#so when they arrive i will peruse them

[the-music-keeper]

Objectives #9 and #10 are done and the UT Austin row on my spreadsheet is complete!

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE WAY SPRING ARRIVES AND OTHER STORIES, edited by Yu Chen and Regina Kanyu Wang (feat. first daffodils!!)

I've been pining after this one since the hardback released, but I'm more of a paperback person so I Waited, and in my Waiting I missed the seasonal alignment to start reading it (come on: I can't be expected to read a collection with this title any time except at the very beginning of spring, right??). But! Guess what!! Spring is once again Arriving, and things are starting to bud and bloom, and I love that!

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"cold feet (literally)" - spencer reid x fem!reader

you wake up in the middle of the night to get a pair of socks

wc: 1k

cw: reader is described as wearing a bra, sickeningly sweet fluff, two idiots in love

Spencer keeps his apartment climate-controlled at a brisk sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. He likes to be cold, he says, and you generally don’t mind. You run hot anyway, so if, on the off chance you do get cold when you’re lounging around on his couch or perusing his bookshelves, you grab one of the throw blankets Garcia’s knitted for him and wrap it around your shoulders. 

Tonight is different, in that you were not planning on sleeping over. Your relationship with Spencer works so well, in your opinion, because you both like to be independent, so rather than be with each other every moment of every day that he’s home, you orbit around each other like planets. You spend many evenings over at his place, and he spends just as many as yours, but eventually, the other person goes home. 

Not that you didn’t like sleeping in the same bed as Spencer, of course, but the relationship was still fresh, and you both liked that you were taking things slow. Tonight, however, you started a movie with him rather late, and by the time it was over, you were bleary-eyed and your bones felt laden. Spencer was more than willing to offer you the empty side of his bed for the night. 

You arrived in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so you just took your bra off and laid down. Spencer splurged on a fancy orthopedic mattress, so you somehow both sunk into it and rested on top of it like a glass on a table. It was insanely comfortable, and both you and Spencer really were wiped out, so you went right to sleep. 

When your eyes flutter open a few hours, you’re laying on your side. The first thing you notice is that the room is not completely dark. No, in fact, there’s a stream of moonlight, or maybe a street lamp outside, creeping in through the curtains, casting a soft, gray-filtered glow over the room. 

You feel Spencer’s hand loosely on your hip, and his knee resting lightly against the back of your thigh. Your immediate reaction is not to move for fear of waking him, but your feet are icicles. The air around you is cold, too, but the blankets remedy that. You just need socks. 

I am molasses, you coach yourself, moving languidly and carefully to rise into a sitting position. However, you lack the FBI stealth training needed to rise out of bed without waking your boyfriend, because when you look over your shoulder, his eyes are very clearly open. 

There’s a tired yet playful little smirk as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Sneaking out already?” he asks, his voice still rich and thick with sleep, and you suddenly wish you’re able to see him like this more often. Maybe this whole going home to go to sleep thing is simply for the birds. 

“No, of course not,” you laugh softly. The mattress creaks as you finally stand up, your bare toes spreading against the soft carpet. As you pad over to his dresser, you shoot him a performative smile over your shoulder. “My feet are just freezing.” 

“Do you want me to adjust the thermostat?” Spencer asks immediately, shifting the blankets off of him so he can, presumably, get out of the bed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you insist, holding up your hand. He stops in his place. “It’s just my feet, Spence,” you assure him. The cherry wood creaks when you tug the top drawer open, plucking the first pair of socks you see out off the top. 

Spencer’s mismatched socks are meticulously organized in their correct pairs, as it turns out. You smile to yourself when you realize this means he takes the time each day to couple up an incorrect pair of socks before putting them on his feet. 

You select a pair of purple ones with little kiwi fruits printed on them, affection for the ridiculous man in bed behind you bubbling up in your chest, making it feel as if it’s filled with helium. Like you could float up to the ceiling at any moment. 

You’re still smiling stupidly as you perch yourself on the edge of the bed. You slide his socks over your bare feet, wiggling your toes around for a moment. “Why are you smiling, angel?” Spencer’s asking curiously, and you feel his foot nudge your back. 

You lie back down in the bed, shaking your head softly as you lay on your side and place your head against Spencer’s chest. He takes a second to adjust, slinking down so he’s lying flat on his back, then he tugs you a little closer. 

Your cheek rubs against the soft, worn fabric of his t-shirt. You place your palm down against his flat tummy, and consequently feel his chin press into the top of your head. “What is it?” he asks again. 

“I just think you’re the bee’s knees, that’s all,” you say softly, earning a small chirp of a laugh from your boyfriend. 

“The bee’s knees, huh?” he rakes his fingers through your hair slowly. The action is lulling you like straight melatonin, making you even more tired. “Did you know that phrase actually used to mean something small and insignificant? Over time it developed to refer to something or someone that is greatly admired.” 

You close your eyes, your body relaxing against him as he speaks. “Do bees even have knees?” you ask through a yawn. 

“Technically speaking, no,” Spencer brushes his thumb along your temple, then across the top of your ear, as if he is charting all the smooth parts of you. “But they do have a ball-and-socket joint between their leg segments, which allows them the flexibility to move their little legs around. So when they dance to show their hive mates where the good honey is, they move their legs around.” He laughs softly at this notion, and you feel your weight sink into the mattress. 

“You make me want to dance,” you whisper, smiling with closed eyes against his chest. “So, you’re the bee’s knees.” 

Spencer hums fondly in response to this, then kisses your forehead. “That’s kind of a reach, angel,” he says. “But I think you’re the cat’s pajamas, so who am I to judge?”

[saturnsorbits]

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

[pseudowho]

How well do you think Nanami Kento would handle eating spicy food? What would his reaction be towards his girlfriend/wife who LOVES spicy food?

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento #6, Spicy

"Hey, Kento," you whispered conspiratorially into his shoulder, nuzzling him from behind, "that new ramen place just opened round the corner. I hear they have the biggest range of hot sauces going. Big. Huge. International."

Your bad impression earned you a scowl.

"And you want to try them," Kento intoned, flat as he flipped through his newspaper, "I assume."

You draped yourself over the armchair, pushing his newspaper away with your feet. Kento grumbled, trying to avoid their push, until his newspaper crumpled, and he rolled it up, hitting you with it while you laughed.

"I'd love to go," you sighed, dramatic, "but I know you can't handle spicy food." Kento's eyes narrowed.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I never see you eat it."

"Because most extra spicy food relies on it being hot as its main point of attraction. I prefer my flavour palate to be a bit more sophisticated." Kento's eyes narrowed again, swiping over you. "Like my women."

"Ouch, Kento."

Kento reached into his pocket, the ghost of a smile on his mouth. "Silly games win silly prizes." He tapped on his phone. He was silent for a moment.

"Table's booked for 7pm. So you can eat spicy food, to your heart's desire...my love."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Pushing through the chest-level curtain, you and Kento were greeted by a bustling restaurant, vibrant, and enjoying its early success. Your mouth watered as a hot, umami rush of air hit your nose. You smiled, excited, not noticing how Kento read your every move, fizzing with your joy.

Perusing the menu in your intimate corner booth, you noticed the dishes were arranged in order of spice. You leaned over, pointing to Kento's menu.

"This is your side of the menu, darling..." You gestured to one side of the booklet, "...and this is mine." Kento pinched the sides of your knee under the table, smiling lightly, ungoadable.

When the waiter arrived, you requested a bowl of the spiciest ramen listed.

"We have extra hot sauces, too," offered the waiter, "if you like a challenge."

"Perhaps your top five hottest?" You requested, handing the menu back to the waiter, teasing Kento. "And a big glass of milk for my boyfriend."

"That won't be necessary." Kento replied, clipped. "I'll have the same as her, thank you." Your nose flared; a competitive edge.

"You don't have to buy it just because I do, Kento."

"I know that." He hummed, leaning back into his chair, his hands clasped over crossed legs. "But it seems we have some...misunderstandings to address."

Your ramen arrived. Its colour cried Danger. Tree frogs of its exact hue were known to cause certain death, and the hot sauces arrived in a rainbow most often seen in government-approved public warning announcements. Kento gave you a warm smile, chuckling as you snapped and rolled your chopsticks with gusto.

You took a noisy slurp of your noodles, Kento following suit. The heat was slow to build, but by your third slurp of noodles, your mouth thrummed with fire, climbing up your nose and filling your sinuses. You sniffled, laughing and dabbing your mouth with a napkin.

"Wow, they really weren't joking," you laughed, burning from the inside, in a way that was almost too much, "that really is spicy." Kento raised his eyebrows, seemingly unaffected. He reached for the first hot sauce.

"Is it?" He asked, mildly. "I think it could use a little something, actually." Kento splashed his ramen with hot sauce, enthusiastic, and offered you some. With a smile, and a nod, he did the same to your ramen.

"I don't see much difference, to be honest," you lied, the ramen now significantly spicier. You blinked the tears from your eyes as Kento patted your hand sympathetically. With a wan little smile, Kento reached immediately for the third hottest sauce, splashing it onto his ramen.

"Let's cut out the middle man, shall we?" Kento joked, squeezing your thigh affectionately under the table. You were starting to consider that you may have fucked up your last upfuck. You didn't stop Kento as he offered you the hot sauce, splashing a thin, acrid red glaze into your ramen.

The fumes hit you as you leaned over your bowl, and you coughed involuntarily. Kento shook more hot sauce onto his egg, slurping it up with a delighted hum.

"Eat up." He pressed. "It'll get cold." You took a hesitant bite of pork that didn't seem to have too much hot sauce on it. You were wrong. You must have swallowed lava, you thought, your eyes flickering over the restaurant as you chewed, as if someone could help you. Spluttering and praying for escape, you knew you would never live this down with your new lover if you threw in the towel.

"In fact, mine does seem to have cooled down a bit." Kento reached for the hottest of the hot sauces, in an unassuming little bottle with a skull and crossbones on the front. You were on fire, and nodded with tears flowing down your face, sweating, red, and coughing, when Kento offered you some. He was ever the gentleman, never pouring the sauce on your food until you accepted.

Kento was exceptionally uncrumpled, his navy dress shirt still just as pressed as it had been in the morning, his hair still neatly parted. Strands of yours stuck to the sweat in your forehead, and in a delirious haze, you lifted your bowl to slurp the broth, desperate to end this hellish ordeal.

You briefly saw God, before plummeting to the deepest circle of hell. There was no heaven. Life was a lie. Existence was meaningless. You felt the flesh melt off your bones, knowing death was nigh. Your hands shook, your smouldering lips puffy, mascara on your cheeks. You sat with your head in your hands, having just drunk acid. You dared one look up towards Kento.

...who seemed delighted by his meal, paying the waiter, and rubbing your thigh with those warm, gentle hands.

"There are people waiting for our table, darling. We'll go, hmm? My place, or yours?"

