#my adorable plastered children

[wolverigrl]

The Red Carpet Confession

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Here's another try! Please let me know in the comments if you liked it and if you'd like to have a part two? :)

Warnings: literally none, only some light fluff but nothing more!

!Disclaimer! The movie that the next parts are about is fictitious. It's a Marvel movie in which y/n plays one of the main roles as a Lady Deadpool variant.

Time period around 2015. Hugh's divorce fictitiously occurred here a year earlier.

Hugh is 46, and y/n is in her late 20s.

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The energy at the movie premiere was electric—the buzz of the crowd, the flashing lights, and the excitement in the air. Hugh’s hand rested comfortably on the small of my back as we made our way down the red carpet. Every now and then, I found myself leaning into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort that came so naturally between us. I glanced up at him, admiring the familiar crinkles around his eyes when he smiled and those laugh lines I adored so much.

We had come a long way since our first meeting at one of Ryan’s infamous dinner parties, where Blake introduced me to Hugh. Some months later I found out that my ex fiancé cheated on me. That night was a turning point for me. Blake, always the caring friend, had rallied Ryan and Hugh to come over with takeout and wine, determined to cheer me up. The four of us spent the evening in my living room, talking, laughing, and simply being there for each other.

Hugh had been a quiet comfort, sitting beside me as I cried, his arm around my shoulders. At one point, Ryan insisted on taking a selfie—our eyes a little red but smiles plastered on our faces. We posted it with the caption:

>>vancityreynolds: Friends who stick by you, no matter what ❤️<<

It was a moment that solidified our friendship, and from there, Hugh and I only grew closer.

Over time, our bond deepened. We started working out together, pushing each other to new limits. One day after an intense session, we snapped a photo—both of us sweaty, grinning, and flexing our biceps. I couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption:

>>y/n instagram: Who needs a gym partner when you’ve got The Wolverine pushing you?<<

The post went viral, and the fans went wild. The comments were full of playful speculation, with people shipping us hard.

>>loganskittycat: You two should just get married already😩<<

One fan wrote, while another cheekily commented:

>>carllax03: Are we sure this is just a workout partnership? Because I’m seeing serious couple vibes here🔥<<

I remember laughing about it with Hugh, but the truth was, there was something between us—something neither of us had fully acknowledged.

Things got even more intense after Hugh's separation. I made sure to be there for him, offering whatever support I could. We spent a lot of time together during that period, just talking, laughing, and working out our frustrations at the gym. He was hurting, and I wanted to be the friend he could lean on. But every time we were together, those buried feelings would start to bubble up again, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

There was that one time I posted a photo of us at the beach in Australia, where I had visited Hugh some days after he told me of his seperation. We were walking along the shore, deep in conversation about the breakup, his children, life and relationships, when the paparazzi caught us.

>>thehughjackman: The best view in Australia, and I'm not talking about the ocean 🌊<<

The next day, the headlines were full of speculation, but what really made the fans go crazy was Hugh's comment under a selfie of us at the beach:

The internet literally exploded with fans shipping us even harder than before.

>>catpool3000: Okay, if you two don't date, the universe is seriously broken😩<<

>>marvelboyx: He's flirting right in front of us! This is not a drill guys!<<

I found these fan comments so amusing and laughed it off, but the truth was, Hugh had become someone I couldn’t imagine my life without.

As we continued posing for photos on the red carpet, I couldn't help but remember the time we ran into a group of fans during another walk, this time back in New York.

Hugh and I had been grabbing coffee when a few fans approached us asking for photos. Hugh was, of course, his usual charming self, chatting with them, making them laugh, and posing for selfies.

One of the fans turned to me, a little shy, and said: "You're so awesome, y/n. You and Hugh are just the best! Your energy is amazing."

I smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you, sweetheart, that means a lot. Hugh makes it easy, though. He's got the charm down to an art."

Later, those fans posted the selfies on social media, gushing about how kind and down-to-earth we both were. The most comments were full of love and support, with many noting how natural Hugh and I seemed together, how much they 'shipped' us. It was sweet, even if it was a little overwhelming.

The speculation about us had been growing for months, especially after that interview with Jimmy Fallon, where Ryan and I were guests. We were there to promote the new movie, and naturally, the conversation turned to the camaraderie on set.

Jimmy Fallon, ever the curious host, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, y/n, what was it like joining such a big, well-established cast for the first time? Did you find it easy to get along with everyone?"

I nodded, smiling at the memory of my first days on set. "Honestly, I was a bit nervous at first. I mean, these guys are legends." I said, gesturing to Ryan.

"But they made me feel so welcome right from the start. It felt like I was joining a big. slightly dysfunctional, but very loving family."

I chuckled, trying to keep my cool. "I mean, Hugh and I did spend a lot of time together. We bonded over our love for fitness, and he's just such an easy person to get along with. But really, the whole cast was amazing."

Jimmy grinned. "And was there anyone you got particularly close to? I mean, everyone's shipping you with Hugh Jackman after those workout posts."

Fallon wasn't done yet. He leaned in closer, his tone playful. "But come on, Y/N, who was your favorite on set? Who was the person you looked forward to working with the most?"

Before I could answer, Ryan leaned over, placing his hand dramatically on his chest. "Oh, come on, Jimmy, we all know I'm her favorite," he said with a mock pout. Then, as if sharing a secret, he turned to him, cupping his hand around his mouth like he was about to whisper.

"But between us, it's the Aussie. It's always the Aussie."

The audience burst into laughter, and I playfully shoved Ryan's shoulder.

"You wish!" I said, unable to keep a straight face.

Ryan shot me a wink. "Hey, you don't have to deny it, y/n. We all know how much you love Hugh's, uhh workout routine."

I rolled my eyes, laughing along with the audience. But deep down, Ryan's joke hit a little too close to home. Because as much as I tried to brush it off, there was a growing part of me that knew he was right.

Now, as we walked the red carpet together, another interviewer caught up with us, asking the question we'd been dodging all night. "Hugh, y/n. The internet is buzzing with rumors about your relationship. Care to set the record straight?"

My heart skipped a beat. I glanced at Hugh, and he met my gaze with that familiar, playful glint in his eye. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing, as he spoke into the mic,

"We've certainly spent a lot of time, and we do get along really well."

Hugh and I exchanged a quick look, a silent understanding passing between us.

"We've had some pretty intense workouts together." I couldn't resist adding.

The double meaning wasn't lost on the interviewer or on Hugh, who shot me an amused look.

The interviewer pressed on. "So, is it safe to say you're more than just friends?"

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. "I think we'll leave that up to your imagination."

The reporter laughed, realizing we weren't going to give a straight answer. "Fair enough. But you two certainly know how to keep us all guessing."

We thanked him shortly after, said our quick goodbyes, and moved along the red carpet to the next interview.

Another reporter greeted us, smiling, and started right with the conversation.

"Y/n? Hugh, you two have been quite the talk of the town with your workout posts. Can you tell us a little more about your training and diets while preparing for the movie?"

Hugh grinned and nudged me playfully. "Y/n here is a beast in the gym. She's got more discipline than anyone I know, and she doesn't let me slack off."

I laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Hugh's being modest. He's the one who keeps me on my toes. It's hard not to be motivated when you've got The Wolverine next to you, pushing you to do just one more set.

The interviewer chuckled before shifting the conversation to a more private topic.

"And y/n, with your costume being so form-fitting, what kind of uhh.. support did you have underneath?”

The question caught me off guard, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Before I could respond, though, Hugh stepped in, his expression turning serious.

"I think that’s enough for this interview. Thank you for your time." he said, his tone polite but firm, effectively ending the conversation.

The reporter looked taken aback but quickly recovered, thanking us for our time before moving on. As we walked away, I felt a surge of gratitude for Hugh’s quick intervention. Without thinking, I placed my hand on his chest, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

He smiled down at me, his eyes softening as he replied.

"Anytime, darling. Anytime."

As the last flashes of the cameras faded and the final questions from reporters dwindled, Hugh and I finally stepped off the red carpet. The air was buzzing with the excitement of the night, but it was the thought of the after-show party that truly had me giddy. Hugh could sense my anticipation and chuckled, his arm still comfortably wrapped around my waist as we made our way to the venue.

Inside, the party was already in full swing. The room was filled with a dazzling array of celebrities, all mingling and celebrating the movie. My eyes widened as I spotted a few of my own favorite celebrities across the room, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Hugh noticed my reaction and gave me a teasing smile.

"Someone’s excited." he said. His voice was warm with amusement.

