a feeling a certain someone broke her promise about not saying anything about our last conversation with Bakugou.”

At that, Mina visibly cringes.

“In my defense,” she starts, voice raised, “it was only because that cemented how you’re both still into each other!”

You scoff.

“Aren’t you?” she presses, shooting you a pointed look, “Still into him?”

“I—I don’t know okay,” you raise your voice, inadvertently catching a few café-goers’ attention. You sink back into your seat in embarrassment.

“All I know is that the circumstances between us still haven’t changed. And that this shit is confusing—he’s confusing.”

You wave your hand around vaguely, “He’s been acting all weird and stuff.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters…”

“Hmmm…”

“What do you mean, hmmm?” you ask, exasperated.

She rolls her eyes at you, “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that he’s trying to prove you something?”

At that, your heart leaps in your throat. You push it down, though, as best as you can. Crossing your arms across your chest, you huff.

“If he thinks restocking my coffee for me is proving something, he’s got another thing coming for him.”

Mina guffaws, and you can’t help the smile that creeps on your face. Once the laughter has died down, though, she eyes you for a moment before sighing in resignation.

She picks up her phone and thumbs out something on her keyboard.

“Well, you’re in luck,” she starts, “Daichi-san is still interested in meeting you.”

You don’t know whether to be annoyed at Mina for ignoring your earlier request to cancel or be grateful for indulging you on your current one.

Not wanting to change her mind, you merely opt for mumbling a quick ‘thank you’, glancing at your phone as it dings with a message from her containing the engineer’s number.

You look around the interior of the restaurant, past the windows of the private room you’re in where a beautiful traditional garden lies, illuminated by the dim orange outdoor lighting.

You chance a peek at Daichi, who is already looking at you when your eyes meet.

Embarrassed, you look down at your ridiculously elaborate main course, finding yourself grateful that you opted for the fancier of your two dresses earlier this evening.

“So,” he breaks the silence as he pours you a glass of wine whose name you can’t even begin to pronounce. “Ashido-san told me you work at the Ground Riot agency?”

“Yes,” you smile gratefully as you bring your glass to your lips and take a sip. “I’ve been working there for a year now.”

“Must be exciting, huh?” he adds pleasantly, “working for top Pro Heroes?”

Man.

You purse your lips together, not wanting to seem stilted by the question. “It is. It can get quite hectic, though.”

He hums in agreement, “I get that.”

Daichi then proceeds to talk about the agency where he works, and normally you’d be kind enough to actively listen and throw in some follow-up questions, but your mind is now drifting towards Bakugou and your last encounter at the mention of the Pro Hero.

What did he want to say to you?

“L/N-san?”

“Huh?”

Daichi chuckles awkwardly, “I was just asking if you wanted some spice on your salmon."

Spice.

Bakugou would’ve wanted some.

Bakugou, you think to yourself.

Bakugou.

“Bakugou?”

You gape at the figure looming over your dining table.

The very man is standing there in his regular clothes that would’ve disguised his identity if it weren’t for his distinct blonde hair and hulking figure.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I need to talk to you.”

You nervously glance at your date, who seems to be starstruck by the Pro Hero in front of him.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something?” you whisper-shout.

Bakugou barely pays him any attention—gaze remaining on you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think an unspoken ‘please’ lies at the tip of his tongue.

You shake your head in bewilderment, or in an attempt to shake off these thoughts—you don’t know.

“Don’t you have the night shift? And how’d you know I was here?”

He exhales heavily, jaw tensing.

“I had Kirishima cover for me. And…” He looks away for a brief moment, before turning back and fixing his gaze on yours. “I asked Mina, and she told me you’d be here.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but at that, you stand up on your feet and stare him down.

“You can stop now, Katsuki,” you hush, wary of your date eavesdropping on your conversation. “Quit wasting your time on me just to prove a point and go back to the agency. You’ve done enough.”

His eyebrows furrow in what you’ve grown to identify as defiance, but he doesn’t make a move to fight back or leave.

Instead, he says through gritted teeth: “I’m not just trying to prove a fucking point, Y/N.”

“Then what are—”

“Excuse me?”

You both whip your heads in the direction of the voice, only to see Daichi sporting a sheepish look on his face as his eyes dart between the two of you.

A pang of guilt courses through you at the sight.

He clears his throat, “Do you guys need a minute alone?”

“No, we’re just—”

“Yes.”

You turn back to look at Bakugou in angry confusion. To your astoundment, he leans in ever slightly, mouth nearing your ear. From how close you are, you see how his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps before speaking.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he says: “I can’t pretend that this isn’t bothering me.”

You jerk away at the sensation and take a step back, flustered. Before you can even gather your bearing, Daichi speaks up again, albeit quite hesitantly.

“I know I’m supposed to be the one leaving here, but if you want some privacy, this restaurant has a private patio right to your left.”

“I can’t believe you interrupted us like that,” you spew as you step out into the restaurant’s patio, which is fortunately empty except for the two of you.

Bakugou follows behind you, trying to catch up as you speak.

“I just needed to talk to you.”

At that, you spin around to face him, and he halts in his step in front of you.

Incredulous, you stare at him for a few seconds.

“Talk,” you finally command.

His eyes widen in surprise, and you can tell he didn’t expect this conversation to arrive at this point so soon.

A moment passes, but not a single word is uttered. Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, as he attempts to get a word out but to no avail.

“What, now you don’t have anything to say?” you ask pointedly, irritation bubbling in you by the second.

You wait for a few more, excruciatingly quiet seconds before huffing in defeat. And disappointment—you finally admit to yourself.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you turn on your heel, “I have a poor date to return to.”

You start to head for the restaurant’s back door when Bakugou makes a grab for your hand, spinning you around to face him.

“Just—wait.”

His voice is pleading now, frustration and desperation evident in his tone. You’re itching to yank your hand back, which is getting alarmingly clammier by the second, but you fight the urge.

The pained look on Bakugou’s face is enough to freeze you solid.

This time around, you patiently wait for him to gather his words with his hand still wrapped around yours and your heart betraying you, beating at an abnormally fast pace.

What feels like an hour goes by before he finally manages to speak.

And what comes out of his mouth throws you right off.

“I strengthened our coordination with the other agencies around the district.”

“...What?”

You absentmindedly touch your face with your free hand.

You can’t be having a stroke right now.

Bakugou shifts on his feet, a nervous tic you’ve noticed developed over the years.

Okay, if you’re coherent enough to observe that, maybe you’re not having a stroke.

“I mean—” he scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “—Shitty Hair and I, we clarified jurisdictions around the area so that the two of us won’t be the go-to contact every time there’s a villain around.”

“I’m still not following, Katsuki.”

He ignores your comment, choosing to continue on his tangent instead.

“And I started seeing my therapist again. That damned hag went on telling me she was glad I’m getting help again like she was my mother.”

You blink at him as the gears start turning in your head.

Jurisdiction.

Less overtime.

More sidekicks.

Therapy.

Communication.

Suddenly, everything clicks.

“Maybe I am trying to prove a point,” Bakugou mumbles, more to himself than you.

“But it’s not just that,” he continues, looking back at you and not letting you get a word in.

