#this is what i mean about like. i’m curious and figuring this stuff out the hard way kdsjhjdks

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] Tsuzuru Minagi | [R] Casually Showing Skin Mode | L3tt3r Fr0m A Gy4ru

Tsuzuru: (And I’m finally done with classes for the day. Okay, guess I’ll head home—.)

Tsuzuru: (Hm? That’s quite the crowd. Wonder what’s going on…)

Taichi: Ah, Tsuzuru-kuuun!

Juza: Good work.

Tsuzuru: Oh, so you guys are here too. Is there some kinda event going on or something?

Taichi: I dunno, we just got here. It sure is busy. Wonder what’s up.

Juza: Huh, there’s a whole lotta stuff here. They’ve got random things, books, ‘n even household appliances lined up.

Tsuzuru: Ahh, I get it… It’s probably a reuse market.

Taichi: Reuse market?

Tsuzuru: It’s a kinda on-campus event where students who are about to graduate give away things they don’t need anymore to younger students.

Juza: Now that ya mention it, you got a book of short stories at the last one, didn’t ya, Tsuzuru-san?

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I was curious about this one that one of the upperclassmen told me about, but it happened to be out of print.

Taichi: Damn, lucky! Where’s that book now?

Tsuzuru: After I finished reading it, I started passing it around the company to anyone who wanted to read it.

Tsuzuru: That reminds me, I wonder who’s got it now…

Taichi: Who are the ones who wanted to read it?

Tsuzuru: Umm, Miyoshi-san, and Takato-san have already read it… And I think Furuichi-san and Tsukioka-san said they were interested too.

Juza: I’m interested in readin’ it too.

Tsuzuru: Gotcha. I’ll bring it over to you whenever I get it back then, Juza.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: I’m back.

Tsuzuru: (...Huh, did I leave a book out on my desk…?)

Tsuzuru: (Ah, that was the book we were just talking about. What perfect timing to get it back. I’ll go and bring it over to Juza right aw—.)

*Paper falls out of the book*

Tsuzuru: …Hm? Did something just fall out of it?

Tsuzuru: A note?

Thx 4 l3nding m3 thiz, Tzr-kun. I w4z rlly impr3zz3d w h0w clvr th3 f0r3shad0wing w4z. Th3 nam3z of th3 flwrz n th3 flwr l4ngu4g3 m3nti0n3d n th3 prlg s3nt such 4 shvr d0wn my spin3 tht I rlzd tht th3 clprt mightv3 4ctlly b33n TwT nstd 0f xD. If I w3r3 t0 pl4y tht r0l3, M sur3 thtz wht I wld d0…

Tsuzuru: The hell…? Is this a cipher or a prank or something?

Tsuzuru: —Ah.

Tsuzuru: Is this… that gyaru-speak thing?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Tsuzuru: Jeez, he better still be here…

Omi: Welcome back.

Izumi: Hey, Tsuzuru-kun, would you rather have curry udon or soy milk curry hotpot for dinner tonight?

Tsuzuru: Aren’t both of them still curry? Well, it was pretty cold today,  so hotpot would be…

Tsuzuru: Wait, that’s not what I’m here for! Is Miyoshi-san here?

Omi: Kazunari’s in the kitchen.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Lookin’ for me~?

Tsuzuru: The hell is this? I literally can’t read any of it…

Kazunari: Oh, gyaru-speak! What’s this about?

Tsuzuru: What do you mean ‘what’s this about’...? You didn’t write this?

Tsuzuru: It was stuck in the book I just got back, and you’re the only one who would write something like this, Miyoshi-san…

Kazunari: Ermm~, well, it wasn’t me.

Tsuzuru: What? But if it’s not you, then the people who I lent the book to after you were Takato-san, Furuichi-san, Tsukioka-san—.

Tsuzuru: No, it had to have been you, Miyoshi-san.

Izumi: Maybe if you read the note you’ll be able to figure out who wrote it?

Tsuzuru: Right. Umm—.

Tsuzuru: …

Tsuzuru: Yeah, not happening. I’ve got no clue what it says no matter how hard I try to read it…

Izumi: Let me see. …Umm, I can’t read it either.

Omi: Those don’t even look like sentences to me.

Tsuzuru: Damnit. What are we gonna do…?

Kazunari: I’ve gotcha, fam. I’ve got this gyaru-speak translator website.

Kazunari: Just gotta take a pic, scan the text, and… copy-paste and translate ♪

Tsuzuru: That’s incredible… So, what does it say?

Kazunari: “Thank you for lending me this, Tsuzuru-kun. I was really impressed with how clever the foreshadowing was. The names of the flowers and the flower language mentioned in the prologue—.”

Kazunari: “Sent such a shiver down my spine that I realized that the culprit might’ve actually been crying instead of laughing.”

Kazunari: “If I were to play that role, I’m sure that’s probably what I would do…”

Kazunari: Wait, could this be…

Tsumugi: I’m back~.

Tsuzuru: Perfect timing. Um, Tsukioka-san. About this note…

Tsumugi: Ah! Thank you for the book, it was really interesting.

Tsuzuru: No, not that…! Did you write this, Tsukioka-san?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Ah, did I forget to write my name on it?

Tsuzuru: Forget about that! Why is it in gyaru-speak!?

Tsumugi: Kazu-kun told me that gyaru stuff and gyaru-speak are really popular nowadays, so I tried using it.

Kazunari: Ohh~, yeah, so, I might’ve told TsumuTsumu about that translation website the other day…

Tsuzuru: So it WAS because of you!

Tsumugi: Ahaha, maybe I should’ve written it normally. Sorry, my bad.

Izumi: I never would’ve thought it was you, Tsumugi. That was quite a surprise.

Omi: Yeah. Good thing we figured it all out.

Kazunari: But like, wasn’t it kinda fun? It was like a little cipher game.

Tsumugi: Yeah, and it was really easy to do. Why don’t we recommend it to the others?

Kazunari: Banger idea, bestie! I bet RonRon and Taicchan would eat this up, don’tcha think?

Tsumugi: I bet Azuma-san and Homare-san would enjoy it too.

Tsuzuru: Wait! Quit trying to come up with weird trends!

[dragon-creates]

Funnybunny Week 2025

Prompt: Merch

AU: Madness AU by @allhailthequeenuwu

AO3

Jax held back laughter as he watched Pomni throw on her oversized hoodie, the sleeves too big for her arms and the ends flopping over her wrists. He never understood why she couldn’t wait until a smaller size came in, but then again he wouldn’t be able to see how cute she looked while wearing it. 

She paused after zipping up her hoodie, raising a brow at him, “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing…shortstack,” he gave her a shit eating grin. 

“I will kick your shins!” she pouted, stomping her foot.

His laughter echoed throughout the hotel room, ruffling her hair, “I’m teasing you songbird, you look cute.”

Her cheeks flushed, “You better. Now, how about our date?”

Jax’s eyes softened, taking her hand in his, “Sounds perfect.”

.

.

.

They had stopped by a diner in the mall, Pomni’s disguise giving her that freedom to feel like herself while being with the man she loved. She loved her fans and her career as an idol, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to feel normal without the pressing eyes of her audience and paparazzi. 

It’s why she cherished these moments with Jax, he always made her feel like a normal girl living a typical life with her goofy boyfriend. 

After finishing their meal, they continued their trek through the mall until coming across a window of a shop - pausing when they saw what was inside. 

Pomni paled.

Jax wheezed.

It was her new figurine, doing her signature stage pose with a peace sign and a heel lift.  

“Oh my god!” Jax snickered. “You look so cute!”

“Will you keep your voice down?!” she hissed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he wiped away a tear of mirth. “It’s just-it’s an even smaller version of you!”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she crossed her arms, shaking her head at him.

“Oh I’m the worst, huh?” he smirked. “Wanna see me be even worse?”

Pomni furrowed her brows in confusion, until her eyes widened in mortification, “Don’t you dare!”

She tried to grab his arm, but Jax was quick enough to dodge her and run into the shop. Pomni was about to run after him, but she knew she’d be risking exposing her identity when seen next to the figurine. So she had no choice but to give Jax a death glare through the window as he purchased the figurine. 

Pomni growled as he walked back out, “Are you pleased with yourself?”

“Very much,” Jax snickered. “Come on, I think this stuff is really impressive. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come in your career. Seeing this stuff just reminds me how incredible you are, songbird.”

She was still pouting, but couldn’t help but blush at his words, “You mean it?”

“Always,” he reached his arm out and pulled her close, kissing her forehead. Pomni relaxed into his hold, letting herself smile. “Although, out of curiosity. How much do you make off this stuff?”

Pomni pulled her head away to glare at him again, “Seriously.”

“I’m genuinely curious!” He said in defense.

Pomni grumbled, “...two billion…monthly.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Jax exclaimed.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Pomni rushed, covering his mouth with her hand.

“DUDE HOW ARE YOU CALM ABOUT THIS?!” He grinned when he grabbed her hands, cackling as she tried to grab at him.

“You’re the worst,” she cried, flopping her face into his chest.”

“I know,” he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “But you love me anyway, right?”

“...yes.”

“Heh, thought so.”

.

.

.

Gangle wandered into Jax’s room, some of her laundry had accidentally been mixed up with his so she wanted to quickly grab it while he was out. She searched through the messy pile on his bed until finally grabbing her red, fluffy cloak. She was about to turn and head out when she gasped at what she saw on his bedside stand.

It was a Pomni figurine! It was a rare item that had been sold out years ago and hadn’t been on the market since! How did Jax get a hold of one?!

Gangle picked it up carefully, running her hand over the plastic hair. She was so caught up in her excitement that she didn’t notice the tall figure entering the room behind her.

“What are you doing in my room?”

Gangle jumped, whipping round when she saw Jax - his eyes darkening. “Oh, Jax!” She squeaked. 

His fists clenched when he saw what she was holding, “Put that down.”

“W-what?” Gangle looked down at the figurine. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just got excited, I never knew you were a fan of Pomni-”

“DON’T SAY HER NAME! LET GO!” He screamed, snatching the figurine out of her hands as Gangle yelped. “DON’T TOUCH MY FUCKING STUFF!”

The ribboned woman sniffed, “I-I’m sorry. I just thought-”

“JUST GET OUT! GET OUT!” He pushed her out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Gangle whimpered, running down the hall.

In his room, Jax held onto the figurine tight. He couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face when looking at her familiar face. There was a hole that she had left behind that he couldn’t fill.  He wanted her back. He wanted her back so bad.

He sank to the floor, pressing his forehead against the doll’s. He wanted his songbird back.

[quibbs126]

I really do wish Ovenbreak would give some of its older characters Cookie Trials

I know I say that a lot, but like, today I decided “you know what, I’m gonna try out Avocado Cookie”, but like, I don’t really have much I can do with her, other than like, practice runs on Trophy Race (I mean I think she’s also on one of the Champion’s League Maps, but she’s too underleveled and I’m saving up Potions for the next update). And same thing with Sparkling. These are two Cookies I have never used and don’t really ever have a reason to use because there’s nothing to use them for

Just give old Cookies something, please

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

actually in my defense i do know guitars way less than i know basses so this is actually driving me nuts. there is NOTHING on that headstock. I don’t know how to guess at a brand or style by body shape. it’s painted completely red except for the tuners and fretboard. come on give me SOMETHING to go on-

[holydramon]

reading spoilers for the new 02 movie and so far my thoughts are just “huh what”

[hoshigray]

Can i request toji doing this to reader 👉👈

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: YEEEEEESSSS!!! I mean–ahem–yes, you may request this delicious prompt ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (presses and swiping) - Daddy kink - missionary position - praises - unprotected sex (no release on Toji's part, tho) - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing, sweetie) - voice kink - Toji being a teaseing bastard, lawl - implied prior masturbation.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“Haaah…Toji—Mmmm!“

“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetie…Did’ya sleep well?”

It’s not unusual for you to be asleep when Toji returns home from work, especially when he’s been away for more than three nights. 

But, fuck, when he returns home, all he can think about is having your soft frame in his starved grasp.

You lay so peacefully on his bed, your man watching the rise and fall of your figure and listening to your snore while he quietly enters the room. Once he drops his stuff down, he’ll crawl up to be atop you, emerald eyes scanning every feature of your beautiful face he wants to kiss so badly. 

And the truth is that you’re just as touch starved as he is, left here to await his return while he’s doing God-knows-what (you’re unaware of his assassin gig) and worrying about his absence. But when you awake to the smooth sensation of your lips being pressed on, you don’t scream or holler; far from that. Instead, you kiss back and open your sleepy eyes to see the grown man above you. 

“To…ji?” Your voice is strained with exhaustion yet curious. 

The dark-haired man shushes you with his lips onto yours, moaning with you while his hands spread your legs for him to lay comfortably between. “Missed ya, mama,” his gruff voice so low that your stomach immediately flips at the erotical tone. 

“I missed you, too,” you admit in between smooches, and you melt when he cups your cheeks to keep your face with his. “Missed you so…Hmmm…”

More kisses have you relax, his scarred mouth trailing down to suck on the skin of your neck to listen to more of your sweet gasps. “Yeah? My baby missed me?” You chew your lips as he whispers in your ear, and your hips instinctively move at the motion of his hand, palming the groin of your shorts. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me while I was gone? ‘Cuz I sure was.” 

“Yesss,” your answer slurred by the lick and kiss to your helix. “Yes, I ha—Aaah!”

His hand sneaks inside the hem of your shorts, not surprised to meet your bare cunt with his fingers. Your wetness instantly coats the rough pads of his fingertips as he nestles between your labia. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me so much that y’re all wet like this?” You can practically hear the grin uplifting the scar on his lips. “Hmm? Ya miss Daddy so much that you touch y’rself while I’m gone, huh?”

Your eyes are sewn shut at the sensation of your folds being fingered, and your lips ajar once Toji inserts his middle finger. Wiggling the digit around, scratching your walls with the blunt of his fingertips, it has you wail softly. “Yessss, missed you—Oooh! S..So much, Daddy…”

“Heh, dirty lil’ thing,” Toji’s finger goes faster, and the raven-haired man enjoying your shrieks gets a little louder, and your breath halts at his ring finger teasing your entrance. “Tell Daddy how much ya missed me.”

You arch your back at the insert of the other digit; your fatigue vanishes with every graze of the two fingers. “Haaah…Miss how you kiss me—Ahh!” He toys with your clit with the brush of his thumb. “H-How good you–Mmnn!–make me feel…” He kisses your forehead; the gentleness contrasting with the salacious squelches from your shorts causes a haze.

“Yeah? Ya like when I make ya feel good?” His fingers go faster, and the presses on your clitoris go frequently. “Just like?”

“Mmnoooh,” Toji kisses you again, this time more passionately with tongue exploring your mouth; you twitch around his digits as they curl and rub. “I…Love it!”

Toji chuckles. “That’s what I wanna hear, sweet thing,” and he removes his hand from your shorts to lick your fluids clean. “‘Cuz I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ you feel good on my way here.”

He discards your bottoms to the bedroom floor seconds before he unzips his pants and brings them down with his boxer briefs. Toji has his dick free for you to marvel at, the nether limb not yet fully erected, yet the quick pulse of it has your mouth water. He slaps the tip onto your leaky chasm; the sight makes your vagina throb. So much so that you clamp tighter as he pushes the soft tip into you. “Relax fr’ me, mama,” he coaxes you through, gradually pushing every inch of him inside. “Daddy’s gotcha, ‘kay?”