I laughed, unable to contain my enthusiasm.

"Can you blame me? This is like a dream come true! There are so many people here I’ve admired for years."

Hugh shook his head, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, affectionate smile. "It’s adorable seeing you like this, y/n. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself."

We made our way further into the party, the music and chatter surrounding us. It didn’t take long before we spotted Ryan and Blake, who waved us over from a corner where they were chatting with a few other familiar faces.

As we joined them, Blake greeted us with a warm hug.

"You two were fantastic out there." she said, beaming. "How many relationship questions did you get?"

Ryan grinned, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, did they finally get you to confess?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before we both laughed. "Oh, you know, we kept them guessing." I said, shrugging lightly. "It’s more fun that way."

Hugh nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We might have let a few things slip here and there, just to keep them on their toes."

Blake raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You two really enjoy this, don’t you?"

"Maybe a little." I admitted with a grin, feeling a little mischievous. "But in the end, it’s our story to tell—or not."

Ryan lifted his glass, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, here’s to keeping the world guessing, then. And to the best workout partners in the business."

We all clinked our glasses together, the sound of crystal ringing out as we toasted to the night and everything that had led us to this moment. The conversation flowed easily, with laughter and banter filling the space between us. As I stood there, surrounded by friends who had become like family, I felt a deep sense of contentment.

As the night wore on, we mingled with other guests, and I let my inner fangirl come out to play, much to Hugh’s amusement. He watched with a fond smile as I excitedly chatted with some of my favorite stars, his laughter echoing in my ears when I returned to his side, gushing about the conversations I’d just had.

Blake nudged him playfully, a knowing look in her eyes. "You’ve got your hands full with this one, Hugh."

Hugh just laughed, looking over to me, while I was talking to Ryan. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

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Next part

[beautifulsenpai]

I WILL NEVER LET YOU LEAVE ME - 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗑 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

˚₊‧꒰ა chapter 1 - the start and all might ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

- cw | 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗒, 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉 (𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝟤𝟢)

- characters | 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗂 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗄𝗂, 𝗄𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗆𝗂, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗐𝖺, 𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖺, 𝗏𝗅𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍

- summary | (𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾), 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁���𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

- male reader’s quirk | 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 - 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗍𝖼. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌.

(name) didn’t think it’d be this easy to adjust to being a new pro hero in japan. (name’s) outstanding quirk and good looks made him quickly rise to the top 10 heroes. all of this made him very nervous, he barely started, and he’s already at the top! how exciting! and such a young age to start as a pro hero, at age 20.

it was truly an honor to fight alongside other heroes, especially the heroes that he grew up watching fighting and saving japan from reckless villains. endeavor and all might was the biggest inspiration for him to be a hero, and now fighting alongside them was thrilling.

(name) was surprised how easily was to get along with the other heroes, especially with endeavor. they were super friendly! a little too friendly if you ask me! (name) didn’t think they were so affectionate from behind the camera. they would give out heartwarming compliments and suddenly would get touchy.

(name) didn’t mind it at first, they were his idols after all, but it started to get a bit unsettling. they would stare at (name) for too long, they would touch him inappropriately, some would be there near him when he didn’t want them to be, and would glare at anyone who would stare or would be too close to (name).

all of this was too much for (name), it was kind at first, but this was too much kindness. (name) thought if being a pro hero wasn’t as enjoyable as it sound, or looks to be. was all of this worth it to be a hero?

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

“there you have it folks! (name) (last name), known as flower maiden has protected the civilians of (random district name) from a violent thief! such an amazing hero!”, a woman news reporter gushed with a hint of blush on her cheeks from watching the handsome hero capture a thug.

the thief hung upside down, trying to wiggle out of the grasp of (name’s) quirk. thick vines were securely wrapped around the thug’s buddy, who threw curses at the young hero. it fell deaf onto (name’s) ears as he dusted off the filth that plastered onto him. (name) glanced at his adoring fans, and adorable children who admire him deeply.

“he’s so awesome!”

“papa! mama! i want to be like him when i’m a hero!”

“he’s so beautiful!”

“he’s way out of my league..”

“such a goddess!”

those compliments made (name) feel giddy. he loves his devoted fans very much. he chuckled, his eyes closed, smiling widely as he waved at the crowd. imaginary arrows shot at their hearts as their faces turned bright red from his tender smile. there was a particular retired hero in the crowd, witnessing the whole show.

it was all might. he watched how (name) defeated the criminal with such ease. it made him fall in love with (name) even more. he scooted through the crowd, trying to get close to (name) as soon as possible. “(name)!”, all might call out in the crowd. (name) halted his movements as his smile faded away, he looked at the crowd, trying to find the source.

(name) smile quickly came back as his eyes lit up when he saw all might push through the crowd with a smile. it was heartbreaking when all might retired when (name) transformed into a hero, he couldn’t battle with one of his idols, but was happy, at least he was making one of his fellow colleagues proud.

“greetings all might!”, (name) laughed. all night came up to (name) very quickly, (name) didn’t even notice. suddenly, (name) eyes widen slightly and lets out a cute yelp as all might surprisingly lift (name) onto his shoulders.

it surprised (name) since all might wasn’t as strong anymore, and he was scrawny and physically weak. (name’s) rear sat on all might’s shoulder as his arm wrapped around (name’s) legs, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally slip out of his grasp.

all might face the crowd, still holding onto (name). all might do his iconic smile as his eyes were shut. the crowd went wild, fans were gushing at the sight of the heroes getting along. (name) didn’t mind as his eyes shut closed, and smiled warmly.

all might felt overjoyed as he get to touch (name). the crowd died down as some people wandered away from the area. the crook was apprehended by officers, and he was quickly taken away. much to all might’s dismay, he softly held onto (name’s) hips and gently set him down on his feet.

(name) appreciated the nice gesture. he hasn’t gotten used to pro heroes being close friends, with the soft touching of his peers, makes him feel happy. “so all might! to what do i owe the pleasure?”, (name) exclaimed with a smile afterward. all might’s face turned completely red from what he was going to ask him.

all might avoid (name’s) gaze while playing with his fingers. “w-well, young midoriya and i will be going out for l-lunch to celebrate his quirk training. maybe y-you’ll like to j-join us?”, all might stuttered, he cringed from hearing himself stutter like that.

(name) never heard all might stutter like that, he thought he sounded silly, resulting him to chuckle. “gosh, i would be honored but unfortunately, i have to get some work done in my agency! maybe next time!” (name) reassured, his eyes closed as he scratched his neck nervously. he would be delighted to have lunch with all might if he wasn’t so busy.

all might smile dropped as his eyes widened from shock, he was upset. this was his chance to get even closer to (name), even get him in bed but his stupid hero work was getting in the way. “i-i understand..”, all might mutter. “but let me at least drive you there!”, all might insist, his face flushed as his eyes lit up from thinking about dropping (name) off at his agency.

that sounded romantic to him! (name) blinked, head tipped to the side. his eyes shut as he thought about it, it’ll be nice since he wouldn’t have to walk to the agency. (name) smiled as his arm rested on his hip, “that’ll be nice!”, (name) beamed.

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

the ride to the agency was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. (name) stared right out the window, watching the passing vehicles, and buildings while all might was driving the vehicles, not taking his eyes off the road. (name) gently closed his eyes as he sighed softly.

“god, you have no idea how amazing you are”, all might purred. (name) eyes shot open, he stared at the road ahead of him, what was all might talking about. “pardon me?”, (name) questioned.

“all i’m saying (name) is that you’re so intelligent, strong, and so adorable!” all might gush, his face blushing as he placed one of his hands on (name’s) thigh as the other was gripping onto the steering wheel. (name’s) eyes widened as he flinched. all might start rubbing up, and down on (name’s) thigh, (name) forced a smile while sweating bullets.

(name) started trembling, what was this man doing, and what was he saying? he was talking nonsense. why was he saying all of this now? was it that they were both alone together? whatever it is, (name) did not want all might’s hand caress touching.

“i-i don’t know what to say all might..”, (name) muttered as he continued to stare ahead, he did not know what to say, but all might did. “i love you so much (name), you have no idea to what limits i’d go to prove that to you”, he dreamily sighed as he hand slowly crept more upwards to (name’s) privates.

luckily, luck was on (name’s) side. he quickly hopped off the car when the car halted in front of (name’s) agency, and shut the door shut. (name’s eyes were still wide, he was fighting back tears, his brows drew together as his breathing was shaky and weak. he couldn’t believe what had happened.

as (name) was about to head inside his agency, he halted when he heard the passenger window roll down. “i’ll give you a call to schedule our lunch together!”, all might shout inside the car with excitement in his voice. (name) turned his head to the side, eyes shut, he forced another smile as he nodded.