“I’m here to tell you that I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. Despite all the adjustments I’ve made, there are still gonna be days when I have no choice but to prioritize my duties as a hero over you.”

He looks down at your joint hands and squeezes, “Over us.”

“But I’m trying my best,” he declares with such certainty it knocks the wind off your lungs. “And I’ll keep doing so, if you’ll give me a chance to prove to you that I can do it.”

A million questions race through your mind. Why couldn’t he have done this for you the first time around? How is this time going to be any different? Are the changes going to be enough?

But he’s staring at you with such longing and hope and determination that the only thing you can think of is: How can you not?

Dizzy from the revelation and robbed of all words, all you can do is nod in affirmation as the tears you didn’t even notice were there start falling down your cheek.

A sigh of relief wracks Bakugou’s body as he scoops you in his arms, engulfing you in an embrace that has you sobbing even more on his shoulder.

The wet sensation spreading on your bare shoulders tells you he’s crying, too.

After what feels like an eternity of shedding tears and being wrapped in each other’s arms, Bakugou finally moves to unwrap his limbs around you, now holding you at an arm’s length.

Now not in spite of yourself, your hand shoots up to wipe off the tear streaks on his face, which he leans into.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he whispers after a moment.

Your hand freezes in its track. “For what?”

“For not being able to immediately answer back when you asked me if you loving me changed anything.”

He looks down at his feet, uncertain. “I think—I just—” he stutters, “Fuck.”

You can’t help but chuckle in response, and he looks up at your face at the sound. He’s trying to playfully pout, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s feeling the farthest from playful.

Flashing him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you reach for the hand on your shoulder and squeeze it. “Go on, Katsuki.”

He sighs for the nth time at your coaxing, the slightest bit of relief flashing across his features.

“At that moment,” he finally continues, voice raspy, “I guess I was just scared shitless. I was paralyzed with doubt—in myself, in my capability to not mess up the second time around.”

He huffs, eyeing you, “Didn’t occur to me how stupid that was until I was walking home later that night.”

You’re about to reassure him when he snorts. “The fuck am I saying—I’m still scared.”

At that, you audibly laugh, running your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He visibly softens at the gesture, lids fluttering shut for a moment. When he opens them, you then look him straight in the eye—the laughter long gone, now replaced with a palpable seriousness.

“I’m scared, too,” you say, voice quiet. “But we’ll try and make things work. Right, Katsuki?”

He nods vigorously, hand clenching yours and his crimson orbs filled with nothing but sincerity that all the apprehensions floating in your mind suddenly disappear.

“We will.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @bakugouswh0r3 @poemzcheng @lovra974 @jasmixs @xoneaboveallx @bontensh0e @kooromin @sirenmoi @buzzbuzz-hm @xzsanaa @baddecisionsworld @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @i-simp-to-much @goldenglow149 @fixed211 @zenxvii @roses-arerosies @tiredjuniper @curbstompedrice @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @bkgnotsuma @6423btw @kaeremin @ghastly-san @jasmixs @javochqaa @nnubee @just-ambxrr @idk-sam @dream-walker-cat @kitthepurplepotato @endlessfreaky @myrunawaysweets @bxbyyyjocelyn @smolbeannnn @seabass17 @serendipitous-fernweh @the-weeping-author

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part two.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄. "

peppers. - lana del rey

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it was your little way of trying to butter him up...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 917

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: spencer being slightly perverted

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈

you swiftly travelled across the office holding a stack of hot cups in your hands.

the small mountain of coffee began to disappear as you distributed each drink to the designated person. it was surprising how much you could learn about a person just from the way they took their coffee. 

hotch liked his black, mirroring his stoic, almost bitter disposition. garcia took hers with an abundance of cream and sugar, the pale, sweet liquid going against what the average adult would choose to consume on a typical monday morning. morgan matched garcia, but chose use more coffee than milk to give his drink a darker hue. jj took hers white with no sugar, prentiss took hers black with four teaspoons of it. and spencer, the obvious outlier…

“earl gray tea, dr. reid?” your voice chirped him out of his studious haze, him leaning back slightly in his chair to find the owner of the voice. he narrowed his eyes slightly, removing his glasses and hooking them onto his collar. he hummed with traces of disdain, trying to pick out something, anything to point out. he waited a beat before plucking the cup out of the grip, taking a slow sip and swallowing the hot liquid in one swift movement. his fixed eye contact suggested that he was unpleased, but the almost unnoticable flicker in his gaze screamed otherwise.

“thank you.” he accentuated his consonants in an extra crisp manner, setting the cup down with great care. you nodded, navigating your way over to your desk (which just so happened to be directly across from him.)

“anytime. have there been any new cases yet?” you took this little interaction the strike up conversation with the only person who hadn’t fallen head over heels for you yet.

spencer shook his head, disloging a few strands of hair from his artfully scruffy hairstyle. “not yet. we’re still working on the case of three women in their mid-20s who were brutally raped before being decapitated.” spencer grimaced as the words left his mouth, but didn’t let you catch a glimpse of it. truth was, he tried to make it sound a lot more gruesome than it actually was just to scare you. he wanted to get some sort of imperfect reaction out of you. 

you raised an eyebrow, humming as you shuffled through a few papers on your desk. “sounds thrilling.” your tone was flat, almost sarcastic. 

he took another quick swig of his drink, stealing little glances at your desk. you had had it set up after 10 minutes of being moved in. neat binders containing whatever you believed needed to be concealed, an assortment of pens, organized in rainbow order, and a few makeup items which looked practically untouched. spencer knew that colleagues weren’t supposed to profile eachother, but he could practically see “control freak” written on your forehead. that was the only explanation as to how you knew what drink he took in the morning.

“how’d you know, anyway?” he mumbled, covering half his face with a few pictures of the butchered women on the case files.

your head shot up. “how’d i know what?” you leaned forward slightly, making him subconsciously back away the same amount in response.

“that i drink tea, not coffee?” he didn’t mean to sound mildly irritated, but he had never been good at properly masking his true feelings. you shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “a girl never reveals her secrets.” he snorted out a small laugh. figures. he’d already found that out when he saw the binders. 

you pursed your lips, curiosity bubbling in your gut. “hey, can i see those? the photos of the victims. i think i may know how to help.” spencer’s brow furrowed. he hesitantly extended his arm to hand you the pictures, but stopped halfway. “what would you be able to do that i can’t? i assure you that i am fu-” you grabbed the papers from him, springing out of your seat and rushing out of the room. between your “take-charge” attitude and that little skirt that rode up your thighs with your quick steps, he found that he was seething once again.

“damn… she’s smoking hot, isn’t she?”

spencer jumped, morgan’s taunting catching him by surprise again. and at the worst possible time too, just as he was staring at the view from behind.

“knock it off, morgan… how do we even know for sure if she’s legal or not? the kid probably can’t drink!” he could feel his cheeks burning red.

“i could say the same about you, kid.” morgan swatted the glasses off of spencer’s collar, laughing as the boy bent down to pick it up. now he was angry, jealous, and had that unmistakable sizzle growing in his stomach. morgan patted him on the back, dropping his voice down.