Your mouth numb, slurring, you babbled; "Me at, er-- mine...you at-- at-- yours--" You would surely be spending the evening in a bath of milk, retching into the sink. Kento pressed a tender kiss to your sweaty forehead.

"You're right. I'm always tired after a good meal, too."

After being driven home, you spent the night in an oven, wondering if you would ever get over challenging Nanami Kento to such a stupid, unwinnable fight.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"How's that new girl of yours, huh, Nanamin? Managed to impress her yet?" Gojo called from outside the toilet stall, tapping away in his phone with that everfixed smile. A low, nauseated groan rumbled out from the stall.

"--I...think she might dump me actually." More groans of agony sounded from the toilet stall, with Kento within, trapped in Satan's grasp.

Gojo had your number, of course. You and he had been chatting for weeks. Gojo held down the Record button outside Kento's toilet stall, ready to send you Kento's anguished moans.

Nanami Kento couldn't stand spicy food. He'd never let you know that. Thankfully, he had a friend who would sell him out at any given opportunity.

[crimsntwlip]

it’s you | theodore nott.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

warnings: friends to lovers, reader avoiding theodore, reader status not mentioned, fluff fluff fluff !! kissing, google translated italian

summary: based on this request!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy this & happy valentines day lovelies!!!

| posted: 2/13/24 | masterlist |

y/n and theodore had always been two peas in a pod, ever since they first met on the hogwarts express during their first year. even when they were separated by the sorting hat, theodore being sorted into slytherin while y/n had been sorted into ravenclaw, they both knew they would stick together over the years.

y/n was currently sitting in divination class, your mind distracted as professor trelawney rambled on about interpreting signs and symbols from tea leaves.

it was a week prior to valentine’s day and you still haven’t been asked to be anyone’s valentines. you tried to not let it get into your head, but with everyone else around you getting mingled up, you couldn’t help but yearn to get asked. although there was a rumor going around that theodore had already asked another girl, you hoped it was untrue.

theodore, who was seated next to you, noticed your distracted figure and gently nudged you out of your thoughts. you wiped away your thoughts as you turned to face theodore, who appeared concerned.

you turned away, facing back to the professor as you were ready to brush it off when he leaned closer to your level. he whispered,

“are you okay, bella?”

y/n couldnt help but blush suddenly from how close he had gotten. you cleared your throat, trying to push the blush away, theodore's concern softened into a gentle smile.

“i’m fine, theo,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves in the quiet classroom. theodore's eyes searched yours, seeing the slight unease lingering behind them. he knew you well enough to sense when something was bothering you, even if you tried to hide it.

theodore nodded slightly, respecting your boundaries yet still keeping a watchful eye on you in hopes he would get something out of you at the end of class.

once class came to an end, you quickly pack your things away. you had plans to meet luna in the library for some studying. theodore stood by, watching you pack before he spoke.

“y/n, you know you can talk to me ri-”

“yeah thanks theo, sorry i have to go meet luna.” you quickly shut him down, hurriedly walking out. leaving theodore with a disappointing expression behind as he watch you go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

when you arrived at the library, luna was already waiting for you at your usual table, perusing through a dusty old book with her signature dreamy expression. as she looked up and noticed your arrival, a smile lit up her face. once you settled in and began to study, luna noticed the distant look on your face and raised an eyebrow in question.

“y/n! what's on your mind? you seem a bit distracted today,” luna asked softly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

you sighed, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “i just can't shake off this feeling of unease, luna. It's silly, really.” you paused. luna's expression turned sympathetic as she listened intently, offering you a comforting smile.

you continued, “its just.. valentine's day approaching and... well, nothing special planned,” you admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable opening up about your feelings.

as you were talking about your feelings about the upcoming holiday, theodore was making his way towards the library, in hopes he would run into you. as he entered the library he passed through the tall shelves, pausing as he heard your voice.

“and it’s not like i don’t want to get asked- don’t get me wrong but i was just hoping theodore would’ve asked me?”

theodore's heart skipped a beat as he heard his name mentioned by you. he had been hesitant to ask you to be his valentine, unsure if you felt the same way about him. but now, hearing your words filled him with a surge of hope and courage. he quickly grabbed a random book off the shelf, leaning to get a closer listen but still trying to stay hidden.

“i dont know luna-“ you groaned before continuing. “i mean bloody hell its been 6 whole years of this unrequited love! now i feel a bit silly.. and there are rumors going around about how theodore has already asked another girl. maybe i should give up..”

“you shouldn’t feel silly for loving someone,” luna spoke softly, comforting her friend. “plus rumors are just rumors y/n, they might not even be true.” luna offered you a gentle smile before silence hit the air again. not awkward silence but instead comforting silence, you were grateful you had a friend like luna.

theodore's heart skipped a beat once again. how could he have been so blind? as silence filled the air once more, he had forgotten he was even hiding until a second-year student bumped into him, causing him to drop the book he was holding and revealing his hidden spot.

as the sudden sound caught your attention, your head snapped up and you found yourself locking eyes with theo, who appeared startled like a deer caught in headlights

“hello..” theodore breathed out, feeling embarrassed that he was caught. you stood up quickly, “theo! how long have you been there?!”

theodore stood there, sheepish and unsure of how to respond. he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with an excuse. “uh, not long, i just arrived...” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze.

you felt embarrassed. you knew theodore had heard everything. you gulped, hastily gathered your belongings, apologizing to luna, and made your excuses before rushing out of the library. leaving theodore behind once again, watching you go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

it has been days since the events occurred, and you still cannot bring yourself to face theodore. despite his efforts to talk about what happened, you have been avoiding him, afraid that you may have hurt your relationship.

theodore noticed your attempt at avoiding him. whenever you would see him come around the corner, you would always turn the other direction. if he approached you, you would suddenly remember something urgent you needed to take care of.

theodore couldn't bear the distance that had now grown between the two of you. he missed your company, your laughter, and the comforting bond that you both once had. it pained him to see you avoiding him.

on the day prior to valentines day, you were walking through the hogwarts corridors, trying your best to avoid theodore yet again. he finally caught up to you, his voice was gentle and laced with concern as he called out to you, “y/n, please... can we talk?”

you stopped in your tracks, reluctant but unable to ignore the pleading tone in his voice. you turned to face him, and in that moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the hurt that mirrored your own. taking a deep breath, you finally nodded, signaling your willingness to listen.

theodore took a step closer, his gaze searching yours for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. “i... i heard what you said in the library,” he began, his voice soft yet filled with emotion.

you interrupted him abruptly, assuming he would turn you down. “yes theo, i love you okay!” you said frustratedly, a faint blush crept up on theodores cheeks as you confessed. but before he could respond, you quickly added, "but I understand if it's not something you're interested in. i value our friendship too much to risk i-” cutting you off, he reached out, gently cupping your cheeks as he brought you into a kiss.

as you felt his warm lips pressing against yours, a rush of emotions flooded through you. the shock faded away as you kissed him back, melting into it.

when you finally pulled back, your eyes met theodore's, and you saw relief in his gaze.

“y/n,” theodore whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin affectionately. “you've always been something more to me,” he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. “and i want you to know that those rumors about me asking someone else were completely false. it was always you, y/n. it has always been you.”

as theodore's words sank in, you could feel your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. you had never anticipated that he felt this way about you, and now that he had laid his feelings bare, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.

he continued, “and i've been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but i was afraid of ruining what we have. but if you're willing to take a chance on me, i’d love nothing more than for you to be mine.”

tears glistened in your eyes as you reached up to hold his hand against your cheek, savoring the warmth of his touch. “theodore,” you whispered, your voice filled with raw emotion, “i never thought you saw me the same way.”

a smile tugged at theodore's lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i've been blind not to see it sooner,” he confessed, his gaze intense and unwavering. “i don't want to waste any more time pretending that we're just friends when we could be so much more.”

with a surge of courage, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss once again.

[kyunzin]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

✰ characters ✰ 𝐘. 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧

✰ summary ✰ don’t say things you don’t mean, unless you do mean them. in that case eren can fulfil all your requests (f!reader)

✰ tags/warnings ✰ nsfw, ex!eren, alcohol use, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, cum eating, squirting. praise kink, overstimulation, pussy licking

✰ kyun’s note ✰ it’s been long overdue, two long fics in a row is tough gang dont do this at home. also sorry for any spelling mistakes i am sleep derived

it was definitely a good idea to go out with the girls

it was probably a bad idea to not send eren home with all the drinks you had earlier clouding your judgment

it was absolutely going to hurt in the morning but that is the last thing that's on your mind right now it will be a problem for later

you and eren had gotten together in high school and stayed together for the duration of high school. the both of you being fairly well known though he was more popular than you were.

the both of you had different passions and wanted to peruse different careers. him wanting to play basketball professionally and you didn’t really want to have a boring 9-5 either so you chose to be an influencer.

you both supported each other and both of you became very successful in what you did. eren signing with a good team and you having nearly up to a million followers. you made sure to go to every one of his games and he would be sure to mention you on his socials and even point to you at games.

the two of you even had a child together who both of your fans adored. you had him early in both of your careers and had enough money to support him growing up, the two of you thought that you would be able to live the rest of your lives as a family.

that was until about 4 years later when eren’s schedule became to hectic and he spent more time practicing and being out of the country for games to even be home with you, there was a gradual build up to that which you thought you could get through but in the end you realised it was too much for you and he accepted that.

in the end the both of you decided to spilt apart as is was just too much on you. both of your fan bases were sad to see their favourite couple break apart but you assured them that it was mutual and the two of you ended on good terms, deep down you still loved him but you let him go knowing it was for the better.

eren always made sure to send money to support both him and you even though you told him that he didnt need to send you money as well. he also did regular calls to check in to see how the both of you were doing, and when he was back in the country he made sure to see you if he could spending time with his son and even you.

you know he loved his son from the way he would always get souvenirs from countries when he was out and even got some jerseys from his sons favourite players even if he did pout complaining because he wasn’t his favourite.

this went on for about a year and it worked really well for the three of you, your sons fifth birthday passed with eren doing his all to be there buying him an expensive gift that your son absolutely loved. eren had lately had been spending more time over due to the season, there not being a lot of games and you decided you wanted to go out since it had been a while.

eren has said he would take care of your son while you went out with your friends saying that you deserved the time to have fun. he took your son over to his house so that you could get ready in peace telling you he would keep him for the weekend so you could relax.

once the both of them had left the house you called both sasha and mikasa telling them the plans and they decided to come over to help you get ready. they arrived soon with their things and the three of you started to get ready.

you had your hair and make up done all that was left was your outfit. you had no idea what to wear as it had been a long time since you had gotten dressed up like this, the girls made their way to you closet and started picking through your stuff looking for something for you to wear.