You howl inaudibly, furrowed brows as the base of his cock kisses your folds. And when he grinds his pelvis down? Jesus, you grip the sheets to serve as reins; contracts around his girth are inevitable. 

“Fuck,” he curses above you. “So warm and tight like always…”

When he begins to move, it’s at a slow pace. The feeling of his dick pushing into and pulling out of you so sensually is so erotic to your senses, especially witnessing the thing burrowing inside your warmth with your own eyes. Oh, my God, you can feel it getting stiffer, making your excitement dial-up.

The member goes firmer with every stroke, and every sensation differs from the last. His shaft stands solid inch by inch, your eyes shooting up as you become fuller by the second. One pull and push has you whimper. Another push and pull, and your toes curl at the stretch of him becoming greater. Another slow push, and you're calling for him with a shaky breath as the tip of his now solid limb lightly jabs your cervix. 

And Toji adores the view under his bow, your body reacting to his erect cock scraping your insides to the point of broken cries. “How ya feelin’, baby?” His sultry voice pulls you in as he increases the speed scarcely. 

“Daahh, s-so full,” the snicker to your ear makes you clamp on him harder. “So good…Nnoohh!! Daddy, st–Ooop! D-Don’t thrust so—” 

“Hmm? What’s up?” You don’t have to open your eyelids to see that the older man above you has a mischievous look after suddenly sneaking a quick rut to your entrance. “What; don’t like it when I go like…this?” Toji’s hips go erratically, the motion making it easy to rub on your inner walls and sweet spots to the point of shrilled shrieks leaving your lips. “Or…this?” He sluggishly pulls himself back where it’s only the tip of his shaft that’s nestled inside you, only for him to snap his hips back in a rushed second. It takes a moment for you to process and let out a scream as the cockhead pokes your delicate cervix with precision. 

Your hands frantically find his shoulders to grip his shirt, “Daddyyy, please, sl–Oooh–Slow down…! If you keep goin’, I’ll cu—….Mmmm!!” Your pleas don’t stop him; they fuel him to keep pounding into you. Balls deep for him to keep probing you with hits to the narrow end again, and your legs wrap around his waist without you thinking. How could you think? Your head kept pounding along with the climb of your orgasm, trembles climbing up your spine. 

“What’re ya holdin' it fr’, huh?” All it takes is Toji to bend to your ear once more, kissing your cheek as his pelvis slams into your aching slit. “Cum, mama. Lemme know how good y’re feelin’.” 

As if on command, your climax hits you hard, like a wave crashing down on your poor form, drowning your senses with euphoria like no other. Your cunt squeezes around Toji’s girth, your nerves spiking to a sensitive high that has you winded and cold for a moment. And the man above you hisses at the flutter of your walls; his rocking cadence slows down to relish the feeling.

You wail in ecstasy; a tiny sharp gasp leaves you from the gentle kiss he places on your forehead. 

“There ya go, sweetie,” he coos with a kiss to the chin before straightening himself. You observe him remove his shirt to dump it onto the floor, and your face becomes hotter when Toji ventures down, where his face gets closer to your wet entrance. “ All wet and ready fr’ me…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he can’t stop thinking about you) pt. 1

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou katsuki <3

read part 2 💥 part 3 (nsfw)

from the very moment you walked into the 1-a classroom, you set off a ticking time bomb in bakugou katsuki. he hated your guts.

it was early in the morning, with about 20 minutes till class started. bakugou was seated in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, when all of a sudden he hears this agitating, grating voice.

his eyes snapped open and flicked to the source of the sudden noise.

you.

you stood in the doorway, bowing and apologising refusely to fucking icyhot for running into him. bakugou took one look at your stature next to todoroki’s and huffed. ‘idiot walks into a wall and apologises. what a dimwit.’

bakugou watches as todoroki awkwardly but earnestly bows back at you with a murmured apology of his own. you pause mid-bow to shake your head, “no, no, no, this was entirely my fault!” and bakugou thinks he can feel his temple twitch when you start laughing. “god, i’m sorry, we just look so stupid right now!”

‘damn right you do, fucking morons.’ bakugou tears his gaze away from your bright smiling face and spams the volume-up button on his phone until ears (jirou) can actually overhear travis scott from his earphones and flinches beside him.

bakugou closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils. it’s way too fucking early for this.

later that day, aizawa-sensei announces that you’d be joining class 1-a as u.a.’s newest transfer student, and invites you to introduce yourself in front of the class.

you stood beside aizawa and introduce yourself with yet another beaming smile. your bright eyes roam around the classroom from face to face as you address your new classmates, until they land on bakugou, who narrows his eyes and glares at you.

bakugou feels a strange sense of satisfaction, watching you stutter mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re such an idiot, but then your eyes quickly dart away to look elsewhere and bakugou is somehow even more pissed off by you.

so he grinds his teeth and tears his gaze away from you once more to look out the window.

the rest of the week goes smoothly for you as you quickly befriended the class. with the exception of one, everyone seemed friendly and warm and genuinely interested to get to know more about you and your quirk. likewise, you were just as curious and enthusiastic about getting to know your classmates. with the exception of one.

you ignored bakugou like the plague — just as he’d wanted, bakugou thinks. you’re an eyesore, the way you’re all smiley and giggly, all of the damn time. bakugou hates it, hates the look in your eyes, like you’re so damn happy and you’re somehow just always having the time of your damn life.

‘just another fucking weakling who won’t last.’

it doesn’t take bakugou a long time to realise that his judgement of you was entirely off. you were in fact, not a weakling. you were strong, and you proved it every single time, putting your all in every training and going above and beyond with your hand stretched out to anyone who needed it, all the while with that damn smile on your face.

one training, bakugou busted one of his gauntlets. he had expected it, had already sensed that something was off when he was gearing up before training. he cursed under his breath and went to remove it, when you suddenly spawned by his side and scared the living shit out of him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but hearing your voice was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“hey, um, do you need help with that?” you asked, and bakugou freezed as you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. “your gear, i mean.”

“hah?” bakugou flares up instinctively. it’s his default response to being approached, after all. “the fuck do you know about fixing jackshit?”

“oh, um, i tinker with a bunch of random stuff sometimes, so i figured maybe i could—”

“like hell i’m gonna let some idiot like you tinker with my shit,” bakugou sneers at you, and you flinch but you don’t take a step back. “find somethin’ else ta do if yer bored, sunshine.”

“sunshine— what—” you genuinely look a little concerned and even a little offended as you guffaw over bakugou’s words. “my quirk has nothing to do with sunshine!”

“hah?! ya think i’m stupid or some shit?! ‘course i know that it’s got shit to do with the sun, moron!”

“then why in the world would you call me that?!”

“i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want, shitface!”

then, class prez tenya iida dashes to break up the “fight”. “YOU TWO!!! BAKUGOU ESPECIALLY, CEASE YOUR SQUABBLING THIS INSTANT!!! SUCH PROFANITY IS NOT BECOMING OF A FUTURE—”

later that evening, you find yourself seated on the couch watching alien: covenant in the common room with kirishima, kaminara, sero and mina. however, you’re not paying much attention to whatever that egomaniac david’s doing in the movie, you’re still dwelling on how horribly your first proper interaction with bakugou had gone.

“y/n, darling, would you please tell us what’s wrong? this is, like, the tenth time you’ve sighed, and i know david is not that hot,” mina nudges your arm with an elbow. kaminari squawks in defiance, crying out that “if david’s not hot, i’m toast!” and kirishima reassuring him that he’ll be just fine, because “david’s just not manly, man!”.

“yeah, it’s not david,” you sighed yet again, and mina facepalms so hard you wince. “sorry, it’s just, i’m still a little peeved by what happened during training today.”

“bakugou, huh?” kirishima shoots you a wry smile, nodding sympathetically. “don’t mind it too much, bakugou’s just always like that!”

“i know, i know, but why the fuck did he call me sunshine?” you groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving your face into it.

“holy shit, okay, guys, this must be really bad,” kaminari shoots up from his horrendous slouched position and grabs sero’s shoulders to shake him like it’s the end of the world. “y/n just swore, and bakugou is acting up! i mean, that doesn’t sound like bakugou at all!”

“okay, firstly, kaminari, i hate to break it to you, bud, but i swear. like, a lot,” you dropped the pillow in your lap. “secondly, what do you mean bakugou’s acting up? doesn’t he call everyone names all the time?”

“yeah, insultingly,” jirou walks by the common room and chimes in. she points at the earphone jacks dangling from her ears. “i’m “ears.””

“i’m pinky,” mina hums in agreement.

“soy-sauce face,” sero deadpans.

“dunceface!” kaminari high-fives sero.

“and bakugou calls me shitty hair,” kirishima completes with a sigh. “what did he call you again?”

“moron, sunshine, and shitface, i think?” an awkward silence falls over the room, and you frown. “what? what does that mean? does he, like, really hate the sun or something?”

“…not that i know of? but it sounds like, uh,” kirishima scratches his head and gives you another one of those wry smiles. “sounds like you don’t completely piss bakugou off.”

extras:

yes that was an abby miller reference

yes i have walked into a wall yes i apologised

i REALLY wanna watch alien romulus in cinemas soon PLS NO SPOILERS

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[quarterlifekitty]

How the boys convince, coerce and/or deceive reader into slowly (or not so slowly) allowing anal sex--

Uh I mean??? What???? Who said that?????

MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND 👀

Warning I went a little crazy on König’s in terms of depth but it’s actually a lot more on the tame side lol @machveil come pick up your man from the sleepover he frew up

cw: lotta dubcon, abuse of dynamic kinda stuff, manipulation

Gaz is catching flies with honey here. He likes to spread you open, take a good look, just tell you about everything he appreciates. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first time or the hundredth time. And eventually, it’s not just about your pussy. It’s about your little starfish. How it looks so cute— he can see it clench a little when he plays with your pussy. You laugh about how much he talks about it, but he’s all “no, I’m serious, love! It’s really pretty, y’know? And it looks so tight—“. He’s killing you with kindness about it.

You and Soap send each other porn clips all the time. Sometimes because they’re funny, or they’re gross, or because they turn you on. It’s like baiting a fishing rod sometimes. See what you’ll lure from each other. And he starts sending more and more video with anal… All quite gentle. Makes sure it’s amateur stuff so it doesn’t seem completely fake and full of pornstar moans. So it looks like a real woman is enjoying herself from it. And it’s always followed by him being like “fuck, would love to open you up like this, bonnie” (he doesn’t text in his accent ok).

Ghost is literally praying for the day when you’re too fucked stupid or anxious to stop him. Occasionally, like a shark biting a surfer, he tests you. Sees how far you’ll let him take it before you tell him to stop. He’ll press his tip to your ass, see how long it takes for you to say no, Simon. He might even act like it was a mistake. As if he couldn’t find his way to your cunt from miles away in the dark with no map. He’s just waiting for you to be either too out of your mind in pleasure to speak out, or too afraid of ruining his fun.

Price is doing the classic frog in boiling water (yes I know that’s a myth). He starts by just pressing his thumb there while he’s fucking you from behind… working you up to taking a finger. Keeps doing it until eventually, you ask him to. It feels wrong when he isn’t doing it. And so then he starts to ease you into two, and so it goes until you barely notice when he’s pulled out his cock and has it positioned right where he wants it.

König is pretty painfully fucking awkward about the affair. Saying he wants to fuck your ass is probably something that’s slipped out once or twice in the throes of passion, but he doesn’t speak of it afterward. One day when he’s deployed, he leaves some gifts in places he knows you’ll find them while he’s gone. He usually does this after he’s been on leave for a while— it softens the heartache of the separation for you, when he leaves these little gestures. And usually there’s small things— a very nice chocolate assortment in your bedside table, a few origami figures in the medicine cabinet, a decorated hair pin with fine engravings clipped onto a kitchen towel. And this time, there’s a box with a range of plugs in the bottom drawer where you keep the bedsheets, which you only change every two weeks. It’s planned so you’ll get the other gifts first, and there’s one more expensive than usual thrown in among them to butter you up. There lube, too. A perfect training set in silver. It’s up to you to choose to use them, but he knows how curious and bored you can get on your own for all that time.

Nikolai is going to convince you that it’s what you need. When you’re right on the precipice of a complete collapse— when he knows he’s fucked and coddled you into subspace. Into being suggestible. It’s when you’re on the verge of crashing from it, of dropping, breathing heavy and tears stinging your eyes that he tells you “I know what would make you calm down, malýshka.” When you’re so sensitive and vulnerable and wanting to drop back into that place where he’s everything and you’re nothing but his clay. So of course you nod— you’d have agreed to anything not to have to face your panic outside of his comforting embrace. If Nikolai says it will help, it will help. You have to believe that.

[lizziesangel]

TOM RIDDLE ⟢ soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

SDE MASTERLIST ⟢ x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4677

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

You were walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. The sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red; it was a cold day without the sun. As you approached the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted Lucas—tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin—leaning casually against the wall.

“There you are!” he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. Fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade? I’ve got some things to pick up, and I thought you could use a break from all the studying.”

You raised an eyebrow, interested. “And by ‘things,’ you mean what exactly?”

“Important stuff!” Lucas replied with mock seriousness. “Like sweets from Honeydukes and a new quill, since I keep losing mine. And, of course, we have to stop at Zonko’s—can’t leave without some supplies for our next prank on Maeve.”

You let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few years slip away. You figured you could use a shopping day—it was a Saturday after all; you could just study after. “Sounds like a plan, though I’m not sure if Maeve would be happy with another one of your ‘masterpieces’.”

“She’ll survive. Besides, I’ve got a new idea that’ll totally blow her mind; just wait and see,” Lucas nudged you playfully.

As you made your way down the long, winding path to Hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. It seemed to be lingering just out of reach; you’d seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. It had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now it was walking behind you and Lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

“Look at that,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. “It’s been following me this entire day.”

Lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. “Huh, that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Cats don’t usually follow people around for no reason.”

You crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. To your surprise, it didn’t hesitate. The cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm; its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. You smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

“I think it likes me,” you said, looking up at Lucas. “Maybe it's a stray. What do you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious expression. “It's a little too good to be true, don’t you think? A mysterious black cat following you around Hogwarts. You know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?”

“You're paranoid,” you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

“I’m cautious,” Lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. “But if you’re set on keeping it, we should make sure it’s not... I don’t know, an Animagus or something. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“You think someone’s been using this little thing to spy on me?”

Lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. “Could be, perhaps. There’s a simple charm to check for such things; it won’t hurt the cat—you have my promise.”

You stood up and took a step back, “Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s just a normal cat.”

Lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. A faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. It surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

You both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen. But the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

Lucas let out a breath, “Phew... what do you know? It’s just a regular old cat.”

“Told you,” you smirked, “looks like you’re now stuck with me and my new pet.”

The cat—as if it sensed your affectionate words—let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. You knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. A bond was already beginning to form. The only problem was the lice and many more things that were scattered across its fur.

"Alright, alright," Lucas said, laughing. "I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

With the cat in tow, you and Lucas continued down the path to Hogsmeade. The bustling village was already alive with students and locals; shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. As you entered Honeydukes, the warmth of the shop’s interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

“So, what’s your go-to sweet?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a basket, eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

“Maybe the peppermint toads?” you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. “They’re the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing.”