“just… take it easy, kid. a girl like that usually only comes around once in a life time. but it looks like she’s here to stay. go get her, tiger.”

spencer grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “i’m not gonna ‘get the girl’. i don’t even want her, man.” 

morgan shot him a half grin, slapping him on the shoulder before sauntering off, leaving spencer as a sputtering mess. there went any chance of him starting to warm up to you. this interaction had thrown him off more than ever, leaving him with no desire to fight the urge to keep you as far away as possible. but morgan had been wrong about one thing:

‘smoking hot’ was a gross understatement.

fill out the taglist form ! : @mikaaj , @feyresqueen , @guiltyyassin , @broadwaytraaaaash

[electricwhims]

Morning Tea Pose Pack

(EDIT: Fixed an issue with the all-in-one file!! Please redownload!)

Here we have a pose pack that I absolutely LOVE!! We have a sim who is just waking up and is offered a cup of tea with an unpleasant conversation following!! I really hope this one can be useful!

If you have any issues, please let me know!

Includes: -2 Single poses, 8 Couple Poses, Plus All In Ones!

What You Need: -Andrew’s Pose Player -Teleport Any Sim, This teacup by @natalia-auditore

TOU: -Do not reupload  -Do not put these poses behind a paywall -Do not edit my poses. You may add extra poses to the pack for personal use ONLY, but do NOT distribute them without asking. IF THESE TOUs ARE VIOLATED I WILL BLOCK YOU ON ALL PLATFORMS

@ts4-poses

If you use them, please tag me on here or on Instagram @electric.whims Not a requirement, but I do want to see! !

DOWNLOADS: PATREON | SIMFILESHARE (Absolutely no adfly and completely free!)

[xinamie]

🍵 — part of my design.

pairing: bi-han / sub zero x gn! reader

summary: not everyone understands him and he's aware of that, but he's silently thankful for those who try at least. ♡

tags: more of a short study of him, no dialogue, platonic or more if you want!

The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was truly a formidable and intimidating force, harnessing his birth right to lead along with his cryomancy. He aimed for grand heights, wanting to be more than mere defenders of the realm. His clan's best interest was always on the forefront of his mind, believing they deserved a higher standing than being shackled and seen as pawns. They were warriors trained for battle, yet that glory he sought out had hindered communication and connections.

Many great consequences had passed; his brothers were no longer by his side, and the Lin Kuei were deemed to have abandoned their intended purpose. He knew this, of course, but he was not one to give up. Any time he would cross paths with his family, he would ask them to join him, though his choice of words may not be what they wish to hear.

One day, the Lin Kuei would get the recognition and status they should have been given. There were some positive outcomes throughout this whole ordeal, however. Cyrax and Sektor were still around, aiding in his efforts and dealing with special projects.

Then, there was you.

Contrary to popular belief, the man had not wronged you in any way. There were times he criticized your forms during training, but was that not his job? His warriors had to be in top shape in order for success! If one couldn't handle being called incompetent from time to time, they would definitely not survive out on the merciless fields.

You were praised for your loyalty and diligence, and in return, you received his respect. Not that he never did before, after all, he was an educated and formal man. He held himself well and even with his rare outbursts due to frustration, he had never cursed loudly. Instead, it was always a rather chilling tone, authority seeping through and making even the best warriors tense up.

Today was a good day by all means.

Training had gone well, meals were warm and fulfilling, and pristine uniforms had been cleaned, pressed and distributed as usual.

You were able to catch a glimpse of the Grandmaster when the sun was about to succumb to the moon. He was in his usual attire, fitting to his form and proper by all standards. The only trait that seemed out of place were the strands that escaped his bun, resting across his forehead naturally. It made you wonder if that was a choice too; does he purposefully style his hair like that every morning or was it due to the activities he busied himself with?

Regardless, it was a nice touch compared to the rest of his composure.

He had been pouring a cup of tea, Pu'er to be exact as it was one of his favorites, when you noticed he had been staring right back at you. His eyes shifted to the low table before him where his cup and an additional one were seated.

An invitation.

The gesture was subtle, but you would be a fool not to accept it. You made your way over to him, carefully folding your legs against the mat. He offered you the spare cup, only partially filled with the brew.

That simple notion was another aspect to consider as a tea cup filled to the brim held a particular meaning. The fact that it was not the case meant he most likely wanted you to stay longer and enjoy the tea with him.

No words were exchanged as the two of you allowed the warmth to take over, and one thing was for certain.

Despite what others may say, your Grandmaster was an honorable man.

[munson-blurbs]

Mailman!Eddie x Reader

Here she is, folks...the mailman!Eddie fic my weird lil brain conjured up. Big thanks to @eddiemunsonsmum for giving me the idea to turn this into an actual story.

Summary: Your mailman keeps delivering love letters to you. You're determined to find out who could be behind such a mean prank, but Eddie doesn't make it easy.

WC: 1.1k

--

If someone told you that you’d be waiting for the mailman to deliver a love letter from a secret admirer, you probably would have laughed in their face. If they told you that you’d be waiting to confront the mailman about these love letters, you would have dismissed the notion completely, perhaps with a slight flick of your middle finger.

And, yet, here you are.

“Morning!” Eddie chirps, holding out a stack of envelopes as he climbs the three stairs up your porch. His navy shorts hit right above his knees, leaving his lower legs and their dusting of brown curls exposed. He adjusts the mail sack so the weight is more evenly distributed across his back. You place your glass of iced tea on the snack table in front of you, wiping the condensation from your palms. He has a smile on his face, as he always does when he sees you, but it falters when he notices the frown on yours. “What’s going on? Something wrong?”

You bite back a scoff, taking the mail from his grasp. Sure enough, there’s another one, smack dab in the middle of bills and junk mail. “Yeah, something’s wrong,” you hold up the envelope, unable to mask your irritation. “You keep handing me these stupid notes, and I need to know who’s sending them.”

Eddie blanches, cheeks flushing a deeper pink that can’t solely be attributed to exposure to the summer sun. “Wh-I just deliver the mail,” he stammers, taking a small step back. “I don’t know who—” 

“Save it, Eddie,” you snap, feeling the heat of anger blooming in your cheeks. “There’s no return address; there’s no stamp. Which means that someone is giving you these to bring me, and it’s not funny anymore.”

“Funny?”

You sigh impatiently and roll your eyes at what must be feigned incompetence. “Look, it’s obviously a prank. Who’s going to send love letters to me?”

The hurt and anger in your voice catches him off-guard, and he nearly slips off of the step as he starts backwards. “I, um, I don’t know, okay? They’re just in the pile and I-I gotta finish my route.”

The remainder of Eddie’s shift is filled with him silently chastising himself. 

Way to go, Munson. You try doing something romantic and she thinks it’s a prank. Just tell her how you feel. Stop being a coward and ask her out already. She’s been nothing but nice to you, not like the rest of the people in this town. 

You’re not home in the afternoon again until the following Saturday, and you’re in the same position you were before: standing on the porch, anxiously awaiting the mail. Well, anxiously awaiting the mailman. You hadn’t received any of those fake love notes since you’d last spoken to Eddie, but you couldn’t stop thinking about them. Who would be so cruel to tease you like that? It was middle school behavior; something you’re far too old to be dealing with.