being pregnant had made big changes to you body which left you feeling less than confident after your giving birth but as the years went by some changes left and some stayed. for one your tits and ass filled out as well as you hips getting wider giving you a near hourglass figure.

you were pretty self conscious about your body but everyone around you encouraged you to embrace your new body as they said it made you look sexy and you believed them, looking at yourself differently you loved your new self.

the girls had picked out a dress you don’t even remember buying. a long-sleeve red dress that stopped just under you ass with red cross slits trailing down the side exposing some skin. you paired it with a classic set of black heels and a red bag to match.

the other two were also ready when you had finished getting dressed so you made sure you had everything you needed and sasha drove you to the club blasting music all the way there.

you got into the flub with no problem all of you being over the required age and the three of you went to get drinks to start your night off, weaving your way through the bustling crowd and over to the bar where you all order your first round of drinks keeping you tab open just in case you want to get more.

you and mikasa take a few more shots sasha only having a few being your designated driver for the night not that she really needed any as she would be asked to have just as much fun either way. after you finished your drinks the three of you moved over into the dancing crowd losing yourselves to the music.

you swung your body to the beat of the music sasha in front and mikasa behind you, your as shaking with every sway of your hips. you could tell that many men wanted to join you but you could see both of the girls pushing the away as they know about your lingering feelings for eren.

the song changes and you recognise it as ‘mad at me by sexxy red’ realising that you know the lyrics and you start singing it along with the others in the room, knowing it lyric for lyric shaking your ass to the beat people around you dancing to the music.

when the next line come on you shout it out like there's no tomorrow “fuck me like you mad at me baby, I need a freak to drive me crazy!” and you sing the rest of the song with the same passion until it finishes and you’re out of breath.

the next song plays and you feel all the energy you had from before now depleted and decide to go pay for your last drink of the night leaving sasha and mikasa on the dance floor.

it didn’t take long for you to reach the bar and pay but on your way back to the girls some one stopped you trying to pull you for a dance. but you quickly pushed them away not in the mood walking to your friends even faster.

you get to the girls in record speed in no time though all the remaining energy you had no completed, the girls notice this and decide it’s time for you all to go home.

you drip mikasa home first knowing she has to go to bed for work in the morning. and then sahsa takes you back to your house with you dozing off on the way back. you didn’t even realise that you had faleen asleep until you felt sasha gently shake you awake.

thanking her for the ride home you wish her a safe journey back walking up to your front door, stumbling on the short walk due to the alcohol still flowing in your system. checking the time to see that it was almost past midnight and you know that your son should have gone to bed ages ago feeling bad that you couldn’t tell him goodnight.

when you walk in it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the light which you were sure you turned off when you left, squinting only to see a figure sitting on the couch. you take off your heels setting them to the side and look up to see the figure still there.

once your eyes get accustomed to the light you realise that’s it’s eren sitting there who has been sitting there staring up at you since you walked in, and you think maybe you’re just hallucinating from the alcohol in your system but upon further inspection you realise that he’s actually there.

“eren? what are you doing here? where’s my baby?”

for a second he doesn’t say anything and just eyes you up but then he speaks up.

“c’mere here baby”

the space between you brows crease at the pet name but you move towards him nonetheless, coming to stand up in from of him looking down at him.

“I dropped him off at my mums place, don’t worry about him for now”

he gently pulls you down to straddle you making your dress ride up a little bit, leaving the two of you face to face. you don’t instantly question his actions but your face conveys your confusion, but instead of saying anything he just sits there rubbing slowly up and down your thighs spread over him.

“what’s going on, is something wrong?”

but instead of answering your question he laughs and pulls out his phone swiping though as if looking for something.

“how about you tell me what this is about first”

you’re confused at first but then once the video starts playing your eyes widen in shock. it’s a video of you in the club singing to “mad at me” shouting the lyrics to the song.

“wanna explain this to me”

he’s still smiling as he says it and you know there's no way to get out of this. there's no possible excuse he would believe after seeing that, which brings up the question of where he got it from.

“who took this video and how do you have it”

he turns off his phone slipping it back into his joggers the action causing you to shift in too of him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as to not fall off him.

“it was posted online and someone sent it to me, and don't try change the subject. what’s this about you wanting to fuck. if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so princess. you know i never say no to you baby”

in truth it had been a while since you were active, though it was mainly because of your lack of time due to taking care of you son as well as working.

part of it had to do with the fact that no dock would be able to compare to eren's. the way he would fuck you was to good for you to ever try it with anyone else.

you had kind of missed this intimate part of your relationship, you knew eren wasn’t the type of guy to sleep around and you are sure if he did you would have found out by now and you didn’t want to seem to desperate by asking him about his life without you as you respected his privacy as he did yours.

“why you silent for pretty, aint got nothing to say or did you really mean what you said. what was it again, you wanted me to fuck you like I was mad at you cause I can do that baby if it’s what you want, do you want that?”

as you contemplate your answer you notice his hands don’t stop but smile drops a serious look falls over his face. he probably knows that your drunk and no os giving you a way out of this.

knowing him if you said no he would step back and act as if it didn’t happen. the thing is that you do want this to happen, maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re just really pent up and horny but you don’t see a reason to decline his offer.

you nod your head to agree but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that hands stopping to grip at your thighs squeezing them lightly.

“no princess, I need words. you say yes we continue. say no and I’ll take you to bed and go back home, answer me properly”

knowing this is your last chance to back out you appreciate his efforts in order to confirm your consent and it just gives you even more reason to say yes, knowing that he’s being respectful even though he couldn’t have done what he wanted knowing you have no way of defending yourself in this state.

“yes eren, I want this. I want you. fuck me please, i need you“

you hardly have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and making his way to your old shared bedroom. you wrap you legs around his firm torso and cling onto him tighter, even though you know that there no way he will drop you.

“only since you asked me so nicely, I’ll give you what you need don’t worry baby”

the two of you reach the bed room in record speed and eren gently sets you down on the edge of the bed kneeling down in front of you both of his hands still on the side of your thighs looking up at you with a mischievous grin.

his mouth latches onto you barely clothed sex sucking on your clit in a way that has you gasping out in ecstasy. it’s no lie to say that eren knows every inch of your body inside and out. he knows all the things that make you squirm and scream. where to touch and lick as well as h to e spots indie you that make your arch into his touch.

he moves on from sucking on your clit like a mad man thirsting for water and moves down to you dripping whole, sinking his tongue into your tight heat that hadn’t had any attention for a while. not that there weren’t a few visits from your bullet vibrator it just couldn’t make you cum the way you did when eren would fuck you.

“fuck, she really missed me didn’t she ma?”

the way he’s talking to your pussy has you rolling your eyes, but they then roll for a different reason as he adds one finger teasing his way inside of you alongside his hot tongue. “oh fuck, ‘ren don’t stop please” your hand reaches for his head gripping his hair causing it to fall loose as you pull his face further into your cunt.

both his tongue and fingers pistoling into you at a harsh pace so he not surprised when you end up cumming into his mouth as he starts to suck on your clit. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers inside you until you stop cumming and your moans die out, though your legs still tremble slightly due to the force of your orgasm.

“we aint done yet princess, you said you wanted to be fucked right and that’s what you’ll get. flip over”

you may be a bit drunk but that doesn’t stop you from turning over at the speed of light making you a bit lightheaded but you do regret it as you miss when eren pulls of his top and steps out his trousers and boxers, kneeling back behind you slapping his cock against your ass cheeks.

“you ready for me baby?”

he watches as you nod your head eagerly and lines his cock up with your pussy sliding in with predicted ease, filling out all the way to the hilt. both of you let out moans of pleasure “fuck- I missed you” you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy but you’re to full and stretched out to care. it would be an understatement to say that you also missed the fill of his cock. it was more like the longer you were apart the more you craved to feel him.

he was feeling sympathetic knowing that it had been a while since you had fuck him, or anyone for that matter, but when you start to rock back into him letting out small mewls of pleasure he decides not to hold back. “such a desperate whore, you cant wait to fuck yourself on my cock huh?” his words are accompanied by a hard slap to your ass causing your movements to stagger with a loud moan of “f-fuck, you’re taking too long”

he lets you move as you please for a few more moments before growing impatient and gripping your waist slamming his hips into yours. “d-daddy- fuckk!” you cant see it but you can hear the smirk as he says “you like it when daddy fucks you like this don’t you?” as he sends another harsh thrust you way, rocking the bed with the force of his thrust.

he continues with his timely thrust with the occasional slap to your ass, oscillating between that or squeezing it in both hands and playing with the fat. he can feel the way you clam down on him when he does that, knowing your body inside and out plays well in is favour, not so much in yours.

he spares no energy with is thrusts as he knows you like it when he's rough with you, fucking you into the soft sheets wit vigour, deep strokes hitting your cervix every time, the tip brushing against your sweet spot on every quick roll of his hips.

he's not surprised when he begins to hear your familiar slurred pleas of " daddy please. 's too much. slow down" to which he does the opposite and uses one and to steady your waist and the other one to hold your neck keeping your back arced "remember, you asked for this princess," your unable to move, sheets bunched up in your hands, hips held high by him, face pressed into the bed.

"made it loud and clear waat you wanted and now im giving it to you"

the slick sounds of sex circulate the room, your nonsensical moans bouncing off the walls in the room along with his skin slapping against yours as he hammers is cock into your dripping pussy. "since you asked for it m sure you can take it like a good girl cant you? noting you havent done before"

you can feel is cock start to pulse inside you and you know that he's close , and you're on the verge of release, with the way eren's pounding into you you doubt you'll be able to last much longer as well as the fact that its been ages since your last fuck, which was eren.

"next time you want something, just fucking ask"

the last three words of his sentence are each punctuated with a harsh trust, sending you over the edge as you begin to squirt all over is cock and onto the sheets below you. he can feel the way your pussy spasms around is cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down to ease you through it.

"that's it cum on daddy's cock, its all fucking yours baby, nobody can have me but you"

its only a couple more languid trusts until he's spilling is hot seed inside you with a groan of your name on his lips, hips stuttering as his grip tightens enough in a way you're sure will leave marks in the morning, body doubling over your trembling frame while he locks his hips with yours, emptying is tick load deep into your pussy.

only wen he's sure that there's no more does e finally pull out of your near limp body and gently rolls you over onto your back. peppering kisses down your torso till he settles between your legs were he begins to suck the cum out of you, causing your legs to clam around is head.