Lucas pulled a face, “You’re a maniac. It’s all about the fizzing whizzbees.”

Both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basket high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. At one point, Lucas tried to sneak a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

“You’re not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I'll save it for someone else.”

After stocking enough sweets to last almost a month, you and Lucas headed to Zonko’s. The shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. Lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at Hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the Weasleys.

It made you wonder if there was a Weasley in this timeline, or a Potter; surely there must—

“I’ve got it,” Lucas broke your trance, holding up a box of nose-biting teacups. “We’ll switch Maeve's regular tea with one of these. Can you imagine the look on her face?”

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re terrible.”

“Hey! You’re the one who agreed to come with me,” he replied, winking. “Makes you an accomplice.”

After spending almost an hour in Zonko’s, you finally dragged Lucas away before he bought the entire store. The two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and—in your case—also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

“Already thought of a name?” Lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

You looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. “I’m not so sure yet; maybe something like ‘Shadow’?”

“Shadow,” Lucas mused, “hm, not bad; fits the whole ‘following you everywhere’ thing it’s got going on.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat’s fur against you. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

And as you and Lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal, like you were just a regular student at Hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

You went to sleep that day feeling better already, with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

The following morning, you made your way down the main hall, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. It was officially your second week at Hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

You reached the Gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs; some of them had pancakes. They waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“Morning, y/n!” Maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. Her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “Sleep well?”

You poured yourself a glass. “Pretty well, all things considered. I think I’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

Alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “Weird ancient beds? Try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! I had Nearly Headless Nick hovering over my bed last night, telling some kind of story about jousting. I barely slept.”

“Better Nick than Peeves, though. That poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during Charms yesterday,” Maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. These girls had made everything feel… lighter. The constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. Here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forgot the real reason why you were here.

“Mm, speaking of Charms,” Maeve said, glancing at her timetable. “We’ve got it again this morning. Think Professor Flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“I certainly hope so,” Lilith spoke as quietly as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Right? I’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. Imagine being able to summon an entire plate of pastries!” Lucas exclaimed.

“As if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, Luca,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

They continued to chatter about the day ahead while you found your gaze wandering around. The students were busy with their own conversations; some were studying, others were yawning over cups of tea, while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. Everything felt so normal.

When your eyes landed on the Slytherin table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. You’d almost forgotten about him.

Tom Riddle. He was sitting at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast, speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

You looked away quickly before his group—or him—could notice you staring. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“Everything alright?”

You gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, just thinking about today.”

“Don’t worry about it too much; it’s only the second week,” Lucas smiled. “Besides, you’re part of the group now. We’re in this together.”

“No backing out,” Lilith added, and for a second, you thought you’d melted.

You smiled, relaxing. You felt it reach your eyes; a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

Breakfast continued, and so did the conversation to a more light-hearted topic: Alicia’s and Lilith’s excitement about the next Hogsmeade trip, Lucas’s plans for another elaborate prank on their dorm mate, and Maeve’s ongoing battle with Peeves. You listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

Maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if we can make it to Flitwick’s class before Luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“I resent that,” Lucas called over his shoulder, “but I do want more pastries.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the Great Hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

When you arrived at the Charms class, it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. You took a seat next to Maeve on your left side. Behind another desk with space in between you two sat another girl—Slytherin.

“Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be practicing summoning charms—Accio!” Professor Flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

An exciting murmur passed through the room. You realized how, in their fifth year, they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in Harry’s timeline you learned more defensive spells or memory spells. The difference was huge.

Summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like Accio while you could easily Obliviate someone or use the Patronus charm.

“Partner up!” Flitwick instructed. You turned to look at Maeve, who was already grinning at you.

“I’ve been practicing this all week,” Maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s see if I can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time.”

“Alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you’re responsible,” you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

Maeve pointed her wand at one of the cushions Flitwick had left for practice. “Accio cushion!” she shouted, her wand slicing through the air.

The cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. “Not bad, right?”

You clapped lightly. “That was impressive!”

Maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you. “Your turn!”

You focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. After a flick of your wand, you called out,

“Accio cushion!”

The cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and knocking you back slightly. You laughed, catching it just in time. Maeve burst into giggles beside you.

“Well, at least it's working,” you said with a grin. Putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of Tom. He was practicing at the far end of the classroom. He performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. His focus was intense, almost unnerving.

You quickly turned towards Maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

The potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool; the only source of light was flickering. A mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to Alicia at one of the tables near the back.

“Right,” Alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. “I’ve got a good feeling about today’s potion. We’re supposed to make something simple, so there’s no way I can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week.”

You snickered. “Simple or not, I still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic.”

Before Alicia could respond, Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice boomed across the room. “Today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. Quite useful for, uh, stressful situations.” He winked at the class. “—I’m sure none of you feel stressed, though.”

You could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. You could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

Slughorn’s face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. You gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup, and the fluxweed oil.

“So, you think Slughorn’s going to invite you to one of his little parties?” Alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. “Not very likely. I don’t really know what those parties are even about,” you lied. You went to one meeting with Hermione and decided to never go again. Simply a waste of time.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Well, Slughorn kinda ‘collects’ talented students. You’re smart, plus you’re new and kind. So, I’d say you're prime Slug Club material.”

You smiled at her. “We’ll see,” you said quietly. “Plus, I think Riddle is in Slug Club,” Alicia whispered.

You almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. “Sorry, what?” you gaped at her. She scoffed at you and smiled. “Don’t act dumb; I always see you looking at him.”

Your potion turned to a soft blue—that was a good sign. “What??? No, I don’t…” you mumbled and glanced over at Alicia’s cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

“Uh, Alicia... are you sure you didn’t add too much oil?” you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Y/N,”Alicia said while she kept adding oil.

“No, no, I’m serious; look at those bubbles.”

“Oh, oops,” Alicia gasped and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. “Well, at least it’s not melting this time.”

You laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. Potions was always a mix of stress and humor with Alicia. Seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

Dumbledore’s class, there was a different energy in the air. The room was spacious and bright; high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. Dumbledore was standing at the front. “Today,” Dumbledore began, “we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations: turning inanimate objects into animals. Quite the leap from last week’s matchsticks to needles, wouldn’t you say?”

Maeve leaned over to you, whispering, “What if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?”

You snickered quietly.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the students’ desks. “Your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures of your choosing: a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. Be gentle and focus.”

You pointed your wand at the stone, visualising a small bird. With clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

To your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. It fluttered its wings in confusion before hopping onto your desk.

“Well, aren’t you just the star pupil,” Maeve teased with a grin. She was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

From the front of the class, Dumbledore’s eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. You continued helping Maeve when you caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle a few rows ahead. His magic was perfect—obviously. The stone in front of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

You sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on Maeve and her furry rock. There would be plenty of time to think about Tom later, but the time was ticking, and you knew it

Shadow, the cat that you’d taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. You smiled down at him; Shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. The cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

“You like books, don’t you?” you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. Shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

The library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. You loved it in the library; it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

Wandering through the shelves, you scanned the spines of the books you passed. Every so often, you’d glance behind you to make sure Shadow was still with you. Reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for—The Founder’s Legacy: A History of Hogwarts. It was a book you needed for your Muggle Studies.

You pulled it down and tucked it under your arm, turning to leave the aisle; but when you did, you noticed Shadow was gone. “Shadow?” you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. The silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

Frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. Only a few students were scattered around the tables, their heads buried in their studies. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

At one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was Tom Riddle.

With Shadow.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of Tom’s open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. Tom didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

For a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life’s choices. Seeing Shadow so comfortable made your heart race. Tom Riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in, and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

But only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at Tom Riddle.

So, you summoned up your courage and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

“Looking for this?” His voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. Shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against Tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

Hearing Tom’s voice changed something in you; a warm feeling spread through you.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. “I didn’t realise he’d wandered off.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you’d noticed in class. Then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind Shadow’s ear. The cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

“He seems to like me,” Tom observed. You had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. “He’s a friendly one.”

“I can see.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for Shadow. “Well, I should get him out of your way; he’s probably disturbing your reading. Or studying, or whatever…”

Tom didn’t move at first, and for a brief second, you thought he might not let you take back your cat. But then he pulled his hand back. Shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

You cradled Shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

You felt Tom’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Not everything that follows you is harmless.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Was that a warning? Or something more? Before you could reply, Tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened

A chill ran down your spine as you hugged Shadow closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you turned around.

Tom’s cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. You were halfway to the library’s entrance when you spotted Lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

“There you are!” he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library’s strict silence policy. He walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where Tom was sitting. “I saw you over there, chatting with Riddle.”

“Yeah... Shadow wandered over to him,” you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but Lucas’s presence helped a bit.

Lucas smiled. “Look, I’m just gonna say it: I’ve seen you stare at him at times, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Whatever he’s said to you—”

“He said something about not everything that follows you is harmless,” you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

“Okay, stop. That’s freakishly creepy,” Lucas gaped, stealing a glance at Tom. “Just... try to ignore him. Riddle’s either got everyone thinking he’s the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he’s bloody weird.”

Your curiosity piqued. “And what do you think?”

Lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. His grin returned. “Both.”

You chuckled at his bluntness. “Both?”

You walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. “Yeah, he’s good looking. I mean, objectively speaking,” Lucas said. “But there’s something about him that’s off. Like, he’s too good at... well, everything. It's unnatural; people are drawn to him, but they’re also... I don’t know, scared of him. You know? Even if they don't want to admit it.”

You nodded, thinking back to how Tom had looked at you—the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. There was definitely something unnerving about him. “He’s strange. Almost like he’s always one step ahead of everyone.”

“Exactly,” Lucas agreed. “It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to. Trust me, best to keep your distance.”

“I wasn’t planning on making friends with him,” you said, shifting Shadow in your arms. The cat blinked lazily up at you.

“Good, I’ve got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle,” Lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You let out a laugh. “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll be sure to tell you first if I get in over my head.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll be there, wand at the ready.”

The two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with Tom slowly began to ease. Lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about Riddle. Did you get what you came for? Or are we heading back in for round two of ‘Tom the Cat Whisperer’?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more rounds with him for today, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. But I do think I might’ve left my book in there.”

Lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. And if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. I won’t judge you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Please. You know I prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“See? That’s the right attitude.” He gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “Stick with me. I’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. As strange and intense as things had become, Lucas was a constant source of light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[specshroom]

hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

[its-avalon-08]

can you write for max or carlos a fic where the reader is a billionaire and max or carlos is just a normal person with a 9-5 except that they don’t know reader is rich until she leaves her bank account open on her laptop or something similar? ❤️

money money money must be funny (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - carlos!not a driver, romance

Carlos Sainz wasn’t the type to snoop. He respected Y/N’s space—her home, her things, her boundaries. But today, as he casually walked into her apartment after work to wait for her, something caught his eye. Her laptop was on the kitchen counter, lid slightly ajar, and the screen had gone dark, but the faint hum of the device meant it was still on.

He didn’t mean to look. He really didn’t. But as he reached over to close it, a notification pinged, revealing her bank account summary. The number on the screen wasn’t just large—it was staggering. It looked more like a jackpot figure than an average person’s savings account.

Carlos froze. His thoughts swirled like a whirlwind. Was this even real? Had she won the lottery? Was Y/N secretly a crypto genius?

A loud buzz from his phone brought him back to reality—Y/N had texted that she’d be back in an hour. His first instinct was to laugh it off. She was probably just babysitting some wealthy CEO’s account or something. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces started to fit.

That expensive bag she’d said was “on sale”? The first-edition watch she gave him for his birthday? And the sleek new car she drove, claiming it was a "company lease"?

He shut the laptop and paced around the apartment, fighting the urge to overthink. Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not trust him? Was she afraid of how he’d react?

When Y/N walked in, all smiles and carrying takeout, Carlos decided to play it cool.

“Hey, cariño,” she greeted, setting the bags down on the counter. “Hope you weren’t bored waiting for me.”

“Not at all,” he said, forcing a smile. “How was your day?”

“The usual. Meetings, emails, surviving on coffee. Yours?”

Carlos shrugged. “Not bad. I ran into something interesting, though.”

“Oh?” she asked, unpacking the food.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, leaning against the counter. “I was browsing online earlier. You know, just random stuff. Came across this site that sells luxury bags. That brand you have—you said it was on sale, right?”

Y/N’s hands froze for a millisecond before she quickly recovered. “Uh, yeah. Got lucky, I guess. Why?”

Carlos tilted his head, pretending to think. “Just curious. Even on sale, they’re pretty pricey. Like… really pricey.”

She chuckled nervously. “Well, it was a one-time splurge. A treat-yourself moment.”

“Hmm,” he said, letting it drop—for now.

Later, while they were eating, he casually gestured to his watch. “You know, my coworkers keep asking me where I got this. I mean, it’s not every day you see something like this.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Really? Well, you deserve nice things.”

“True,” he said with a small smirk. “But I don’t think I could ever afford something like this on my own.”

She looked down at her food, her fork hovering mid-air. “Carlos, I—”

“You know,” he interrupted, trying to sound playful, “you never told me how you got it. Or that car. Or… well, a lot of things, actually.”

Y/N’s eyes darted up to meet his. “What are you trying to say?”

Carlos leaned back, giving her a pointed look. “Nothing. Just making conversation.”

She laughed nervously, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I guess I’m just good at finding deals.”

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “Must be a talent of yours.”

The rest of the evening passed in a strange tension. Carlos didn’t push further, but the weight of unspoken questions lingered between them. Every now and then, he’d make an offhand comment—about the high-tech gadgets in her apartment or the exclusive restaurants she “managed to snag reservations for.”

By the time Y/N excused herself to shower, Carlos was left alone with his thoughts again. He wasn’t angry, not really. But he was confused. Why hide something like this? Did she think he’d judge her?

As the sound of running water filled the apartment, Carlos sat on the couch, staring at his watch. He traced the edges of it with his thumb, his mind racing.

He loved her—he truly did. But for the first time since they’d been together, he wasn’t sure he fully knew her.

--

Carlos’s birthday started like any other day—quiet, unassuming, and, as far as he was concerned, just another regular weekday. But when he walked into Y/N’s apartment that evening, he realized how wrong he’d been.

The entire living room was transformed. Gold and black balloons floated in clusters, streamers lined the walls, and a massive “Happy Birthday, Carlos” banner stretched across the ceiling. The dining table was set with a feast fit for a Michelin-starred restaurant—complete with candles, a perfectly plated cake, and his favorite wine.

“You did all this?” Carlos asked, his eyes wide as he took it all in.

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, beaming, wearing a sleek dress that looked straight out of a fashion magazine. “Surprise!”

Carlos couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t have to go this far, cariño.”

“Of course, I did,” she said, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve the best.”

He took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the effort she’d gone to. But the gifts sitting on the table caught his attention—each one wrapped immaculately in expensive-looking paper.

“Are those… all for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “Open them and see.”

He started unwrapping them one by one. First, a designer leather jacket. Then, a limited-edition pair of sneakers he’d mentioned in passing months ago. And finally, a watch—sleek, elegant, and undoubtedly expensive.

