#i hope you like it :)

[majorproblems77]

So I made art

I hope you like it

*runs away*

[nou-moon]

(late) Happy Birthday Sircantus!! 🎁🎉 I‘ll go think of some nice words for a comment now <3

~ nouki

It is my birthday :] and as birthday boy, with this unlimited birthday power, i demand that everyone give me nice comments on ao3 ^-^ that or go fight a giant squid and bring me its head one of those two

[midnight-leaf]

@pk-freezer-burnt I am your @mlsecretsanta backup gifter!

This is my first time participating in the event, I hope you like this Marichat piece! It was so great to draw something cute and fun, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working on it.

Thanks for waiting, happy Valentine’s Day!

[purpleqilinwrites]

on that day in the summer rains.

a/n: this my entry for rylie's @cheriecoke love through the ages collab! thank you for hosting this collab, rylie! i had a lot of fun writing this, even if the research was a lot to handle hahaha. this reminded me how much i love nanami, so thank you! ❤ the other entries for the collab can be found here!

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: nanami kento

genre: fluff

info: heian era setting; japanese folklore au; nanami is half-kitsune; reader is half-tengu

warnings: feminine pronouns used

synopsis: it was during the time of summer rains when you accepted lord nanami's offer of marriage with no expectations.

word count: 5.5k

Nanami Kento

It was a late afternoon cloaked in the gusty whispers left behind by the summer rains when you were received once again into the proud Nanami residence in the Third Ward. In a different manner from your first arrival, the front gates were open prior to your hired ox-drawn carriage making an appearance from around the street corner. From within, you heard the loud voices of the servants calling out their welcomes to you, the new lady of the house. They were throwing rice into the air by the handfuls so as to ward off evil for an occasion the head of their household considered joyous.

Nanami no Kento was among the people who were waiting to greet you when you exited your carriage to ascend the stairs leading to the main pavilion of the house.

He recited a series of poems written with particular emotion – you were worldly enough to recognise that all seven of them had already been written by more prominent men than he – as he escorted you along the verandas of the main building to the northern pavilion that had been prepared for you. You noted, with a certain gusto, how the smile of one specific servant girl faltered when she caught a glimpse of you as you walked a man's pace and a half behind him. Hiding your smile behind the fan you held up to cover your face, you kept your eyes on Lord Nanami's back even if you would've liked to peer into the rooms he was leading you past.

Silently, you listened to your new husband's admittedly attractive voice rumble pleasantly over the sound of the evening breezes flitting about the trees.

Being a stranger to the capital where a horde of mortals lived made you a stranger also to their many peculiar habits. One such habit that you expected you'd likely never be at peace with was this very strange obsession with speaking in poetry.

"Lord Kitsune, speak plainly to me," you said, lowering your eyes so as not to meet his. You put on a bashful display by lifting a sleeved hand to your face, though it was already partially hidden behind the fan you held with your other hand. "Do not hide behind words written by other men."

The weight of the sigh of relief that escaped Lord Nanami at your words surprised you. It had been your express intention to befuddle him, even if only a little bit. Though your intentions hadn't succeeded, your interest in him was piqued. What a fascinating husband you acquired!

You've known him for the space of only a spring and a couple of months past, but you knew nothing of him that had not been gleaned from eavesdropping on gossip. For the largest part of the time you were acquainted with him, he had been in a comatose state due to a spiritual force that no one could dispel but you with your supernatural abilities and your biwa.

Against your expectation of the gentry of the capital, Nanami no Kento, only son of the Minister of the Left and relative to His Imperial Majesty himself, thanked you for your candour.

You were in the Nanami residence for all of a week before the rumours about you reached your ears.

It came to you through one of your shikigami that you had enchanted from a pinch of your own hair trimmings into a crow. The stark black shape of him swooped down into your inner chambers from a thick branch of one of the many maple trees in the garden, eyes bright, and he landed on your shoulder. Sensing his excitement to make his report, you halted in restringing your koto and laid it on the floor beside you in the meantime.

"Ichirou knows! The gossip is that the emperor's favoured diviner married a godless barbarian!" he cried, fluffing up his glossy night-dark feathers in a display of pride. "The tall-hatted nobles all think that the kitsune man is hiding you away because you are ugly and large and muscular!"

You chuckled as you listened to the gossip Ichirou gathered after having circled the capital for a few days, unperturbed by the apparently negative light that Lord Nanami's mortal peers viewed you in. It was within your expectations, and your first appearance at the capital only confirmed it.

Despite the fact that the Imperial Princess Utahime herself summoned you to the capital with a lot of gifts and a little bit of pleading on behalf of her second cousin Lord Nanami, these mortals who prided themselves on their purportedly superior breeding were unable to see past your origins from a lowly far-off island. You never supposed that a subsequent appearance to the capital would change their minds even in the slightest.

Lifting your hands from your lap, you guided your shikigami off your shoulder to perch on the layers of robes draped over the bone of your wrist instead.

"And what does this kitsune man think of me?" you asked, rubbing your fingers along the sides of his head.

Ichirou lowered his head, as if to tell you a secret, his eyes alight with a familiar glimmer of mischief. "Ichirou does not know! Ask Jirou! Ask Saburou!" was all he cried out before he hopped off your wrist and returned outside to wander noisily at his reflection on the still mirror provided by the landmark artificial lake in the south of the Nanami residence.

"Your shikigami has been following me."

Lord Nanami announced his presence in a most unorthodox fashion, though the herbal incense that scented his formal courtly robes preceded his words and even the steady rhythm of his footfall on the veranda. You continued reading the bound book of Chinese poems laid across your lap by orange lamplight, smiling to yourself.

"Which one?" you asked, pretending to turn around so that you may greet your husband properly but ultimately ignoring him in favour of stirring the ashes in the brazier. With a whispered command falling from your lips, the metal rod resting along the outer lip of the brazier rose to attention and began dutifully making its rounds.

Lord Nanami remained on the veranda, watching you in silence. If it had been another man in such close proximity to you, you would've liked to chase him away with a terrifying illusion, though perhaps a particularly monstrous gale would work better. However, while you have never personally seen him at work, you were aware that he had earned his lofty position as the emperor's most favoured diviner. An unusually quarrelsome wind would've hardly been cause enough for one such as him to blink.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him rap his knuckles against the sliding door that separated where he stood from your position in your inner chambers. You gestured for him to take a seat across from you, and he nodded as he stepped over the threshold.

"If there's anything that attracts your curiosity, you may inquire of me directly," he said. "I don't intend on leaving anything undisclosed to my wife."

Once again, Lord Nanami surprised you with his straightforward manner, and you could not help the smile rising into full bloom on your lips. To avoid loosing an unseemly bout of cackling, you instead gave the command for the metal rod to cease its movement. There was an unceremonious clang of metal hitting metal as it fell to the previous position. Lord Nanami paid it no mind, keeping his eyes on you as he waited.

"You have lived in this capital for all thirty or so years of your life and not once have you taken a woman into your home. Not until your cousin the princess called for me out of my Satsuma province," you said, closing your book of poems. You had an inkling that this conversation was about to become far more interesting than what was within those pages. "It is most curious indeed."

Lord Nanami, you were quickly coming to understand, was not erratic like the mortals you have had both the pleasure and displeasure of meeting in all your years. He lacked their capriciousness, both in emotion and in purpose. It was becoming more apparent to you that the two of you were more alike than he thought to mention.

"I sought only a wife who would empathise with my lived experience," he said.

It was an admission of sorts. The way he spoke was how you imagined the mortals liked to speak to their deity who lived on the moon, or one of their unending number of minor gods who might live at the bottom of a large body of water. There was the barest of tremors in his voice, and you were seized by a strange but fond urge to bite on his nose to make it stop. "It has been quite the burden to bear, this kitsune blood of mine."

You maintained the silence. It seemed that he had yet more to add, but you waited for nought.

"I have never once been ashamed of my tengu blood," you said, finally. The reality was that you were speaking to your husband, but in these long shadows cast by the pine trees outside the northern pavilion, you were speaking to a kitsune boy who was telling you a secret. You had no intention of comforting him. "There is no absolution to be found for those like us in the eyes of these mortals. You will learn to bear your blood with pride, else do not bear it at all."