"nononono- fuck. i cant, s too much no more."

he's relentless not stopping even as your and tug at his air, pushing is tongue deep into your pussy and licking your mixed juices out of you. "just one more baby, i know you can give it to me" he's not wrong as only a second after he presses his thumb to your clit, you're cumming for the third time that evening shaking in is hold.

after tat e makes sure to clean you out as best as he can, dressing you into comfortable clothes. after cleaning himself he carries you to the guest bedroom and tucks you in deciding to leave until you reach out to him pulling him back.

he ends up wit is arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath is, drifting into a deep sleep. you're sure that in the morning the two of you will have a lot of things to talk about.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍

[thatsdemko]

my valentine - o.piastri

masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: a red lacy Valentine’s Day seems to be just the kind of thing Oscar needs…

warnings: not intended for minors + oral (f receiving) + talks of Valentine’s Day + some errors here or there

a/n: I’m baaaack! while I know this isn’t the part two to the secret Santa that’ll hopefully be here soon I’m having some trouble writing that rn… but please enjoy this!!!

what did men like on Valentine’s Day? was it lace? was it red? or was it just sex? you couldn’t decide the answer. while you stood dumbfounded and dripping in nervous sweat inside the Victoria secret, it left you no choice but to leave and hope scrolling on Amazon wouldn’t lead to the same amount of panic and overwhelm.

you’d wanted to make Valentine’s Day perfect for Oscar. with all of his training and simulator work he’s been doing this winter break, you figured he deserved something special. you perused store upon store for the ideal lingerie for that special Wednesday night, but came up with nothing.

“you’re back from the mall awfully early.” Oscar comments hearing his apartment door shut behind you.

“really? felt like I was there for ages.” you huff out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the couch, “if you were wanting something for Valentine’s Day, what would it be?” you ask staring into his big brown eyes.

a laugh escapes his lips. he’s told you infinite amount of times he wanted nothing for the silly hallmark day. he just wanted a nice meal and some quiet time with you. what more could a man ask for? it was a door you never wanted to open, but you knew there was more to it.

“please don’t buy me anything—“

“oh no it’s not like that.” you cut him off, the heat returns to your cheeks when he looks over at you with a knowing look. you sink further into the couch cushions hoping to disappear, but his eyes stay glued to your growing redness.

“well then I guess I’ve always liked the color red on you.”

—

the red lace underneath your pajamas is uncomfortable. you’re unsure how anyone woman could deal with the deep wedge of material up their ass, and the sheer itching against their stomachs, but you figure you can power through. it’s just one night— well that’s unless Oscar decides the 10 dollar red lace bodysuit was to stay permanently.

you hear the lock of your apartment free, and the door swing behind him indicating Oscar and the carry out food had arrived.

“darling, where are you?” he calls out from the kitchen, and taking no time to wait for you. he’s unpacked the styrofoam containers from the bag, opening his box, he takes in a few bites of food that attempted to spill out the container.

reaching for a napkin to clean up his mess, he quickly glances up to see if you’ve made your way in only to stop in his tracks, jaw nearly smack to the floor at the sight of red.

“you look—“ he doesn’t get the chance to begin, there’s not a word he can find to finish the sentence, because whatever it was he was already feeling against his pants.

moving around the counter, he finds himself in front of you where he can see just how much you’re doing to him with so little. a giggle escapes your lips as you pull his face to yours, “did you want to eat first?” you ask.

shaking his head he whispers a no, before placing his hands against your hips, finger tips gently trail the red lace up your body, “I want you first.”

it’s not a long walk to your bedroom, but it feels like ages for him. every second he doesn’t have his hands on you is a waste, and when he finally does get them, it’s not wasted removing the lace from your body revealing every part of you faster than you expected him to do.

he takes the second to fumble with the condom, his fingers shake with anticipation, it’s almost like the first time you’d done it in your relationship. the nerves got to you both, trying to figure out what worked and didn’t, but now, you’d say your pros. knowing the ins and outs of each others bodies, like how he favored your lips around his dick and you liked his fingers inside of you. with time, you learned all of this.

this was a gift on its own, one that had him dripping in precum and aching to get inside you. and when the condom finally was secured, he, once again, didn’t waste a second to find your cunt and fuck you.

his hips grind against yours creating warmth between your bodies. his hair falls across his forehead that you can barely see with the blur of pleasure in your eyes.

he doesn’t say much. he never does, but he doesn’t hesitate to praise you, adore you, and remind you of how lucky he is.

“you’re so good to me,” he’s saying, transitioning from being inside you, his lips travel across your warm skin all the way down to your hips. his fingers gently nudge your thighs open, and you get the hint, “let me do this for you, my valentine.”

you’re unsure if it was the kisses, the words, or his warm tongue against your wet folds, but one of them got the air stuck in your throat. there’s nothing more than you love than the sound of Oscar eating you out. the slurps, the hum— all of it. the sounds were pleasing to your ears, even more so than the action itself you were gripping the sheets.

he’s edging you, playing you. its ridiculous and maybe you deserve it. after all, you’d put the idea of you in red in his head days ago and he’d been unable to concentrate. the patterns of floral dancing across your chest, a low cut neckline, he’d wanted it all— or none of it if you’d decided that. but you deserved this in some way. you’d been the one to send his dick rock hard any hour or second of the day.

“osc,” the moan comes out more like a pity plea. the chuckle against your pussy sent a chill down your spine and a twirl in your stomach. so you deserved that much, you thought, but this? not letting you come? too much.

“I’m gonna come,” the words spill as does the warmth out of you, his face covered in you wasn’t something he could ever be mad about, but not giving him the chance to edge you? you’ll be paying for that later.

“I wasn’t finished.” he slides a finger inside, barely giving you time to rest and recover, “you fucked with my mind all week.” he groans at the very sight of you from a couple minutes ago. he wished he’d taken a picture, saved it for later, but he was too antsy. his pants did the thinking more than his head. and that’s why he’s stuck his finger in your pussy.

he loves the sound of you. moans, groans, whines, whatever it was. he knew you liked the way he rubbed your clit, the way he kept going until he felt the shake of the frame against him, and that’s when he removed his fingers letting you come.

“what a jackass.” you swear closing your legs up and pushing yourself up off the mattress to find your clothes, “didn’t even let me cum on your fingers, like it’s not Valentine’s Day—“

he shuts you up with a soft kiss, “I think we should eat first before another round.” his words hang in the air as he watches the anger sizzle out of you, “and I want you in that red thing again.”

“anything for you, my valentine.”

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @leclerc13 @smoothopz @imsorare @lpab @lunnnix @frreyaa

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

where’s your doppelgänger? | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

you could never memorize the train system, no matter how many years you’ve taken it. you’ll be stuck staring at the maps for twenty minutes and not remember which way leads uptown. but when you’re with spencer you could be blissfully tugged along as he seamlessly weaves through the crowds of commuters, making sure you’re tucked close to his back.

“so we’re gonna take the red line up to jefferson street then the green line all the way to apple road.” both of you stood near the back of the platform, watching strangers scurry like ants to and fro this afternoon.

“that guy reminds me of hotch,” leaning in close to spencer’s side as you pointed a subtle finger towards the well dressed man. his dark hair was nearly combed, his navy blue suit was well pressed and his posture was stick straight while he held a book in one hand.

“could be his doppelgänger. statistically everyone should have one to three look a likes. your eyes see the person you know but also identify the new traits that form the other face, helping you separate the two.” his mouth spewing out these facts easily from his lips as you gazed his profile.

an unclear intercom announced something just as your first train pulled into its platform. spencer lead both of you to a pair of forward facing seats, you beside the window and him next to the walkway. “should take twenty minutes if uninterrupted,” spencer estimated.

the first few minutes neither spoke, just let the noisy tracks sing their song. “what do you think your other selves are doing?” shoulders bumping into each other with the swaying of the cart.

spencer’s thumb rubbed along your knuckles as your joined digits sat atop his thigh. “maybe one got to fulfill my childhood dream.” his low voice got particularly swallowed from a loud screech. you leaned in a bit closer and raised your voice to ask, “which is?”

spencer ducked his chin to his chest as he mumbled and you had to ask for him to repeat it. “a- a cowboy,” his eyes partially catching yours.

you couldn’t help the coo that slipped free, “now that would be a sight.” softly giggling at the pastel hue warming spencer’s cheeks. that caused spencer to chuckle sheepishly, “yeah. don’t think i’d be hired.” nervously he scratched behind his ear.

you let your eyes trail over his pointed features, “loved to see you in a hat though. bet you’ll look ever dashing.” freely flirting and enjoying the flushed pink on his apples under the fluorescent lights.

“what about your second one?” nudging his knee to redirect the conversation. spencer hummed in thought, the wheels filled most of the noise along with someone sneezing and a baby giving a small whine. “maybe a professor, like my mom. but i think my intelligence with all my doppelgänger’s would be lower than mine.”

“pure perfection as your mother would say.” giving a squeeze to his hand as your bodies moved with the stopping train. spencer lead both of you out and towards the second train, “got about five minutes before it arrives.” he lead both of you to a bench.

“i kinda wish one of my doppelgängers is living somewhere peacefully in europe. always a small dream of mine that i don’t know when i’ll ever peruse.” letting your mouth speak your thoughts openly. you leaned your head against spencer shoulder, a dreamy gaze filtering over the well maintained but still slightly dirty subway.

“i think one of yours would be a florist. probably somewhere in italy where many people visit you.” spencer spoke softly as he gave your joined hands a slight sway. both of you just tucked away into shadow as you wait.

“lovers would buy bouquets and friends would buy singles. family’s would buy many vases and i would wonder if it’s for something happy or somber. i’ll get to see small glimpses of people’s lives or make my own story for them.” creating this alternative world that you personally could live, or someone similar to you is living life in the present.

“another one could possibly be a journalist, or you’ll still be a liaison, just in a different department. you’re very good at dealing with the press, talking with people sincerely. you’d always make sure the pure truth was told and- what?”

spencer stopped talking as his eyes locked with yours, his brows scrunching at the front. “did- did i say something?”

you could feel your lips stretching into a lovesick smile as you stared at your boyfriend. “i- i just really wanna kiss you, but we’re in public and i know how you feel about pda-“

“i’ll allow it this time.” “…wait, really?”

spencer smiled shyly, “yeah. besides i know you’re not gonna jump me here. a kiss isn’t bad.” he just shrugged as his eyes bounced around.

with your free left hand your palm cupped spencer’s cheek to turn his face in your direction. “i love you a lot, like a crazy amount.” letting your thumb smooth the skin under his eye. you leaned in quickly to press your lips to spencer’s, staying for a moment then pulling away just as you hear the screeching of wheels on tracks.

“best get moving before they leave without us.” taking the lead on moving the two of you onto the chariot towards your museum date.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Eleven — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader receives a much-needed pep talk in Velaris and gets thinking. Azriel receives a lecture in Windhaven by a frustrated Rhysand. Reader is surprised by an unexpected visitor to the City of Starlight.

Word count:

Warnings: A little bit of smut, 18+, minors dni.

Velaris feels like an entire world away from Windhaven.

You’ve been here only once before, when, as mischievous fourteen-year-olds, Rhysand had brought you. The High Lord had been in another court on business, which had seemed like the perfect time for Rhys to show you his other home. Only, his father had returned early, and had thundered — hard enough to shake the mountains — about strangers entering the shielded city without formal invitation. Not you, nor Cassian, nor Azriel, had been back since.