Eddie ducks his head as he hands you the mail, wanting nothing more but to hide behind the curtain of curls that he has to keep tied back on hot days like today. If he could just escape without having to–

“Are you gonna tell me who’s slipping you those notes now?”

Shit.

He peers up at you, barely able to make eye contact as shame settles into his cheeks. “No one’s slipping them to me,” he mumbles, tucking his lower lip between his teeth.

You throw your hands up in the air before resting them on your hips in complete exasperation. “Seriously?” you balk. “How many times do I–”

“No one’s slipping them to me because…” he pauses, massaging the back of his neck with trembling fingers. “...because I'm the one writing them.”

The information crushes you like a boulder on your chest. Eddie was behind the prank this whole time? Was this some sort of sick joke between him and his mail carrier buddies? “You?” you choke out, eyes stinging with tears. “Why would you do that? I thought we were friends, Eddie!”

“We are!” he tries to reassure you, but you shake your head in disbelief. Small towns always had an overabundance of small-minded people, but you’d never thought that Eddie was part of that group.

“Well, friends don’t screw with each other’s feelings and write fake love letters for entertainment.” You cringe at the way he’d probably seen your face alight with excitement the first few times you’d gotten a letter, thinking that maybe someone actually harbored romantic feelings for you. But when months went by with no prospects in sight, your outlook became increasingly cynical.

Eddie’s jaw drops at your accusation. “They’re not fake,” he tells you, keeping his tone soft but insistent. “I like you…a lot…but I was too afraid to admit it.” He exhales, grateful to have confessed his feelings but terrified to see your reaction. “I thought the letters would make you happy, but it looks like I royally fucked that up.”

His words ring in your ears. I like you…a lot. Eddie Munson likes you a lot. Likes you enough to write you letters about how he thinks you’re beautiful, that your smile brightens his whole day, that he could listen to you tell stories about damn near anything for hours on end and never get bored. The man with the chocolate-hued eyes who gave you butterflies every time he was in your vicinity–flutters that you’d tried your best to ignore, because how could someone so handsome and sweet ever be into someone like you?

You let your gaze lock onto his, though your vision is still a bit blurred from your earlier surge of emotion. “Almost royally fucked it up,” you gently correct him, taking a few steps forward to meet him where your walkway met the porch stairs.

Eddie barely chokes out a “Wha–” when you pull him closer by the strap of his mail bag, pressing your lips to his and kissing him like he’s only dreamt of being kissed. Your fingertips of your other hand tangle in the locks of hair that have already slipped from the ponytail; his land on the small of your back as though they’ve always resided there. You two melt into each other, only breaking apart when you realize that Eddie still has a job to do–one that doesn’t involve making out in front of your house.

You’re at work on Monday when Eddie delivers the mail, still thinking about the taste of your mouth on his. When he opens the mailbox to place the stack of envelopes inside, a bright yellow handmade card catches his eye. 

Two can play this love letter game. Picnic at Skull Rock after your shift?

--

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 04

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,2k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: “Bucky…” You hesitated, taking a little more time to sort out what you should really say. “Helps me with some business.” You reached for the glass of wine standing in front of you and took a sip.

“Always helpful,” Rebecca sneered. You noticed that she has been passionately ignoring her brother, but until now you were convinced that this was just a mistaken impression. “And, of course, he wants the best for you, doesn't he?” She faked a smile.

The encounter with Bucky, which took place a few days ago, turned out to be a new source of worry, leaving you even more confused. Guided by common sense, you tried not to dwell on it, but every time you lost your guard and let your thoughts wander, you found yourself reliving that moment. And each time you asked yourself the same question, Why did an accidental contact lead to such a strong reaction? It wasn't that the two of you had started pawing each other; Bucky accidentally leaned against you. And then he looked at your lips to see if your body was thinking the same thing as his…

You drifted off again, and were made aware of it by the boiling kettle. The flashback of the touch immediately popped into your head like the words of a stupid song you couldn't stop humming. And although you lost your appetite for tea, you filled the cup with hot water.

Michael walked into the kitchen with a newspaper in his hands – the kind he used to bring your father every morning. With a heavy sigh, he put it down on the kitchen counter. When you peeked at him to figure out if that sigh meant he was in a bad mood, you met his gaze. Suddenly you felt uncomfortable.

“What..?” 

“Stark is becoming impatient,” Michael began. “Since your father's death, no one really controls the distribution of Stark Industries products. If this outage continues, Stark will quit doing business with us,” he said. Having taken off his glasses, he massaged his closed eyelids. Working with Tony Stark was bringing in a huge amount of money for your Family. As such, you understood Michael's nervousness – you couldn't afford to dissolve your partnership. “In view of this, we have less and less time.”

Biting your lower lip, you ran your eyes nervously over the surface of the countertop. “What about Brock?” You didn't want to consider the possibility that Brock might have turned out to be your last resort, but you knew you should be prepared for it. “Any word from Rumlows?”

Michael shook his head. “I was approached by someone else,” he added. Your first instinct was to feel uneasy, but in the end you decided to give it a chance. It dawned on you that you had to stop being picky, even though it had seemed perfectly reasonable to you up to that point. You had the right to demand to be treated right by any person you were to marry. “John Walker would like to speak to you. Without me or any third parties present.”

This was exactly what you had feared – John Walker joining in. And while he didn't seem as harmful as Brock, you didn't see him as the ideal candidate. But for all intents and purposes, you didn't see an ideal candidate in any man around. 

You swallowed hard. “Did he say anything else?”

“That he will reach you to discuss the details of the meeting.”

The conversation with Michael was still looming in your head, effectively hindering your preparations for dinner at the Barnes house. All you could do was turn up there and look good, and even that was difficult to achieve. 

A long, warm bath has improved the state of your skin somewhat – until now it was a little too dry and ashen as a result of the stresses of recent weeks. However, it regained some of its softness. You dried and brushed your hair, moisturised your face and did your makeup a little more carefully than usual, trying to cover up every little imperfection – these, too, have intensified since the burden of serious decisions fell on you. You generally tried not to complain about your appearance, but lately you haven't felt particularly comfortable in your own skin. Still, you saw the positive side in worrying about your looks – it took your mind off the rest of your problems.

The day was inexorably turning into evening, but the weather had not changed much – the temperature outside remained pleasantly warm, perfectly reflecting the deep spring. So you decided to put on a white dress with tiny flowers; it had short, buff sleeves and reached past your knees. The hard part came when you had to deal with the tie at the back; it went in a zigzag from mid-shoulders to lower back. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard a quiet knock on the door – Suzie appeared just in time. 

“I was just about to-” You looked back over the shoulder and felt a sudden wave of heat when you spotted Bucky instead of your sister. Although he'd announced to you that he was coming – this time he'd done it by text, not by standing outside your window – you hadn't expected him this early. And as much as you tried to push the memories of your last contact into some dark, forgotten corner of your mind, these blossomed with vivid colours. “I thought it was my sister.”

“I wanted to wait in the car, but she sent me here,” Bucky said, scratching the back of his head. “Need help with the dress?”

Staring at him blankly, you nodded after a while. 

“May I..?” 

“Sure.”

Bucky came closer to you, so you turned again to let him work. 