“s-sure thing! i’ll be waiting!”, (name) stuttered nervously through his white teeth. all might smirk at (name’s) response, did (name) really mean that? did he? the passenger door’s window rolled up. (name) heard the car start, and the next thing you know, the car drove away into the busy streets, leaving (name) there in his own thoughts.

such a weird man..

the last part was rushed, sorry that it’s not good!

[milliesfishes]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 (𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽)𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓷𝓸𝔀 (𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭)

The domestic life had never been something Coriolanus had daydreamed about per se, but he'd known with the path he wanted it was nearly a given.

He'd known his choice in spouse would heavily influence the way this went. He'd aimed for someone pleasant, docile even.

You had been the best possible outcome. Though the marriage began as advantageous, he grew fond, and before he knew it, adoring.

Convinced you were sent by a higher power, he'd made sure to dress you in the best clothes, wrap you in the softest sheets, give you the best security money could buy. In addition, he gave what he had to you. His body was yours as well, and he made sure to remind you of the fact of it nearly every day.

His political pursuits only made him love you more, giving you an opportunity to shine in the spotlight. Sometimes he thought the public loved you more than he did, and he knew they loved you more than him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. You were a fine sight standing at his side at galas and dinners, photographing so well he wasn't convinced you weren't ethereal.

When you became pregnant, he rejoiced not just for the look of it, but for how miraculous you were. The sight of you carrying his child was a vision. And not that he cared as much, but it did wonders for his image to have a beautiful, glowing wife at his side, belly rounding with a baby.

Coriolanus marveled at the child after it was born, a son who was nothing short of a carbon copy of him. Motherhood suited you better than he could have dreamed, and the brightness you'd gained during your pregnancy made a home in you. He could hardly keep his hands off you, and he found you didn't want him to either.

The result of which was another bouncing baby boy, conceived less than a year after your first child was born. At this point, Coriolanus was in higher offices, and he had taken more time to be by your side, not wanting to miss a single second of anything.

Headlines far and wide praised the young, up-and-coming politician and his beautiful family, plastering the yearly portraits you commissioned across the front of magazines and newspapers. It was Panem's ideal, the four of you, and he used that image to propel him further and further up in politics, until he was up for the highest position in the country.

Presidency had been the end goal, of course, but he hadn't expected to reach it so soon. Once a boy with hardly a coin in his pocket, now a savvy, charming political powerhouse with a wife who was just the same.

The night he won his presidency, there were hours and hours of celebration, champagne and fireworks flowing freely. You hardly left his side, greeting dignitaries and senators, in a red gown he couldn't wait to unzip, dripping in diamonds he'd gifted you for the occasion. You looked every bit the perfect First Lady.

When the party had died down and he'd decided he wanted you all to himself, Coriolanus scooped you into his arms and whispered something to you that made you blush prettily. He started to kiss you once you were in the car and didn't stop all the way back to the mansion, up the stairs and into the bedroom. The children were long since put to bed, and he was excited to be alone with you.

"We did it," he whispered before he captured your lips yet again in a searing kiss. "You and me, darling. We'll run this country. We've got the world at our fingertips."

You traced his jaw delicately and slid your hand up to his hair, mussing his hair that'd stayed so perfect all night. "It's all you. You can do anything."

"Not without my wife," he murmured against your mouth. Coriolanus' hands grasped your hips, making you sigh and tug at his tie to loosen it. He ducked his head to your neck, lips trailing a tantalizing trail down to your collarbone. "My First Lady."

The way he said it made you shiver, and you pulled him by the shirt collar to the bed, pushing him down so you could sit on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. He grasped your waist, leaning back slightly as you kissed him slowly, almost teasingly.

Your lips parted for a moment, and he opened his eyes to watch you breathe, your smooth fingers unhooking his top shirt buttons. He nearly turned liquid when your hand lingered there, tracing his collarbone. The way your face was so serene, he knew you were thinking about something intently.

Then you smiled, taking his face in your hands, your eyes flickering between his. Leaning forward, you gave him the softest, wispiest kiss, and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

Coriolanus pulled back ever so slightly, searching your face. When he found you were serious, a grin split across your features, and he fell so his back hit the bed, rolling over so he was hovering over you. His lips touched every bit of your face he could reach, conscious of your delighted giggles. The night truly couldn't have gotten any better.

Fresh off celebration, he leapt straight into his presidential duties, finding himself more productive than he'd ever been before. Of course, he kept a close eye on you as well, sticking to his usual routine for your pregnancies. If he had a particularly long day, you'd come up to his study and crawl into his lap despite his protests that you needed to rest.

"Can't sleep without you," you'd murmur, knowing that would make him come to bed. He was nearly conscious of what you were doing, but he allowed it to happen, defenseless against your wide eyes and soft touches.

Pregnancy didn't stop you from your responsibilities as the First Lady, and he was in awe of it. You hosted regular dinners and parties as easy as breathing, attended charity events and actual charities, from soup kitchens to schools, animal shelters to women's homes. Coriolanus was amazed by you, how you truly cared to use your position to make things better

You discussed your experiences with him as well, casually mentioning things he may want to take a look at in terms of conditions and laws. He was touched by your goodness of heart, and even though as president he didn't have the final say in everything, you inspired change, encouraged him to truly make things better, not just maintain order.

As the months in the first year of his term progressed, Coriolanus had made the acquaintance of quite a few figures in the Capitol's tree of politics, making nice with them for the sake of diplomacy. They were all eager to cozy up to him, of course, and he kept it in mind as he chose who to be seen with.

There were three senators in particular, who had wives, and children the same ages as yours and Coriolanus' two boys. He cautiously allowed them to become closer. The men were amiable enough and their wives were...well, he wasn't fond of them but you, pure sunshine in physical form, had nothing but good things to say about them, and he thanked the stars for your sweet disposition.

You suggested he have them over for tea one day, saying it would be good for all of them. The boys could have a few more friends their age, you could entertain the other wives, and Coriolanus could talk business with the men. An all-around win, you'd called it.

Of course he'd agreed, your hold on him influencing his decision as usual. He wouldn't dream of fighting your sway, as it'd always produced wonderful results in the past. Coriolanus had long learned to trust you.

The day of you were stunning in a soft red dress that accentuated your rounding belly, and he made sure to tell you how beautiful you looked several times before everyone arrived.

Ever the gracious hostess, you greeted the other wives gracefully, settling on one side of the room with them and the children, allowing Coriolanus and the senators to have a modicum of privacy. As well as this, it made it so he didn't have to interact with the women with whom, he'd confessed to you secretly, he wanted as little to do with as possible. It was like you'd read his mind, and he made a mental note to thank you later.

It began smoothly. The senators were friendly, and their political proposals were fine ideas. He took note of the better ones, already plotting a joint strategy in his head. Whenever he glanced to the other side of the room, you were smiling, and the children were content.

About an hour in, however, he noticed you stand and exit swiftly out of the corner of his eye. That was unusual. He didn't pay it any real mind though, until it had been ten minutes and you still hadn't returned.

Coriolanus got to his feet and excused himself, making his way into the hallway and scanning the space for you. He heard sniffling around the corner, and when he went to investigate, he found you with a hand over your mouth, eyes closed as tears streamed down your cheeks.

His face fell, and he immediately took you into his arms, folding you into his chest and holding your head there the way he knew you liked. "Darling, what's the matter? What happened? Are you feeling alright?"

You let out a breathy sob, shaking your head. "Nothing, it's nothing. I'm just emotional. I'm always emotional."

A bold-faced lie. Coriolanus had heard stories of pregnant women crying at the drop of the hat, but you'd never been that way. Not with either of your sons and so far, not at all with this baby either, six months in.

"You can tell me," he decided on saying, smoothing your hair under his hand. "I don't care how little you think it is. I'll fix it no matter what."

"It's stupid," you breathed, your arms grasping around his middle.

"Easier to make better, then," he kissed the top of your head, trying ot coax you into confessing.

That softened your resolve, and you took in a breath. Maybe you could sense he wouldn't relent. Maybe you felt safe enough to tell him. Either way, or both, you started talking.

"The other wives..." you started, and he bit his tongue. His opinion was already low of them, and he had a feeling whatever they'd done would sink it to the depths. "They were making...comments. About how many babies we've had."