Nanami no Kento did not require anything of you as his wife. For that, you would count yourself as exceedingly blessed above the other women in the capital. You would dare say that you were more blessed than even Her Imperial Highness herself.

The principal wife of his father has visited you at the Nanami residence twice already: once in the week immediately after you became a wife, and then again in the dead of winter. She jabbered on about this and that regarding your apparent duties to a prominent courtly man such as Lord Nanami. Whilst her mouth formed words, she busied her hands with grinding inkstone so that she may write these duties down on a scrap of paper pulled from within the folds of her many-layered robes. Not once in either of those two visits has she looked you in the eye, or anywhere remotely close to your eyes, for that matter.

If an educated and worldly mortal woman such as her was this vulnerable to rumours that were yet unfounded, you decided you wouldn't interfere.

You maintained a neutral face as you sat across from her, a stark contrast against the growing beguilement in your heart. With a word disguised as a demure clearing of the throat behind your sleeve lifted to your mouth, you willed the already cooled tea in your cup to become hot again. Even when the curls of steam rose lazily from the cup directly in front of you and nowhere else, the woman didn't appear to pay this anomaly any mind.

Ichirou was proud to reveal the mortals' misguided notion to you when the woman left your pavilion after her first visit. "Defilement passes through the eyes! Misfortune passes through the eyes!" You were scratching under his chin as he repeated his refrain, amused that he was spending his time collecting gossip even when you had not asked.

"Do the mortals behave in the same manner towards Lord Nanami?"

The question rose to your lips and materialised into the air unbidden. You hadn't processed the thought before it formed. It was unexpected enough that Ichirou shut his beak for longer than he ever managed to be quiet for since his creation. He tilted his head quite dramatically to the side, as if asking you where that had come from.

"They do not like him either! They say the kitsune man brings misfortune! Poor, poor Lord Nanami!" Ichirou shouted. Before you could prod him for more information, he promptly removed himself from his perch on your sleeve and took off for the trees.

Even as Ichirou circled the maple trees in the courtyard, you could hear his voice interspersed with the general din of servants preparing for Lord Nanami's arrival home from accompanying the emperor on a short pilgrimage. "Poor, poor Lord Nanami! Poor, poor Lord Nanami!"

There was a painting that you were forming in your mind of his time in the capital. Each brushstroke was becoming thinner and smaller than the last as you began filling in the small details of what you knew of your husband. It was not the picture you expected. The knowledge you were in possession of concerning the hierarchy of the mortals and how they interacted with each other failed you repeatedly. Instead, you had to learn a new thing and learn yet again.

You summoned Jirou by name, calling him to your inner chambers from the shadows where he normally remained. He landed on bent legs rather clumsily when he appeared on the wooden flooring in front of you at your command. "I want you to follow Lord Nanami. Make yourself present about him at all times. When you feel you have learned enough, report back to me."

The time of year would come again when the list of court appointments would be published.

You were leaning over your handiwork that was draped across your lap, a makeshift covering in the cold weather that provided some warmth. The servant girl that you recognised as harbouring some romantic feelings towards Lord Nanami was on the veranda of your northern pavilion, kneeling beside your allotment of the evening meal as she addressed you by your title.

You have been the lady of the house for almost half a year. It surprised you that she would hold on to those unreciprocated emotions for as long as she has. In all your time in the Third Ward, the affectionate glimmer in her eyes when Lord Nanami was present had not dulled in the slightest.

If you were one of those spiritual beings who hungered pointlessly after power, she would likely be the first mortal that you'd consume. Her heart was strong, so it would nourish your supernatural abilities well.

"Madam, is that for Master Nanami?" she asked, after you had granted her permission to enter the outer chambers of your pavilion to bring you your meal.

You looked up from your current preoccupation, and a light chuckle passed your lips at the immediacy in which the servant girl averted her eyes from your general direction. Even with the girl's head turned away from you, she was bold enough to keep her eyes on the long edge of the dark silk robe you were in the middle of hemming.

A strong heart she had indeed.

"Yes," you said, turning to her fully to watch her reaction. "He will wear it for his first appearance to the court after his appointment is confirmed for the year. After all, is it not the duty of a wife to present her husband in dignity to his fellows?"

A dark cloud of emotion passed over the servant girl's face before she chased it away. It had the form of jealousy, but you couldn't tell for certain what it was. You had no personal experience with such a transitory, inconsequential thing.

"You haven't played your biwa once since you became my wife," Lord Nanami said, making quick work of removing the peel of the mandarin in his hands and then separating the flesh into segments. The fragrance of the fruit burst into the air, crisp and sweet, and you were salivating despite yourself. You watched him with rapt attention as he placed the mandarin segments in a neat row, starting from the edge of the plate that was closest to you.

"Is residing in the capital so displeasing that your musical sensibilities are obstructed?" The fruit was mostly sweet and only slightly tangy on your tongue, and exceedingly juicy. Lord Nanami's attempt at a humourous jab was almost lost on you as you savoured the familiar taste.

It's been a while since you had the pleasure of eating mandarins grown in your home province of Satsuma. The family of fruit farmers of whom you were a frequent customer must be wondering why Saburou hasn't yet visited them with an order from your residence and a partial payment. You had it in mind to send your shikigami with a letter that explained your recent lack of patronage once Lord Nanami had retired to his own pavilion for the night.

"Not so, Lord Kitsune," you said, reaching for another piece. "I am not so inclined to entertain, is all."

Lord Nanami appeared to accept your answer, nodding in acknowledgement and turning his attention to the bowl of mandarins that needed peeling. In the middle of perhaps the third or the fourth mandarin that he made ready for your eating, he asked, "Would the lady of the house be inclined to play a song for me sometime yet? Without the sufferance of a malediction, of course."

In light of the discreet, almost boyish smile that tilted the corners of his lips upwards, you recognised that it was your turn to return the jest. "Pity that I require the misfortune of others to do any beneficial work at all."

Lord Nanami laughed, and it was a melodic, chesty sound. Somewhere in your own chest, there was a secret kindling that caught aflame.

You were in the middle of practising your calligraphy when a shadowy shape came hurtling into the standing screen that kept you hidden from any busybody courtiers.

According to Lord Nanami, his family residences had historically drawn many of such mortals, beginning from the time of the rumours surrounding his father's acquisition of his mother, a secondary wife. It was the hearsay that said she was disguised as a mortal woman that caused the worst of these unnecessary surveillances.

Since the news and subsequent verification of your own marriage had spread about the capital, these gossipers have taken turns visiting the Nanami residence under the pretence of leaving your husband a gift or a letter.

It wasn't any of the busybody mortals or the servants of such who came uninvited into your pavilion.

"Ichirou knows! The fake mother has been asking about you!" was the announcement that your shikigami brought to you. Picking up the mess of papers that accumulated over the span of your days spent practising calligraphy, you shuffled them into a neat stack and turned away from the table to stretch out your arm to Ichirou.

He made a series to clicking sounds to ensure that he had your attention, settling firmly on the curve of your shoulder instead of the arm you offered him.

"The fake mother does not like you! She says 'poor Lord Nanami'!" Ichirou said, in a lower volume than he normally spoke. His posture was conspiratorial, bent close to your head with his beak brushing against the shell of your ear. "The bolts of silk and boxes of incense that came as gifts in the past three months are all from her! Those fake court mortals are paid to be nosy and find out if you are pregnant yet! She said it is because she is concerned that you never leave the house!"

You cackled.

This principal wife of Lord Nanami's father was agonising over the production of an heir to the Nanami clan! An heir that wouldn't be from her line and therefore one that she could not take credit for, considering that Lord Nanami was her son only by her marriage to his father.

There was a familiar twinkle of mischief in Ichirou's dark eyes, and so you asked him, "And what terrible lies did you whisper in that woman's ear, Ichirou?"

Your shikigami loosened his talons from the fabric of your robes, jumping up from your shoulder and making a dramatic landing on the wooden floor in front of you. He trilled pleasantly, hopping about rhythmically on the same spot and alternating his landing between his right foot and then his left. "I say 'Beware'! Over and over! While the fake mother tries to sleep, I make her afraid! 'Beware! Beware! The time is coming!'"