“Try to straighten the string, okay?” you added quietly. You wanted it to be as perfect as possible. 

Bucky let out a heavy breath and you felt a cool blow on your half-naked back; this in turn made you shiver, much more gently than last time. His fingers slid under the string, and so involuntarily brushed your skin. You felt him hesitate for a moment, but then his fingers moved along the underside of the string, complying with your request and straightening it out. Soon he grabbed both ends and pulled them so that the front of the dress clung to your chest.

“Too tight?” he asked, presumably having heard your sharp sigh. You couldn't tell what it was the result of – the squeezing fabric or Bucky's closeness.

“It’s okay,” you croaked and you almost immediately scolded yourself for how weak and pathetic you sounded. 

Bucky tied the ends of the string in a double bow, probably as a precaution; in case it would come undone at the least appropriate moment. He did it in silence, and although this seemed perfectly natural for such an activity, you got the impression that an awkwardness had crept in between you, which you had managed to avoid at the very beginning of your relationship.

“Done,” Bucky said, and you turned around carefully. Just as carefully, you lifted your gaze to his face. He was surveying you, possibly even more intensely than usual. For a brief moment you wondered if he too was tormented by the same thoughts as you, and judging by the slightly pained look on his face, expressing some kind of longing, you could guess that he was indeed.

“Have you heard?” You spoke after a bit longer silence. 

“About what?” Bucky didn't even for a split second seem interested in the answer that might lie beneath your question. 

“John Walker asked me on a date,” you said calmly, moreover, you were almost tempted to smile – you didn't want to give the situation unnecessary tragedy.

A corner of his mouth lifted, but that gesture had not even a hint of enthusiasm in it. He didn't look surprised or angry. You figured the news had traveled fast, but even if Bucky hadn't been aware of John's offer until now, he predicted it – he told you about it at the very beginning.

“You look really nice,” Bucky’s voice sounded so soft that your face flushed. You wanted to check if he was telling the truth, but you were unable to take your eyes off his.

“Thank you.” You smiled slightly. “I’ll grab a few things and we can go,” you added. You had the irresistible feeling that if you didn't say it – didn’t say something – the mutual gazing at each other would get out of hand again.

“I’ll be in the car.”

You left the house with Suzie. Because of your hands being occupied with a cardboard box, she closed the door behind you, then you both headed to the gate. 

Bucky stood with his back up against his car. Your knowledge of vehicles ended with the identification of brands, but even if that skill was even more limited, you would have easily recognised this one – mainly because of the distinctive wild horse logo. A thought unknowingly popped into your head that the black, vintage Mustang suited its owner.

Pulling away from the car, Bucky pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. He opened the passenger door and put the seat down, allowing Suzie to get into the back. As your sister slipped inside and the front seat returned to its place, you also got in. Bucky walked around the front of the car and sat behind the wheel, his gaze immediately falling on the box you were holding. 

“I made a carrot cake,” you explained.

He raised his eyebrows with astonishment. 

“Barnes don’t eat cakes?” 

“We do,” Bucky differed. You glanced at the way his hand landed on the stick and put it in the right gear. He threw his arm over your headrest to look at the back window, and you felt butterflies in your stomach again. “It’s just… Baking is so…”

“Yeah..?” 

“I don’t know, wifely?”

You watched the profile of Bucky's face as he focused on the road. “Is there anything else wifely in me?” 

Bucky smirked under his nose. When the car stopped at the first traffic light, he leered at you. “In you? I'd have to check.” He shrugged. “But those nightgowns you wear…” He pressed his lips together, shaking his head slowly. “Fuck,” he said almost soundlessly, as if he didn't want Suzie to hear it.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, and he snorted a quiet laugh.

For the rest of the way, you didn’t really talk. You were worried that Suzie might feel uncomfortable, or worse, pick up something she wasn't supposed to hear. She was nearly an adult, besides, she had grown up in the same environment as you, nevertheless, you preferred to spare her the awkwardness.

Not long after you had left the city behind, the car turned into a road along which big old trees were growing; their interlocking tops formed a kind of tunnel. At its exit was a large, green plot of land, and you couldn't really tell where it ended. The house on it – tall, with a surrounding porch and walls covered with ivy in places – was probably as old as the trees.

Absorbed in the views behind the window, you didn't even notice that the car had stopped. You only became aware of it when Bucky opened the door for you. You got out, still scanning the surroundings with your eyes, and Bucky freed your sister.

“This place…” You began, and only after a moment glanced at Bucky. He stood next to you and tilted his head slightly to the side. “It’s beautiful here.”

Bucky gave you a half-smile, and this time you could see an undeniable softness and happiness on his face. You were able to tell that he had positive feelings about his family home.

The front door – solid, heavy, with a colourful, floral stained glass window – swung almost wide open. And although you had never really met her, you recognised Winnifred Barnes in the woman who stepped out onto the porch. At first glance, you saw a striking resemblance between her and Bucky – he had her whole face; her big blue eyes, straight nose and strong jaw. 

“Y/N, Suzanne,” Mrs. Barnes beamed warmly at you and your sister. “I’m glad you could make it. Come inside.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” You handed Winnifred the package. “It’s just a cake,” you rushed to clarify, seeing the premature delight on the woman's face.

“That is so sweet of you, Y/N. Jamie,” she turned to Bucky. “Take our guests to the dining room, please.”

Having climbed the few steps leading up to the porch, Bucky joined you.

“Jamie?” you repeated, your mouth curved into a smile.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah.” He scratched his neck.

You got to the dining room, and although the number of people there exceeded your expectations, you didn't feel overwhelmed by the company. You recognised Timothy first, since you had seen him relatively recently, then Steve Rogers, as he also figured quite vividly in your consciousness. As for the rest, you weren't as sure.

You guessed that one of the young women sitting at the table, who was an almost perfect, and certainly the most faithful copy of Winnifred, was Rebecca Barnes. There was an infant on her lap, banging a spoon on the table top and bursting into laughter after every sound. Rebecca, most likely used to this kind of noise, didn't pay much attention to it; she was busy talking to the person sitting right next to her. This time you assumed it was Josephine Barnes. In fact, you were even sure of it, mainly because of the similarity she shared with Winnifred, Bucky and Rebecca. She only had slightly softer facial features and a not-so-piercing gaze; you also noticed the visible tan.

You almost missed the last one – with her nose in a book she was the least conspicuous. Mary, you guessed. You recalled that she was not much younger than your own sister.

“You okay?” Bucky asked quietly, and it wasn't his voice that revived you, but his fingers hooked on your elbow. You felt electricity radiating from that spot.

Before you had time to reply, something crashed into your legs and embraced them tightly. You looked down, where you spotted a little girl with a grin that missed a few teeth. 

“Hi!” She exclaimed. 

“Hi.” You couldn’t help but smile, too. 

“Oh, Daisy,” Rebecca groaned, clearly embarrassed by the child's behaviour. You therefore concluded that Daisy was her daughter. “Stop that.”

“It’s all right,” you declared immediately. 

Still, Bucky crouched down and pulled the child away from your legs, and this little fuss threw you into the spotlight. Everyone at the table stopped whatever they were just doing and focused on you.