His brow furrowed. He hadn't even realized that was something to make 'comments' on. "What did they say?"

"Have you noticed none of them have more than one?" you looked up at him, your teary eyes piercing his. And he realized he'd never taken that into account, but it was true. "They impli- said that it was low class, district was the word one of them used, to do what we've done and have multiple children."

In shock, Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your rosy cheek, brushing another tear away. "That's ridiculous. How could the number of children we have determine our status?"

"Apparently because I'm married to the president, I'd be neglecting my responsibilities by portraying myself as a 'housewife'," you whispered, not meeting his eyes at that part. "It comes across as undignified." He was about to contradict you, when you said more. "And they were talking about my charity work, saying I do too much and I shouldn't be neglecting our boys-" your breath hitched on the word, and a fresh wave of tears ensued.

Coriolanus let you bury your face into his chest once more, not caring if you got makeup on his collar. This was more serious than something that could be rendered with dry-cleaning.

He was in disbelief that anyone would dare say such things to you, such things that were so blatantly untrue. And to your face, no less. He almost admired the boldness of it. The audacity of Capitol women truly knew no bounds. He knew jealousy when he saw it, having been an active devotee of it for much of his life. These women had put you in an impossible spot. You couldn't be a good enough mother, or a good enough First Lady in their eyes. His mind worked quickly, and he knew what he needed to do.

Lifting your chin, Coriolanus said, "Will you look at me, sweetheart?" You obliged, and his heart broke at the look in your eyes. He lifted his hands to cradle your face, the corners of his lips twitching when you leaned slightly into his palm.

"You are a wonderful mother," he emphasized. "Our boys adore you. And you do beautiful work for all your charities. Do you know how many remarks I get about how caring and selfless my wife is?" Your tears slowed down, and that encouraged him to continue. "You're perfect. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about."

That made you smile, and he relished in how pretty you looked even after you'd been crying. Coriolanus kissed your hairline gently, and pulled you in for another hug, rubbing your back. "Why don't you go upstairs and rest for a bit? I'll join you in a moment."

"What about-?"

"I'll take care of it," he interjected firmly when you remembered everyone still sitting in the drawing room. Coriolanus leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to your mouth, enough to make you smile a little more. "Go on up."

You left him, and he watched you walk down the hallway to the stairs, looking so small in the vast, grand expanse.

Somewhat regrettably, the senator's proposals would have to be rejected. Although maybe there was a way to twist them, so they were just different enough from their specific wording to make them seem like his. Maybe they would protest, but it didn't matter. Their wives had disrespected you, the center of Coriolanus' world, and so they wouldn't reap any benefits. And besides, nobody would believe them.

Perhaps it was a little early in his presidency to have someone ejected from society, but he would certainly try. Anyone who dared question you, his sweet, kind, darling wife, would have hell to pay.

Coriolanus was the president of Panem. He could do as he pleased.

And he'd exhaust every last resource to keep you happy by his side.

[tired-teacher-blog]

You coax your six year old daughter into telling her father about the bigger-than-herself crush she's been harboring for the cute little boy who sits next to her in class, just so you could see the mortified look on your husband's face as he struggled to control his temper while listening to his girl's sweet voice bashfully recounting the story of how they exchanged their first love notes today..

And he's now thinking of a proper plan to intimidate the poor boy and keep him away from his little angel, and probably even make him switch schools.

_ "Come on Shouta, something like that is bound to happen sooner or later." your giggles fill the air as you strive to smooth out the frown plastered across his face with gentle pecks and touches.

_ "Yeah! When she's like thirty or something, not now!" his grip on the thick book tightens as his frustration grows, and you ignore him for a second to try steadying your legs on each side of his waist, "I don't understand why you're not more upset about this, she's your daughter too." and he carries on complaining when you fail to respond.

You sigh contentedly after settling on his lap, snatching the book away from his grasp and reaching out to set it on your nightstand, " well I think it's cute that she's exploring some new emotions, don't you remember when we first met? We weren't much older than her."

His scowl deepens at your words and his stare shifts to the side in contemplation, he does not seem to care for the reminder as it only worries him further.

You bite down on your lip in a futile attempt to swallow your giggles, pushing his soft locks back to carefully remove his glasses and trail soft kisses on the scars adding to his beauty.

_ "That's not comforting you know?" he groans in protest against your statement and holds you closer to himself, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and allowing you to kiss him as you please, "I don't want her developing romantic feelings for anyone, not now not ever, she just needs to be my little girl."

Your heart swells with adoration for your man, the same person who used to dislike the idea of having kids of his own, saying that all he ever wanted was to settle down with you and you alone, to have a little peace of mind after his early retirement, away from the troubles bound to come with children.

However, all of it has changed the moment you were greeted with a lovely surprise that you both shared its creation.. your little angel and source of happiness.

_ "She'll always be our little girl." you murmur against his cheek and kiss him there again, "but if you want, we can always have another." you sit back and watch the expression on his face slowly switching to an amused one as he presses you down on his bulge.

_ "Yeah, and maybe this time we'll have a boy."

[maxiemclaren]

Hii!! I wanted to request a Max verstappen fic. Its readers first time in the paddock after they public their relationship. So max just being very gentle with her like entering while holding her hand or guiding her with a hand on the small of her back. Him being a protective partner and during the media session he answer questions about her very gentley and smilingly...

Its okay if your busy but do consider it.

Its okay if

The Lover Boy

Pairing - Max x fem!reader

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, but mainly sweet Max fluff

Summary - Max and y/n decide to show up to the paddock after announcing their relationship, y/n is nervous but Max is there to wash away her worries.

a/n - I LOVE HIM, yes I google translated words because all I really know in Dutch is “kinderen eten rijst” which literally means children eat rice LMAO. Also sorry this took so long I literally had no motivation and went MIA.

“Schat, are you almost ready?” He yelled from the living room. “Yes, Max just a moment!” you say from the bathroom, where you were trying to hype yourself up for going to the paddock with your boyfriend. Just earlier this week you made your relationship public.

Earlier that week

“Max, I’m ready to make our relationship public” You say leaning against your boyfriend during your movie night, it was after many months of thought and deliberation you were tired of hiding. There is nothing wrong with having your relationship known but keeping it to yourselves, and that was frankly what you both wanted. “Are you 100% sure schat? Because we can still keep it on the down low if you want, don't feel pressured because of m-” You cut him off with a deep kiss, solidifying your decision. “I’m very sure Max”

Now here you are leaning against the counter whilst looking in the mirror and taking deep breaths reminding yourself that everything is going to be fine. “Everything will be fine, Max is there if anything goes wrong” you convince yourself “That’s right, I’ll be there the whole time” Max says as he appears from the bathroom door, grabbing your hand as he looks to you with love and adoration “If you feel uncomfortable or just want to leave just squeeze my hand, okay?” You nod your head in understanding, as you both head out to the paddock.

Hand in hand with smiles on both of your faces, you start to get swarmed with fans and cameras from Redbull and other sources. Stopping occasionally to take photos with fans you never stopped smiling, you loved to see how he interacted with his fans, especially the little kids. What took you by surprise was when one of the fans asked for a picture with the both of you, looking to Max with uncertainty he offered his hand to you allowing you to feel more comfortable. 

Nevertheless, Max had to go get ready for meetings and the media, so he navigated you through the swarm of people to his driver room, not letting go of your hand the whole time. Wanting to truly make sure he didn’t lose you amongst the chaos that can be the paddock, hospitality, and the garage. 

Here you were sitting in his driver room, just waiting away when you look at your phone it is blowing up with notifications from fans. Max’s fans. You open your phone carefully to see something that you did not expect. Positive tags, many fans gushing over the fact that Max was talking about you in an interview, smile plastered on his face and slight flush.

“So Max, you and y/n have made your relationship public recently, how are you both taking it?” one of the reporters asked. “Yeah, well y/n and I felt it was time to announce our relationship, She is lovely and has been so patient with all the traveling and racing. I won’t comment on her personal experience because that is her privacy but I can say that, I am extremely happy to bring the love of my life around with me and have the fans love her as much as I do.”  Max says. 

Watching the rest of the interview, you sit there all giddy and feeling the anxiety washing away from you after hearing all the praise and joy Max is expressing about his love for you. Having the courage to find that beautiful Dutch man, you leave the driver's room and find him talking with Lando. Not wanting to interrupt you stand there waiting, but Lando takes notice of you and nods to Max to let him know that someone would like his attention. Max turns around confused and then realizes you were there and a large smile breaks on his face. “I watched your interview lover boy” you tease. A blush creeps up his ears, “Yeah, so you heard everything I said about you?” He says while grabbing your hands. “I sure did.” you say leaning to kiss him. “Schat, thank you for coming with me even though you were hesitant. Now lets head back to the hotel and relax” he says with full sincerity.