Carlos held it up, speechless. “Y/N… this is—”

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Like it?” he said, shaking his head. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It’s worth it,” she said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Carlos pulled her into a hug, his mind racing. As they swayed gently, his voice was low but teasing. “You know, between the jacket, the sneakers, and this watch… you’re starting to spoil me. I might get used to it.”

She laughed nervously, her face buried in his chest. “Well, it’s your birthday. You deserve to be spoiled.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her waist. “Y/N,” he said, his tone light but inquisitive, “how do you afford all this? I mean, between the car, the gifts, and—well, everything. It doesn’t exactly scream ‘9-to-5.’”

Her smile faltered for a second. “I… budget well,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Carlos tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but still kind. “Budget well? You’re buying things most people would save for years to afford. That’s some serious budgeting.”

“I just… know how to find deals,” she said quickly.

“Deals, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Like the kind that let you buy a car worth more than most people’s houses?”

Her laugh was more forced this time. “Carlos, come on, it’s not like that.”

He didn’t push, not yet. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close. “You know,” he said softly, his chin resting on her head, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how generous you are. How thoughtful. How you somehow always manage to outdo yourself.”

“That’s just because I love you,” she murmured.

“And I love you too,” he said, his voice warm. “But you don’t have to go overboard, you know. I’d still love you if you didn’t get me a watch that probably costs more than my rent.”

She tensed slightly in his arms, and he felt it.

“It’s just…” he continued, his tone deliberately casual, “I can’t help but wonder. You must have some serious savings to pull all this off.”

“Well, I—”

“Or maybe,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “you’re secretly a billionaire.”

Relaxed she went, “Yeah, exactly.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her body went rigid, and she immediately pulled back, her eyes wide with panic. “I mean—wait—no—”

Carlos’s brows shot up. “Oh.”

“Carlos, I didn’t mean—”

“Y/N,” he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Just… take a deep breath.”

She did, her hands trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“So it’s true?” he asked softly. “You’re… rich?”

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes brimming with uncertainty. “Yes. But it’s not like you think. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Carlos’s expression softened. “Cariño, why would it change how I see you?”

“Because… people treat me differently when they know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted you to love me for me, not for my money.”

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Y/N, I fell in love with the woman who makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. The one who listens to me ramble about football and surprises me with my favorite snacks. Not the size of your bank account.”

Her eyes searched his, still uncertain. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad,” he assured her. “A little surprised, sure. Maybe a bit hurt you didn’t tell me sooner. But I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I should’ve told you.”

He smiled, pulling her back into his arms. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more pretending your gifts are ‘on sale.’ You’re a terrible liar.”

She laughed, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

--

The living room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the lamps as Carlos and Y/N cuddled on the couch. Her head rested against his chest, and his arm was wrapped securely around her shoulders. The cake sat half-eaten on the coffee table, alongside empty plates and glasses.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his voice soft as he broke the comfortable silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Y/N murmured, tracing patterns on his shirt with her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, his tone gentle but curious. “About… everything?”

Y/N stiffened slightly in his arms but relaxed when he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She sighed, her breath warm against his chest.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” she began quietly. “I just… I’ve had bad experiences before.”

Carlos frowned, his hand moving in soothing circles on her back. “What kind of experiences?”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and sadness. “People have used me for my money, Carlos. Pretended to care about me just because they wanted access to my lifestyle, my connections. It’s happened more times than I’d like to admit.”

Carlos’s expression softened, his heart aching for her. “Y/N…”

“It’s not just romantic relationships,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Friends, too. People I thought I could trust would suddenly start asking for favors, for loans they never intended to repay. Or they’d make comments, subtle digs, like I didn’t deserve what I had because I was born into it.”

Carlos tightened his hold on her, resting his chin on her head. “I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“I started to feel like no one saw me, you know?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “It was always about what I could give them, not who I was. So, when I met you, I just… I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Finally, he tilted her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not those people. I don’t care about your money, or what you can buy, or any of that. I care about you. The person who makes me laugh, who’s always there for me, who’s just… you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she gave him a small, shaky smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s hard, letting someone in. But I want you to know, you don’t have to hide anything from me. Okay?”

She nodded, her smile growing a little stronger. “Okay.”

Carlos leaned down and kissed her gently, pouring all his love and reassurance into the moment. When they pulled apart, he gave her a teasing grin.

“Although, I do have to say, I feel a little cheated. All this time, I’ve been paying for dinner when you could’ve been spoiling me instead.”

Y/N burst out laughing, swatting his chest. “Oh, so now you want to be spoiled?”

He chuckled, pulling her closer. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to the occasional fancy dinner. But honestly? I’d take ramen with you on the couch over anything else.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “You’re too good to be true, Carlos.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice soft. “So are you, cariño. So are you.”

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʀᴏᴍᴇs ʀᴜʟᴇ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Summary: The deeper levels of both you and Marcus are revealed to one another

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), ANGSTY, gladiator battles, gore, blood, PTSD, scars, injury, corrupt people, exploitation

A/n: Hey everyone, the new part is finally posted! I've been really busy lately. For those who don't know, I'm a teaching assistant and I also coach cheer and dance at our school. I've been busy getting stuff done for that, so sorry for the wait. Please enjoy! P.S. Sorry, I didn't have time to proofread. (i combined your asks in my own way but sadly there no smut @theamunsonsworld?)

The last day of your honeymoon dawned with a soft, golden light that bathed the villa in gentle warmth. As you and Marcus made your way back to your father's villa in a horse-drawn carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones filled the silence. Marcus watched the passing scenery, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Breaking the silence, Marcus turned to you, his brow furrowed. "You know," he began, his tone serious, "when your father brought up that ridiculous expectation over dinner, I had to stop myself from laughing."

You looked at him, surprised. "Laughing? Why?"

"Because," Marcus said, leaning back against the cushioned seat, "the idea that we could just decide to have a child on a whim as if it were that simple, is absurd. Your father lives in a world of his own making sometimes."

You let out a bitter laugh, the weight of the conversation settling in. "He’s always been like that—demanding, controlling. It’s as if he forgets I’m a person, not just a means to an end."

Marcus nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "The expectations of Rome can be suffocating. But we can try to live differently, take our time, even find ways to see your mother."

A spark of hope flickered within you. "It sounds wonderful, but it feels like a distant dream."

Marcus shifted closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "It doesn’t have to be. We can make it a reality, bit by bit."

Your gaze fell, the words heavy on your tongue. "I’ve been rebellious my whole life, Marcus. But the truth is, as a woman, I have no choice. I’m trapped in these roles."

His hand found yours again, squeezing gently. "You’ve always had a fire in you. That spirit is what drew me to you."

A wave of emotions crashed over you, frustration mingling with gratitude. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Fighting, resisting, when it feels like nothing ever changes."

"You’ve already changed so much," Marcus reassured you. "And together, we can push further. We can find ways to see your mother. She deserves to know you’re thinking of her."

Your heart ached with longing, the image of your mother vivid in your mind. "I want that more than anything. To have her back in my life, even if only for a while."

Marcus smiled, his expression softening. "We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can travel under the guise of visiting trade routes or exploring new markets. There’s always a way."

You looked at him, a smile breaking through despite everything. "You always find the silver lining, don’t you?"

He chuckled, his eyes bright. "Someone has to. Besides, it’s easier with you by my side."

You felt a surge of gratitude for Marcus, for his understanding and support. "Thank you, Marcus. For everything."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "We're in this together. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

As the silence settled between you, Marcus’s gaze turned contemplative. "Have you ever thought about having kids? I mean, not now, but in the future."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "Kids? I suppose I have, but not for a long time. I'm only eighteen, Marcus. There's so much I want to do first."

Marcus nodded, understanding but curious. "What do you want to do before that?"

You sighed, the weight of your dreams pressing against the confines of your reality. "I want to see the world, and experience things beyond the confines of my father's estate. I want to spend time with my mother, and really get to know her again. And... I want to build something with you, something that’s ours, without the shadow of my family's expectations hanging over us."

Marcus's curiosity was piqued. "An addition?"

You nodded, a determined look in your eyes. "I want us to live in the villa. The one where we honeymooned and where I spent my childhood. It holds so many memories, and it's the one place that feels like home to me."

Marcus's expression softened. "The villa? That place is beautiful. I can see why you'd want to make it our home."

"It's more than just beautiful," you explained. "It's where I felt happiest, where my mother and I had some of our best times before everything fell apart. It feels like a safe haven, and I want to create new, happy memories there with you."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes searching yours. "And you think having kids would interfere with that?"

"Not interfere, exactly," you clarified, trying to articulate your feelings. "It's just... I want to be ready. I want to be in a place where I feel secure and happy, where I know I can give them the love and stability they deserve. And right now, I'm not there yet. We’re not there yet."

Marcus tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "So, you're saying you need more time to figure things out? Typical."

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glint in your gaze. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

He chuckled, his laugh a warm, familiar sound. "Just that you're always planning, always thinking ahead. Sometimes, I think you should just live in the moment a little more."

You huffed, a mock frown forming on your face. "Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on living in the moment?"

"Absolutely," he said with a grin, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "I am the very definition of spontaneous."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Right, because nothing says 'spontaneous' like planning out our every move on this journey."

"Hey, that was different," he defended, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I was being responsible, making sure we didn't end up stranded in the middle of nowhere."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You know, sometimes I think you just like arguing with me."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious but his eyes still warm. "Maybe I do. But only because I care about you. And I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future."

You softened, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I know, Marcus. And I appreciate it. I really do. We'll get there, together. But right now, I need to focus on the present, on getting my mother to the villa and figuring out our next steps."

Marcus nodded, his expression resolute. "Then that's what we'll do. Together."

The carriage came to a halt after the long journey. You were back at your father’s palace. The first person in your line of sight was Aurelia, standing tall and poised beside your father. Her presence always brought a mixture of emotions—resentment, bitterness, and a grudging respect for her unyielding confidence. Your father, ever the imposing figure, stood with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as Marcus helped you down from the carriage. His hand was a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions swirling inside you. Your mind raced with thoughts—fear, anticipation, and a deep-seated dread. The memory of the villa, your mother's isolation, and your father's control weighed heavily on you. And now, the nagging worry that you might not be pregnant gnawed at your insides. You had to face them both with a facade of calm.

Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you approached your father and Aurelia. He had always been your guide, your support, and now was no different. His presence gave you the strength to lift your chin and meet their gaze head-on.

“Welcome back,” your father said, his voice cold and detached. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

“It was fine, Father,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Aurelia’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and malice. “You look well,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “I’m sure the trip was good for you both.”

Before you could respond, your father turned his gaze to Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “Did you manage to fulfill your duties, Marcus? I trust you took full advantage of the... solitude?”

You felt Marcus stiffen beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Our trip was about more than just that, Sir,” Marcus replied evenly, though you could sense the tension in his voice.

Your father wasn’t satisfied. “More than that? Do you understand the gravity of your position, Marcus? My daughter’s primary responsibility is to produce an heir. Have you been diligent in your efforts, or have you been wasting time?”

Anger flared inside you, and you stepped forward, your voice sharp. “That’s quite inappropriate, Father. Our trip was about reconnecting and planning our future.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Your future is already decided. You are to produce an heir. Everything else is secondary.”

Marcus intervened, his voice calm and measured. “With all due respect, Sir, building a strong foundation for our future is essential for the well-being of our potential children. It ensures they are brought into a stable and loving environment, which, in the long term, benefits your legacy.”

You bristled at your father’s invasive question, but Marcus’s reasoning was sound. Your father’s eyes flickered with a hint of consideration before hardening again. “Your pretty words won’t change the facts. An heir is needed. Quickly.”

Aurelia’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and vindictive. “Now, now, let’s not get heated. We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

You shot her a glare, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, family. How could I forget?”

Aurelia continued, her tone saccharine. “Your father only wants what’s best for you. We all do.”

Marcus stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “We understand the expectations, but we also need to live our lives the way we see fit. The stability and happiness of our family should come first.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed further. “You will do as you’re told. You owe it to this family.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt your frustration boiling over. “I owe this family nothing. I’ve been controlled and manipulated my entire life. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Aurelia stepped closer, her presence imposing. “Let’s not forget our manners, dear. We all have roles to play, and you must play yours.”

Your temper flared at her condescension, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. “And what exactly is my role, Aurelia? To be paraded around like a prize, while you sit here on your high horse?”

Aurelia’s smile was icy. “Careful, sister. Your jealousy is showing. Not everyone is cut out for greatness.”

You took a step forward, hand twitching with the urge to slap her. “Jealousy? Of you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Before you could act on your impulse, Marcus gently but firmly grasped your arm, pulling you back. “Enough,” he said quietly, his voice a mix of warning and concern.

Aurelia’s smirk widened, sensing victory. “Always the temperamental one. It’s a wonder Marcus puts up with you.”

You were about to retort when a maid hurried into the courtyard, her face pale and anxious. “My lord, my lady,” she addressed your father and Aurelia, glancing nervously at you. “I have urgent news.”

Your father’s stern expression softened slightly. “Speak.”

The maid took a deep breath. “Lady Aurelia is with child.”

Aurelia’s triumphant smile was instantaneous, and she looked at you with smug satisfaction. “Looks like I’ll be fulfilling my role just fine.”

You felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath you. The news hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, and a deep-seated fear of being overshadowed.

Your father stepped forward, his gaze heavy with expectation. “I hope to hear the same from you soon,” he said, his tone a blend of command and disappointment. “But for now, I have work to do and a marriage to finalize with your mother. We’ll speak more of this later.”

Marcus tightened his grip on your arm, sensing your rising fury. “Let’s go,” he murmured, practically dragging you away before you could lash out further.

As you walked briskly away from the courtyard, you seethed. “How dare she? How dare he?” you muttered, your mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and injustice.

Marcus slowed his pace, his expression one of deep concern. “You can’t let them get to you like this.”

“How can I not?” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “She always wins, always gets the praise, and now this? And Father... he doesn’t even see me.”

Marcus stopped, turning to face you fully. “I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I love you for who you are, not for any role you’re supposed to play.”

His words were meant to comfort, but the pain of your father’s disregard and Aurelia’s gloating was too fresh, too raw. “It’s not enough,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “I need to be more than just... tolerated.”

Arriving at your bedchamber, you muttered under your breath, “He wants to finalize the marriage with my mother. To bind us even more to his plans.”

Marcus closed the door behind you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. You stood there for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on you, before the rage started to build. The anger that had been simmering all day erupted like a volcano.

“Gods, Marcus, I can’t take this anymore!” you screamed, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “Every single thing he does, every decision he makes, it’s all about control. He treats us like pawns, like we’re nothing more than pieces on his chessboard!”

Marcus watched you, his face stoic, but his eyes were full of understanding. He knew you needed to get it all out, to release the torrent of fury that had been building for so long.

You began to pace the room, your hands clenched into fists. “He wants nothing to do with my mother, and now he’s probably scheming to marry her off to some other noble. It’s like she’s just another tool to be used! And Aurelia—gods, I hate her. She’s always gloating, always scheming. She thinks she can replace my mother and secure her own power. And now, she’s pregnant before me. Pregnant! Not that I want to be pregnant, but she’s doing it just to spite me, just to rub it in my face!”

Your movements became more erratic, your pacing more frantic. “And my mother, what will happen to her? She’ll be left with nothing. Nothing! While Aurelia parades around, acting like she owns everything. She’s pregnant, Marcus, and everyone will fawn over her, praise her, while I’m just... just here. Expected to play a role, to be a good little pawn in his game.”