When the cherry trees around the capital unveiled their blossoms, the Imperial Princess Utahime sent an invitation for you to accompany Lord Nanami to the palace for a viewing party. He was quick to assure you that you need not burden yourself with accepting, but you were just as quick to counter him; you have yet to thank Her Imperial Highness for her generosity that followed even after the task she set for you was complete.

"I don't imagine the capital had much appeal to you, and yet you came when the princess asked for you." Lord Nanami poured tea for you, and you let him.

When you thanked him, it brought to remembrance the many grievances of the woman who called herself his mother, who fretted about him and about your supposedly indecorous manner towards him as though she had personally birthed him. The woman might start pulling her own hair out once she was made aware that it was your husband who took pleasure in serving you and not the other way around.

"I have my curiosities," you said, using the hot tea within the cup to warm your hands though you were made impervious to the early spring chill by a spell of your own creation. "However, I admit I was the most curious about you, Lord Kitsune."

The tips of Lord Nanami's ears began to flush at the same time that a short gasp of surprise escaped him. Heartened by his unexpected reaction, you kept talking. "Spiritual beings do not typically have dealings with mortals, and children born of such dealings are scarce. I might have heard a rumour that such children are a master's work among crude materials, so to speak."

Time appeared to still about him as you lifted your cup to your lips for a sip of tea, waiting. Having finished it within a series of small mouthfuls, you refilled your own cup for once and waited some more.

The meaning of your words finally dawned on Lord Nanami when you heard him poorly counterfeit the rasp of a cough into his sleeve. His ears bloomed pink in the same manner as the cherry trees that were early for the season. The colour travelled down the back of his neck, contrasting beautifully against the fair strands of his hair that shone like the finest golden silk threads in the afternoon light.

"Perhaps your all curiosities have been adequately sated?" he asked, coming back to himself and to this moment with you. In the honey-brown bright of his eyes, the slit pupils have swelled endearingly to a full circle that scrubbed off part of his kitsune charm and made him appear more mortal.

It was a sight that you, despite yourself, tucked away in your chest. A most precious sight that should only be witnessed by you.

You smiled into your second cup of tea, having one unspoken curiosity about kitsune answered. "I should think so," you said. "We tengu have the deepest of affections for things of gold and things of beauty, after all."

Jirou was giving you his report of the months he resided within Lord Nanami's shadow as per your instruction, when you picked up the noise of a crowd of mortals approaching the direction of your pavilion. It was much louder than the usual servants' chatter and footfalls that you had grown accustomed to. You took your shikigami into your own shadow, wary of the presence of an unfriendly supernatural power within that mass of people.

A servant arrived on your veranda from within the ruckus. They knocked and then slid open the door to your chambers before you granted them permission. From behind the standing screen that obstructed the view of you from the veranda, you were able to discern the sound of Lord Nanami's voice in the distance.

The servant spoke. "Madam, I apologise for the interruption, but Minister Nanami and the Lady of the Second Ward have arrived. They have brought a priest on behalf of the madam since your ladyship was absent for the Great Purification. They request that the madam would don mourning robes for the purification, and quickly."

The ceremony for purification was mandatory chiefly for the imperial family and the courtiers who served them. It puzzled you that Lord Nanami's father, with his principal wife, would take the time and the effort of bringing this mortal rite to you when you were counted neither as a member of that family nor a courtier beneath them.

You had no interest in taking orders from a mortal, and so you remained seated with the intention of turning away anyone else who came to your chambers with a demand.

The servant who was on your veranda easily took the silence from within your room as a refusal. With another apology, she closed the sliding door and left. The sound of her footsteps told you she was going away to the main pavilion of the house, and you called for Jirou out of your shadow once you had to strain to hear her walking.

"Jirou knows the minister and the wife are Lord Nanami's family but they are not his kin," he said. "Lord Nanami does not belong."

You had gleaned as much from the account he gave before he was interrupted, but there was a finality to hearing this conclusion spoken aloud. There was a pinch in your chest. It ached with a pain that you thought you had long forgotten about.

What could Lord Nanami be saying to them? What more did he have to say after years of living like this?

All the paint strokes of Lord Nanami's life before you were coming together as a full picture in your mind, but there were still glaringly large patches of empty space here and there. It was made up of the things that he never said aloud. Things that you thought to ask only briefly but ultimately forwent.

"Lord Nanami is at the door," was all the warning Jirou gave before he hopped into your shadow. Knowing that your shikigami had a penchant for avoiding anything that had the stench of a hassle, you heaved a sigh as a means of mourning your previously quiet afternoon.

You inclined your ear to the direction of the veranda when the commotion in the courtyard finally arrived at your pavilion. Indeed Lord Nanami was standing outside your pavilion, but he wasn't the only one there. The principal wife of his father was with him, as well as a few other mortals whose presences and scents you didn't recognise.

Lord Nanami's voice was much clearer than it was earlier on, muffled only by the overlapping blabber of whoever else was crowding the veranda with him.

"Unacceptable."

There was a harshness in his tone that was entirely unfamiliar to you. In the entirety of your time as the lady of his house, Lord Nanami spoke to you gently. Even though his servants esteemed him highly enough to show deference to you no matter their personal feelings, you knew it was their duty that moved them. It was nothing like the consistent kindness shown to you by Lord Nanami, sincere enough and true enough that even your winter-dead heart was warmed by it. By him.

The shriek of that principal wife of Lord Nanami's father cut through indignant whispers of the servants – you realise now that those other mortals must serve her and not your husband. "Can you sleep peacefully knowing your wife hasn't been purified? This will be a year of misfortune for her. As long as that woman remains in this house, you can be sure she'll ruin you too, Kento."

The wooden slats that made up the veranda gave a high-pitched creak when a sudden weight dropped onto them. From behind the closed sliding door, Lord Nanami's supernatural abilities palpably bore down on the air. The desire to gaze upon his mysterious shikigami moved you to look through Ichirou's eyes, believing that his prying tendencies would've placed him among the maple trees facing your pavilion regardless of your command.

True enough, Ichirou was perched on a high branch alongside a few crows that he must've befriended during his spare time roaming the capital. His field of vision was a straight line to where Lord Nanami had his back against the door to your chambers, standing guard.

In front of Lord Nanami stood a fox-like creature that appeared to be made of stone. Even with his front legs bent in preparation to pounce, it was apparent that he would dwarf even his master at his full height.

Only Lord Nanami remained standing. Everyone else who was crowding about him on the veranda crumpled when the shikigami released a sharp exhale through an open and eager maw, baring rows and rows of pointed teeth that glistened thickly with drool. A thrill rose up within you as you watched the principal wife of Lord Nanami's father scramble to put space between her and the shikigami. You cackled, feeling Ichirou mirror your amusement, a pleasant thrum at the base of your throat.

The wild fear that danced in the woman's dark eyes was most delicious. You licked your lips, waiting to see what your husband would do next.

"My wife is not to be disturbed. If she makes her appearance, it will be of her own will," he said, gesturing for his shikigami to come to heel.

His servants grasped the underlying meaning of his words, arriving along the walled corridors to disperse the crowd that had gathered outside your chambers. Through Ichirou's eyes, you saw how Lord Nanami kept watch on the movement of the people, ensuring that he alone stayed behind.

It was a curiosity to you that he was taking such great pains to safeguard your privacy. You hadn't asked it of him even once. Not even in passing.

Still making use of Ichirou's lurking among the lush summer foliage of the maple trees in the garden, you saw the fatigued sag in Lord Nanami's shoulders once he had ascertained that the task he set for himself had been accomplished.

You summoned Jirou to make his appearance to Lord Nanami.

"You have my gratitude, Lord Kitsune." It was your voice that sounded from Jirou's open beak. Lord Nanami's mouth moved, but it was to dismiss his shikigami.

He took two steps away from the closed door to your chambers before he gave his response. "You are most precious to me. What I have done is only to make them recognise it," was what he left to you, before he tread heavily along the way back to the main pavilion of the house.

Unlike the disorderly manner in which the mortals crowded the Third Ward residence that Lord Nanami shared with you, there was no commotion when the minister and his principal wife and their needlessly large retinue exited the open gates.

It was after you partook of the evening meal that Lord Nanami arrived on your veranda, sliding the door open and letting the late afternoon breezes in. His footsteps were quick and his breath was ragged, signs that he made great haste to come to you even in the presence of summer rains. Even the lacquered hat he wore that signified his courtly rank was askew.