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.2)

and here's part two!!! thank you all SO MUCH for the support you've shown my writing. giving @sukinix a tag because they asked to be notified when this drops. love y'all!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 6.8k

Warnings: cursing, PTSD struggles, panic attack mention, and even more adorableness

Series: No Fucking Way

“I want you to name him,” you repeated. Logan stepped a pace away from you, hands raising in surrender.

“No. No fucking way,” he said. You flicked water at him as you finished rinsing off the soapy kitten below you. Logan scoffed at your reaction, moving around you to sit on the lip of the tub, “I ain’t naming a cat that’s not mine.”

“Who’s to say the cat isn’t yours?” you teased. You reached behind you and grabbed a fluffy, green towel from a hook screwed into the wall. Drying your hands, you turned off the faucet and inspected your work on the absolutely drenched kitten huddled in the sink. Blue eyes still squinted, large ears pointing straight up, gray and white fur plastered in one smooth ball around its little body.

“I say it’s not. I don’t want a cat,” Logan said. You gave him a look that said sure you don’t over your shoulder as you scooped the cat in the towel. The little purr factory was sure to bore holes in the towel with the strength of the buzzing. It nuzzled its little head against the towel in an attempt to get water out of its ears.

“Even one as cute as this fluffy guy?” you asked, attempting to reason with the forever-grumpy man sitting on the tub. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair then placed both hands on his knees.

“How can I tell if he’s fluffy? He’s fucking soaked, doll,” Logan replied. 

You sighed, eyes rolling up to the white ceiling. Sure, you loved Logan. You loved him more than life itself. But Christ could he get on your nerves.

“Your understanding of physics never ceases to amaze me, darling,” you said in a singsong manner. A humorless laugh barked from Logan’s chest. The cat looked over to him, eyes widening slightly at the sudden noise, ears perked forward.

“What’re you lookin’ at, cat?” Logan asked. His question was answered with a small “mrraow?” from the now mostly damp kitten. He scoffed at the small creature, “Now it’s sassing me.”

“He’ll sass you less if you give him a name,” you said. A rough grumble echoed in the tub as Logan stood. Boots clacked across the tiled floor as he moved to stand next to you again.

“Alright, you know what? You said he’s fluffy, so that’s his name. Floof,” Logan said. You arched an eyebrow at him, the kitten looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“...Floof? Really?” you asked. Logan huffed and threw his hands up in frustration.

“You don’t like the name, change it!”

“No, no. I like it. Just didn’t expect that to come from you,” you said, giggles building in your chest. 

Logan glared at you, grumbled “whatever,” then stormed out of the bathroom. The kitten, or Floof, watched him leave. His gray and white fur was getting more fluffy the more you dried him with the towel. You assessed the cat in your hands.

“Floof. Yeah, I like it. How about you?” you asked. Blue eyes blinked up at you. 

“Maaoww.”

“Good.”

~~~~1 week later~~~~

It was no surprise that Floof became the favorite among students. Whenever the kitten walked into a room, the children would immediately flock to the furball and give it so much love, the professors started complaining about lack of focus within the student body.

Cat trees and scratching posts were a permanent fixture in nearly every room, felt obstacle courses adorned some of the common areas’ walls, there were even pots of cat grass growing in Charles’s study. Floof was free to wander into any part of the mansion, so the students had adapted to looking at the floor whenever they walked to and from class, not wanting to step on the six-week-old kitten.

The only person throughout the entire mansion who hadn’t taken a shine to the newest member was Logan. Of course it was. Mr.Grouchy hated fun, as you knew.

It didn’t help matters that whenever he would style his hair, you would compare his hair tufts to Floof’s ears. You even went so far as to take pictures of both Logan and Floof, without Logan knowing, and edited them to be side by side so you could show Logan the likeness. That had earned you an irritated “they’re not cat ears!” and the cold shoulder for a few hours.

“You look like his dad, Lo,” you said through a fit of giggles. Logan sat in one of the leather armchairs of this particular sitting room. Lit cigar clutched in his left hand, right hand raised to push away Floof should the cat get too close, ankle crossed over his thigh.

“I’m not his fucking dad. I don’t have a cat,” Logan groused, scooping up Floof by the stomach from the armrest and placing the kitten back on the floor. The movement was met with an indignant “mooaaoow!”

“Uh huh. Yes dear,” you replied. You sat across from Logan, and the rather persistent cat, on the green-clothed couch. Shelves with a smattering of books lined the walls not overtaken by huge, bay windows. Streams of midday sun lit up the room. The only other person in this common area was Via, a pink sweater-wearing mutant with telekinesis and telepathy. She sat on one of the benches affixed to the bay windows. 

“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me,” Logan said. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a puff. Smoke curled around his head like a gray halo dispersed in the sun’s rays.

The bell around Floof’s neck jingled as the cat jumped onto the armrest again. Tiny, gray paws patted on Logan’s elbow. Logan huffed, grabbing the cat around the middle and setting him back on the floor. You watched the two over the mug you held in your hands.

“Cats are more attracted to people who don’t like them,” you mused, taking a sip of your coffee. Logan grunted in response. He pulled on the blue flannel he wore over his tank top. Floof paced back and forth by Logan’s foot.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Logan asked. He gently tapped Floof with the toe of his boot to push the cat further away. Another “maow!” met the action.

“Letting them make the first move instead of forcing affection makes them feel independent,” you explained. The gray fluffball sat in front of Logan, tail wrapped around its feet, and stared up at him. Logan glanced between you and Floof, a frown set deep in his face.

“But he likes the kids, and they’re grabbing at him all the time,” he argued. You snorted a laugh at Logan trying to reason with you. You set your mug down on its coaster and leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees.

“He’s a strange one. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You’re exactly alike,” you said, a mischievous smile growing across your lips. Logan took another drag from his cigar.

“We’re not exactly alike,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

You glanced up at the pointed hairstyle that Logan wore everyday. Two, dark, styled points on the sides of his head that faded into sideburns on his cheeks. You looked back down at Floof. His ears twitched as he took in the sounds all over the mansion. Two points on the sides of his head. You met Logan’s eyes again, leaning back and crossing your arms.

“Then explain the cat ears, Lo.”

“Stop it with the fucking cat ears!”

~~~~1 month later~~~

For some reason, the beginnings of a presidential election were taking place. Posters were hung on the walls all over the mansion, buttons had been made, flyers handed out, speeches given. Debates were even being held between students on the candidates. 

Well, candidate. Singular. There was only one creature running for office.

Floof.

Started by Crys, a blonde with super strength, and Eclipse, a green jacket-wearing girl who could block other mutant’s powers, the presidential campaign for Mr.Floofen von Floofypants was all the students could talk about. It didn’t help matters that Jean and Storm were working on ballots to be used for the upcoming election.

“All this for a cat is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Logan called down from his place on the steel ladder. He reached down and grabbed another thumbtack from your outstretched hand, “I mean, he’s not even the legal age to run.”

You and Logan were working on hanging streamers along the foyer ceiling. It was a day before the “election,” and most of the common areas had been decorated like they were taken from an American Dream magazine. Balloons, big banners saying “FLOOF,” party hats, and posters all bearing the red, white, and blue. It had definitely taken some convincing of Charles. Getting the Brit to yankee-fy his home was like getting Logan to let Floof in his lap.

“You’re Canadian. How do you know U.S. election law?” you asked. That earned a huff from Logan as he stuck the thumbtack through the blue streamer in his hands.

“I’ve been living in America longer than I did in Canada, doll. I’m practically a citizen,” he replied. He pushed on the thumbtack to ensure it was secure, then reached down for another. Floof, the electoral candidate himself, rubbed on your calf.

“Did you take the test?” you asked jokingly. Logan took the thumbtack from you, cocking an eyebrow at your question.

“What kinda test?” he responded. You breathed a laugh. Floof started pawing at your pant leg. You took the hint, scooping the kitten around the middle and holding him to your chest.

“The test to become a citizen,” you said. Logan rolled his eyes as he stuck the thumbtack through the streamer.

“Fuck no. Did the cat take the test?”

“He was born on US soil. He doesn’t need to,” you answered. The cat in question rubbed its chin on your fingers scratching at its neck. Vigorous purrs vibrated against your chest.