You stopped pacing abruptly, turning to Marcus with fire in your eyes. “And do you know what I want? I just want to be with you. I want to fuck my new husband without having to think about heirs and duties and all this... this bullshit! Is that so much to ask?”

Tears of pure rage welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wiped them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. “I hate him, Marcus. I hate the way he makes me feel, the way he manipulates everything to suit his own needs. And I hate that I feel so powerless against him.”

Marcus stepped closer, his hands outstretched, but you waved him off, needing to continue venting. “And it’s not just him. It’s everything. The way Aurelia gloats, the way the servants look at me with pity, the endless expectations and demands. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m disappointing someone. It’s suffocating!”

Your voice broke as you continued, the tears finally spilling over. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of anger, of frustration, of sheer, unadulterated fury. “I’m so tired of feeling trapped, of feeling like I’m not good enough. I want to live my own life, make my own choices. I want to be free, Marcus. Is that too much to ask?”

You turned to him, your chest heaving with the effort of releasing all your pent-up anger. Marcus stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You resisted at first, but then you let yourself sink into his embrace, the fury still burning inside you but tempered by his presence.

“I love you,” Marcus whispered, his voice steady and calm. “I love you for who you are, not for who you’re supposed to be. You’re not alone in this. We’ll find a way.”

His words were few, but they were like a balm to your raging soul. You clung to him, letting the tears flow freely now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. “I just want to be free,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined.

Marcus held you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “We will be,” he promised. “We’ll find a way to break free from all of this. Together.”

You cried into his shoulder, your tears soaking his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. Slowly, the fury began to ebb, replaced by a weary resolve.

“We’ll get through this,” Marcus said softly, his voice full of conviction. “One step at a time. And we won’t let him win. Not now, not ever.”

You nodded against his shoulder, the fire inside you still burning but now directed towards a purpose. “We’ll fight,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “We’ll fight for our freedom, for our future. Together.”

Marcus pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “Together,” he echoed, his eyes full of love and determination.

You took a deep breath, feeling a new sense of resolve. The road ahead would be difficult, but you were ready to face it. With Marcus by your side, you knew you could overcome anything. And you would—no matter what it took.

As you pulled back from Marcus, your eyes met his, and you felt a flicker of hope. But then reality crashed back in. “But what if things don’t change, Marcus? What if life in Rome is just more of the same? More schemes, more manipulation?”

Marcus sighed his brow furrowing in thought. “Life in Rome will have its challenges, no doubt. The politics, the power plays—it won’t be easy. But we’ll navigate it together. We’ve faced worse before, and we’ve come out stronger.”

The truth of his words resonated with you, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just wish we didn’t have to play these games. I want to live, Marcus. Really live.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “And we will. We’ll find moments of peace, places where we can be ourselves. Just like the beach. We’ll make our own freedom, carve out our own happiness. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m just so tired of fighting. Tired of always being on edge.”

Marcus pulled you close again, his embrace strong and reassuring. ��I know. But you’re not alone in this fight. We’ll face it together, and we’ll find a way to create the life we want. No matter what it takes.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Marcus by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you would face whatever challenges came your way, and together, you would find a way to break free from the chains that bound you.

“My lord, there’s—” the guard started, but you pulled away from Marcus, not wanting anyone to see you so vulnerable.

“What is it?” you snapped, your voice sharp.

The guard hesitated, clearly taken aback by your tone. “There’s a situation in the courtyard. Your father demands your presence immediately.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus before standing. “Fine. Tell him we’re coming.”

As the guard left, you turned to Marcus, your earlier anger rekindling. “This never ends, does it? He won’t even let me have a moment of peace.”

Marcus squeezed your hand, his touch reassuring. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

As you walked with Marcus toward the courtyard, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. Your frustration bubbled up, manifesting in a sharp, sarcastic tone. “Another grand announcement from my dear father. How thrilling.”

Marcus squeezed your hand gently, trying to calm the storm inside you. “We’ll face it together.”

In the courtyard, your father stood at the center, flanked by Aurelia and a handful of stern-faced servants. His piercing gaze locked onto you and Marcus as you approached.

“Well, isn’t this just a picture-perfect family moment?” you said, your voice dripping with irony.

Your father’s expression hardened. “Enough. This is a matter of utmost importance.”

You sighed, preparing for yet another lecture, but your father’s voice turned icy and commanding. “We’ve received correspondence from the Emperor. He demands your and Marcus’s presence at the palace immediately.”

Marcus’s calm demeanor shattered as he took the letter from your father’s outstretched hand. His face paled as he read the contents.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. But Marcus remained silent, his eyes fixed on the letter, brows furrowed in concern.

Your father’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You are to leave at dawn. Be prepared.”

Marcus nodded stiffly. “We will.”

As you turned to leave, Aurelia’s mocking tone echoed behind you. “Do try not to disgrace the family.”

The knot in your stomach tightened with each step you took away from the courtyard. “Marcus, what’s in the letter?”

He didn’t respond, his silence only amplifying your anxiety. When you reached your chambers, he finally turned to face you, worry etched into his features.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “The Emperor has summoned us. This isn’t a polite request; it’s a command. Refusing isn’t an option.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “But why? What does the Emperor want with us?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “It’s about the gladiators. He wants my insights on the performance of the newest recruits.”

You blinked in disbelief. “Gladiators? Why does he care about your opinion on that?”

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a sound you rarely heard from him. “Because I wasn’t always a general. I was once a gladiator. The Emperor thinks my perspective is valuable.”

Sarcasm bubbled up as you tried to cope with the mounting fear. “So we’re just part of his entertainment now? I know how gladiators work, Marcus.”

His eyes flashed with a sudden coldness, his voice slicing through your sarcasm. “No, you don’t. You’ve never been in the arena, fighting for your life. You’ve never faced that horror.”

You recoiled at the intensity of his response. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

“Just what?” he snapped. “Think it’s easy? Think it’s something I want to revisit? The Emperor wants to parade my past, to judge others as I was judged. It’s a matter of life and death for those men.”

Your anger melted away, replaced by a creeping fear. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

He cut you off, his voice low and fierce. “I want nothing to do with that life. But I’m not foolish enough to disobey the Emperor again.”

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling inside you. “So what do we do?”

Marcus was like a stone wall as he spoke, his voice steady and unyielding. “We go. We play their game. The upbringing you despise, the training that shaped me—it has to be on full display. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are not kind rulers. They won't hesitate to use anyone for their own gain.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “You just saw me scream and yell. I’m not exactly the epitome of grace and strategy.”

Marcus’s expression softened for a moment, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “You’re more than you realize. But we need to be careful. They’re not just rulers; they’re predators. We have to show them strength, unity.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Marcus. I won’t let them drag you back into that life. I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice filled with fierce tenderness. “But we have to be smart about this. We need to present a united front, show them we’re not to be trifled with.”

You nodded, your resolve hardening. “Together, then. We face them together.”

Marcus pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth grounding you amidst the turmoil. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “We have to.”

As you and Marcus entered the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with tension. The towering pillars and opulent decorations did little to mask the underlying menace that seemed to permeate the room. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla sat upon their thrones, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of Marcus and you approaching.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed gladiator,” Geta drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “And his rebellious bride. How charming.”

Caracalla’s gaze was colder, more calculating. “It’s been some time, Marcus. I trust you’ve found civilized life to your liking?”

Marcus’s face remained impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body beside you. “I serve as I am commanded, Your Majesties.”

Geta smirked, his eyes flicking to you. “And your wife. How interesting that you chose to marry someone with such a... colorful history. Tell me, my dear, do you still harbor those rebellious thoughts?”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you forced yourself to remain calm. “I am loyal to my husband and to the throne,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray your fear.

Caracalla leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “We shall see. Loyalty is tested in the most unexpected ways.”

Your mind raced as you tried to gauge their intentions. The emperors had made Marcus a gladiator, using him for their entertainment and power. Now they were testing you both, probing for any signs of defiance. You knew this was more than a mere audience; it was a test of your loyalty and a way to ensure you posed no threat to their rule.

“I understand your concerns, Your Majesties,” Marcus said, his voice steady and controlled. “But I assure you, we have no intention of going against the throne.”

Geta chuckled the sound grating on your nerves. “Intentions can change. We simply want to make sure you remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear. This was your chance to protect your mother, to ensure she wasn’t caught in the crossfire of political games. If you could gain the emperor’s favor, perhaps they would leave her alone. As the conversation continued, your mind churned with thoughts of her. She had always been a pawn in these power struggles, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering because of your actions. You needed to be careful, to play their game and show them you were no threat.

But despite your efforts to remain composed, your nerves betrayed you. Your hands trembled slightly, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You glanced at Marcus, hoping for some reassurance. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you found an unspoken comfort. His presence was a steady anchor, grounding you amidst the storm of your emotions.

Marcus noticed your fear, and though he didn’t say anything, his hand subtly brushed against yours, a silent promise that he was there for you. His strength and unwavering support bolstered your resolve, giving you the courage to face the emperors.

Caracalla’s gaze shifted between you and Marcus, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “We shall see how well you fare under scrutiny. Your loyalty will be tested, both of you.”

Geta’s expression darkened. “Do not forget, Marcus, that we made you what you are. And we can unmake you just as easily.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he remained composed. “I am aware.”

The emperors exchanged a satisfied glance, clearly enjoying their display of power. “You are dismissed,” Geta said, waving a hand dismissively. “Remember, we are always watching.”

As you and Marcus turned to leave, your heart pounded in your chest. The encounter had been a stark reminder of the precariousness of your situation. You were walking a tightrope, balancing your need to protect your family with the constant threat of imperial retribution.

Once you were outside the hall, you let out a shaky breath. Marcus pulled you into a quiet alcove, his hands gently cupping your face. But instead of finding solace in his touch, you saw the fear in his eyes, a deep-rooted terror that mirrored your own.

“Marcus,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “are you alright?”

He tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, but the lie was thin, transparent.

You took his hand, feeling the tremor in his fingers. “No, you’re not. You’re scared.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away, his shoulders tensing. “I can’t go back to that life,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t be their pawn again.”

You felt a surge of protectiveness, the same anger that had fueled you the day before now burning on his behalf. “We won’t let them do that to you,” you said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”

His gaze snapped back to you, a mixture of fear and desperation in his eyes. “How can you be so sure? They’re the emperors. They can do whatever they want.”

You squeezed his hand, pulling him closer. “Because we’re stronger together. And we won’t let them break us.”

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to go back to that place,” he said, his voice breaking. “The things I did, the things I saw...”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re not alone, Marcus. I’m here with you.”

For a moment, he clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Then, he pulled back, his eyes haunted. “Sometimes, it’s like I’m still there. Like I never left.”

You felt a pang of fear for him, a deep concern that he was showing signs of something you couldn’t quite understand but knew was serious. “We’ll get through this,” you said, your voice steady. “But right now, we need to get to our room. You need to rest.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. Together, you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Once inside, you closed the door and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Talk to me,” you urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Marcus’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something far away. “It’s like... like I can hear the crowds again. Feel the sand under my feet, the weight of the sword in my hand. The fear, the anger—it all comes rushing back.”

You knelt before him, taking his hands in yours. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “But I’m not, am I? I’m always going to be that gladiator to them. A tool to be used, a spectacle to be enjoyed.”

Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was reliving. “Marcus, look at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw the depth of his fear, the scars that ran deeper than you had realized.

“You’re not just a gladiator,” you said firmly. “You’re my husband. You’re a general, a leader, a man with a future. And we’re going to get through this together. We’re going to show them that they don’t control us.”

He took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You are,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And when you feel like you can’t go on, I’ll be here to hold you up. Just like you’ve always done for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “You’ll never have to find out,” you murmured. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Marcus held you for a few moments longer, then pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “I need to take my mind off all of this.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course. Actually, when I was in the carriage, I was brushing up on my Latin. Just in case the emperors decided to make things even more difficult by not speaking English.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “The carriage? I was wondering what you were saying to the driver.”

A laugh broke through his tense demeanor, the sound lifting some of the weight between you. “Latin, huh? How’s that going?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit more at ease. “Not too bad, actually. Although, I think I might have accidentally told the driver that his mother is a donkey.”

Marcus chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I’m sure he appreciated the compliment.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Hey, I’m trying here! Besides, it’s not like I had much else to do.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Come here,” he said, his voice softer now as he pulled you into his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His hands settled on your hips, and you could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes.

You relaxed against him, your arms looping around his neck. “I missed this,” you admitted, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “Just being us.”

“Me too,” he murmured, his hands moving up your back in a soothing motion. “It feels like everything’s been so chaotic lately.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his. “But we have each other, and that’s what matters.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Always.”

For a while, you sat there in comfortable silence, the tension from the day slowly melting away. You exchanged light-hearted banter, your bickering and teasing gradually returning to the easy rhythm you both cherished.

“Remember when we first met?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Marcus’s eyes lit up with the memory. “How could I forget? You were trying to run away from our arranged marriage and fell off the horse you were riding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I was so determined to escape. I didn’t even realize how dangerous it was.”

He chuckled softly. “You were fierce, that’s for sure. Maybe I should teach you how to ride properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Are we still talking about horses?”

Marcus’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with playful intent. “Depends. Do you want a lesson?”

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his. “Only if you promise to be a very hands-on teacher.”

He kissed you back, his hands tightening on your hips. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need.”

You pulled back slightly, your expression turning more serious. “Marcus, can I ask you something?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Of course. Anything.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What do you think about kids? How many would you want? And… do you have any names in mind?”

Marcus looked thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve always wanted a big family,” he said slowly. “Maybe three or four kids. I think it would be nice for them to have siblings, to grow up with a sense of family and support.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’d like that too. And names?”

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. “I’ve always liked the name Alexander for a boy. And maybe Lucia for a girl. Strong names, with history and meaning.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “I like those names. They feel… right.”

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with a mixture of concern and vulnerability. “Is there something else on your mind?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous. “Actually, yes. I was wondering… could you stop cumming inside of me every time we… you know, make love?”

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I want to make sure we’re both ready when we decide to have children. I don’t want to rush into it because of… well, an accident.”

He looked relieved, then thoughtful. “I understand. I just… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you, Marcus. And I want us to build our family together when we’re both ready.”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re right. We should be deliberate about this. I promise, I’ll be more careful.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

He kissed you back, his hands moving to cradle your face. “I love you. More than anything.”

You rested your forehead against his, feeling a deep sense of peace. “We’ll get through this, Marcus. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with love and determination. “Together.”

You sat in the coliseum, the roaring crowd around you a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The naval battle below was a spectacle of chaos and violence, the clash of cannons reverberating through the air, each blast sending shockwaves that you could feel in your chest. Ships collided with bone-jarring force, the sound of wood splintering and men shouting echoing through the vast arena.

The emperors insisted on your attention. Emperor Geta’s voice cut through the noise, a chilling command. “Watch closely, my dear. This is the true essence of power.”

You forced yourself to turn back to the spectacle. A cannonball ripped through the hull of a ship, sending debris and bodies flying. The water turned red with blood, the cries of the dying blending with the roar of the crowd. Your stomach twisted, and you clenched your hands in your lap, willing the nausea to pass.