The thought of him rushing to meet you was sweet. You made sure your voice reflected your heart when you pretended not to know the reason for his appearance, wandering aloud.

"This is the first time you called for me," he said, stepping in after you invited him closer.

Part of the white paper of the letter you sent to him after the noontime meal was peeking out from within the layers of his formal courtly robes, bright against the dark dye of his outermost coat. You took delight in noticing that the paper was slightly rumpled despite being so thick, as though he kept your letter close to his heart for the hours that he was busy at court and couldn't yet return home to you.

You lifted your koto onto your lap, mirroring the smile that your husband wore, though his was more boyish and almost shy. The roundness of his pupils revealed his feelings, and you revelled in it as though it was a new thing to you. In some ways, you supposed it was.

"I do believe there is occasion for a song or two. If it pleases you, my lord," you said, delicately plucking at the strings as though you were checking on their condition.

Lord Nanami settled onto the cushion beside you, sitting close enough for your knee to press into the side of his thigh. "I ask for nothing more."

[mocatart]

i gave her a heart bag...

[koioxs]

you watched me rise, then killed my light

[aaron04jpg]

sign of the times x f1 2024✨🏎️

[etheries1015]

Imagining Malleus is going through his heat cycle, and finds himself needing to be guided through the motions by none other than Lilia, of course. His subject? You.

(18+ minors DNI. Afab reader, fem pronouns.) this ones for you, bestie @masquerade-of-misery <3 live laugh love "threesomnia" LMAOOO

How you came into this predicament will be far beyond you. How you were now stripped bare by a hungry Draconic Fae, with your bare back pressed up against Lilias's chest, holding you in his grasp with his hands coming around to play with your sensitive mounds. His hands gently groped your tender breasts, flicking a finger over your hard nipples and pinching them at just the right pressure. Your back arched against his touch and a small and yearning moan elicited from your lips, Malleus looking down at you with a flushed face with his tongue licking his dry and hungry lips. Lilia chuckled at Malleus's eager display.

"It depends on the person," Lilia pointed out as if giving some sort of classroom lecture to the black-haired male, "Sensitivity of the breasts isn't uncommon. However, it seems our prefect here may need a little more than simple foreplay of the bosom to feel satisfied..." He rolled your nipples in his fingers and used the bulk of his palm to give a little squish to your breast, your breath becoming ragged as you melted into his touch, holding back a moan from the back of your throat. Lilia smiled at your rather simple reaction, before eyeing the shirtless fae that loomed over you. Malleus gave him a confused look before Lilia grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Encouraging him to move in the way Lilia had, Malleus placed his much larger and dexterous fingers against your soft skin. His movements were much more uncertain, slow, and passionate versus the older fae whose touch left you thinking about the surprising amount of skill he had and the ability to understand your body the moment his fingers touched your skin. As Malleus gently kneaded your breasts with caution, you were shocked when suddenly you felt sharp teeth dig into the crook of your neck. You let out a yelp of surprise mixed with a moan that sounded rather confused and high-pitched- even your body at odds with the pleasure of your chest and the now throbbing of your neck. Malleus looked up in concern at this, almost glaring daggers at the other fae as if to ask; 'what did you do?'

"The neck," Lilia purred into your ear nibbling the lobe, "Is a rather sensitive spot for humans...biting it is also seen as a form of possessiveness, in both Fae and Human mating. Interesting, no?" Lilia smiled mischievously as he playfully licked the wound he had left, your body shivering at the wet muscle that scaled from the base of your neck before teasing its way to your jawline. Malleus eyed the cheeky fae that held you in his arms, before heading his mentor's words and leaning over to take his place between the other side of your neck. Lilia moved your hair to the side to allow Malleus easier access to mark your neck, his hands continuing his relentless motions on your chest. It seemed he had gotten rather carried away, for you winced in pain and exclaimed "Ow!" when Malleus's nail ended up scratching your nipple. He pulled away, looking at you in worry and quickly removing his hands from your body. Lilia chuckled at this, a seemingly common pastime for him at this point.

"Humans are delicate," Lilia said to Malleus almost to chastise him for his mistake, "Make sure she is alright, and then continue forward. You need to think what each of your body parts are doing, and adapt accordingly." Malleus's eyes caught yours.

"Are you alright, child of man?" He cooed gently, his honey-deep voice immediately setting aside any uneasiness you may have felt. You gave him a nod and the okay to continue, Lilia whispering "Good girl," In your ear before his hands snaked down to the bottom half of your body, also bare for the two men to be witness to. Your legs were closed the time they were experimenting with your breast and higher extremities, Lilia used a skilled hand to open your knee and allow your legs to spread in front of the draconic fae. Malleus stared down at your dripping cunt, taking notice of the slick that glistened around your hole. The growing bulge of his pants became much more apparent as it grew in size, practically begging to be freed from the confines of the fabric he so frustratingly wanted to be released from.

Lilias hand snaked down from your inner thigh to place two fingers over your folds and spread them apart, making the wetness between your legs much more apparent for Malleus to see. You instinctively felt a jolt of pleasure at such a simple touch, your legs almost snapping shut if it wasn't for Malleus quickly using his hands to force your legs apart. Lilias eyes cocked in surprise at this action, his lips curling in a coy smile before resuming his "lecture."

"Human women have their own lubricating system. When they are aroused, they produce this-" He used two of his fingers to rub a few lines from the pearl of your cunt and entrance, holding them up to show off the glistening clear substance that now covered his fingers. "This is how they prepare to take the male in." Malleus watched earnestly with rosy cheeks, almost drooling at the simple idea that you were ready to take him in. Taking this point as the next step, Malleus began to unbuckle his belt to release him of his constricting confines. Your eyes widened at this, and Lilia 'tsked' at this, shaking his head. Malleus looked up in mild annoyance at the red eyed fae.

"Although she produced her own lubricant," Lilia pointed out, "We still must make sure it's safe for her to take you. You must prepare her, first." Malleus furrowed his eyebrows at this, sitting back slightly holding back a growl of impatience.

"Does her body not automatically prepare her for such actions? Is that not the purpose of the lubricant?" Malleus inquired. Lilia shook his head and gently rubbed your thigh, as if thanking you for your patience.

"I understand your impatience, Malleus. But you must understand, despite the lubricant, we want to avoid any injury that may occur for being ill-prepared for the size in which she is to take. To prevent tearing or pain, it's best to prepare her first in order to stretch her out to better take you in. Especially in your case, since most human males only have one." You started at this sudden statement, looking back between the two men bewildered.

"O-one? What do you mean by that?" Lilia looked at you with eyes wide with confusion.

"Hm? I thought you were aware? Draconic fae actually has two phalluses. One is for keeping the entrance of their mate open, while the other is to push their seed in for breeding. Although...it would be in your benefit to start with one at first, to ease you into it." Your face fell at this information, looking back at Malleus with your eyes wavering in concern. Malleus leaned over you, using a hand to place upon your cheek and stroke it gently, his emerald green eyes glowing with lust and affection for you.

"Do not worry," Malleus cooed with his words of honey, "I will be sure to prepare you as Lilia instructs." Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and tilted your head back. Malleus planted a gentle kiss against your forehead before returning back to his original position, awaiting patiently for Lilias's next set of instructions. Lilia continued to hold you against his chest, looking at Malleus from behind your slightly trembling body. The trembling was out of slight fear of the possibility of two fitting inside of you, yet it seemed all the more tantalizing and exciting at the same time...

"Now Malleus," Lilia continued his instruction, his hands trailing back down to your folds using two fingers to caress your pearl in a mix of circular and vertical movements, teasing the inside of your hole with only the tip of his fingertips, not quite indulging into it. you whined and found yourself moving your hips in the hope of more friction, for the bat's touch was light and you felt yourself become impatient. Lilia ignored your feeble movements and continued to explain as if you weren't so needlingly begging for more. "Start with one finger, and when you feel it enough, you can continue to add more. You will be able to tell she's ready by how much she can take of your fingers without feeling too tight." Lilia suddenly pushed two fingers at once inside of you, urging Malleus forward. He watched eagerly as a satisfied hum escaped your lips, your body arching ever so slightly as Lilia massaged the inside of your hole skillfully with his fingers. All at once and far too soon for your liking, Lilia removed his fingers, your slick completely covering them. "Now, you try. Move them like this-" The red eyed fae gave a demonstration to the horned male, malleus nodding before following instruction.