“I think he should take it if he wants to be president,” Logan said. You shifted your fingers to scratch at Floof’s pointed ears.

“And what exactly would be on a cat’s U.S. citizenship test?” you asked, laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. Logan grabbed another thumbtack.

“English comprehension, for one,” he said easily. You snorted, the noise disturbing the buzzing kitten in your arms. Floof looked up at you through squinted, blue eyes.

“Maow?”

“I think he comprehends English just fine,” you said, resuming your calming strokes on the kitten’s fluffy body. It seemed your disturbance was forgiven, the purrs resuming their intensity. Logan sighed.

“Is that so? Why don’t you ask him about his policies?” he suggested. The rest of the streamer was out of arm’s reach from his current position. He started climbing down the ladder, boots clanging on the metal rungs.

“That’ll have to wait for the debate tonight,” you said. Logan grabbed the ladder and moved a few feet towards the other end of the foyer. You shadowed behind him, both Floof and the box of thumbtacks in your arms.

“Who the fuck is debating against the cat?” Logan asked as he set the ladder down. You set Floof back on the floor to continue handing Logan thumbtacks from their plastic box. An annoyed trill came from the gray fuzzball.

“You are, Lo, if you keep it up,” you said. Logan glared at you, then climbed back up the ladder. He grabbed the limp, blue streamer and held it against the ceiling, reaching down for a thumbtack. You placed the brass pin in his palm, “Just imagine, two cats debating each other on their ideas of the flow of commerce. I’m sure it would be absolutely riveting.”

“I’m not a- you know what? I’m not gonna respond to that anymore. You clearly enjoy annoying me too much,” Logan grumbled. A wide, evil grin overtook your relaxed smile. 

“Took you long enough,” Storm said from behind you. The white-haired, brown-eyed woman stepped up next to you, her arms folded across her blue blouse. You met her amused smirk, then you both looked back up to Logan above you, “We’ve been waiting for you to give in since the beginning.”

“Beating a man into submission. How forward-thinking of you,” Logan said snarkily. Floof trotted over to the ladder and sat beneath where Logan stood. The kitten’s tail flicked back and forth along the wooden floor.

“Not so much ‘beating’ as getting you to see sense,” Storm replied. You snickered, digging in the box for another thumbtack, as Logan used his freehand to show Storm his middle finger.

~~~2 months later~~~

“Why are you feeding him that shit? It’ll make his fur all shaggy,” Logan called from his place at the breakfast table. Snow frosted on the window behind him, flakes steadily falling and glowing orange in the setting sun. 

A collection of snowmen sat on the fish pond’s bank. The little sculptures were a variety of shapes and sizes. Some being your stereotypical circular snowmen, others taking the shape of dragons or horses. The results of the art class you held outside yesterday.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, red glasses looking between Logan and Floof’s food bowl. He wore a yellow, wool sweater and brown slacks that complimented his cropped dark hair. He held a bag of store-brand kibble above the empty bowl.

“That knockoff bullshit ain’t good for longhaired cats, genius,” Logan said. He was leaning on his elbow propped on the oak breakfast table. That morning’s paper sat ignored next to his third coffee of the day. 

You sat across from him with Floof in your lap. One hand used to stroke along the steadily growing kitten, the other grading essays on Leonardo DaVinci your students had written. Your own mug was filled with your favorite tea.

“Why do you know so much about cat food?” Scott retorted. He set the crinkling bag of kibble back on the blue-tiled counter and faced Logan, hands finding their usual place on his hips.

“Look, all I know is that when you feed him that shit, he needs way more brushing than usual,” Logan explained, gesturing to the purring, gray fuzzball in your lap. Floof blinked slowly at Logan from across the table. You rested your chin in the hand you were petting Floof with, using your fingers to hide your growing smile.

“Well, it’s not like you’re the one doing the brushing,” Scott said indicatively. 

A few moments of silence filled the kitchen. The cuckoo clock hung above the sink ticked the seconds away. You looked at Logan with a knowing grin. Scott’s incredulous frown morphed into an ecstatic smile.

“Holy shit, you do brush him!” he exclaimed.

“Vampire’s usually busy with class!” Logan replied quickly, voice coming out frantic and desperate. You couldn’t hide the laughs that leaked through your fingers. Scott doubled over as he guffawed at Logan’s response.

“You-You brush the cat!” Scott wheezed, voice echoing from below the counter. Logan grumbled under his breath at both you and Scott, the two of you laughing like madmen. He grabbed the newspaper and opened it.

“Whatever,” he groused, pretending to ignore the cackles bouncing around him. 

Floof took offense to your shaking chest and slipped off your lap. His bell jingled as he crossed under the table to Logan, finding the grumpy man to be a much better spot to curl up. Your and Scott’s snickers were given new life when Floof hopped up and into Logan’s lap. Peals of roaring laughter, especially from Scott, surrounded Logan.

“Fuck you. Both of you,” he said. A tiny, gray paw patted at the air by Logan’s neck. Logan sighed, lowering a hand to scritch under Floof’s chin, “I don’t get any respect around here. Do I, bub?”

~~~4 months later~~~

It was a complete shock to everyone, the day you found out that Floof was a mutant. The cat had been growing at a healthy rate. Food was readily supplied, a never ending stream of affection followed the cat like a shadow, and a large number of toys were spread throughout the mansion.

So when Floof had walked behind your chair leg and appeared next to Logan in the doorway, all hell broke loose.

Hank and Jean had run tests on Floof’s blood to see if they could find the presence of an active X-gene. Drawing his blood, under the very close watch of Logan, and running it through their typical series of tests that all turned up positive. 

It was difficult for them to get any scans, x-ray or otherwise, of the cat as at the first clang or shudder of a machine, he’d appear upstairs or in the next room over.

“Damn thing just won’t stay still!” Hank exclaimed, blue fur frazzled and yellow eyes wide. His white lab coat was in a state of disarray you had never seen before. Jean sat on her office chair behind the lab’s computer. Her red hair was tied up in a loose bun, brown eyes scanning across the computer screen, lab coat perfect as always.

“You’re scaring him, asshole,” Logan said. He was leaning on a silver wall in the lab. Arms folded across his chest, leg crossed over the other, typical frown across his lips. This time, Floof had disappeared from being in the x-ray machine and appeared behind Logan’s legs. Logan stooped down to pick up the frightened cat.

“Then what do you suggest, o’ cat whisperer?” Hank asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He rolled up his coat sleeves, white fabric bunching around his blue arms, as he reset the x-ray machine for the third time.

“I could sit in the machine with him,” you suggested. Both Hank and Logan’s gaze fell to you. You sat across the desk from Jean. You had been watching the whole exchange with a great deal of amusement. Hank sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe, it’ll work,” he said. He replaced his glasses and gestured to Logan, “Lord knows this one’ll throw off the readings too much.”

Logan glared at Hank, hands buried in Floof’s long, gray fur. You stood from your chair and circled around the x-ray machine to Logan.

When you were met with hesitation from your partner, you paused. Logan’s dark brows were knit together, frown deepening across his lips, arms holding Floof tighter to his chest. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, he’ll be ok. It’s just some scans. And I’ll be right there with him,” you soothed. Logan puffed a gust of air from his scowl, the action rustling the fur on Floof’s head. The cat looked up at Logan with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ll make sure they’re quick,” Jean called from where she sat. You used the hand on Logan’s shoulder to massage soothing circles into the muscle.

Logan sighed, posture drooping, as he said, “Fine. But if he teleports one more time, that’s it. No more for today.”

“Of course, Lo,” you said. You gave him a reassuring smile. You knew all these tests were getting to him. Watching Floof get stressed over the large machinery and sharp needles reminded Logan too much of his past. Well, the parts he could remember. 

You tucked your hands between Floof and Logan, fingers running across long fur and flannel alike, and you pulled Floof against your chest. The usual intense purring that would buzz from Floof’s abdomen was nonexistent. You smiled again at Logan, who returned a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes, then turned to Hank.

“I’ll need you to lay down on the table. The cat, or… Floof, will sit in your lap. You’ll have to be very still, or you’ll throw off the scans,” Hank instructed. You nodded in response, approaching the x-ray machine. As you sat on the metal table you could feel Floof’s heartbeat speed up.

“Shhh, baby. It’s alright,” you cooed, lips pressed into the short hairs on top of Floof’s head. Floof rubbed his head against your chin. A small “mrraow” accompanied a few licks on your neck. 