“Jamie brought home a girl?” Josephine asked with surprise and a kind of hope. “How long have you been together?” 

“Is that your girlfriend?” Mary joined the conversation. “Oh, she’s pretty.”

You pressed your lips together in a slight smile; you hoped to avoid becoming the main attraction, on the other hand, you could breathe a sigh of relief – your efforts to make your appearance tolerable had paid off.

“Alright, that's enough.” Bucky gave his sisters a threatening glare.

“They are not a couple,” Timothy, sitting at the head of the table, spoke, drawing everyone's attention. “As far as I know,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “Y/N,” he said to you, his friendly smile didn't match the mysterious expression on the rest of his face. “Sit next to Steve. I insist.” 

You led your eyes in that direction. Indeed, there were two empty chairs between Mary and Steve – probably for you and Suzie. “Of course.” You nodded politely and made your way to that seat, peeking at your sister to check on her. Steve rose and pulled back a chair for you, and once you had taken your seat, you glanced at Bucky confused; Timothy's request seemed more than a little odd to you.

Bucky clenched his jaw. Previous experience allowed you to recognise when he wasn’t pleased, and that was exactly what he looked like at the moment.

Winnifred also appeared in the dining room. As the lady of the house, she sat at the other end of the table. Soon after, the first dishes were served and the room filled with sounds of conversation. The men were talking about baseball, then boxing, and although Bucky was actively involved in the discussion, he seemed a little distracted. Whenever you glimpsed in his direction, you caught him staring at you – you could see that he was a bit disappointed, perhaps even resentful, and there was something dark in his eyes; as if the sea in his irises was hit by a storm. Especially when Steve included you in a conversation, smiled or laughed at something you said.

Winnifred asked about your gallery, the upcoming exhibition, and about Suzie's school. She praised your cake. In exchange you learned that Mary was studying for her biology exam even at dinner, Rebecca had expanded little George's diet – the baby previously sitting on her lap – with more fruit, and Josephine had returned to New York on a short break from her college. 

You were worried that you would feel uncomfortable here, especially as Timothy separated you from the only person you knew, but the atmosphere in the Barnes home was like a warm, safe hug. Even Suzie found common ground with Mary, so you didn't have to be concerned about her comfort.

“How did you two meet?” Josephine asked, and when you looked at her without understanding, she nodded discreetly at Bucky.

“Oh, but we-”

“Yeah, I know.” Josephine waved her hand dismissively. “But I'm interested in every detail. I can't remember the last time Jamie brought someone home.”

You plastered a slight smile on your face, knowing that it wasn't Bucky who invited you here, but his mum. “Actually, we met through your uncle,” you answered. You didn't want to spoil the mood with the subject of a funeral or an arranged marriage. “Bucky…” You hesitated, taking a little more time to sort out what you should really say. “Helps me with some business.” You reached for the glass of wine standing in front of you and took a sip.

“Always helpful,” Rebecca sneered. You noticed that she has been passionately ignoring her brother, but until now you were convinced that this was just a mistaken impression. “And, of course, he wants the best for you, doesn't he?” She faked a smile. 

“Rebecca, honey-” Winnifred interjected softly, and when she did, the table fell silent.

“No, mom.” She shook her head, as if that would prevent Mrs. Barnes from getting a word in edgewise. “It's not fair that some random girl can sit here with us and the father of my children can't.” Tears of anger shone in Rebecca's eyes. “Excuse me,” she said, then got up and left the room. 

You felt guilty. Not because you may have actually taken an undeserved seat at the table, but instead of shame or anxiety, you were intrigued by this unexpected burst. You took another sip of wine.

“What happened to mommy?” Daisy asked. 

“Nothing, baby,” Winnifred told her gently. “She’ll get better.”

With suspicion, Daisy turned her head at Bucky. “Is that true?”

He pressed his lips together in a pale smile. “Of course, Junebug. Cross my heart.” Bucky put his hand on his chest. “How about we watch ‘Finn and Jake’?” He suggested with theatrical excitement, which Daisy shared immediately – she nodded eagerly. “Yeah?” Bucky grinned again, more relaxed this time.

Daisy ran up to him, grabbed the hand he had held out and dragged him out of the dining room. Bucky glimpsed at you, giving you an apologetic look.

Josephine leaned out and laid her eyes on you. “I’m going for a smoke, wanna join?”

Josephine led you to a gazebo in the garden. As she said, she offered you a cigarette, and you both leaned against the railing. The evening gloom was dispelled by the lamps on the lawn and the lighting inside the gazebo; it was getting unpleasantly cold outside, but you preferred the low temperature outside to the tense atmosphere at the table. 

“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I don't want you to think that my sister is some spoiled bitch,” Josephine began, and you looked at her rather blankly. You didn't want to show too much that she made you curious. “His name was Robbie. The father of her children, as she called him,” she said with distaste. “He was part of the Family. Jamie recruited him, so the whole thing still bothers him. And Robbie was a fucking asshole from the beginning. He spent late nights in bars, gambled all their money away, hung out with other girls. When Daisy was born, it only got worse. He complained that Becca was neglecting him. Didn't help with the baby, disappeared from the house more often and for much longer…” She continued. “Rebecca's only problem is that she has a soft heart. She never said a bad word about Robbie, but everyone knew what was going on. She thought another baby would change him, that it would fix their relationship, but…” Josephine shrugged. She took a puff, and for a brief moment said nothing, staring into nowhere. “So Jamie got rid of him.”

Your brows drew together involuntarily. “What do you mean..?”

“No one knows what really happened to Robbie. He vanished into thin air and never contacted Becca again.”

You felt like a child who had just heard a blood-curdling ghost story. Actually, you only felt that way partly – on the other hand, you were even more fascinated by Bucky. “Well…” You sighed, shaking the excess ash off the end of your cigarette. “He did what he thought was right,” you commented. This time, too, you preferred to be careful, thus not claiming out loud that Bucky had done the right thing. 

“Not according to Becca. She's better than she was at the beginning, but it's still a touchy subject for her.” 

You finished your cigarettes in silence, and that silence helped you to sink into your own thoughts; to see Bucky in a slightly different light.

“Are you sure there's nothing between you and Jamie?” Josephine spoke, a teasing smirk on her face. “I saw the way he looked at you the whole dinner. I know my brother, and if I were Steve I would keep my distance from you,” she giggled.

Your lips twitched in a slight smile. You noticed it too, and although you weren't the only people at the table, you secretly hoped you were the only ones aware of what was going on.

You could have talked to Josephine about it; told her that Bucky had no right to be jealous. You were strictly focused on marrying someone and Bucky excluded himself at his own request. You could have shared all this with Josephine, thereby taking some of the weight off your shoulders. But you didn't want to involve her.

“I’m sure,” you said. “It's strictly business between him and me.”

“Speak of the devil.”

Following Josephine's gaze, you peeked over your shoulder. Bucky was heading to the gazebo. Having caught your eyes, he smirked softly. You struggled to take your eyes off his face and lowered them to his hands – he was holding a piece of cloth that you couldn't identify in the darkness. Only when Bucky got under the roof of the gazebo did you notice that he had brought a sweatshirt. Moreover, he put it gently over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you murmured, surprised at the gesture, and glanced at Josephine. From the expression on her face, you were convinced that she wanted to say, So there's nothing between you two, right?