Malleus was much more clumsy when it came to such acts, you could feel it in the way his fingers stiffly entered you with very little fluid movement.

"curl your fingers gently and move upward. Feel how she tightens around your fingers when you do it correctly?" you had to admit, hearing Lilia talk about you in such a blunt manner about the ways in which your body reacted was enough to make your entire face red. Yet, the wetness down below was far more prominent with every word he spoke. Once he was able to add another two fingers, Malleus pulled out leaving you empty once more. He admired his fingers that were covered in your substance, before staring you directly in the eyes and using his tongue to lap up your wetness from his fingers. You weren't sure you could possibly become any more flustered than you already were, yet it seemed possible with every new action both of the men took. Deciding you had been stretched out enough, Lilia had given Malleus the okay to the next step.

The tall male stood up and unbuckled his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the ground and removing his boxers allowing his cocks to be seen by your mesmerized eyes. You watched in anticipation as he shuffled back in front of you on his knees, your eyes never leaving the sheer length and girth that he had been hiding all this time.

"remember what I said earlier," Lilia said, using his hand to pull your legs apart further, "Humans are incredibly delicate. If you are not careful when breeding, you could harm your mate. Enter her slowly..." Lilias fingers snaked back down to your folds and once again used his skilled hand to pull them apart, Malleus pumping the top of the two cocks a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. Lilias fingers remained spreading you apart as he talked Malleus through every inch, yet the second the head of his cock penetrated you, you couldn't help but suck in air and almost pull back.

"t-too.. too big..!" You whined, Lilia hushing you gently and planting a kiss upon your cheek. Malleus leaned forward and groaned, his cock throbbing in desire to bury deep inside you. As you were taking inches of Malleus, you couldn't help but notice something hard poke at your bare back, like cloth that was rubbing against your skin. Lilia was hard. You hadn't the chance to speak up about it before the older fae ignored his obvious 'issue' and continued to coach Malleus through the motions.

"Let her adjust," Lilia said to the black-haired male, "(y/n), Tell him when you're ready to take more. And if it is too much to bear, speak your mind." Lilias's words were kind and gentle, his lips pressing against the lobe of your ear before biting down. After a few moments of adjusting to Malleus's size, you gave him the okay as Lilia guided him deeper inside of you.

"So tight and wet," Malleus let out a deep primal growl from the back of his throat as he was able to finally fully engulf himself in your warmth, "So warm...ah.." groaning while leaning forward and biting the crook of your neck, Malleus found himself trying to push deeper and deeper inside of you. Tears pricked the side of your eyes at the number of stimuli you were receiving, Lilia took notice and moved your head to face him kissing the tears away from your cheeks. "There...Good girl. You're taking him so well, aren't you?" He purred, trailing kisses from your cheeks to your jawline, and from your jawline moving his teeth to graze against the other side of your neck. Once fully adjusted, Malleus began to go at a steady pace with moans of pleasure escaping his lips.

It wasn't long before he was fucking you relentlessly out of pure primal instinct, the room full of wet sounds of skin slapping against each other and moaning. Sweet moans that left your lips with one man penetrating you and the other sneaky hands roaming your body. Lilia used one hand to grope your breast and play with your hardened nipples while the other moved down to your clit and rubbed circles around it leading you closer and closer to your release. You could feel the bubbling pit of your stomach as your walls clenched around Malleus's cock and your back arched, a loud desperate moan slipping from your lips and your body trembling with ecstasy. At the same time, you felt Malleus twitch inside of you, with ropes of cum painting your swollen insides white. Your body went limp against Lillia's chest, panting roughly as the Draconic fae removed himself from the warmth of your cunt. Lilia used his thumb to pull open your swollen hole, watching as Malleus's thick seed pooled out of your twitching entrance. As Lilia sang your praises, Malleus leaned forward and kissed your forehead gently, you taking notice that he was still as hard as he had started.

"Seeing how well both of you did," Lilia smiled, "shall we try using the second one, next?"

You surely weren't going to be pulled away yet, not until Briar Valley had another heir on the way <3

[sacredwarrior88]

Which fruit are you? Find out here!

Tagging: @actuallysaiyan @beneathstarryskies @akiraiscute @randoimago @multi-fandom-imagine @iambilliejeanok @icycoldninja @abellaheart-blog @terabyteturtle @philistiniphagottini

[twoplayergaymers]

A Sign of Affection—

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ 5.9k words

❋ A note before reading: Bakugo is being portrayed as little ‘d’ deaf, this is very important. You can learn more about the difference between deaf and Deaf here! This is also ASL cause that’s what I know.

Part 2

Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he was losing his hearing. He had been for a while now, his explosive quirk might save lives but it was doing nothing good for his ears. He doesn’t admit this, not necessarily because he’s ashamed, but because he refuses to let anyone think he’s anything less than the strongest. Only a select few know, and even fewer are allowed close enough to notice his hearing aids.

You’re one of them.

Working as his interpreter wasn’t something you’d planned for when you first joined his agency. At the time, you thought you’d just be handling the occasional public statement, but it became clear quickly that your role was going to become far more personal when his hearing aids were damaged in his most recent mission. They’re malfunctioning, sounds become high pitched whirs in his ear, so he takes them out.

The silence was oppressive, his ears ringing as he stomped back into his agency headquarters after the mission. His team was talking but to him it sounded like they were underwater. His eyes rapidly dart between faces, trying to lip read, though he hasn’t relied solely on that in years. Fuck, everyone’s talking so fast. He clenched his fists, irritation bubbling under his skin, until finally he barked out, “Shut up!” His voice sounded off even to himself, somehow louder and harsher without his aids.

The room immediately falls silent, his team looking back at him with the same wide eyes and panicked expressions as always. He thinks they’d get used to his brashness by now, guess not. There’s a pregnant pause as Bakugo takes a breath, closing his eyes momentarily before uttering “Someone call an interpreter, I can’t understand you assholes-“ he stops for a second, his face falls in thought before he speaks again “get.. get the one from the press conferences”

“Which one?” Someone from the team utters, slowly this time. “You know which one. The one who actually knows what the hell she’s doing. The… uh…” He faltered for a moment, his scowl deepening. “The one with the— the pretty one. Dammit just call her!”

He doesn’t elaborate further because the truth is, he knows exactly who you are. He’s seen you at every press conference and public statement for the agency, standing slightly to the side of where everyone gathered, interpreting for the news. He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself but he’d find himself distracted by you often. He was captivated by your hands and facial expression. He could tell you were passionate about your work, hell he might even respect you a little.

His team doesn’t question his words. They just nod in understanding and someone leaves to do just that. He huffs, hoping you get there quickly so he might actually know what’s going on.

“He… what?!” Your voice raises as the voice over the phone relays the message. Dynamight requested you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d even need an interpreter, but you’re not turning down the opportunity. The cup of tea you were drinking abandoned on the counter as you rush into your bedroom to change into your interpreting ‘uniform.’

Fuck. You needed to do laundry. Your clothes are piled in the corner of the room. In your defense, you weren’t supposed to work again until next week. You dig through your closet and dresser drawers hoping to find something suitable for interpreting. Your eyes fall on a black long sleeve, it’s a few years old and you’ve definitely gained a little weight since the last time you’d worn it. It’ll have to do. You throw it on along with some slacks. it shows more shoulder than anything. it’s a little tighter than you’d like it to be, clinging to your body in a way you’d rather it not. At least not for your place of work.

You smooth your hands over your clothes a few times looking in the mirror, sucking your teeth before grabbing your bag and keys and heading out the door. Like you said, it’d have to do. The agency is only 15 minutes from your apartment, which is why you’d so enthusiastically taken the job. That and the fact that it’s his agency. You’d admired dynamight for a long time but honestly the thought of working so closely with him was terrifying.

You arrive and the nice receptionist tells you exactly which room to go to. you give her a warm smile. She returns it, her manicured nails moving rapidly over the keyboard as you shuffle away to the conference room.