And that lingering encounter was why, when Roza brought you here three days earlier, you’d been nervous about coming face-to-face with the High Lord yet again.

But the handsome, roguish male had merely given you a long, slow perusal, and then smiled a charming smile — about the only thing Rhys seems to have inherited from him — and welcomed you to his home for as long as you do so please.

It’s tranquil, there’s no doubt about that. Light and airy and so beautiful that you can forget, for a time, that there’s a world outside the City of Starlight. You’ve spent the last three days at Roza’s side, exploring the city and helping her run light errands, and attending to her at the end of the day when the pregnancy tires her out.

The High Lord — Finadar, or Fin, as you’ve learned most people call him — does no such thing. He does not visit his pregnant mate after long, tiring days. Does not summon her.

Despite the growing new arrival in her belly, there’s a distinct lack of love between the two of them that surprises you, perhaps more than anything else.

But tonight, with Roza joining him for a public appearance, you’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time in three days. And you’re desperate to do anything to fight them off.

You wander the long, spacious halls of the High Lord’s opulent home, warm, despite the brutal mountain range that stands guard around it. This is a level of luxury you were never built for, and don’t quite know what to do with. You read from Roza’s broad selection of literature, and gorge on sweets in the kitchen, and slide along the polished floors on your socks, because why the fuck not.

It’s better than thinking. Anything is better than thinking.

But as the night wears on and the silence gets too loud, it’s hard to keep deeper thoughts at bay. Your heart aches relentlessly over the broken shards of your loving friendship group that you don’t know how to glue back together. Your mind swoons longingly over old memories, old smiles. You’re a hollow vessel of complications, and regrets, and excruciating love—

“I heard you were here.” A trilling voice echoes from the far end of the hall you’re traversing.

You turn, and you think you might choke out a strangled noise of relief at the sight of shimmering, golden curls and warm, brown eyes, huge like a doe’s.

Mor looks far better than the last time you saw her, that’s for sure. She’s always radiant, no matter what she has going on, but the sun-kissed glimmer has returned to her skin, and the gaunt fragility from her hardships has been snuffed out by delicious, enviable curves.

You’re in front of her in what feels like a few great strides, and she’s cupping your face in her hands and kissing both of your cheeks.

“I’ve missed you.” You breathe, realising, in that moment, just how much you have. She doesn’t spend as much time in Windhaven as she used to, and gods, the absence of a sincere female friend is a weighty one.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Concern fills her eyes as she studies you.

“Rhys, Az and Cass aren’t here. It’s just me—”

“I know.” She links her arm through yours. “And let’s be glad of it. I’ve had enough of males to last me a damn eternity.” She’s barely taken a few steps forward before she’s stopping and studying you again. “Roza tells me you’re having a hard time.”

Just like that, you feel yourself begin to crumble. There’s something about the concern of others that utterly obliterates the walls you try to craft around yourself.

And at the first glimpse of tears filling your eyes, Mor is tugging you along again.

“Come.” She says. “I know where the High Lord keeps his stash of booze.”

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“You don’t ever come to Windhaven anymore. Why is that?”

There’s the slightest tensing in the set of Mor’s shoulders as she returns the stopper to a decanter containing dark amber liquid. She turns, handing you a glass.

“I figured you knew.” She says. “My father is being strict about me not spending time there.”

On some level, you think you did know. It’s not hard to figure it out.

For a time, Mor was a pretty frequent member of your friendship group, visiting as often as she could — until a few years ago, when a fight broke out between Cassian and Rhys, and then Mor just stopped coming around. The matter was swept under the rug and not mentioned again. But with her father being so strict—

“Ah.” You murmur, the pieces clicking into place. “Cass, huh?”

Mor snorts softly. “Yes. Cass.” She shakes her head fondly. “Before you ask, no, I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that. It was just…a choice I made for myself. And I’ve never regretted it, even if my father is determined to make my life hell because of it. But I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Her eyes rake over you. “Tell me everything.”

So, you do. The words come spilling out of you in a flurry of shame and heartache. You tell her every damn detail and spare none. And when you’re finally done, you take a breath and wonder — not for the first time — how the fuck you’ve managed to create this situation for yourself.

Mor frowns at you. “I—” She seems genuinely speechless. “Cauldron, I thought my situation was complicated.”

You shake your head. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Mor.”

“Why haven’t you told Azriel how you feel?”

“I wanted to. Gods, I planned to. But I supposed walking in on him and Kaeda made me realise that there’s no point.”

“First of all, that’s bullshit.” She takes a seat opposite you. “Love is one of very few things that there is always a point to. Your self-loathing my try to convince you otherwise, but it’s always better to be honest and face whatever outcome than suffer in silence and wonder what would have been.”

You open your mouth, but she’s holding up a hand.

“Secondly, I don’t like the sound of this Kaeda one bit. I know almost nothing about Fenlaros, but what I do know is that she must have some sort of backing — not just that of her Camp Lord father — that gives her the ability to flounce in and out of a rival camp at her leisure without a single consequence. And that tells me she’s up to something. And that makes me nervous that it’s Azriel, of all people, that she’s attached herself to. Not that Az isn’t a total catch — of course, he is. But he’s also a very, very rare gift who always has sights set on him. I’d wager that that plays into Kaeda’s interest somewhere.”

You fall still in your seat, staring back at her.

You feel damn stupid for not seeing what she’s laid out before you with such clarity.

“You…don’t believe Kaeda’s interest in Az is genuine?” You ask. “I wondered why she was hanging around Windhaven, but I didn’t think…”

“I think she has ulterior motives.” Mor shrugs. “And if Az is in a blinding haze of lust — or even love — it’s not something he’s going to see for himself. He’ll need proof.”

“How could I possibly give him proof of something I’m not even certain about myself?”

“Perhaps you should play Kaeda at her own game. Do some sniffing around her and see what you find out. You’d only be looking out for Az, after all.”

Would you, though? You can’t deny that your feelings, your jealousy, would play a part. You should want, for Azriel’s sake, Kaeda to be genuine, whether your heart would get broken or not. But what you truly want is to show Az that—

That you’re better for him than she ever would be.

You want nothing more from or for him, than to make him happy.

You drag your lower lip between your teeth in thought. “What if it blew up in my face, though? I could just…end up making Az even more mad at me than he already is.”

“Which brings me to my third point. Why are you allowing Az to act like you’ve done anything wrong?”

“I slept with Cassian…”

“Welcome to the club. Tell me, Y/N. are you tied down to anyone?”

“Well, no—”

“Did you and Az agree to only have sexual relations with each other?”

“No—”

“Have you ever sworn off exploring such things with your other friends?”

“No, Mor.”

“Then Azriel has no right to be freezing you out the way he is. Is it messy? Yes. Have you created some tricky drama for yourself? Also yes. But he’s a damn hypocrite if he’s chastising you in one breath and jumping into bed with Kaeda in another.”

“That’s the thing, though.” Your gaze lowers to the table. “He says he hasn’t done anything with Kaeda, and I don’t think he would lie about that. I think…had I slept with anyone outside of our circle, perhaps he wouldn’t have cared. But it being Cassian is just…a bit too close to home for him. Especially given that Az and I were doing things, too.”

The gorgeous blonde rolls her eyes. “So, it’s an ego thing. Give me a break. If he didn’t want you to sleep with anybody else, he should have communicated that. You both should have communicated better.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Listen…Az will sulk for a little while, because that’s just what males do. He clearly has things he needs to work through, and when he has, you should talk. But in the meantime, perhaps you should try to find some more out about Kaeda and her intentions — for no other reason than that Azriel is your closest friend and you’re looking out for him. Perhaps being in Velaris is a blessing in disguise — I’m sure the High Lord could tell you a thing or two about the Fenlaros lot, if you ask nicely.”

So wise, so brilliant, is Mor. A female with such a good head on her shoulders, despite an environment that tries to wreck her.

She just…rationalises things, in a way that you’re not able to. And you hadn’t even considered talking to the High Lord.

You take a slow, pensive draw from your glass as you think on it. And then you’re deciding, “Perhaps I will speak with the High Lord. There’s nothing wrong with showing an interest in a rival camp, after all.”

“No.” Mor flashes a feral grin. “There is not.”

Perhaps it’s selfish, something felt at Azriel’s expense — but setting yourself a little task like this is precisely what you need.

You’ve wondered for a while what the hell Kaeda is doing in Windhaven. You’re determined to find out, one way or another.

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Rhysand is balls deep and utterly lost in the male beneath him.

The noises that fill the room are sinful.

Midnight-kissed moans and panting as breathy and ethereal as a winter-chilled breeze.

This has been a long time coming, and Rhys is just so glad, in that moment, that he finally gets to be inside Zakai, that he thrusts deep and captures him in a full kiss. Zakai growls and grabs his ass, encouraging those thrusts.

Honestly? Rhys fucking needs this pleasure. Never did he think he’d actually be glad to get away to his room at the dormitories, but he needs a godsdamned break. Cassian’s sulking at the cottage has become unbearable since Roza swept Y/N off to Velaris.

If Cass and Az don’t sort their shit out soon, Rhys might just launch them off the peak of the nearest mountain.

Of course, they’d probably fight each other suspended in thin air, instead.

But he banishes those thoughts and gives himself entirely to Zakai, reaching down to fist at the pretty male’s cock. Neither of them will last long. This sex has been too highly anticipated, and it feels too good, and—

And the door is practically kicked in behind them. Azriel strides in as if it’s his fucking room.

“Get out, Az.” Rhys snarls, not faltering.

Az does not, in fact, get out. “Is it true Roza has taken Y/N to Ve—”

“For fuck’s sake.” He pulls out of Zakai with complete reluctance, grabbing clothes to cover them both. Zakai exhales a long sigh and tips his head back.

“Well?” Az demands. “Is it true?”

Rhys yanks some undershorts on. “Three days ago. You’d have found out sooner if you’d just quit your sulking and talk to us.”

“Why has she gone there?”

Zakai clears his throat, awkwardly shucking his clothes on. “Perhaps I should go…”

“No.” Rhys says.

But Az counters it with a dismissive, “Yes.”

The poor male stares between the two of them, and while he may have just been lying beneath the future High Lord, he doesn’t feel like getting in the way of a temperamental shadowsinger.

Rhys releases a yielding breath and grits his teeth. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Zak.”

That’s all it takes for his pretty lover to leave, sex now a distant memory. Azriel shuts the door behind him.

“So?” He rounds on Rhys. “Why is Y/N in Velaris?”

Rhys rolls his eyes at his tone. It’s not exactly any use for Az to be frantic now. Bit too late for that, he thinks.

“Because she needed a break from this place. From you and Cass and Kaeda.”