“You sneak out to smoke?” Bucky addressed his sister, his forehead creased. “What are you? Sixteen?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Josephine rolled her eyes.

Bucky reached out his hand, so she handed him the packet and the lighter. With a cigarette between his lips, he looked stunningly – more rough and intimidating. 

“I'll leave you two alone,” Josephine suggested, grinning. She pushed herself away from the railing, and you two watched her leave.

You slipped your arms into the sleeves of the sweatshirt and wrapped yourself in it, discreetly inhaling the familiar scent. You looked at Bucky, and he again gave you a gentle smile; it reached his eyes as well. However, it faded soon after.

“I’m sorry about before. Becca-”

“I had this conversation with Josephine,” you stopped him. “I know what happened and I get it. I don't blame her for reacting the way she did. Anyway, she was right. I’m some random girl who-”

“You are not,” he protested immediately. His mouth set in a hard line as he was staring at you. “I-... I like you, Y/N.” 

Taking a sharp breath, you looked away. You shook your head in disbelief, tried to ignore the fact that your heart was beating harder than you would have wished. “I like you too, Bucky, but I can’t fall for you. I don’t want to.”

Bucky took his eyes off you only to put out his cigarette. Then he moved a step closer to you and hesitantly reached for your hand. You closed your eyes, then fixed them on his fingers – he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, and you didn't protest. 

“I know,” he rasped. “But I just need to protect you. So please, let me protect you. Okay? Because I feel like everything is getting out of my control. And I’m fucking tired of it.” 

You raised your gaze to his eyes. He glared into them pleadingly and with some kind of fear, as if your rejection would shatter him into a million pieces. You nodded slightly, unsure if you really did; if you really agreed to fall under his protection.

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leakingston

[1-800-papaya]

Southern Charm

Jay Halstead x Baker!Reader Warnings: None

Two weeks had passed since Jay’s first visit to Lemon Drops. Since then, it had become a regular stop in his morning routine. Volunteering for coffee runs when the one in the break room was conveniently broken, even finding himself out front of the cozy little shop on his day off. The more he visited, the more he saw his time in Y/N’s company as the highlight of his day, a ray of sunshine in the clouded sky of his mind. The warm environment of the cafe had quickly become his sanctuary, a place where he could unwind and enjoy a sense of normalcy away from the pressures of cases.

So when Adam sulked out of the break room and mumbled that the coffee machine was on the fritz, Jay practically jumped out of his chair. The case that had occupied the unit’s time for the past few hours was tricky and complicated; to say it was stressful was an understatement. After the others shouted their order, Jay bounced the three blocks to Lemon Drops. His phone buzzed in his hand as the familiar twinkle of the bell announced his arrival.

‘Don’t forget the Caramel Raspberry Kolache.’ Hailey.

The bakery’s cozy interior felt like a warm hug, welcoming him in from the Chicago winter. Jay’s eyes surveyed the crowded cafe, a habit he developed from being a ranger and cop. The mid-afternoon crowd was thin but still filled most of the room. A few students were huddled in the corner, blank screens probably filling a few with dread. The rest of the cafe was filled with elderly couples sharing tea and cakes. Jay waved slightly to Chelsea, who was standing at the register. Chelsea was one of the few college students that Y/N hired; Jay had become so much of a regular that he’d learnt their names. Chelsea and the other employees who helped with mid-day crowds learnt quickly that Y/N would handle Jay’s order.

After finishing a customer’s order, Chelsea poked her head through the kitchen door and called out to Y/N. With a bright smile, Y/N returned with a tray full of strawberry and cream cupcakes.

“Good morning, Jay! The usual?” she asked, her southern drawl as charming as ever.

“Morning, Y/N. Yeah, the usual. And Hailey is insistent on trying your Caramel Raspberry Pazcki’s,” Jay replied, leaning against the counter. Y/N chuckled as she moved behind the counter, seamlessly interacting with Chelsea. Y/N’s cabinets were consistently filled with brownies, cupcakes and her favorite treats from home. Recently, Jay noticed that more Chicago favorite treats with her own twist had found their way into the mix. Over the last few weeks, Jay had also become aware of just how close Hailey and the young Texan baker were, practically being badgered by Hailey for a treat from Y/N that he’d never seen in her cabinets.

“So, how’s your week been?” Y/N asked, her eyes locked on Jay but her hands working away, making the coffees. Jay smiled; his favorite part of his visit was the causal conversation that flowed between them.

“Busy, but nothing out of the ordinary. You? Business seems to be good”

“Yeah, it’s been good. Lots of new faces coming in,” Y/N said, a hint of pride in her voice. Jay chuckled.

“Well, you make the best coffee and treats in town.” Y/N blushed slightly and handed over the coffee and the usual box of treats, with Hailey’s in a separate bag.

“You’re too kind, Jay. But I’m glad you think so.”

“I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the coffee and Pazcki’s.”

“Anytime, Jay. Stay safe out there,” Y/N said, giving him a warm smile. Jay nodded and headed out, the tray balanced carefully in his hands, opening the door for an elderly couple as he left. As he dragged his feet the three blocks, He couldn’t shake the feeling that these brief moments with Y/N were becoming more than just a part of his routine.

***

Back at the precinct, Jay distributed the coffees to his teammates. Hailey gleefully took hers and the strawberry and cream Pazcki’s. A teasing smirk played on her lips as Jay sat at his desk.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarked.

“Just needed the fresh air,” Jay said with a shrug, trying to play it cool.

“Uh-huh,” Hailey said, clearly not buying it. “So, how’s Y/N?”

“She’s good,” Jay replied, unable to hide his smile. “The bakery is doing well, though I regret telling Will and Kelly about it. ”

Hailey smirked. “You know, you should ask her out sometime. It’s clear you like her.” Jay felt his face heat up.

“It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Hailey said, sipping her coffee. “But you should think about it. Life’s too short not to take chances.”

“What’s this about taking chances?” Kevin spoke up from his place,e leaning on Hailey’s desk.

“Jay’s got a crush on the bakery owner,” Hailey said with a grin.

Atwater raised an eyebrow. “Oh? The one that makes all these delicious treats you’ve brought in every day this week.”

“To Jay and his bakery lady. May your pastries be sweet and your dates sweeter.” Kevin toasted, a devious smile directed at her partner.

“Knock it off,” Jay spoke, stifling a laugh, “It’s just coffee.”

“What’s going on?” Kim questioned as she and Adam trudged up the steps.

“Jay’s got a thing for the girl at Lemon Drops,” Kevin explained.

Kim’s eyes lit up. “Y/N? She’s so nice! You should ask her out, Jay.” Jay sighed, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the attention.

“Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.”

***

The sun had long since set by the time Jay found his feet carrying him to his truck. He had spent most of the afternoon lost in his thoughts. His co-worker’s words whirled around. Perhaps he should bite the metaphorical bullet or take that leap of faith. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Kevin’s invite for drinks at Molly’s; instead, he found himself parked in front of Lemon Drops Cafe and Bakery. The neon sign glaring mockingly at him. He’d helped her install it a week ago. A chuckle filled the cab of his truck. Hailey would tease him relentlessly if she found out this was his second time visiting the unit’s new favorite establishment.