You felt every single eye in the room on you, especially Logan’s, as you laid down on the table. Floof settled into the crook of your legs, feet tucked under his chest and tail wrapped around his paws. The epitome of a fluffy loaf. You ran your fingers across his back a few times.

“Alright. Try not to move,” Hank said, grabbing the handles at the foot of the table. You gave Floof one last scritch under the chin then placed your hands at your sides. Floof kept his eyes on you as both of you were pushed under the x-ray machine.

You ended up inside a long, metal tube. Lights lining the white metal started blinking on, one by one. Blue light filled your vision. You glanced down at Floof, who was still staring up at you. You slowly blinked back at him.

“Everything alright in there?” you heard Logan ask. His low voice ricocheted around inside the metal tube. 

“Yup. So far, so good,” you replied. Floof was sitting perfectly still in your lap. You continued to slow-blink at him.

“About to take the first set of scans. Keep him still,” Hank called from the other end of the machine. You hummed in response. 

A low whirring kicked on along the entirety of the tube. Floof’s pointed ears flattened against his head.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you said calmly. Your continued slow-blinking and soothing voice seemed to be working wonders. Other than his ears, which were now back to pointing towards you, he had remained perfectly still. There was a louder ca-chunk that slightly rattled the table near your stomach and made Floof flinch.

“That’s his top half done. How’s it looking, Jean?” Hank said.

“Looks perfect. Keep doing what you’re doing, vampire,” Jean replied. 

Floof remained perfectly still as the whirring picked up again by your knees. Ears perked up at you, blue eyes slowly blinking, claws only slightly digging into your jeans. The second ca-chunk didn’t even phase the cat. He just continued to stare at you. You could even feel the purrs building in his chest.

“Okay, got what I need! Go ahead and pull ‘em out, Hank,” Jean said. The blue lights surrounding you blinked off in sync as you felt the foot of the table rattle again.

The lights of the lab were nearly blinding when you emerged from the x-ray machine. You used one hand to shield your eyes while the other stroked along Floof’s back.

Logan was at your side in an instant. He scooped Floof into his arms and cradled the cat to his chest. Fingers scritching under Floof’s chin, nose buried in the fur on Floof’s back. Seemed the whole ordeal affected Logan more than you thought. You ran a reassuring hand along Logan’s arm.

“Why don’t you two head on upstairs? I’ve got it covered from here,” you said lowly. Logan gave you a once over, nodded, then carried the ball of fur in his arms out of the lab.

You sighed as you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the table. Your eyes met Jean’s confused expression.

“Alkali,” was all you said. Jean quietly said “oh,” then turned her attention back to the computer. You pushed yourself off the table and moved to look over Jean’s shoulder, “Anything standing out?”

“Well, for one, you have horrible bone density,” Jean replied. You gave her arm a light smack. Jean laughed at your response, then continued, “Nothing in his skeletal structure is off. All of his joints are connected where they should be, cartilage is intact, nothing’s broken.”

“So his mutation isn’t physical?” you asked. Jean shook her head while biting her lower lip. 

“We’d have to do an MRI on his brain to tell for certain. But, as far as I can tell, he’s like me and Kurt,” she explained. You heard Hank scoff behind you.

“More similar to Kurt, I’d say. Both him and the cat are awful to analyze,” he said, laughing without humor. You turned to look at him, arms folding across your chest.

“At least Floof does it because he’s scared. Kurt does it to piss you off,” you said. Hank grumbled under his breath at that, seeming to recount all of the failed exams he’d given the Nightcrawler over the years. You chuckled at his disgruntled reaction.

“We should be good, vampire. Go check on Logan for me,” Jean said, drawing your attention away from Hank. You gave her a pat on the shoulder, then followed Logan’s path out of the lab.

The jarring difference between the basement and the mansion itself would be alarming to anyone who hadn’t spent decades living there. 

In the mansion, warm wood and plush furniture could be found in every room. Golden sunlight filtered in through grand windows, vibrant green plants in colorful pots decorated shelves and tables, beautiful paintings and cheerful pictures were hung on every available wall.

In the basement, however, steel lined everything. Chrome ceilings, chrome floors, chrome doors, even chrome furniture constructed the entire basement. High-tech gadgets, like state of the art computers and medical equipment, were reserved to be specifically used in the basement’s lab. Giant, metal doors hid training rooms and simulation areas the older students would utilize. And, what was often sought after and coveted, lay behind a door with a large, chrome x on it.

Cerebro. A circular room with a single, metal console in its center. An array of switches and buttons were embedded in the console. Wires ran to and from the console’s base and the platform it stood on. Sitting on its pedestal was the helmet Charles would put on when he used Cerebro. Metal rods and wires protruding from a chrome cap that glowed blue when in use.

Just beyond Cerebro’s door is where you saw Charles. His mechanical wheelchair whirred as he directed himself into the open room.

“Hey professor,” you said as you passed. Charles looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

“Hello, my dear. I was just about to do the monthly search. Care to join?” he asked. He spun his wheelchair in place so he could face you. He wore a clean, blue suit and a pale yellow tie. His shiny, black shoes reflected the artificial white light that gleamed from lights set in the ceiling.

“I’d love to,” you replied. Your shoes clicked along the polished, chrome floor as you walked up to where Charles’s wheelchair sat. The hand resting on the chair’s joystick moved, spinning the chair to face into Cerebro, then matched your pace as you walked through the huge doors.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Logan,” Charles said, reading your mind like always. He didn’t do it out of malice or ill-intent. It was just second nature for him to hear the runaway thoughts of those around him. His bright, blue eyes peered up at you as you walked across the suspended platform, “Memories of Alkali always tend to make him anxious. Just give him time.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Small, white lights on the sides of the platform flicked on as you and Charles walked further into the room. The enormous, paneled sphere that constructed Cerebro bounced the light all around you, giving the space a pleasant glow. 

You stopped just behind Charles as he rolled up to the console. You watched as he fiddled with a few switches and buttons, none of it making sense to you, before he looked back at you again.

“You know the drill. No moving,” he said through a kind smile. You gave him two thumbs-up, which made him chuckle, then clasped your hands together in front of you. 

Charles turned back to the console and lifted the helmet. The chrome glinted in the soft, white light, throwing strange reflections onto his aged face. He raised the helmet above his head, wires stretched near their limit, before he set the chrome cap around his head.

In an instant, the room around you melted away into an endless space of darkness. Clouds of black ink flooded your vision, the entire white room overtaken by a midnight sky. White dots started sprouting up amongst the darkness. First one, then ten, then millions and millions lit up the blackness until they formed constellations in the shape of the world’s continents. 

Everytime you got the chance to see Cerebro in action, it took your breath away. Watching as Charles connected with every human’s mind on earth was nothing short of incredible. Brief visions of people all over the world floated past in glowing apparitions. Ghosts showing glimpses into peoples’ lives flying by in rapid succession.

Red overtook the white as Charles focused on specifically mutants. Crimson stars blinked in the dark, taking up significantly less of the night’s sky than the humans’ white spots did. 

The visions flying past were now drenched in a red glow. One showing a girl, no older than three, playing with a barbie doll. Another showing a teenage boy flirting with a classmate.

Two silhouettes stood out amongst the chaos. Both female, both older in their teenagehood, but looking nothing alike.

The first was a taller girl. Hair smoothed back into a ponytail, arms as thick as tree trunks, skin reflecting light like a cluster of diamonds. A whisper of “Lindsay” from Charles gave a name to the face. Her apparition floated back amongst the constellations to land somewhere in New Zealand.

The second was a girl sitting on a rooftop. Her skin was coated in shimmering scales, eyes slitted like a snake’s, bat-like wings protruding from her back. She was curled up next to a gargoyle, surveying the city below her. “Brooke” was the name Charles said, then her image floated away and landed in Utah.

The red dots were snuffed as streaks of darkness flew through the air. Like coffee under a paper towel, the black ink overtaking the room disappeared into the console. Charles tucked his fingers under his helmet and placed it back on its pedestal.

“Right. Two new mutants. One in Utah, the other in New Zealand,” he said. He turned his chair around to face you again. A hopeful, gleeful look was painted across his face like a work of art, “I’ll send Scott and Storm to fetch them. In the meantime, have Jean drum up some high-strength pain reliever. Lindsay seems to have a migraine problem.”

“On it,” you replied, your own grin growing to match his. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted the details to Jean, following after Charles as he exited Cerebro.