You tried to focus on the details, finding yourself strangely drawn to the movements and strategies of the combatants. You rooted silently for the ship you wanted to see survive, your heart racing with each close call. The emperors watched you closely, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement. They seemed to thrive on the chaos, their power evident in the way they manipulated those around them.

Emperor Caracalla leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. “Do you see how they struggle? Like ants in a flood, all their efforts meaningless. Yet, it's so entertaining.”

You nodded absently, your mind half-focused on the battle. The cruelty of the emperors was a constant presence, but you found yourself oddly captivated by the sheer spectacle of the naval engagement. Each cannon blast, each desperate maneuver, drew you in deeper.

Marcus was away, speaking with the other generals, his face drawn and pale when he returned. He immediately noticed your distress. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, his own fear and worry evident in his eyes. “I hate this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I can’t look away.”

Marcus’s eyes darkened with understanding. “That’s their power,” he said softly. “They make us complicit in their cruelty.”

Emperor Geta’s voice interrupted your exchange. “Ah, Marcus. Come, sit with us. Enjoy the show.”

Reluctantly, Marcus guided you to sit beside him, his grip on your hand tight. The emperors’ attention shifted back to the battle, their comments filled with a sickly admiration for the carnage. “Look at that,” Geta exclaimed as another ship went down, “such bravery wasted on a lost cause.”

Caracalla chuckled darkly. “Indeed. It’s fascinating how they cling to hope even in the face of certain death.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. He leaned in closer to you. “They won’t talk about the true cost,” he said, his voice barely audible. “The lives lost, the families left behind. To them, it’s all just a game.”

You nodded, your hand tightening around his. The brutal display below was more than just a show; it was a reminder of the emperors' absolute power and the fragility of your position. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the deafening roar of the crowd, a relentless assault on your senses. You could barely focus on the battles, your mind racing with fear and the need to stay strong for Marcus.

The next gladiators entered the arena, their expressions a mixture of determination and resignation. As they clashed, you tried to avoid looking at the bloodshed, but the emperors' voices cut through your resolve. "Watch carefully," Caracalla commanded, his tone devoid of empathy. "This is where men are forged."

Marcus’s hand trembled in yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as if it were your own. He kept his eyes on the fighters, but you could see the haunted look in his gaze, memories of his own time in the arena flooding back. His muscles were tense, every fiber of his being screaming to protect you, to fight against the fate they were trying to impose on you both.

With each brutal kill, the emperors’ excitement grew. They leaned forward, shouting encouragement and jeering at the combatants, their faces alight with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, there it is!" Geta exclaimed as a particularly gruesome decapitation took place. "Such skill, such beauty in the art of death."

You pressed closer to Marcus, trying to shield yourself from the horror unfolding below. "We have to find a way out," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can’t let them do this to us."

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving the arena. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But we have to be careful. They’re watching our every move."

The next fight began, even more savage than the last. You felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape the relentless violence. Marcus’s grip on your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded, a lifeline in the sea of blood and death.

The emperors’ voices grew louder, their laughter echoing around the coliseum. “You see, Marcus,” Geta said, turning to him with a predatory smile. “This is why we miss you. Your fights were always the highlight, full of glory and gore. These men… they lack your finesse.”

Marcus stiffened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled fear and anger simmering beneath the surface. His breath was shallow, his eyes darting nervously around the coliseum. The confident warrior you knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by a man haunted by his past.

Caracalla leaned in, his gaze fixed on the arena below where a mere boy, no older than twelve, was being led out. The tiger, a majestic and deadly creature, prowled on the other side, its eyes gleaming with hunger. “Tell us, Marcus,” Caracalla said with a sinister gleam in his eye, “who do you favor? The boy or the beast?”

A chill ran down your spine, and you found your voice. “This is madness,” you protested, your voice trembling. “He’s just a child!”

Geta’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Silence,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Marcus will speak for himself.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between the boy and the tiger. He looked like a man on the edge, torn between his desire to protect and his fear of the consequences. “Neither,” he said finally, his voice shaky. “This isn’t a fight. It’s a slaughter.”

Caracalla’s laughter was a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The unpredictability, the thrill of survival against impossible odds.”

You wanted to scream, to protest further, but the emperors’ power was absolute. You could only watch in horror as the scene below unfolded. The boy looked terrified, his small frame trembling as he faced the tiger. The crowd’s bloodthirsty roars grew louder, drowning out any semblance of reason.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus’s hand tightened around yours, the pressure almost painful. You felt his body tremble, each muscle tense with a mixture of fear and anger. His eyes were fixed on the boy and the tiger, a haunted look replacing the confidence you once knew. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, betraying the inner turmoil he was desperately trying to contain.

“No!” you exclaimed, unable to contain yourself. “He’s not your puppet. He’s not here for your entertainment.”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto you with a predatory intensity. “Such spirit,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Marcus, you are a lucky man.”

The words seemed to cut through Marcus like a blade. He turned to you, his eyes wide and wild. “Stop,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with fear. “Just stop. You’re making it worse.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his harsh words, but you knew he was scared. You squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort, but he pulled away, his gaze flicking nervously between you and the emperors.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus didn’t protest this time. He didn’t argue or try to reason with them. He simply stood there, his body rigid, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the memories of past battles and bloodshed that haunted him.

“Marcus, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t do this.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desperation. “I have no choice,” he said softly. “They leave me none.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "What exactly are the terms?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

The emperors exchanged amused glances. Geta leaned forward, a predatory smile on his lips. "If Marcus wins, he may choose any residence owned by us as a treat for his newlywed wife. A generous offer, wouldn't you say?"

"And if he loses?" you pressed, your stomach twisting with dread.

Caracalla's smile was a twisted mockery of kindness. "If he loses, he will fight for all of Rome again. But this time, he will take the place of the boy who is supposed to fight the lion."

Your blood ran cold at the thought. "This is madness," you whispered, barely able to contain your horror. "You're talking about a man's life as if it's a game."

"Everything is a game, my dear," Geta replied, his tone dripping with condescension. "And Marcus knows the rules better than anyone."

Marcus stood there, his face pale, his body trembling with a mix of fear and determination. He looked at you, his eyes pleading. "I will do what I must," he said softly. "For us."

“No, Marcus, you can't,” you protested, your voice breaking. “There has to be another way.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “I have no choice,” he repeated, the words a hollow echo of resignation.

Before you could say more, the emperors' guards stepped forward, their grips firm and unyielding as they held you back, you struggled against them, your desperation mounting. “Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. “He’s not your pawn!”

Geta's cold eyes locked onto you, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Such fire,” he mused, almost to himself. “But Marcus knows his duty.”

Caracalla laughed, the sound grating and malevolent. “Watch closely, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You might learn something about true power.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as Marcus turned away, walking slowly toward the arena's entrance. The boy and the tiger were being led back into their cages, the boy’s terrified eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he disappeared from view. Your heart ached for him, but it was Marcus who now faced the same deadly fate.

As the gates closed behind Marcus, you were left standing at the edge of the arena, your hands clenched into fists. The crowd’s roars grew louder, their bloodlust palpable. You sank into your seat, your body trembling with fear and helplessness.

Moments stretched into an eternity, each second marked by the deafening cheers of the spectators. Finally, Marcus emerged, clad in armor and wielding a sword. His face was a mask of determination, but you could see the fear in his eyes. He looked up at you, and you mouthed silently, “I believe in you.”

The gate opposite Marcus creaked open, and the tiger was released. It prowled forward, its muscles rippling under its striped fur, eyes locked onto Marcus with predatory intent. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation.

“Look at him,” Geta murmured to Caracalla, his voice barely audible over the din. “Still has that fire in him, even after all this time.”

Caracalla nodded a twisted smile on his lips. “It’s what makes him so entertaining. Let’s see if he still has the skill to match.”

You clung to your seat, your heart racing as you watched the tiger circle Marcus. Every fiber of your being was focused on him, silently willing him to survive. The arena seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the deadly dance between man and beast.

Marcus moved with a cautious grace, his sword held steady. The tiger lunged, and he sidestepped, bringing his blade down in a swift arc. The tiger snarled, more angry than hurt, and the battle truly began.

Each clash was a test of Marcus’s skill and endurance. The tiger’s powerful swipes and lunges were met with precise parries and counterattacks. The crowd roared with every close call, their bloodthirsty excitement a constant backdrop to the deadly struggle.

Geta leaned closer to Caracalla, his eyes gleaming with interest. “He’s slower than he used to be,” he commented, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“But still formidable,” Caracalla replied, his gaze never leaving the arena. “Let’s see how long he can keep this up.”

Your eyes never left Marcus, every movement of his sword, every step he took etched into your mind. You saw the strain in his posture, the weariness beginning to show. But you also saw his determination, the fire that drove him to protect you and fight for your future.

The tiger lunged again, and Marcus sidestepped, thrusting his sword into the beast’s side. The tiger roared in pain, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down. Marcus circled, his breathing heavy, his eyes focused on the next move.

You bit your lip, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “Come on, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crowd. “You can do this.”

The emperors’ eyes were fixed on the battle, their expressions a mix of amusement and anticipation. “He still has some fight in him,” Geta remarked, his tone almost admiring.

Caracalla smirked. “Let’s see if he can finish it.”

With a final, desperate lunge, Marcus brought his sword down with all his strength. The blade struck true, piercing the tiger’s heart. The beast collapsed with a final roar, its body twitching in its death throes.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their bloodlust satisfied. Marcus stood there, panting and covered in sweat, his eyes searching the crowd until they found yours. He nodded once, a silent promise that he would come back to you.

Geta clapped his hands, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Well done, Marcus,” he said, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “You have earned your reward.”

Marcus approached, his steps unsteady but his resolve unwavering. “We did it,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and love. “We made it.”

As soon as he reached you, your emotions overwhelmed you, and tears began to fall. You couldn’t hold them back any longer. The fear, the violence, the constant threat—it all came pouring out. Marcus wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as sobs wracked your body. “It’s over,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “We’re safe now.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his embrace. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside fading away. But the respite was short-lived. The emperors, ever impatient, approached with their questions.

“What residence do you desire, Marcus?” Geta asked, his tone dismissive of your pain. “You must choose.”

Marcus looked up, his eyes hardening with determination. “A residence close to the villa near Calacari,” he said firmly. “It’s secluded and secure.”

Caracalla nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. It will be arranged. Now, go and clean yourself. The blood is rather unbecoming.”

Marcus turned back to you, his eyes filled with concern. “Let’s get out of here,” he said gently, guiding you towards the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was a haven of calm, the warm steam rising in gentle curls, a stark contrast to the brutal scene you had just left. Marcus began to strip off his bloodstained clothes, wincing with each movement. You stepped forward to help, your fingers trembling as you undid the clasps and buttons. As his shirt came off, you gasped at the sight of new scars marring his skin.

“Marcus…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you. “I’m alright. It looks worse than it is.”

You gently traced the lines of the scars, your touch soft and tender. “I hate seeing you like this,” you said, tears welling up again. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

Marcus smiled, a hint of his usual playful self returning. “You already do, just by being here with me.”

You helped him into the warm water, your movements careful and precise. As he sank into the bath, he let out a sigh of relief. You joined him, sitting beside him and gently washing away the blood and grime. The tension in his body gradually eased, though the pain was still evident in his eyes.

Despite the sadness, you couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood. “You know,” you said with a small smile, “I think I’m starting to enjoy taking care of you like this.”

Marcus chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could get used to it,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Once we’re back in our own bed, I’ll take even better care of you,” you whispered, your tone both sweet and flirty.

His eyes darkened with desire, but as he tried to pull you closer, a sharp pain made him wince. “Maybe we should wait until I’m a bit more recovered,” he admitted, his voice strained.

You nodded, understanding and concern in your eyes. “Of course,” you said softly. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

Marcus smiled, his love for you shining through the pain. “We’ll have plenty of time for that,” he said, his hand gently caressing your arm. “Right now, let’s just be together.”

You sat in the bathhouse, the warm water soothing your tired bodies, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew you could face anything. Marcus’s presence was your anchor, and together, you would find your way back to peace and happiness.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The storm had passed, and now, it was time to heal and rebuild. With Marcus by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

After a long while of comfortable silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft but firm. “Marcus,” you began, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “You can never, ever go silent on me like that again. Do you understand? The fear of not knowing what you were thinking, what you were feeling—it’s unbearable. If you ever do, you’ll have something far worse than a lion to face.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, then slowly nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I will never shut you out again.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Good,” you whispered. “Because we face everything together, remember?”

“Always,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

The weekend from hell was over. Between Aurelia's pregnancy and the gladiators, you and Marcus were emotionally drained. But one question still lingered. "Why the emperor's residence near Calacari?" you asked as the carriage rolled along the uneven roads, taking you away from the horrors of the coliseum.

Marcus looked at you, his eyes softening with tenderness. "It’s not just for us," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's for your mother."

You frowned, confusion knitting your brow. "My mother? Why would you care about where she lives?"

He took a deep breath, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "Remember when you told me about your father? How you feared he might leave your mother with nothing? I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, vulnerable. This villa isn't on the water but further inland, so it won’t worsen her fear of the sea. She can live there with or without him, and she can stay by us whenever she wants."

You blinked, absorbing his words. "You thought of all that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I want her to have a safe place, a sanctuary. Just like I want for us. Life under Rome's rule is too cruel, too unpredictable. We deserve a place where we can be happy, away from the chaos."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, pouring all your gratitude and love into that one kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, "Never ever go silent on me like that again, Marcus. You scared me. You’ll have something worse than a lion on your hands if you do."

He chuckled softly, a genuine smile breaking through his weary expression. "I promise," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I won't go silent on you again."

The carriage hit a bump, jolting you both, and you clung to Marcus, who winced in pain. "Are you alright?" you asked, your concern immediate.

He nodded, though his face betrayed the discomfort he felt. "I’m fine," he said, but his voice cracked, revealing the truth. "I miss the days when our biggest worry was a petty argument or growing pains. Now, I can't even have my wife on my lap without feeling like my body is falling apart."

Your heart ached for him, and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "We'll get through this, Marcus. Together. We’ll find peace and happiness, away from Rome’s cruelty."

Marcus sighed, leaning into your touch. "I hope so. I dream of a life where we can wake up to the sound of birds, not the roar of the crowd. A place where we can raise our children without fear."

You smiled, the vision of that future giving you strength. "We’ll make it happen. We’ll build that life, one day at a time."

Marcus smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of hope. "I believe you, but how soon are we talking?" he asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "I don't think I can stand another day in Rome's chaos."

You chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "Patience, my love. We’ll get there. But first, we need to survive the next few months."

Marcus groaned dramatically. "Months? You're killing me. I was hoping for days, maybe weeks."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, stop it. You know it’ll take time to arrange everything."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "I guess I'll just have to endure your company in the meantime."

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Endure, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

His expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I wouldn't trade a moment of it, not for anything," he said softly. "Even if it means dealing with your father’s wrath when we get back."

You sighed, the reality of your situation creeping back in. "He’s not going to take the news well, is he?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, probably not. But we’ll face it together. Just like we’ve faced everything else."

You nodded, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Together," you echoed, the word a promise as much as a reassurance.

[moonlightdreamzz]

goodnight n go — yang jungwon.