“I told Y/N that Kaeda and I have not done anything.”

“And maybe you haven’t, Azriel. That’s your business entirely.” He throws himself onto the bed. “But have you stopped for five fucking seconds, amidst your brooding and self-pitying, to consider how it might have made Y/N feel to be the practice run?”

Azriel goes preternaturally still. Doesn’t know what to say.

And that’s fine, Rhys reckons, because he’s nowhere near fucking finished.

“You explored that intimacy with her under the pretence that you were merely refining those skills for another female’s benefit.” He continues. “Whether it was initially Y/N’s idea or not, you should have recognised right away that she deserves better than that. And then you had the absolute fucking audacity to get mad at her for sleeping with Cassian, at the same time she would naturally assume you were sleeping with Kaeda, when you actually have no right to be angry. So what if she slept with Cass? So what, Azriel, that she fell into the arms of somebody who actually made her feel chosen, and not like she was just a stepping stone to a greater pleasure?”

Silence.

Stunned, heavy silence.

This room is far too small for such strong, impassioned words. They hang threateningly in the air, and Azriel feels like he’s watching them fly towards him in slow motion like poison arrows closing in on their target.

And then the shadowsinger croaks, finally, “It’s not—like that. I never wanted it to be like that.”

Rhys shrugs. “I’m not sure you even know what you intended, Az. The whole thing is one big mess. I mean…why haven’t you had sex with Kaeda, if that’s what you were practicing for? Do you even like her?”

Az says nothing.

The lack of an answer is precisely what Rhys is expecting. Even makes his lips kick up into a smile.

He thinks he’s pretty damn wise, does Rhysand.

“I’ll wager,” he goes on, eyeing Az knowingly, “that the practice wasn’t about Kaeda at all. Perhaps it was, the very first time Y/N offered.” He rests his hands behind his head. “But then something happened between the two of you — perhaps a kiss, maybe even some touching, and you were struck down by a realisation that the rest of us saw coming years ago. That what exists between you and Y/N goes beyond friendship. What you have is something special. And getting a little taster of that under the ruse of practice sent you on a downward spiral. So many emotions. So much angst. Suddenly, you were acting irrationally, getting into fights. Not over Kaeda, no, but over Y/N. Seeing her with other males makes you feel sick to your stomach. And that is why you’re so angry with Cassian. Because he had sex with Y/N, and you want her, not Kaeda. You love her.”

Well.

Azriel may as well be standing there stark naked, for all Rhys has stripped him bare.

He feels like his skin has been peeled from his bones and a patchwork of ugly truths lies in its place. He wouldn’t be overly surprised to glance down and see writing covering every inch of his body in bold, alarming ink that reads: I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N. I AM JEALOUS AND ARROGANT AND SELFISH. I AM SCARED.

He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t budge. “I never meant to make her feel like that.” He damn near wheezes, the words punching their way out of his lungs.

Rhys softens a little. “We know that, Az. But as long as you try to run from your feelings, you’ll be kicking dirt up at the people behind you.”

“I don’t…don’t know what to do — about anything.”

“You just need to stop trying to fool yourself. You need to make use of your space from Y/N and figure out what, exactly, it is you want, and what, exactly, you’re going to do about it. You need to accept that mistakes have been made all round, but not one of them is unable to be fixed. And you should start by mending things with Cassian.”

On instinct, Az scowls. He may know Rhys is right — and damn him for it, too — but he still can’t help being angry at Cass. The thought of his hands on Y/N—

“Wipe that look off your face, Azriel.” Rhys says drily. “You both know you miss each other, and you’re just as miserable as one another because of it. I’m not saying you should fix it today or even tomorrow — take your time to brood, if you like — but something has to give eventually. And if you won’t fix things for your sakes, do it for mine. Perhaps then I’ll be able to fuck Zakai and actually finish.”

This — these glimmers of wisdom and authority and reason — are like a little window into what Rhysand will one day be like as High Lord of the Night Court.

Azriel is glad of his friendship, his counsel. Even if he’s not quite ready to act on the advice yet.

“It’ll all be alright, Az.” Rhys says, studying him. The shadowsinger looks…lost. “But you should take the time to work things out before Y/N returns to Windhaven. She doesn’t need any more drama, and neither do you.”

Right again, of course.

Az can only manage to clear his throat and nod, before rasping out a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”

Rhys dips his chin. “I do love you, you know. I wouldn’t put sex aside for a conversation with just anyone.”

His answering smile is unconvincing. “I love you, too.”

“And you love Cass. So don’t wait too long to talk to him.”

Azriel inclines his chin. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

The shadowsinger shoots him one last look that says far more than he can articulate in that moment. And then he’s slipping out of the room.

And as he walks away, he can’t stop his thoughts from venturing to Fenlaros.

To how lost he would be without Rhys — and Cass, too — if he really did leave them behind.

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Roza is so godsdamned beautiful.

You can’t help feeling a little awestruck as you stand behind her, gently combing a brush through her night-black hair.

She stares into the mirror of her dressing table, her face a sheet of serene beauty. Through her nightgown, the swell of her bump shows proudly.

She seems pensive tonight, quieter than usual. Every few seconds, your gaze creeps to her reflection. Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can I ask you something?” You part the strands of her hair, beginning to tie them into a braid.

Roza’s eyes lift to yours. “Of course, my love.”

It takes you a long moment to work out how, exactly, to diplomatically word what you’re thinking. You imagine it might be a touchy subject.

“…You and the High Lord….” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You’re not…not quite what I expected — together, I mean.”

You’ve never seen a mating bond up close, but you’ve read about them enough to know that they should be intense, passionate, a love that is so altering that it’s almost gut-wrenching. You expected to catch a glimpse of that with Roza and Finadar, to see a bond that you may never have the honour of experiencing yourself, for how rare it supposedly is.

What you didn’t expect was the huge distance that exists between them. Not a single person could miss it.

There’s no desperation to see each other, be in one another’s company. They sleep in their own quarters of the house and only seem to come together for public appearances. The whole thing is…bizarre.

Roza smiles wryly at you in the mirror. “You mean, you didn’t expect the High Lord and I to be as separated as we are?”

“I just figured…with a mating bond…”

“A lot of weight is placed on a mating bond, little dove.” She swivels on the stool to face you properly. “I had the same thought as you, when I was younger. Fin and I tried to love one another, but…the fact of the matter is that mating bonds aren’t always right. He and I are so different, and sometimes that can be a beautiful thing. But in our case, it certainly is not.”

Your eyes fall down to her bump. “But the babe…”

“This babe was conceived on a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive whim that shouldn’t have happened. Not that I regret it.” Her hand strokes over her bump. “But sex and love are two very different things. Fin and I do not love each other. I’m only in Velaris because he only trusts his healer to see me through this pregnancy. We are mates in the loosest definition, but we are not committed to each other. And he has no problem reminding me of that, with all the females he invites to his bed as though I’m not in the same damn house as him. He’s an arrogant, salacious lech — but he’s also the father of my children, and my High Lord, too. So I choose not to confront it, because I don’t care enough to. The babe and I will be back in Windhaven soon enough.”

It makes your heart ache, makes you feel sick, to think that Roza is on the receiving end of such treatment. She deserves better. Deserves the world. Someone who will worship her like the goddess she damn well is.

It terrifies you to think that…that you could just as easily find yourself trapped in such a dire situation.

“What worries you?” Her violet eyes are soft, warm, as she reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek.

You place the hairbrush down, leaning against the dressing table. Your hand finds hers with a sad desperation. “Is love doomed, Roza? Is it real? If a mating bond can’t hold up, what hope do I have—”

“You have all the hope, dove. And as you should. You will love, and you will be loved. You just need to have the courage to face it and all that it comes with. Fin and I are a bad match. But there’s no reason to believe you’ll see the same fate. So just…don’t give up. Be brave and love.”

Tears blur your eyes as you stare down at her. You can’t stop yourself from moving your joined hands, both yours and hers, to rest on her bump. “This babe is the luckiest child in the entire world to have you for their mother.” You whisper. “And I will be honoured, Roza, to help you in any way I can when they’re born.”

She lifts your hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. “And I will be honoured to have you by my side.” She cracks a smile. “Perhaps you can start with making me some ginger tea before bed.”

A soft, breathy laugh leaves you. “Of course.”

Her beautiful smile follows you out of the room and into the dark, empty hallways. You feel strangely at peace tonight, more so than you have for a long while. Most likely thanks to Mor’s pep talk.

But after you’re done in the kitchen, a steaming cup of ginger tea clutched in your hands, a pair of booming male voices reach you from the antechamber. It piques your interest at once.

One voice is certainly that of the High Lord, but the other sounds somewhat familiar, too — like it’s one you’ve heard before, but not enough to place who it belongs to. It’s a dangerous, gruff baritone of a voice that seems almost impossibly deep.

You should mind your business, walk away…but it seems strange for the High Lord to receive a guest so late at night. Seems…clandestine, in nature.

And so you stay light on your feet, inching towards the door and peering through to the giant, opulent antechamber.

And that’s when you see the High Lord leading Tathaln Baralas, Kaeda’s father, in the direction of his study.

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

[harmonysanreads]

Hello !!! I hope you’re doing fine and enjoyed last patch quest! I really really love your writing, and especially like the way you write Ratio,,,,, that yandere Drabble you posted a while ago with Ratio and Aventurine sharing reader has been haunting me in the best ways <33

Since your request are open, could I ask for a one-shot of yandere Ratio and Aventurine? If it’s fine I’ll ask for reader to be shy/introverted but otherwise I’ll leave it up to your inspiration! Maybe about life at home, or visit in Penacony? Maybe they’re tormenting Reader through strip-poker? Maybe Ratio was inspired by the shrinking device and now they’re having fun with their pocket-sized darling? Anything you fancy I’m not difficult, I only ask you have fun!! <3

(I assumed your no-sequel rule only applied to one-shot, I deeply apologise if I was wrong fjekjdksjd)

Inure

yandere!aventurine x reader x yandere!dr ratio

cw(s) : yandere, forced proximity, slight dehumanization (but everything is sauteed in humor so bon appetit ✨)

wc : 1k

hi nonnie!! thank you so much for your sweet words<3 tbh every idea you presented was very enticing and i'll definitely keep them in consideration for later. for now though, i really wanted to write something soft for these two, i hope you don't mind :>

Inconveniences come in many forms.

Some more candid than most, while others lurk in the shadows of carelessness like hyenas ; ready to pounce on the unsuspecting prey at the opportune time. Trouble and tribulation eclipse the course of human life, masquerading as two sides of the same coin. What they are, in truth, a pair of mischievous twins who are always watching, evaluating and trapping their victims in elation-filled jumpscares. It is also true that woes differ based on the individual, some even see fit to opine that the source of misery is the individual themselves.