You lightly rap on the door twice before pushing it open. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m the—” The words catch in your throat as the room falls silent, all eyes turning to you. You’re used to this. You’re used to people watching you—it comes with the job of being an interpreter. But you’re not used to him. Your gaze collides with his, and your breath stumbles. “…interpreter,” you finish, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

His eyes are striking, sharp and burning, there’s nothing warm about the way he looks at you. It’s intense, unflinching, and terrifying.

You can’t tell if your heart is racing because his gaze is so intimidating or because you realize, that it’s beautiful, too. Damn it. Focus. You break the staring contest you were apparently having to briefly look at the floor. His gaze felt critical and now you’re second guessing every choice you made before you walked into the office. You shake your head and look up again. “I’m the interpreter” you say, more confident this time.

“About time” he barks out, his tone as critical as his gaze. Your eyes lock with his for the second time. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and do your damn job?” You let in a sharp breath as you instinctively straighten your spine. “Right.. right sorry” you murmur. Only, what is your job? You still have no idea why you’re even here. Whatever it doesn’t matter.

You step more into the room, positioning yourself where you can see everyone and nod, beginning to interpret. His eyes are still on you, you don’t think they ever left but instead you focus on the various voices around you. Brows furrowed, you shake your head. “Excuse me.” You mutter. The voices continue, loud, scattered, interrupting each other. “Excuse me!” You say louder this time, stopping the conversation as their heads turn to acknowledge you. “Please speak one at a time! A meeting this big should really have more than one interpreter..” you mumble the last part but the others in the room nod in understanding and do as you ask. The conversation resumes, slower and more uniform.

Bakugo doesn’t look away, even as the others start speaking again. You catch snippets of conversation, words like recovery, damaged hearing aids, and villain tactics, but your focus keeps dragging back to him. It’s not just the intensity of his presence—it’s the way he watches you like he’s dissecting every move you make.

Bakugo watches you intensely, his gaze devouring you whole. The way the loose strands of hair are framing your face, how your brows lift with expression, the gloss on your lips, your bare shoulders. Your skin looks so soft and— damnit. He’s not even paying attention.

He barely even knows sign anyway. He’d taught himself to finger spell and after watching you for so long picked up on some of the more common signs. Having you here was more productive. It was less time consuming then writing back and forth and maybe he’d learn something and maybe he’d get to know you. He blinks a few times, snapping himself from the thought. The incoherent voices around him halt and there’s several gazes on him. Someone probably asked a question.

Someone asked a question and he was too busy looking at your stupid fucking shoulders. Who even wears something like that to work anyway? He’s never seen you wear anything like that before and-

“Sir?” A member of his team utters. They’re awaiting his response. He locks eyes with you again, raising his hands to his body.

SLOW. MY SIGN BAD.

He signs to you. S-P-E-L-L.

You feel your eyes instantly widen, you force your face to fall neutral again. You’re interpreting for him? His aids got damaged?

You bend your index finger into a hook shape and tap it twice on your ear. The sign for hearing aid. You spell it out for him, before spelling out fix.

YES, NO, WHICH?

He scoffs, looking back at his team. “I’ve got too much shit to do to sit around and wait for ‘em to get fixed. Why do you think she’s even here?” He says, clearly annoyed at the question. He’s got that scowl on is face and it gives you chills.

The meeting continues, much to your dismay. You’re struggling, trying to take out the key points of what you’re overhearing and interpret to someone who barely knows sign. He’s not helping at all, staring at you with the same critical eyes and blank expression. Is he even understanding you? You try not to let the frustration show on your face.

The meeting is finally over to your relief. Your hands feel tired from so much fingerspelling. People start filtering out of the room. you roam over to where you left your bag, pulling out your water bottle and taking a few large sips trying to shake off the tension.

“Didn’t think signing was that exhausting,” a gruff voice says behind you.

You pause mid-sip, the familiar tone making you freeze. Slowly, you lower the bottle and turn, finding Bakugo standing a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

You huff, honestly not having the patience for this right now. “It’s hard to interpret when you barely know sign language, sir. I can’t tell if you understand anything I’m saying.” You say, your tone stern but still trying to remain respectful.

He stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable, before he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, his voice low. “I understand more than you think. Just… just not all of it.”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed yet relieved that at least he can give you a little clarity. “Were you going to say anything? Or just let me waste my time and look stupid?” Your hand move rapidly, in frustration, in anger

“You don’t look stupid.” He states in a flat tone. “You’re good at it.” This shocks you a bit, dynamight isn’t known for giving compliments and somehow you feel like his gaze is even more intense than before.

“..was that a compliment?” You blink, caught off guard. “What’re you the deaf one now?” he smirks slightly before letting his rough demeanor take over once more “don’t get used to it” he fires back quickly.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly. “Thanks, I guess. But it doesn’t matter how good I am if you don’t understand” your eyes meet his once more. You sense something in them, if you didn’t know better you’d think it was almost something…apologetic?

His fist clench at his sides, not unnoticed by you and your demeanor softens despite your words. You’re not trying to make him feel bad, it’s probably more frustrating for him.

“I need you to communicate, sir. At least let me know when you understand or not, or I’m gonna keep making myself look like an idiot up there.” You smile slightly, trying to cut the tension you’d accidentally created.

He sucks his teeth “whatever, fine. I’ll tell you.” You give him a small smile in return, starting to gather your things. “Before you leave..” he breaks the silence, you look up at him curiously. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You can’t tell anyone about my hearing. Got it?”

You feel your brows furrow. There’s a lot you could say back, but you value your job. “Excuse me sir.. but there’s nothing wrong with-“ “I said, you can’t tell anyone. No one else needs to know.” He cuts you off, his words are cold.

The finality in his voice makes it clear the subject isn’t up for debate. You purse your lips, biting back the response you want to give. Instead, you settle for a curt nod. “Understood.” Grabbing your bag and walking towards the door. “Have a good night sir.” Without waiting for a response, you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the conference room.

Bakugo watches you leave, his hands tightening in his pockets. He’s not sure what it is about you, but something tells him this arrangement is going to be more complicated than he expected.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet, but your mind isn’t. You replay the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of it. There was something about the way he spoke—about the way he looked at you—that stuck with you. Dynamight was hard to read, but his insistence on secrecy had been laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You shake your head. Not your problem, you tell yourself firmly. You’re just here to do your job, not to figure out Dynamight.

As the elevator doors slide open, you step inside, your thoughts still lingering on him. This isn’t going to be easy, is it? You reach the lobby, saying goodnight to the same kind receptionist from earlier and heading back home.

You’re lying in bed when your phone pings, it’s an email of your new interpreting schedule. With a heavy sigh, you turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Meeting your heroes wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You’d admired Dynamight from a distance, inspired by his drive, his unshakable determination, and his ability to save lives no matter the cost. But up close? He was…

You hesitate, feeling guilty for even thinking it. He wasn’t cruel, exactly. Just difficult. Closed off. And it wasn’t like he had asked for this to happen to him.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. It’s just work, you tell yourself. Do your job, keep your head down, and move on.

But as you drift off, a small thought lingers in the back of your mind. That brief flicker of something in his eyes during the meeting—something you hadn’t expected from a man so famously brash and unyielding.

Vulnerability?

You shove the thought away, but it lingers, a tiny thread pulling at the edges of your frustration. Maybe there was more to him than you realized.

For now, though, you had to focus on making it through tomorrow. One day at a time.

A week passes. The days become easier. You’ve become very friendly with the receptionist in the lobby. Her name was Talia. Your brief interaction turned into smaller friendly conversation. You looked forward to seeing her everyday.

Working with Dynamight is no walk in the park. He’s intense, stubborn, and unapologetically brash. But beneath the rough exterior, you’ve come to know a man who takes his job as a hero seriously, even if he pushes himself too hard to compensate for what you assume he perceives as a weakness.

He’s a little kinder now, at least in the way that Dynamight can be kind. He’s working with you, communicating the way you asked. The dynamic is fine. It works. You do your job, you talk to Talia for a little while and you leave.

Lunch with Talia quickly becomes your favorite part of the day. What started as quick chats at the receptionist desk has turned into full-blown lunch breaks in the small cafe near the agency. She’s easy to talk to—funny, warm, and refreshingly honest.

Today, as you sit across from her, picking at your sandwich, the conversation drifts to Dynamight.