🎧 ➤ goodnight n go by ariana grande

GENRE. FLUFF. down bad for eachother but can’t say it out loud. only with actions.

SUMMARY. you tell Jungwon you’ve always wondered what it’s like to do couple things during the holidays—and without hesitation, he makes it happen.

AUTHORS NOTE. this absolutely warmed my cold heart. This man evokes things out of me I wasn’t aware was still there. I’ll add a keep reading later.

“jungwon, i’m not playing with you!” you squeal loudly, nearly tripping over your own feet as you chase him around the couch. he’s laughing so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t dropped your phone yet. “damnit, jungwon!”

“you must have been—” he dodges left, then right, “looking at something—” he darts into the kitchen, “real embarrassing to be chasing me like this!”

he finally stops near the counter, grinning from ear to ear and completely unfazed by the fact that you’re out of breath and glaring daggers at him. “i wonder what it could be.” he questions in dramatic fashion, his finger poking his chin repeatedly as he looks into nothingness.

“jungwon,” you warn, hands on your hips, but it’s too late. his eyes land on the screen, and a mix of confusion and amusement washes over his face.

“gingerbread houses?” he says, reading the search history aloud. “how much does a gingerbread house cost?”

you freeze, your face instantly heating up. “give that back!”

he ignores you, his expression shifting into something so genuinely curious it’s almost infuriating. “why were you looking this up? are you suddenly into architecture? or… are you planning to eat an entire gingerbread house by yourself?”

you snatch the phone from his hand, groaning as you clutch it to your chest. “no, it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like?” he asks, leaning casually against the counter. you so badly want to be upset with him, but his dimpled smile beaming in your face is making it impossible.

you let out a sigh, deciding it’s better to just explain than deal with his endless teasing. “it’s something couples do during christmas,” you mumble.

his brow furrows slightly, and he tilts his head. “couples?”

“yeah,” you say, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. “you know, building gingerbread houses together, wearing matching pajamas, taking cringy pictures… that kind of stuff.”

he’s staring at you now, his amusement fading into something softer, something more thoughtful. “and you wanted to do that?”

“i mean…” you shrug, trying to play it off. “i thought about it. but since i don’t exactly have the other half of the couple, i figured maybe i’d just do it by myself. pajamas and all.”

jungwon doesn’t respond right away. he’s just looking at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know what you and jungwon truly have going on. but it’s not for lack of clarity—it’s for lack of courage. because deep down, you both know. you know it in the way his eyes linger on you a little too long, in the way he remembers every offhanded comment you make, in the way your heart races whenever he smiles at you like you’re the only person in the room.

you weren’t entirely sure at first. jungwon’s the kind of guy who’s sweet to everyone, with a charm that feels effortless. it was easy to convince yourself that the way he treated you was just…him being him. until one day, you casually mentioned hanging out with another guy—a friend from work who’d been pestering you about grabbing coffee. you hadn’t thought much of it, but jungwon froze mid-bite of his ramen, chopsticks hovering in the air like the universe had suddenly paused.

“who?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, but the furrow in his brows betrayed him.

you laughed, not understanding why he looked so confused. “just a friend,” you said, shrugging it off.

“a friend?” he repeated, his voice pitching slightly higher. he placed his chopsticks down, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “what kind of friend?”

you blinked at him, unsure why he was grilling you like this. “the normal kind? what other kind is there?”

he narrowed his eyes. “the kind that wants something more.”

your stomach flipped at the implication, but you played it cool. “what does it matter to you?”

jungwon’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. but then he just sighed, shaking his head. “it doesn’t,” he muttered, picking up his chopsticks again.

except it did. you could see it in the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes for the rest of the meal, the way he suddenly got quieter. it was like he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but the weight of what he felt was written all over his face.

and that’s when you knew.

but knowing and saying it out loud are two very different things.

so you kept hanging out, like you always did. no labels, no confessions—just spending time together, letting the unspoken feelings linger in the air between you. and maybe that’s why it works. because neither of you feels the need to rush. you’re slowly falling for each other, piece by piece, day by day.

“what?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“nothing,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. “you’re just… funny.”

you frown. “funny how?”

“i don’t know,” he says, pushing off the counter and walking past you to the living room. “you just are.”

you follow him, phone still clutched in your hand, watching as he flops onto the couch like he didn’t just say something cryptic.

“so, what do you want to eat?” he asks, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels like the conversation you just had didn’t happen.

your brows knit together. “that’s it? you’re not gonna say anything else about the gingerbread houses?”

he glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “what else is there to say? if you want to build a gingerbread house, build one. who cares if it’s cringey?”

all you can do is flip him off before plopping down beside him.

a lazy grin rests on his face. “so, food? yes? no?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto yours. “yes. but we’re getting my favorite after the distress you just put me though, twin.”

a couple of days pass, and life goes on in its usual rhythm. jungwon texts you here and there, nothing out of the ordinary. it’s a mix of random memes, updates on whatever he’s doing, and the occasional “you up?” when he’s bored at night. but tonight, his message feels different.

jungwon: what are you doing tonight?

your heart skips a beat, even though you’re not entirely sure why. it’s not like it’s weird for him to ask. still, the question makes your stomach do this weird, excited flip.

you: nothing really. why?

his reply comes almost immediately.

jungwon: i’m coming over. be ready in an hour.

you: should I be afraid?????

he doesn’t answer. instead, you’re left staring at your phone, trying to figure out what he’s up to.

an hour later, there’s a knock at your door, and when you open it, jungwon is standing there with a ridiculously large bag in one hand and a takeout bag in the other. he’s grinning, that dimpled smile lighting up his face, and you feel your heart do that thing again.

“what’s all this?” you ask, stepping aside to let him in.

“you’ll see,” he says, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to your living room like he owns the place.

you follow him, watching as he sets everything down on the coffee table. first, he pulls out two gingerbread house kits, complete with icing, candy, and all the little decorations. then, he pulls out a set of matching pajamas—red and white with little snowflakes printed all over them.

“jungwon…” you say, your voice trailing off as you take it all in.

“and your favorite,” he adds, holding up the takeout bag with a triumphant smile.

you blink at him, completely caught off guard. “what… what is all this?”

he shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the way he avoids your eyes. “you said you wanted to do all that cringey couple stuff for christmas, right? so… let’s do it.”

your chest tightens, a mix of disbelief and something softer, warmer. “you actually remembered that?”

“of course, i remembered,” he says, finally looking at you. “i remember everything you say.”

for a moment, you don’t know what to say. it’s such a small gesture, but it feels like so much more. like he’s showing you, in his own quiet way, how much he cares.

“you’re so weird,” you say, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“says the girl who was going to eat a whole gingerbread house by herself…” he trails, his face making an expression that says sureeeee. he sits down on the floor and pats the spot next to him.

“kiss it.” you mutter, rolling your eyes playfully.

“kiss what?” his eyes widen.

“my ass.” you slap your behind for dramatic effect—the sound echoing off your walls. did it hurt? yes. would you let him see that? no. jungwon’s eyes widen, and for the first time, he’s the one that’s frozen and unable to form a sentence. it’s only for a mere second though before he realizes his usually cool demeanor vanished. he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to remove the effect of your words and rubs the tips of his ears that are tinted pink.

anyone else wouldn’t have caught it. but it was you, so you did.

the jungwon, that jungwon wants everyone else to see, starts unpacking the gingerbread kits. you can’t help but steal a glance at him. there’s something about the way he’s so nonchalant about all of this, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to show up at your place with matching pajamas and your favorite food.

“so,” he says, breaking the silence. “are you ready to lose? because my gingerbread house is going to be way better than yours.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “we’ll see about that.”

jungwon carefully tears open the packet of icing, his brows furrowing in concentration. “you have to massage the icing bag first, you know. to warm it up,” he says, squeezing it between his hands like a professional baker.

you raise an eyebrow. “oh, so you’re a gingerbread house expert now?”

he looks up at you with mock seriousness. “obviously. you’re looking at the reigning champion of the 6th grade holiday fair. i crushed the competition.

“wow, i’m so intimidated,” you deadpan, ripping open your own icing packet with way less finesse than him.

he leans over slightly, just close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne—subtle, clean, and entirely too distracting. “you should be,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his voice.

you roll your eyes, but there’s a warmth spreading in your chest. this is how it always is with jungwon—light, playful, easy. but underneath all the teasing, there’s something softer.

“okay, watch and learn,” he announces, picking up one of the gingerbread walls and carefully piping a line of icing along the edge. “this is how you lay a solid foundation.”

“foundation?” you scoff. “it’s a gingerbread house, not a skyscraper.”

“and that’s why you’re going to lose,” he replies smugly, pressing the pieces together with meticulous precision.

you pretend to be unimpressed, but you’re secretly charmed by how seriously he’s taking this. as you attempt to glue your own walls together, one of them immediately collapses, the icing smearing all over your hands.

“oh, no,” you groan, holding up your sticky fingers.

jungwon looks over and snickers. “what happened to ‘it’s just a gingerbread house’?”

“shut up and help me,” you grumble, trying to balance the pieces with one hand while reaching for the icing with the other.

he scoots closer, his knee brushing against yours as he steadies the walls for you. “you have to hold it like this,” he says, his voice low as his hands gently guide yours.

the proximity makes your heart stutter, but you do your best to play it cool. “you’re just trying to sabotage me so yours looks better,” you accuse, glancing up at him.

his eyes meet yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. there’s a flicker of something unspoken in his gaze, something that makes your breath catch.

“maybe,” he says softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you clear your throat, breaking the moment. “well, it’s working. i can’t focus with you this close.”

“then i guess i’ll stay right here,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on you a little too long.

you huff, turning your attention back to your gingerbread house. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here i am,” he quips, settling back into his spot but staying close enough that your shoulders still brush occasionally.

as the night goes on, the competition turns into chaos. jungwon gets icing on his nose at some point, and you laugh so hard you accidentally knock over one of his walls. he retaliates by flicking a piece of candy at you, which starts an all-out candy war.

“truce!” you finally gasp, holding up your hands in surrender.

“only if you admit my house is better,” he says, his dimples on full display.

you roll your eyes but lean in closer, inspecting his work. “it’s not bad,” you admit, reaching out to straighten one of the candy canes on the roof.

your hand lingers a moment too long, and you realize just how close you are to him. he’s watching you, his expression soft, like he’s seeing something he can’t quite put into words.

“what?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

“nothing,” he says, but the way he looks at you says everything.

the moment stretches, filled with a warmth that feels almost tangible. and though neither of you says it out loud, it’s there in the way he gently nudges your shoulder, in the way you lean into him without even thinking.

“so,” you say, breaking the silence with a grin. “are you going to admit that i won?”

“pictures or it didn’t happen,” jungwon declares, pulling out his phone and snapping a dramatic photo of his gingerbread house. “look at this masterpiece. the symmetry, the structure—pure genius. i think i could sell this design.”

you lean over, squinting at the screen. “symmetry? jungwon, one of your candy canes is literally sliding off the roof. are you going for a modern look or just chaos?”

he gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just mortally wounded him. “chaos? this is art, y/n. you just don’t get it.”

“right,” you drawl, crossing your arms but fighting back a smile. “you keep telling yourself that.”

jungwon shakes his head, clearly unimpressed with your critique. “okay, then let’s get the artist and the critic in one shot. come on.”

“what? no.” you lean back, shaking your head as he switches his phone to selfie mode.

“yes,” he insists, already angling the phone to get both of you and your gingerbread houses in frame. “this is for the archives. future generations need to know who built these masterpieces.”

“future generations are going to laugh at yours,” you shoot back, but you lean in anyway.

jungwon tilts the phone slightly, and you realize how close you are when your cheek almost brushes his. your laughter dies down, replaced by a warmth that makes your stomach flutter.

“okay, smile,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s talking to himself.

you glance at him instead of the camera, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

then he snaps the picture and grins, pulling you out of your thoughts. “perfect,” he says, showing you the photo.

it’s cute. annoyingly cute. and the way his arm is casually slung around your shoulders doesn’t help the situation.

“all right, we’re done,” you announce, trying to shake off the tension.

jungwon raises an eyebrow. “done? we’re just getting started.” he uploads the picture to his finsta without hesitation, captioning it: couples who build together stay together.

your jaw drops, and you swat at him. “jungwon, what the hell?!”

he laughs, easily dodging you. “relax, y/n. it’s just my finsta. nobody cares.”

“oh, nobody cares? what about the word couples, huh?!” your voice pitches slightly, your face warming.

“what about it?” he counters, his expression too calm for your liking.

you pause, trying to think of a response, but the weight of the moment settles between you again.

“i—whatever,” you mutter, turning your attention back to the gingerbread kits to avoid looking at him.

jungwon watches you for a moment before grabbing his phone again. “okay, now let’s do this properly,” he says, standing up and heading toward the makeshift tripod he set up.

“do what properly?”

“matching pajamas, full couple vibes,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you wanted the experience, right?”

you huff but head to your room to change. when you come back, jungwon is already posing dramatically, pretending to lean on his gingerbread house like it’s a prize-winning sculpture.

“wow, someone’s really feeling himself,” you tease, but you can’t help smiling.

he flashes you his dimpled grin. “well, someone has to make this night memorable. now, get over here.”

you join him, and as the camera clicks away, you feel yourself relaxing again.

“these pictures better not end up anywhere else,” you warn as he scrolls through the shots.

jungwon just hums, clearly not listening, before setting his phone down. “hey,” he says suddenly, his voice softer now.

“what?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“thanks for letting me crash your night,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know this was kind of random.”

“are you kidding?” you laugh lightly. “you showed up with food, matching pajamas, and gingerbread houses. i should be thanking you.”

he meets your eyes then, and for a moment, it feels like the air is too thick to breathe. the playful banter fades, leaving only the unspoken tension that’s been building for weeks.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, but jungwon beats you to it.

“do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asks, his voice casual, like he’s trying to defuse the moment.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah. a movie sounds good.”

jungwon settles onto the couch first, stretching out like like a baby . “come here,” he says, opening his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

your breath catches. you’ve sat close to him before—legs over his lap, arms brushing, sharing blankets during movie nights. but this? this is new.

“you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter than you mean it to be.

he gives you a look, half amused, half serious. “i wouldn’t have asked if i wasn’t.”

with a small nod, you sit beside him, easing into his arms like you’ve been doing this your whole life. his chest is warm and steady beneath your cheek, and you can feel his heartbeat—a calm, unhurried rhythm that contrasts the storm swirling in your own.

you don’t realize how tired you’ve been until you let yourself relax against him. maybe it’s the rush of the evening catching up to you, or maybe it’s just jungwon. he has this way of making you feel safe, like nothing else in the world matters when you’re with him.

his fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, sending a quiet hum of comfort through your body. you yawn, trying to hide it, but jungwon chuckles softly.

“sleepy already?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

“shut up,” you mumble into his hoodie, your words muffled but not entirely untrue.

he doesn’t respond, just pulls you closer, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

the world narrows to this—his warmth, his scent, the way his chest rises and falls beneath you. you don’t even notice when your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion winning over.

a moment passes, or maybe more. you’re not sure how long you’ve been drifting when you feel it—a gentle, almost hesitant pressure against your forehead.

you stir slightly, but you don’t open your eyes.

then, the kiss comes again. firmer this time, confident. jungwon’s lips linger just long enough to make your heart skip.

your eyes flutter open, and the world feels softer somehow, like everything has shifted in the quietest, most significant way. jungwon’s face is close, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.

you don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you. but the space between you disappears, and suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s soft at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you kiss him back, the hesitance melts away. the kiss deepens, slow and sweet, carrying the weight of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment that’s led to this.

when you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing a little harder, a little shakier.