Your vexations however, are dictated by two idiosyncratic persons with interests as farther apart as two solar systems. Which isn't a lot if one considers the magnificence of the universe, but distanced enough to be the tillable land of your miseries. Said inconveniences usually arrive dressed as revoked privileges, confiscation of entertainment items and... movie nights.

A night where you're supposed to be enjoying a film as a group shouldn't have been such an adversity if the aforementioned individuals respected the bare minimum of being normal. On usual occasions, who you end up accompanying is maintained through a strict schedule as opposed to the much friskier notion of rolling-dices that was favored by a certain blonde (in which he always emerged victorious and was thus declared irrationally imbalanced by Veritas) — but, an unforseen lapse of management and chaos was bred.

In matters that concern you, it seemed as though even the most seamless co-operations failed to reach a simple consensus. So when the erudite Dr Ratio expressed eagerness to spend a ‘relaxing afternoon’ with your person, it clashed quite clamorously with Aventurine's desire to have you participate in one of his many adrenaline-high games. And because of the decrease in release of dopamine that came from being a frequent observer of their arguments, you ended up suggesting this dreadful activity ; Ratio's silent perusal by your left and Aventurine's equally quiet phone browsing by your right are all that remains of the earlier fiasco.

You consider it a shame, because unbeknownst to them, you actually were plotting ways to watch this particular film. But, when at approximately fifteen minutes into the story you realized you were the only one among you three that was paying it any attention at all — you felt, quite blatantly, deflated. Surprisingly though, that was not the main source of your current misery at all, no, no ; what was causing you distress was the deplorable portion of space that they alloted to you from the couch.

At least Ratio has the habit of crossing his legs subconsciously, making your life just a miniscule easier. Unlike Aventurine whose default setting is to be attached to any patch of your skin anytime you're within his radius and when he brings that to the cauldron of being compressed between him and Ratio — it perfectly justifies why you're dancing between the provocative lines of mild annoyance and a meltdown. You'd believe they forgot about your existence altogether if not for Ratio's definitely-not-intentional shifting and the without context headpats from Aventurine.

Their treatment, although (probably) not deliberate, suggest you to be the equivalent of the pampered housecat and if one was to generously point out the expression on your face at present, that allegation would be right.

You stifle a sigh that transitions into a yawn with your only friend in this dreadful world, your plush pillow. The dialogues exchanged by the actors in the movie gradually become unintelligible as your vision morphs into a kaleidoscope of black dots and patterns. You draw your knees closer until they become parallel to your chin, musing a scenario where you lean so into the couch that it swallows your form and hurls you into a wonderland free of covetous hands or hearts. Where you could roam without eyes attached to every move you make and most importantly, where the notion of inconveniences would cease to exist.

You've seen it happen in shows a younger you indulged in and a passing thought makes you smile sardonically ; the world is so bizarre that you've effortlessly found yourself in a situation as complex as your current one but, not bizarre enough to make fantasies such as these a reality. The noises from the screen, Ratio's nonchalant page turning and the fragrance of Aventurine's cologne make your lucidity sway, until darkness cradles you close.

That night, you found yourself having a rather tender dream. In your dream, the blonde promptly busied himself in positioning you more comfortably on his lap upon feeling your slumbering head hit his shoulder. You felt succinctly amused upon the ‘place the pillow under their head, moron!’ that left a certain virtuoso's lips. Said virtuoso, shifted the rest of your body to be rested on his lap with a gentleness that baffled even Aventurine. Some say that dreams are manifestations of the desires that stay stagnant within the crevices of our minds. If that theory holds even a fraction of credence, then the percipience of what your subconscious desires, leaves you feeling as solemn as sated.

By the hour you gain awareness of the waking world again, there is but silence surrounding the living room. Your first blink is followed by a series of more and your sense of feeling works faster before your sense of sight, it sticks quite insistently just above your knees and atop your head. You roll a bit and realize they are in fact the hands of Ratio and Aventurine respectively, holding you away from kissing the floor and cracking your nose. As your vision gains more clarity, you notice the purple-head, supported by the palm of his left hand and the arm of the couch. You rise up and notice Aventurine mirroring Ratio's position, you conclude them both to be asleep judging by their collective inertia despite your movements.

Your eyes shift downwards towards the pillow on which you rested moments before and seeing it positioned exactly atop Aventurine's lap, confirm your suspicions that the scene you witnessed in your sleep had, in fact, happened in reality. Perhaps the universe heard your hopeless plea and bargained it with this speck of generosity.

They really didn't move an inch — but the bubbling warmth was soon pushed down by — as if I was a cat they didn't want to disturb!

being treated like a cat by two of the most cat-like characters in hsr lol

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 

“Shit!” 

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?” 

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

[thebunnednun]

You're my Coffee

Shouta Aizawa x Pro hero/Teacher! Reader

Summary:

After a distressing call from a Japanese hospital, you learn your friend Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) has briefly awoken from her coma and is desperately screaming for you.

She makes a final request: take care of her students if she doesn't survive.

So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.

Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new pretty art teacher and soon so is their handsome grump of a teacher.

With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.

All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------

The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.

In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.

Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.

"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.

Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.

Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.

The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance. 

Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.

Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes. 

Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "

Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose. 

The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"

Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.

Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"

Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.

"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this. 

He needed this. 

"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.

"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.

Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.

Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.

Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.

Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.

Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.

Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.

Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.

"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.

Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.

Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air. 

Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book. 

"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.

Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"

Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.

Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options. 

Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.

Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.

"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.

In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints. 

"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.

Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.

Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd. 

Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.

Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.

Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.

As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices. 

Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.

"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.

Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"

With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.

When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously. 

Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.

Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"

Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire. 

Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.

"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative. 

Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's. 

She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.

The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.

The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.

"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative. 

"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."

Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.

"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.

They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.

"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."

Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.

Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.

There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.

---

As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!" 

"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.

Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.

Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.

The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.

In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.

"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..

"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.

"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.

"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."

As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.

Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."

Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.

Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."

“Ugh, lame!”

Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.” 

After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”

“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.

"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."

With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.

Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude. 

Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed. 

Seemed to recognize me?

Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.

He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.

But he knew he couldn’t sleep. 

Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.

"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.

“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”

Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that. 

"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.

“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”

“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.

As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.

“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. 

The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering. 

The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze,  the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.

As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.

He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.

In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,

---

As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall. 

Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background. 

“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”

Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"

“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.

"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.

A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."

"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."

Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."

There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."

The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.

"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace. 

For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.

The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized. 

Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.

Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone. 

And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.

---

Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket. 

In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion. 

Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.

Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. 

She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.

The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions. 

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure. 

His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.

In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters. 

Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused. 

He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.

How it mocked him now. 

Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night. 

Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.

In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape. 

The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.

Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides. 

Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told. 

They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.

In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm. 

Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.

Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war  zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace. 

In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness. 

Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay. 

Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off. 

Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet.  The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.

The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.

The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young. 

And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals. 

Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.

Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.

His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma. 

He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity. 

Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.

Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.

Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered. 

As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?

Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.

He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes. 

Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.

Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews. 

Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering. 

Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.

He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.

Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer. 

The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.

It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.

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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 2 is here.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou x Sugar Baby Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[liminal-space-lesbian]

I said no gore!

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of gore, brief mentions of sex, uhhh bad writing?

Summary: (request) You're head over heels for Tara. You do everything and anything for her, despite her friends teasing. You follow her like a lost puppy, opening every door and carrying her things. You'd do anything for her, including watching a movie with a little too much gore for your tastes.

Words: 1,631

You were walking on campus with Chad and Mindy when the three of you met up with Tara. You quickly took her book bag from her and slung it over your shoulder without a second thought, causing Tara to smile at you brightly.

"Tara can carry her own bag you know, you don't have to do everything for her." Mindy says with an exasperated sigh. You frown at her, shifting the weight of Tara's bag higher up your shoulder.

"Yeah, but just because she can doesn't mean she should." You say indignantly as you step in front of Tara to open the door for her, causing Mindy to roll her eyes.

"You two are seriously so cute it's disgusting." Mindy teases with a grin as her and Chad walk through the door you're still holding. You blush, glancing at Tara who places a quick kiss on your cheek, taking your hand in hers as you walk. Your heart flutters at how warm and soft her hand is in yours. You absentmindedly rub the scar on the back of her hand with your thumb as you walk.

"Hey, don't act like you're not an absolute simp for Anika." Chad teases, playfully swatting his sisters shoulder. Mindy fake gags at him.

"Ew, did you seriously just say the word 'simp'?" She mocks, screwing her face into a sour expression. Chad rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, isn't that what the kids are saying nowadays?" He jokes and Mindy gives an exaggerated shudder.

"Never say something like that again." She complains as the four of you arrive at Sam's apartment. The group of you pile inside, and you take your shoes off at the door, carefully setting them to the side. Once Tara takes hers off you grab them and set them beside yours neatly.

"Honey I'm home!" Mindy calls, dumping her bag on the kitchen table and strutting into the living room to flop down on the couch. Sam peeks out of the kitchen where a burning smell is emanating from.

"Hi guys! Uh- I tried to cook but it didn't end well so, pizza is on the way." She says with a sheepish smile, causing Tara to chuckle.

"Sam I thought you learned your lesson after burning pasta?" She teases as she leads you over to the couch after you set down your bags near the table.

"Well I thought maybe I had learned from my mistakes but I guess not." Sam says, with a resigned sigh. She joins your group in the living room where Mindy is perusing through horror movies.

You settle on the couch , pulling Tara down to sit across your lap comfortably. She flashes you a grateful smile, kissing your forehead as she leans into you, shifting slightly until she is more comfortable. You wrap your arms around her waist, resting your hands on her hip. You notice Sam's pointed glare on your hand so you politely shift it a bit higher until she turns her piecing gaze away from you.

"Can we watch Friday the 13th?" Tara requests as Mindy continues searching. Mindy snaps her fingers and points at Tara.

"That's a good one." She says as she pulls out the dvd from the shelf and puts it in. You squirm, shooting Tara a pleading look.

"Tara can we not watch something gory?" You plead quietly, pressing your nose into her shoulder shyly. She shoots you a sympathetic look.

"It's not that bad, I promise." She comforts, gently brushing some hair out of your face. You sigh, resigned to the horror movie already.

"Okay fine. Just warn me when gory scenes are coming up, please." You ask quietly, to which Tara nods in agreement quickly.

"I will, don't worry." She reassures, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before turning her attention back to the screen where the movie is starting.

~ ~ ~

She lied.

Well, not really. Tara just has a different definition of gory than you do.

"Taraaaa." You whine, shutting your eyes and pressing your face into her neck to hide from the bloody scene on screen. Your stomach churned, your half eaten pizza slice left untouched on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry! I honestly forgot how bad this scene was." Tara apologizes, soothingly stroking your hair. Your body was stiff at the sounds of the victims screams coming from the tv.