“Is he still a pain?” Talia asks, smirking as she sips her iced coffee. You laugh softly. “I mean, yeah. But he’s… better. Not great, but better.” “‘Better’ for Dynamight is probably miraculous,” she quips, earning another laugh from you.

The smile quickly falls from your face as you stare down at your food, a more serious expression taking over. “God” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “I just don’t understand him. Like at all” “you’re not getting paid to understand Dynamight. If any of us were we’d all be broke.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I know but it’s just like.. if you’re so ashamed to be..deaf…” you whisper the last part so no one may overhear “..that you don’t want anyone to know why the fuck would you ask for an interpreter? Do you know how hard it is to discreetly interpret in public? We have to make someone else stand next to him so it looks like I’m interpreting for them instead!”

“He’s not ashamed.” She says curtly, ignoring your other frustrations. “What?” Your head lifts from your hands to look at her, both shock and curiosity etched into your face. “I don’t understand” you shake your head.

“It’s not because he’s ashamed or anything. It’s… well, think about it. If the wrong people found out, villains would use it against him. They’d find ways to exploit it. That’s the last thing he wants.”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about it like that. You almost feel a little guilty for making him out to be such an ass in your mind. Almost, cause at the same time, he’s still cold and abrasive.

Your face must show how you’re feeling. Somehow it always does, It’s a curse in moments like this, but it’s also what makes you such a great interpreter. Talia’s hand fall on top of yours reassuringly.

“Hey..” she says gently. “..You’re great at what you do, y/n. Maybe you were wrong about that but it doesn’t change the fact that he is 100% making your job harder” You can’t help the small, weary laugh that escapes you. “You’re not wrong. He’s exhausting. Sometimes, I still don’t even know if he’s listening.”

Talia smirks, squeezing your hand. “Oh, he’s listening. He’s just a stubborn ass who doesn’t know how to show it. I mean, come on. Think about who we’re talking about.” Her words draw a reluctant smile from you. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You mutter back

“You’ll get through to him,” she says confidently, letting go of your hand. “Trust me. If anyone can, it’s you. You’re here for a reason.” There’s a beat of silence before Talia leans in slightly, her tone dropping to something a little quieter, more serious. “You know, he doesn’t let anyone help him. Not really. He’s always been like that, even when I started here.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. It makes sense in a way. Although her words are reassuring,it still feels frustrating. You look at her, a flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes. But her faith in you feels steady, unwavering. It’s comforting, even if you’re not sure you fully believe it yet.

“Thanks, Talia,” you say softly, and for the first time in what feels like days, you hold yourself a little higher.

The sharp sizzle of oil fills the air as Bakugo tosses another handful of vegetables into the pan. it’s a rhythm he knows well. But tonight, his focus is off. He scowls at the counter, eyeing the ridiculous amount of food piling up. Again. Every time lately, it’s the same thing. He swears he’s not doing it on purpose.

His mind drifts to you. To the way your hands move when you sign, fluidly.. beautifully. Your frustration barely hidden behind a polite smile. You’ve been busting your ass trying to keep up with him, and he’s done nothing but make your job harder.

Bakugo grips the edge of the counter, jaw tight. He knows you didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to deal with his stubborn ass.

Before can even realize what he’s doing, he’s grabbing a spare container and loading it with the extra food, snapping the lid on tight. He tells himself he’s being practical. He’s not one to waste food.

When he hands it to you the next day, he barely looks you in the eye. “Made too much,” he says gruffly, shoving the container into your hands before walking away without waiting for a response.

He walks away so fast he almost, just almost misses the small smile that plays onto your lips. The smile that fills his mind for the rest of the day.

And that’s how it starts. The next day he’s shoving another container in your hands, claiming the same thing. Rushing away in the same way. You blink after him, utterly bewildered but secretly delighted. Because honestly? That food was incredible. Like, best you’ve ever had incredible.

By the third day, you’re half-expecting it, your hands reaching automatically as he shoves yet another container into them. It’s becoming a strange routine, one you don’t entirely understand but definitely don’t mind.

At lunch, you decide you can’t just keep taking these meals without saying anything. You owe him a thank you. So, with the container in hand, you find yourself heading up to his office.

You stand outside the office door, taking a shaky breath and light knocking. “Come in” his voice with its usual roughness grumbles from the opposite side of the door. You open it and shuffle in, giving an awkward smile.

“What?” He asked brashly, sounding more annoyed than usual. You feel his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You hold up the container. “I uhm.. I just” you clear your throat. “I just wanted to say thank you for the food lately, it’s so delicious, honestly I really appreciate it.” Your hands move as you speak.

FOOD, THANK YOU, DELICIOUS

You let your eyes wander while he speaks, you’ve never really been in his office. It’s a standard room, barely decorated and of course, tidy. His desk was positioned on the same wall as the door. So that’s how he knew you were knocking..“Uhm. I was wondering.. do you.. wanna eat together?”

LUNCH, EAT, TOGETHER?

You ask, trying to keep your voice steady

He stares at you blankly and just when you think he’s about to tell you to get lost, he shrugs. “Whatever, don’t make it weird” he nods his head in the direction of an extra chair on the other side of the room. You smile and drag the chair over to his desk.

That’s how it starts.

The next day, you’d ask to eat together again. Over the next few days, it becomes routine. Around lunch, you’d head up to his office with your container, and the two of you would sit and eat together. The conversation, at first seems sparse but becomes easier and easier, soon flowing naturally.

He asks about interpreting, your day, your annoying habit of over-explaining things when you’re nervous. And you learn things about him too. Like how he experiments with different recipes because cooking is one of the few things that lets him focus. Or how he prefers silence over small talk, but somehow doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you filling the quiet.

One day, mid-bite, he suddenly says, “Stop calling me Dynamight.” You blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?” Your hand forms a fist, rubbing it against your chest with raised brows, signing as you speak.

He glares at you, though it lacks its usual edge. “You’re not on the damn clock when we’re eating. Just call me Bakugo.” You hesitate, then nod, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Alright, Bakugo.”

Talia, however, notices this change almost immediately. Somehow when lunch time rolls around you’re nowhere to be found. She misses your time together.

“Girl, where the hell have you been?” She asks one evening as you pass her desk to go home. “What happened to our lunches? You cheating on me?” She smirks

You flush, “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicating” you facepalm. “I’ve been having lunch with Bakugo these past few days, to thank him for the meals and everything”

“Ohhh so it’s Bakugo now?” She tease, leaning forward on her desk. “Sooo when’s the wedding?” You groan, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Talia!” “What? I need to know when I’m supposed to object, can’t have dynamight taking my girl” she giggles.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile.

“It’s nothing, really. We’re coworkers having lunch.” You’re not lying, that’s exactly what it was. Even if deep down you maybe wanted it to be more. Talia smirks knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m serious! And I’m really sorry for ditching you. I promise—lunch together at the end of the week. Deal?”

She crosses her arms, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I guess I can forgive you. But only if you bring the juicy details.” “Talia!” you groan again, but she just laughs as you wave goodbye, her teasing words echoing behind you.

You sit across from Talia in the same cafe as usual. Catching up for the first time in what seems like forever. You really do feel bad about ditching her, she’s the one great thing that’s come from taking this job.

“So,” she begins, resting her chin on her hand. “How’s lunch with Dynamight been? Does he chew with his mouth open or something?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “He’s not bad, actually. Quiet. Focuses more on the food than talking, which honestly, I appreciate. Less pressure to fill the silence. But I do it anyway.. it’s like the words keep coming out… I can’t stop talking”

She gasps, throwing her hand on her chest mockingly “THE Dynamight? Quiet? I fear a may faint!”

You chuckle and playfully push hit her arm that’s still resting on the table. “Well, to be fair,” you say, grinning, “he mostly spends it making sure I’m eating, sooo.”

“Ohhh,” she drawls, raising her eyebrows. “So he’s looking out for you now, huh? Bet he’s making sure you’re eating all your vegetables too.” “I think he wants to make sure I’m enjoying it. He likes cooking and I know if I could cook well I’d probably do the same thing” you respond matter of factly.