“so,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “does this mean i won the gingerbread competition?”

jungwon chuckles softly, his fingers brushing against yours. “yeah,” he says, his voice warm and steady. “but i think i won something better.”

your heart stutters, his words washing over you like a confession wrapped in simplicity. you meet his gaze, and the way he’s looking at you—soft, steady, and so sure—makes it hard to breathe.

you don’t reply, because what could you possibly say? instead, you lean in, closing the space between you, your lips finding his again. it’s unhurried, sweet, and everything you’ve been too afraid to admit until now.

[tonyboneysblog]

curiosity kills the cat: one shot!

parings: Touya x reader

word count: 1.3k

notes: this was originally gonna be a part in a fanfic I was cooking but i genuinely could not figure out how to write childhood friends with Dabi’s crisped ass.

warnings: none!

summary: Touya always sees kissing in movies, all dramatic and lovey dovey, is it really his fault that he wants to try it on you? just to see how it feels of course!

“this movie fucking sucks.”

“language Touya.”

currently, you were at the treacherous Todoroki household.

Why? You may be asking.

Because you wanted to watch a movie, 27 dresses specifically.

Unfortunately for Touya Todoroki, he’s your only friend to watch the movie with.

now the two of you have been friends since pre-school, kids bullied you- Touya saved you.

you stuck around him after that, much to his dismay.

“Why would you make me watch this garbage.” Touya says harshly.

You huff loudly, “to see if your cold, dark heart had anything in it.”

Touya giggles at your little comment, you liked his laugh.

you wanted to watch this movie for a week, practically begged Touya on your knees for him to even watch it with you.

Touya doesn’t enjoy cheesy rom-coms.

He’s made that quite clear throughout this whole movie.

when the two main characters tried on the dresses he complained.

when they went to the bar together, he complained.

when the characters sang at the bar, he complained then too.

yet when they kissed, Touya didn’t even open his mouth.

“yuck- want me to skip?” You say for Touya’s sake.

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking, “nah, it’s just a kiss.”

“What- you’re suddenly cool with lovey dovey stuff now?” your face is set perplexed.

Touya shrugs, “I see it in TV all the time, why should I care?”

You hum softly, “adults kiss too much.”

Touya hums in agreement, his foot starting to steadily tap.

the movie continues, you catch Touya scoff at one of the movies jokes, he seems to be…actually interested.

but that damn tapping won’t stop.

Doesn’t his leg get tired when he does that?

Finally, at the end of the movie the two main lead get married, and the main actress has her 27 bridesmaids.

cute movie.

“Did you like it Touy?” you ask with excitement bubbling inside your chest.

He responds bluntly, “No- terrible movie.”

“Liar- that was the most I’ve ever seen you pay attention to something!” You point an accusing finger towards him.

Touya swatted your finger away, “I was waiting for the guy to murder the girl.”

“What?!” You retract your finger quickly.

Touya shakes his head as if it were obvious, “He had serial killer vibes..”

You sit there on the couch utterly silent from the words that just came out of Touya’s mouth.

His brows furrow slightly, “What?”

“Nothing, weirdo..”

Touya melts into the couch, picking up the remote and scrolling through the streaming apps choices.

“Any thing else you’d like to watch?”

“Being a gentleman I see?” You hum.

Touya chuckles softly, never responding.

The room is on a comfortable silence for the moment, aside from Touya tapping his foot against the glass table his feet are propped on.

Touya’s foot staggers, “Why do you think adults kiss?”

“Because they like it.” You answer quickly.

Touya shakes his head softly, “yeah but why, why do they like it?”

“Why would I know the answer to that.”

Touya glares at your for a moment, “oh please- your parents basically make out all the time when I’m over.”

“So that means I should know why they like it?” You pick at the fur blanket that was thrown over you prior to starting the movie.

Touya hums a small, “yep” before his foot starts to tap again.

“Didn’t think you were so affected by the kissing scene…” you say under your breath, Touya heard anyway.

“I-I wasn’t affected, I’m just curious on what’s so good about it.” He says quickly, the tapping increasing.

You seriously doubt Touya’s even looking at the tittles on the screen by how fast he’s tapping the remote button.

“Well I wouldn’t know…”

Touya stays quiet for a moment, thinking.

probably about something stupid.

“We could know.”

yep, something stupid.

“What you implying Touya?” You elbow his ribs, making him yelp.

“Ow- I’m saying that…nevermind.” Touya rubs his ribs softly, dropping the remote next to you.

“I mean…you’re just curious right?”

Touya looks up at you, the tapping gets faster.

“Yeah- Why…?”

You pick up the remote, looking it over to act like your doing anything else other that what your about to do.

“We could- do it..” you say quiet and soft.

Touya doesn’t respond, the tapping stopped at least.

suddenly, Touya grabs the remote from your hand- setting it aside.

“We could.”

Great, now you’re forced to look at your best friend.

“Yeah?” You say barely loud enough for Touya to pick up.

Touya nods, his foot starting to steadily tap again.

You cup Touya’s face with your hands- oh gosh are you really doing this?

Touya places his hands on your lap, truthfully he has no clue where to put them.

the taps get faster.

You and Touya look at each-other for a moment, just to make sure you don’t absolutely ruin your friendship.

More like a “you really wanna do this?” stare.

but hey, you were curious.

so was Touya.

1 + 1 = 2.

Two kissing more specifically.

“Jus’ do it already..” Touya says quietly, his face growing red.

You press your lips to Touya’s, it was..nice? soft? kinda gross.

Touya’s lips were quite soft actually, he’d wear chap stick like he’d wear clothes though- he hated dry lips.

Touya’s hand steadily went to your cheeks as well, only difference was his were a lot warmer.

At some point, Touya’s tapping stopped.

you a Touya didn’t though, it’s normal for friends to experience things together- how is a kiss any different?

Your cheeks felt so warm.

wait no- that’s Touya’s quirk.

You starting patting Touya’s thigh as a signal to chill out.

And he got the memo, only after a minute.

You and Touya were only slightly out of breath- you might have 1st degree burns on your cheeks though.

“M’sorry…?” Touya says with his dumb cracky voice.

“you burned my cheeks.” You say curtly.

Touya groans, “I didn’t know I activated my quirk!”

“I’m never kissing you again.” Your tone gets slightly aggressive.

Touy burned your precious face though- so he deserves it.

“I said I didn’t-“

A sudden laughter breaks through Touya’s speak, one that didn’t belong to him.

You whip your head to the door way only to see Touya’s siblings, Natsuo and Fuyumi.

Natsuo is holding onto his stomach, dying with laughter while Fuyumi looks mildly disappointed- more like embarrassed.

“Touya-nii…” Fuyumi says softly.

Touya’s face goes completely red, even reaching his ears.

“You didn’t see a thing.” Touya says sternly.

Natsuo laughs more as he grabs Fuyumi, “dude we saw everything!”

Fuyumi covers her face and Natsuo starts to re-create the scene.

“Oh-la-la! Y/N please kiss me I’m so desperate!” Natsuo says through his giggles.

You can see steam coming from Touya as he jumps over the couch to get to Natsuo.

Natsuo sees this and starts to book it.

So now you have a wild Touya and a trouble making Natsuo in the house.

Fuyumi looks at you, then runs to her room- poor girl doesn’t even wanna face you.

how are family dinners your invited to supposed to go now?

curiosity kills the cat you suppose.

and you are the cat in this situation.

EP:

“Mrs. Rei, this is absolutely delicious!” You say while crunching down on whatever Touya’s mother made for the night.

Touya hums in agreement, basically halfway through his second plate.

Natsuo chuckles before speaking, “maybe you should ask her for some cooking lessons Y/N- mom’s experienced.”

Rei smiles softly, “thank you, Natsuo.”

Natsuo immediately gains the most devious smile you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Maybe some kissing lessons as well, since you and Touya like that too.”

Immediately silence hits the table.

Touya immediately slams his blow onto the table.

Natsuo runs for his life down the hallway as Touya almost jumps over the table to catch him.

As soon as the boys leave the room your met with a stone faced Rei.

you clear your throat.

“Fuyumi can vouch for me, me and Touya would never do something so sinful!”

Rei chuckles softly, “Fuyumi told me when I came home…”

You whip your head to Fuyumi as she takes her leave, doesn’t wanna face your wrath.

you look towards rei again, sweating bullets as you hear Natsuo screaming bloody murder from two rooms over.

“w-we we’re just curious!”

AN: yall need smth after whatever the hell that episode was😭

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Tim , Cyan, The whir of a computer fan @hobiisthesunfiteme

Tim took another large sip of his coffee as he watched the person a few seats over from him pull out his laptop. The same person had been sitting in basically the same seat for the whole class, as had Tim. This wouldn’t mater much, except for the fact that Tim still couldn’t figure out what was going on with the guy’s computer.

The thing was a monstrosity and obviously about five home brews on top of each other. The case was chunky and dated, to the point that Tim was sure the screen had to have been replaced at least once to even be functioning. The keys were mechanical— a rare thing to find on the keyboards of modern, sleek laptop. And the fan in that thing sounded like a distant jet trying to take off.

Tim really wouldn’t be surprised if that thing burst into fire one lecture or exploded.

Maybe he should be more concerned by that than he was, but this was a nine o’clock class and Tim couldn’t work up the worry to care about mortal perils before 10 at the earliest and at least three coffees.

That left Tim mostly curious and a little amused.

“Come on baby, please wake up,” the guy crooned to the laptop, stroking the casing gently.

Tim couldn’t help but snort at that.

The guy’s head whipped around to Tim and he blinked, wide eyed, as his face slowly colored. “I, um, the old girl is just temperamental. She needs encouragement sometimes. Wow I sound really weird right now, I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, but I get it. I work with technology a lot too. Sometimes you just need to talk sweet to them.”

“Exactly!”

“But I have to ask, what even is she?” Tim asked, motioning with his coffee.

“You can’t just ask a lady that,” the guy said with an over dramatic gasp.

Tim rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “I do not believe that she was made with a microphone.”

“Okay, you’re right but you don’t have to say it. She’s sensitive.”

“All of her or just parts?”

That got a laugh out of the guy. “Okay, okay, so maybe she’s more of a Frankenstein these days, but I need her to last. I don’t have the money for anything new.”

“Wayne Foundation,” Tim replied automatically.

The guy’s brows scrunched together. “What? I mean, I know Wayne, but what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were a native. The Wayne Foundation has a fund for students going to college, it helps cover supplies like books and, these days, laptops or tablets. You should apply for it and see if it can help. It’s worth a shot at least.”

“Oh, thanks. I sorta though that stuff was mostly for… like families and things,” he explained. “I’ll give it a look and see what information they need.”

“Might as well, right?” Tim said.

“Right. Oh, I’m Danny, by the by.”

“Tim.”

The guy— Danny, smiled. For some reason it felt almost blinding. “Tim. Nice to meet you, Tim.”

(Feel free to continue if you want~)

[shybluebirdninja]

Mood Ring

Summary: You gift Logan a mood ring that hilariously changes colors based on his feelings.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : fluff

You had been seeing Logan for a while now, and though he was a rough-and-tumble mutant with a penchant for brooding, he had this soft spot for you that was downright adorable.

So, after a late-night infomercial convinced you that mood rings were the ultimate gift, you couldn't help but pick one up for him. The moment he opened the box, a mix of confusion and curiosity danced across his rugged face.

“Uh, babe, what is this? A fucking ring for teenagers?” he grunted, holding it up like it was a spider.

“Not just any ring, darling,” you replied, your excitement bubbling over. “It changes color based on your mood! Isn’t that cool?”

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over him. “You want me to wear some magic rock that tells you when I’m pissed off?”

“Exactly! It’ll help you communicate your feelings better, so I know when to back off or cuddle you,” you teased.

“Right. ‘Cause nothing says romance like a rainbow finger,” he chuckled, slipping the ring onto his finger. “This thing better not turn red when I’m hungry.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Let’s see what happens.”

As the day went on, the ring switched colors like a disco ball, and you couldn’t help but laugh every time Logan’s mood fluctuated. It was hilarious and adorable watching him try to figure out what the hell each color meant.

Later that night, you found yourselves snuggled up on the couch, flipping through channels. Logan, all muscles and gruffness, suddenly turned to you, his expression shifting to a slight frown. The ring went from a soothing blue to a fiery red.

“Uh-oh, babe, I think your ring is malfunctioning,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Are you about to claw something up?”

“Yeah, well, I might claw a pizza if you don’t get off that damn remote,” he grunted, making a mock angry face.

“Good to know I’m the real threat here,” you laughed, pretending to shiver in fear.

As the night rolled on, Logan's ring shifted again, this time to a bright green, and you tilted your head, trying to decode what that meant. “What’s with the green? You feelin’ fresh or something?”

“Hell if I know, babe. It’s just a rock,” he said, shrugging, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Oh, come on! Green usually means envy! Are you jealous of my snacking skills or something?” you teased, grabbing a handful of chips.

“Yeah, ‘cause you really got that whole ‘master chef’ thing down,” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t let the ring turn yellow; I don’t wanna know if you’re sick.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’ve got the perfect immune system thanks to all your healing factors rubbing off on me,” you said, grinning. “But yellow… hmm, maybe that means we need to get you a burger.”

He shot you a playful glare, leaning closer. “You just want me to put on some muscle, don’t you?”

“Muscle or not, you’re already my hunky cuddle monster,” you winked, leaning in for a kiss. You loved how he softened when you teased him.

“Cuddle monster, huh?” he murmured, that trademark smirk of his creeping onto his face. “I could get used to that.”

As the night deepened, the ring danced through colors, and you noticed Logan’s expression shift to a more serious tone when it turned a calming blue again.

“Alright, now I’m curious. What’s got you in the blue mood, babe?” you asked, your heart fluttering at the thought that something might be bothering him.

“Just thinking about stuff… you know how it is,” he replied, his voice low, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. “Sometimes I just don’t know if I’m good enough for you.”

You pulled back slightly, surprised by his confession. “What? Are you kidding me? You’re like, the best thing that ever happened to me. This ring is a joke, but you? You’re the real deal.”

“Yeah, well, this ring is saying I’m feeling some kinda blue,” he said, avoiding your gaze, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

“Okay, well, here’s the deal,” you said, your voice firm yet soft. “Whenever that ring turns blue, just remember you’re everything I want. You’re strong, tough, and you make me laugh like no one else.”

He looked at you, the weight of your words settling in, and you could see that wall of uncertainty start to crack. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely, babe. And trust me, that ring can say whatever it wants, but you’re stuck with me. So, don’t sweat it,” you reassured him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Alright then,” he said, cracking a grin. “Just don’t expect me to wear this ridiculous thing forever. My fingers are made for something more badass.”

“Like what? An engagement ring?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Logan laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Let’s not rush into anything, dear. I’ve got claws, but I’m not ready for that kind of commitment just yet.”

You playfully shoved him back, laughing. “Yeah, but you know I’m already halfway there, right? This ring might just be the start of your colorful future.”