By now, the evening regulars had long since gone home, leaving Y/N with the first responders trickling in and out. Chelsea had gone home, something that Jay never quite felt okay with. The neighborhood surrounding where the cafe was situated was safe, but the thought of Y/N closing on her own late at night never felt right.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” Y/N’s voice called from the kitchen. Jay felt a slight sense of Deja-vu. When she finally appeared, she looked just the same as the first time Jay had stepped foot into her business. Chocolate brown curly hair was haphazardly thrown into a bun. Her white shirt was a stark white compared to the pale yellow apron she always wore; it must be new, thought Jay. Her apron was once again covered in white dashes of flour and smudges of frosting and chocolate. A flash of pleasant surprise crossed her soft features when she looked up to greet him.

“Oh Jay, Back so soon? Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Jay chuckled. “I guess so. Got any more of those Pazcki’s.”

“Always,” Y/N said, already reaching for one. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jay said, taking the sweat treat. As always, Jay stayed chatting with Y/N as she cleaned and prepped cookies and cupcake batter for the next day. The pair discussed many things as usual, from the recent chilly weather to Y/N’s two tabby cats. Before long, he found himself standing in between his truck and Y/N’s vintage yellow Bronco, watching as she locked the door.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight then, Detective.” He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take Hailey’s advice.

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering… would you like to grab dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and then her face broke into a bright smile.

“I’d love to, Jay. That sounds great.”

“Great,” Jay said, feeling relief and excitement. “Saturday at seven?”

“It’s a date,” Y/N said, her smile warm and inviting.

Tag list

@smoothdogsgirl

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

📢 NEWS: Valentine's Week at GIL

It's Valentine's week at GIL, and romance is in the air. Here are the highlights of this year's attempts to bring a little Earthly love to the Institute:

A bouquet of Flowers of Remembrance was delivered to the Chancellor's office this morning, unsigned. Speculation is rampant. Vice-Chancellor Saralonoroxapligofmyityo denies any involvement.

Shaplinortyovatshuagu of Drome thought it would be clever to use the Archive's automated dictation software to send love letters to all staff members. Unfortunately, the software confused 'beloved colleague' with 'time-ravaging ***hole' in several instances. Apologies are being distributed.

A heartfelt attempt to customise the tea machine's options with 'Love Blends' (Rose Tea! Infatuation Chai!) led to a complete system crash. It now exclusively produces vinegar-flavoured steam.

Happy Valentine's from all of us at GIL! ❤️

Announcements by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Coffee, bread and a kiss

Marc Schrader x girlfriend!reader

warning : fluff, kiss, flirting

Summary : Marc starts his morning on the ward at the computer and the best moment is when the secretary comes in, his fairy godmother, his lover and girlfriend who always brought coffee, bread rolls and something sweeter for him.

Info : Another little story for Marc as the last one was so well received thanks for that and have fun with this one I'm glad you like it so much ;) Ps : I just realized that I always spelled Minks wrong sorry with k and not x ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Another Monday morning in Berlin, a morning that was cool, foggy and without any sun. An uncomfortable morning as Marc and his girlfriend found out when they both woke up and shivered because they had left the window tilted. ,,No, it should be warm,” she grumbled and looked out onto the street, which was now filled with people, cars and work, and she sipped her tea, which at least provided some warmth.

The warming blanket they had both wrapped themselves in had evaporated after the shrill wake-up call they had given themselves so as not to miss work as they were not morning people and liked to go back to sleep, which had led to one or two conflicts.

A warning look from Minks Marc's boss and her superior station manager who followed them every step of the way.

As if they both had nothing better to do, but in the end it was the police you always had to be careful no matter what. ,,Well, you're warming me,” she suddenly heard his voice and a hand on her hip as Marc snuggled up to her from behind and put his head on her shoulder.

She could feel his fingers making little circles and playing with the waistband of her sleep shorts. ,,And you make my day,” she replied, turning around and giving him a kiss, which he returned before she broke away when she heard the pling of her cell phone, telling her that the new documents had arrived, which in turn meant that she had to leave.

Detaching herself from him with a wink, she finished her tea and disappeared into the bathroom before letting Marc in a few minutes later and fetching the car from the underground garage to wait for him. However, she could still see his tiredness and the slight dark circles under his bright eyes that looked at her as if he was still dreaming.

She ran her hand over his brown hair and tidied it up a little, as much as he was a sweetie in the morning, the energy was quickly gone again. But she appreciated his attempts to stay awake, even though he looked like a cute bear who had woken up from his winter sleep.

,,Don't worry, my sleepyhead, we'll be right there,” she assured him and patted him on the cheek before driving the slightly longer distance towards the city center, as they lived in the slightly outer area where they could still afford something.

Turning onto the road to the police station and headquarters, she drove into the parking lot designated for employees and parked in her assigned spot.

She could hear Marc sighing as he ran his hands over his face, but still gave her a smile when they both knew they had to get up. ,,Better now than getting fired,” he said, winking at her and she saw his non-existent enthusiasm, which she shared as the young couple made their way to the entrance.

She greeted the nice woman at the entrance as usual with a ,,Guten Morgen und einen schönen Tag" and turned into the elevator where she felt his hand on hers, one last little touch before she got out or him and he had to go to the floor above her.

Arriving on her floor, she could already hear the sound of paperwork, so she took the small trolley and got the coffee, rolls and file ready, which she distributed to everyone to get the system up and running.

,,And don't forget anything!” she heard her supervisor call out and she almost winced again, which she answered with a ,,Of course not” before getting into the elevator, glad that she hadn't wasted any more of the coffee. Working her way up the lower floors, she was glad when she arrived at Marc's floor and hurried to his room.

,,The dear coffee elf, my pretty savior,” he said and took the files from her, placing the pile of bright paper carelessly on a free spot on his desk before he almost wanted to take the coffee, but she pulled it back.

,,Well, what's the magic word?” she asked with a cheeky grin and saw his smile instantly grow bigger and bigger as he rose from his chair and his hands slowly wrapped around her.

,,As always, my love, hot as coffee,” he joked and pulled her into an intimate kiss, his hands wandering along her body until he finally took the coffee from her as cheeky as he could be in the morning and she held out a bread bun to him with a giggle.

,,Hot, intimate and a total sweet sleepyhead,” she added mischievously and threw him an air kiss which he caught and gave the imaginary heart another kiss and stroked it.

Before she disappeared out of his door to continue her work. He heard the giggles from the room and knew that he would enjoy his coffee before he took the roll with jam.

,,I'll see you at lunch darling!” she heard him call and could swear she felt his kiss on her lips again, his hands on hers and a word of praise at her ear, and a kiss that would move from her lips to her cheeks and then to the back of her hand when he got bored and wanted her attention.

The two of them were a little strange in the otherwise so monotonous and austere institution, but they always conjured up a smile and a kiss on each other's face to get through the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@common-people-rep , @allloudontheeasternfront , @nn-nnenov ,@pinksodaaa , @hanslandasstrudel , @oceansrose2002