"I have to use the bathroom." You came up with an excuse, carefully moving Tara off your lap as you stood up and slipped off down the hallway. You shut the bathroom door behind you quietly. You let out a sigh, tension melting from your body at the quiet comforting hum of the bathroom fan. A nice change to the screams from the movie.

"Y/n, can I come in?" Tara's voice quietly calls from the other side of the door, accompanied by a knock. You sigh, opening the door to be met with Tara's puppydog eyes and a pout. "I'm sorry, really. If you want we can go to my room and watch Barbie on my laptop?" She offers, a hesitant smile adorning her lips. You melted under her gaze, stepping forward to wrap your arms around her waist.

"it's okay, we can finish the movie. It's not that big of a deal, I know you love Friday the 13th." You insist, wanting nothing more than for Tara to be happy. She shoots you a scowl and presses her finger to the center of your forehead.

"No, I want you to be happy too. I don't want you to suffer through a movie just because it's something I want, I want to do something we both enjoy." She insists, searching your gaze as she gently runs her fingers along your brow and down the side of your face.

"Well you don't like Barbie." You protest, and Tara cant help but let out a chuckle, shaking her head slightly.

"Then we can watch something else. Plus I wouldn't mind having some alone time with you anyways." She insists, kissing the corner of your mouth tenderly. You melt further into her arms and relent.

"Okay. You get to pick the movie though." You say, your eyes scanning over her features. You smile slightly as you count her freckles, causing her to blush.

"Okay fine, just stop staring at me like that weirdo." She teases, gently pushing your face away with the palm of her hand. You laugh as she leads you towards her room, pausing in the livingroom to announce you two were going to bed early.

"Ew, please don't have sex you guys these walls are not as soundproof as you think." Mindy complains, scrunching up her nose in distaste. Sam's eyes narrow at her words and she shoots you a look that has you stepping slightly behind Tara in fear.

"Oh my God, you guys we're going to sleep, leave us alone." Tara complains as she rolls her eyes, dragging you behind her towards your bedroom.

"Mhm, to sleep together!" Mindy calls after you, cackling as Chad chastises her.

"Goodnight!" Tara shouts back before slamming her bedroom door shut with a sigh. "So what if we were going to have sex anyways, it's not like you're loud." Tara complains as she climbs into bed, piling up pillows for you two to lean up against. You reach over and grab her laptop, handing it to her without even being asked. She flashes a grateful smile at you in return.

"Well... I mean I'm not loud..." You trail off, looking meaningfully at Tara, who gasps at you in betrayal. She grabs a stray pillow and smacks you over the head with it, causing you to dramatically flop on the bed.

"Owww Tara you're so mean." You whine, covering your head with your hands as you writhe around in exaggerated pain. You hear Tara tut, heaving a sigh as she was surely rolling her pretty eyes.

"Okay drama queen, want to watch Legally Blonde?" She asks, pulling your hands away from your face gently. When your eyes met you grinned up at her, rolling onto your stomach and shimmying up to cuddle into her side, peering down at her laptop screen.

"Yes ma'am." You reply softly as you tuck your head under Tara's chin, wrapping your arm around her torso. You tilted your face into her collarbone and inhaled deeply, her raspberry and vanilla soap filling your senses causing you to hum contentedly.

"You're so weird." Tara chuckles as you kiss her collarbone and turn your attention back to the screen.

"What? You smell good, okay." You protest, shuffling impossibly closer to Tara as 'Perfect Day' began to play from her laptop speaker as the movie began.

"Mm whatever you say." Tara replies, a smile obvious in her voice. You settle in, falling into a peaceful silence as the movie plays. Your mind lingers on Tara however, and you can't help but feel warmth fill your chest. The fact she was willing to stop watching her favorite movie and come cuddle in bed with you instead was just too sweet. Sure it was a little thing, but it still made you feel impossibly important and loved.

"I love you." You murmur, turning to place a kiss on the column of Tara's throat. Her hand comes up to gently play with your hair as she glances down at you, her expression soft.

"I love you too." She responds, a smile curving at her lips as she leaned down to kiss you. Her lips were soft and tasted like pizza, causing you to smile into the kiss.

"Now be quiet and watch the movie." She says affectionately when she breaks the kiss, causing you to chuckle. Quieting down, you return your attention back to the laptop screen.

a/n hope this was good! because I got really off track LMAO

[moremaybank]

Oml I just saw a tiktok from a girl pranking her boyfriend in calling him her husband to another person… and now I need to know how jj would react

BETTT OMG HE'D BE SO GIDDY. also side note i loved writing this, like i live for fluffly!jj so tysm for this, mwah

You and JJ sat across from each other at a candlelit table, enjoying a quiet date night. You perused the menu, and you couldn't help but feel the urge to play a little joke on him.

When the waiter came around to take your drink orders, you had a playful glint in your eye as you spoke up.

"A margarita for myself, and a beer for my husband, please."

JJ's eyes widened at the unexpected comment. The waiter left them, and he turned to you with the giddiest smile you'd ever seen him sport. He was blushing profusely, the rose hue creeping up his neck.

"Husband, huh?" He asked, stars dancing around in his eyes though he was teasing you.

You shrugged, playing it cool but secretly relishing in his excited reaction. "I mean, that's what you are, right?"

He grinned even wider, leaning up over the table and taking your face into his hands. His lips pressed kisses all over your face, not an inch of your skin going untouched by them.

For the rest of the night, he was so elated that he was telling everyone that you were his wife. He ordered dessert for you, proudly bragging about you and your new title. "Yeah, my wife," he spoke, wagging his eyebrows at you, "...is going to have the brownie sundae. Extra whipped cream."

Then, an elderly couple held the door open for you two when you were leaving, and JJ couldn't help himself. "Thanks, gotta get the wife home."

Upon your arrival at home, you saw one of your neighbour's children playing outside, kicking a soccer ball around. The kid eyed you, noticeably developing a schoolboy crush on you. JJ glared at him. "Hey, kid. Keep lookin' at my wife like that 'n I'll deflate that ball faster than you can blink."

And if you thought that was all, it most definitely wasn't. He practically threw you onto your shared bed, kissing down your body and worshipping you. Praises filled your ears, straight from his lips. My wife is fuckin' perfect, taking my cock so well. Taste so goddamn good, wifey. This pussy's so fuckin' tight, gonna slap a ring on that finger 'n knock you up so everyone knows it's mine.

aaand now i'm passing out

concepts

[peachdues]

*flops into the asks*

For the 2k requests again! may I request the fluff prompt of: Late-night pregnancy cravings

For: Kyojuro, Giyu, Sanemi, Tengen, Obanai and/or Yoriichi? 🥰

I'm a sucker for cute sweet paternal/pregnancy moments 🥹🥰😅

Thank you for the request!

PREGNANCY CRAVINGS

♧TENGEN UZUI♧

Peach's 2.k Milestone Event

CW: none, just fluff

The estate of the Sound Pillar was silent, save for the occasional faint snore of Suma, near your ear, as the young woman’s arm was draped snugly around your middle.

Your growing middle, that is.

You were the first of Lord Tengen's wives to fall pregnant, and the Estate was abuzz with excitement over the prospect that in just a few, short months, a tiny little bundle of joy would arrive for all of them to dote on.

Of course, none was more excited than your dear, Lord-Husband, who had dropped to his knees and sobbed upon hearing the news, tears of happiness nearly dampening your hair as sure as any rain shower as he'd tugged you in close to his chest. Once Suma had joined in on the tearful party, you looked as though you'd been dunked thoroughly in the Estate onsen.

You were far enough along that your kimonos had to be loosened to accommodate your growing belly. Truthfully, you didn't mind so much that your attire had seemed to shrink overnight, as it was far preferable to the first few months of your pregnancy, where you'd spent most of your time hunched over a bucket, unable to keep down even the soothing miso and ginger broth that Hinatsuru had labored over making for you.

In fact, you'd lost a bit of weight during those first couple of months; so much so, that Lord Tengen had been ready to haul you to his comrade's estate for an evaluation, when, just like that, your stomach stopped rioting against you and instead, you found yourself situated with a hunger that could not -- would not -- be tamed.

Speaking of said hunger, you thought as you tried to roll out of your wife's comforting embrace, gently, so you wouldn't stir her, you were starving. And you had the strongest craving for...well, you couldn't quite figure out what you wanted, but you were sure a quick perusal of the food supply at the other end of the estate would solve all of your worries.

Though pregnant, you still retained your kunoichi reflexes, so as swiftly as a fox, you slid out of Suma's arms, stuffing a pillow between them before the young woman realized she'd lost her cuddle buddy. With a deft silence, you padded over your other two wives, both sleeping soundly in their futons, and made your way on your tiptoes towards the kitchen.

Dawn was still over an hour off, and your husband had yet to return home from his latest mission, though you were not worried too much; he'd said not to expect him for at least another couple of days.

The estate kitchen was silent as you slid the door open, though, as if the child in your womb could sense where you were, your stomach rumbled so loudly, you were shocked that your wives didn't appear behind you, thinking a small earthquake had shaken them awake.

"Oh, hush you," you chided gently, pressing a hand against the growing swell of your belly. "I'm working on it."

You began to sift through the cupboards and ice box, searching for anything that would soothe the nagging hunger in your gut. Your eyes had just landed on a small glass jar of pink, pickled onions that made your mouth water when you felt a slight disturbance in the air behind you. You tensed only for a moment before relaxing, recognizing the musky scent of your husband's sweat, mixed in with the faintest hint of cherry blossoms.

"I didn't expect to see you up so early, Mama," the rich timbre of Tengen's voice was soothing as his warmth approached you from behind. You turned right as his hands found either side of your hips, your husband kneeling down before you to press his ear against the gentle curve of your stomach. "How are my girls this morning?"

You snorted, carding your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands of his silvery hair. "You don't know for sure whether it's a girl, husband."

Tengen's lips grazed over your belly button as he rained reverent kisses against the swell of your womb. "I'm tellin' ya, the heartbeat sounds like a girl's." He grinned. "Strong, too, just like her parents."

Tengen rested his forehead against where you grew his child for a moment, before standing, towering over you, though the hand he brought to rest against your cheek was gentle, as though you might break beneath his touch. "Now, why're you out of bed, gorgeous? You need your rest."

You nodded to the jar of pickled onions that had caught your eye the moment before the Sound Hashira had breezed into his home. "Baby's hungry, I'm afraid."

Tengen hummed in disapproval, as he began moving amongst the cabinets and pulling out various dishes and ingredients. "Why didn't you wake one of the other girls? You know they'd bend over backwards to help ya out -- you need your rest."

Your hand tugged on his sizeable bicep, trying to get him to put down the wok he'd produced so that he could go rest. "For the same reason I don't want you cooking -- you all need your rest. I'm fine."

But your little tugs had no effect on the man as he turned away from the iron stove to kiss you, once on the nose. "Hey, if my girls' are hungry, it's daddy's job to provide."