“Sure,” Talia says, drawing the word out with an exaggerated smirk. “And you don’t think it’s because he has a little crush?” You roll your eyes again, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “He’s just being a decent coworker. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced. “Let me know when the wedding invites go out. I’m definitely objecting. Even if I’m the maid of honor”

You snort, tossing a napkin at her. “Can we eat now, or are you just going to keep embarrassing me?”

Talia raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you eat in peace…for now.”

Just as you’re about to dig into your food, your phone buzzes on the table. Without thinking, you pick it up, glancing at the unsaved number. The message reads:

“Where are you? It’s lunch. You’re not here.”

You blink, confused. “What the—” Talia hums in curiosity. “I just got a text but I don’t have this number saved” you turn your phone screen so she can see too. She narrows her eyes as she leans closer to read the message, then they widen. “Oh my god. That’s him. That’s Dynamight. Bakugo.”

Your stomach drop. “What? How would he even get my number?” Talia gives you a look. “Girl, I know you’re not that slow. He’s one of the top heroes in the country. If he wanted your number, he could definitely find it.”

“Well?” She nudges you. “Are you gonna text back or not?” “I.. what.. what do I even say??” You respond, growing more flustered. “How about, ‘Sorry, I ditched you for my real soulmate, Talia’?” she says with a smirk.

You try to just roll your eyes, but can’t help but let out a chuckle and type out a quick response.

“Sorry, I’m at lunch with a friend today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“You could’ve told me.”

Your stomach drops again, and Talia laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Oooooo he’s mad. You’re in troubleeee” her grin only growing wider. “He probably misses his lunch buddy,” she adds with a mock pout. “So tragic.” you give her a glare.

Your groan, plopping down your phone and caging your head in your arms on the table. “Why is he even texting me? And why do I feel bad about this?”

Talia smirks, sipping her drink. “Because you’re catching feelings, babe. Don’t fight it.” You glare at her again over the rim of your hands, but she just laughs harder. You flip your phone over, trying to refocus on your lunch. However, you don’t really feel hungry anymore.

The next day feels…off. You can’t put your finger on it at first, but the energy in the room is different. When you arrive, Bakugo barely glances at you. There’s no gruff greeting, no container of food shoved into your hands with a muttered excuse about “making too much.”

By lunch, the tension feels suffocating. You glance at him a few times, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t even look in your direction. He eats alone in his office while you sit in the break room, absently picking at a salad you don’t even want.

You replay yesterday in your mind, Was it because I skipped lunch? Is he that mad about it?

But that doesn’t make sense. He’s Dynamight, not some clingy guy who cares about a missed meal. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve messed something up.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t offer you food.

It’s petty, and he knows it. But he’s pissed—mostly at himself. Yesterday, he let his guard down, let you get under his skin. He shouldn’t have cared where you were or who you were with, but he did. And that pissed him off even more.

So today, he shuts it down. Keeps things professional. Cold.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Keeps you at arm’s length, avoids the growing distraction you’ve become. You’re his interpreter, not his friend. Not someone he should care about. By the time the day ends, he’s still mad. Mad at you for skipping lunch yesterday, mad at himself for caring, and mad that he can’t stop thinking about the way your face fell when he brushed you off.

The next day feels longer , the tension in the air weighing heavier with each passing hour. Bakugo barely acknowledges you, responding only when necessary and only about work. No snide remarks, no shared looks during meetings, and definitely no container of food shoved into your hands.

You try to brush it off, but the absence of his usual gruffness is almost worse than when he was barking at you. By the time lunch approaches you’ve convinced yourself you should just let it go. But as you gather your things, you glance toward his office door, slightly ajar. Before you can stop yourself, you’re knocking.

“Come in,” his voice calls, low and gruff as always.

You push the door open. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, his eyes darting around them rapidly, his attention fixed anywhere but on you.

“Sir,” you start, trying to keep your tone neutral, “is everything… okay? You’ve been—”

OK, YOU?

“Busy,” he cuts you off without looking up. He’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying.

You narrow your eyes and bang your hand on his desk twice to get his attention. His head snaps up at that. “Busy enough to ignore me?” His crimson eyes narrow. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Wow! Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, knowing he can’t hear it. Bakugo has read lips long enough to pick that up, even if you’re not signing. For a long moment, there’s silence. You expected him snap, have some witty remarks like usual. Instead his face falls.

“didn’t think you’d care,” he says finally, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Your eyes widen.“Care? I thought I did something wrong.. I-“ your hands stammer. “you didn’t.” He cuts you off again. “Didn’t wanna bother you. Figured you’d rather spend time with your friend or whatever”

His admission hits you hard, this…this is almost vulnerable? you’d never seen him like this. You knew this wasn’t easy for him to say.

“S-sir..” you stop. “Bakugo.. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you say softly. “You’re not a bother.”

He mutters, incoherently, shifting in his seat a bit. You can tell he’s don’t talking and you take that as your cue to leave. You shake your hand in the air to get his attention again. “By the way,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I had lunch with my friend that day because I’d been ditching her for you. So… take what you will from that.”

You pause for a beat, your hands coming to a halt, your eyes meeting his, then turn on your heel and slip out the door without another word.

Later that evening, you linger longer than usual, pretending to be caught up in some last-minute paperwork. In reality, you’re waiting for the office to quiet down, for everyone else to leave. When you finally approach his door again, it’s shut, but you can hear faint movement inside.

You push it open a crack, peeking through, and your breath catches.

He’s standing in front of the mirror on the far wall, hands moving clumsily through a set of signs. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tight, frustration radiating off him in waves. He’s got that same notebook he was hunched over propped open on the desk beside him, glancing between the pages and his reflection.

“Fuck.” He mutters, shaking out his hands and trying again. You watch for a moment, something warm blooming in your chest. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you almost feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

You shake you hand in the air to get his attention.

“You’re improving,” you say softly, your hands moving as you speak.

YOU, BETTER!

His eyes widen, caught completely off guard. For a split second, he looks ready to bark at you, but then his expression softens, just barely.

“Should’ve locked the damn door,” he grumbles, closing the notebook with a snap. You smile, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

His eyes meet yours, something lingering there and for once, there’s no anger, no irritation. Just honesty. “Yeah, I did.”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you settle for a small nod, the weight of the moment saying more than words ever could.

“Thanks,” you whisper after a beat, your palm faces you, fingers touching your chin before bringing your hand away from your face.

THANK YOU.

and this time, he doesn’t look away as a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he trusted you. And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to let you in.

This is soooo so long omg I’m sorry!! Also the sign is super basic bc he wouldn’t know.. I feel like I needed to say that lmaoo I hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!

Dedicating this to my luver @mimzyu and also @poemeater since Leigh encouraged me to start writing not too long ago <3

[roucaelum-art]

Twiyor week day 7: happy ever after

[caretakerr]

« I only like playing with words, only dreaming, but, do you know, what I really want is that you should all go to hell. That is what I want. »

[Fyodor Dostoevsky]

[dark-l-angel]

Y'all imagine lazy morning jason after a long ass patrol..

He'll be the most clingy thing you'll ever witness in your goddamn life, refusing to let you out of bed.. caging you under his muscular arms, you insisting to leave in order to make breakfast then comeback to sleep with him later, and he refuses.. his sleepy whimpers can be heard as an answer.. "just 5 more mins babe.. i can't let you go yet.. " said while inhaling your comforting scent..

If you only knew.. what you truly meant to this guy.. you're the only reason of his existence.. he lost everything and everyone left him behind.. you popped up into his life like the sun peaking behind the clouds after a storm.. you were just like an angel who dragged him out of the hell that used to consume him slowly.. cared about him when no one did.. appreciating his presence and wanting more of him instead.. he was ready to get his hands bloody for you, in order to make you happy.. he had no problem to go to the bottom of hell and comeback if that meant a smile from you..

Feeling the tears on your soft skin as you were struggling to get out of bed.. you stopped to check on him.. you knew he was a man of few words, but his actions speaks louder.. a muffled "i love you.." is all you hear in response, while squeezing you tightly.. you turned toward him to hug him closer, giving him the reassurance that he needed.. he needed to know.. you'll never leave him alone.

[asdeadasasquirrel]

A gift for @murainhell 🎄📻🌹✨

Here is Alastor walking on his hooves for the first time!

I hope you like it!! Merry Christmas!!

[fetlockflowers]