“Two more students. Ah, I can’t wait! I have a feeling Vienna and Brooke will get along quite well. Not to mention how Crys and Daniel will take to someone like them when Lindsay arrives,” Charles said cheerfully. With the message sent, you stowed your phone in your pocket and focused on the professor. He continued to ramble on about the interactions he predicted to happen between the new and current students. You listened intently, fondness filling your chest like a warm breath.

The two of you entered the circular elevator, with cream-colored walls and a yellow light set in the ceiling, as Charles spoke. You felt the floor lurch as the elevator started to climb up to the mansion.

“Both Brooke and Lindsay seemed to be rather talented writers. Hopefully they’ll like the creative writing club. Oh, and they should enjoy the book club, too,” he said. The elevator door slid open to reveal the mansion’s first floor. 

Kurt, the blue-skinned and long-tailed teleporter, threw you and the professor a wave as he passed by. Several textbooks about religious studies were clutched in his clawed hands. You gave him a wide grin and a wave of your own.

“Afternoon, Kurt,” Charles chirped, smiling fondly at the German as the two of you passed by. A quiet “afternoon!” followed you and the professor as you walked toward the west wing of the mansion. You trailed after Charles for a few more paces.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go check on Logan,” you said. You paused in the middle of the long, windowed hallway you and Charles occupied. He gave you a nod.

“Yes, please do. Give him my best,” Charles said. You gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, his wrinkled hand patting on the back of yours, before you made your way to the staircase in the foyer.

Several students greeted you as you walked through the mansion. Christopher, a dark-haired brainiac, and Josh, a brown-eyed boy with two extra arms, said a brief “hi!” before returning to the scattered chemistry homework in front of them. Mads, the short-haired plant bender, waved at you from where she knelt next to a plant with withering leaves. A subtle, green glow emanated from her palms as life was pumped back into the monstera.

While climbing up the grand staircase you noticed one of Floof’s campaign posters still pinned to the wall. Wide eyes stared out of a red, white, and blue drawing. You smirked, remembering how much the whole thing had annoyed Logan.

Rogue and Bobby gave you a brief greeting as you passed on the landing between opposing stairs. They continued down the carpeted staircase you had just climbed as they discussed seeing a movie together later that week.

When you reached your and Logan’s room, the third door on the left, you noticed it was firmly shut. Thinking it strange, you turned the brass knob and swung open the wooden door.

“Maaaooowww!” Floof yelled from where he sat next to the door. He gave your leg a quick sniff, then darted between your legs and into the hall behind you. 

Perplexed, you looked at Logan. He was sitting on your shared bed. Arms crossed over his chest, boots kicked off next to the bed, eyes closed as calming piano played from his phone’s speakers.

You slowly latched the door shut behind you, toeing off your shoes, and climbed into bed next to him. A rough grunt met the jostling of the mattress. You sat next to Logan, your back leaning on the wooden headboard.

You let silence hang in the air, only disturbed by the light song playing from the nightstand. When Logan got like this, stuck in his own mind, it was best to let him take things at his own pace. If you moved too fast he’d completely shut down. Which, having known him for at least two decades at this point, was something you could easily maneuver around.

After a few minutes you felt a rustle next to you. Logan’s arms uncrossed from his chest, eyes still closed, as the hand closest to you fitted into yours. You tangled your fingers with his. A few more moments passed, then you felt the weight of Logan’s head on your shoulder.

You pressed a soft kiss into his hair. He hummed in response, rubbing his cheek along the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“Doing alright?” you whispered. Another minute passed, piano filling the room.

“Yeah,” Logan mumbled. The hand not clutched in yours was thrown across your waist. He pulled you against his body, face buried in the crook of your neck, “Yeah, now I am.”

You let your fingers nestle in the short hairs along his neck. Soft, soothing strokes along his skin that left him practically purring against you. 

“All the stuff with Floof dredge something up?” you asked. A beat, then Logan nodded against your shoulder.

“Medical stuff, ya know? It’s just… A lot,” Logan explained. He squeezed you tighter against his chest. You gave the crown of his head another gentle kiss.

“Take your time, Lo,” you breathed. You tracked the deep inhales that filled Logan’s chest and the smooth glide of his cheek on your shoulder. Good. Didn’t seem like a panic attack was brewing.

The two of you sat on the bed, cuddled against each other, light piano playing around you for another couple minutes. Calm, still settings like this were the best for when Logan was struggling with his past, you’d found. Breathing with him, gentle touches, and reaffirming words helped keep him grounded in the present.

You started chattering quietly about what the scans had shown. That nothing seemed abnormal about Floof, that the teleportation must stem from his brain, and that you apparently had low bone density. That sparked a brief chuckle from Logan’s chest.

After about an hour of the two of you huddled together, a light scratching came from the bedroom door. You sighed, head rolling back and thonking on the wooden headboard.

“Frickin’ cat,” you murmured under your breath. Logan reluctantly untangled his limbs from yours. He leaned back against the headboard, hazel eyes opening and looking at you.

“You wanted him,” he said, an amused grin growing on his lips. You groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and walking over to the door.

When you pulled it open, a gray and white furry bullet shot into the room. A chorus of indignant meows overshadowed the music coming from Logan’s phone. You scooped up the annoyed cat and moved back to the bed. Floof’s distinct, intense purrs rumbled against your chest.

“Hey, bub,” Logan said when you sat next to him. Floof squirmed in your arms until you finally released him, then the little shit jumped into Logan’s lap. Your mouth gaped open.

“Fucking traitor,” you gasped. Your despair was ignored as Floof circled himself a few times, paws kneading into Logan’s jeans, then curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan scritched under Floof’s chin.

“Sorry, doll. Guess he’s picked a side,” Logan said, cocky grin plastered on his stupid face. You huffed while curling your knees against your chest and thumping your chin on top.

“You’re lucky I love you, ya jerk. Or else I’d be fighting for that cat’s honor,” you grumbled. Logan laughed, the deep sound bouncing out of his mouth like a large bell.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight. You’d win,” he said. Floof nuzzled into Logan’s palm, purring so strong you could feel it in your chest. You let your head fall onto Logan’s shoulder. You felt his cheek rub against your hair.

“Nah,” you said. You looked between Logan and Floof. Matching ears and hair tufts, smiling eyes filled with adoration, purrs and happy hums coming from both of them. Your initial grumpiness was overshadowed by a deep-seated adoration for the two of them, “You would.”

~~~~6 months later~~~

You stood in your and Logan’s shared room. Warm, wooden panels covered the walls decorated in landscape paintings. A black cat tree, about four-feet tall, sat in front of one of the windows by your bed. The pale green curtains were drawn just enough so only a sliver was left open for Floof, who enjoyed sitting on the top platform and watching the flying birds and bugs.

The rustling of clothes, caused by your rummaging, disturbed the peace in the room. You were digging around amongst Logan’s folded shirts in the wardrobe’s drawers. A white t-shirt sat on top of the wardrobe. Bold, black print reading “#1 Cat Dad” sat in the center front of the t-shirt, along with an image of Floof surrounded by a large, red heart. 

You slipped the t-shirt amongst the space you had made in the drawer then slid the wooden compartment closed. Confident in how well you hid the new article of clothing, you took a look around the room.

Pictures of you, Logan, and Floof sat on every available surface. Earlier pictures featured a frowning and distant Logan, who was uncomfortable being in a picture with the young kitten. But, as Floof got older, Logan was seen in more and more pictures with him. The two of them cuddling on the couch, Floof curled up on a sleeping Logan’s chest in bed, Logan holding Floof up like Simba in the Lion King.

A fond smile graced your lips. The man you loved most, an unerring grump, really did have a soft spot. Him and Floof had grown inseparable. When Logan walked into a room, the now full-sized, fluffy, gray cat was sure to follow. Whenever Floof needed to visit a vet, Logan was the one to take him. If Logan were to leave for a mission, Floof would consistently yell the entire time his pal was gone.

Several footsteps passing by your open door drew your attention from the pictures. You looked into the hallway at what had caused the noise.

Logan, hair styled in the classic two tufts, had Floof perched on his shoulder. The adult cat was draped over Logan’s flannel-covered back like a fluffy scarf. The pair reminded you of a mountain lion perched on a tall cliff.

Logan threw you a grin and a quick wave. You smiled, waving back, as your vision shifted to the swarm of children following Logan. Eyes wide with adoration for Floof, toothy grins on each child’s face, giggles exchanged between students.

As the crowd passed by, the long-haired cat meeting your eyes and letting out a soft “mraow,” it was hard to believe that there was a time when Logan had said “no fucking way” to Floof.

once again, so much love to the murdock tuna team!! you all fill me with so much joy on a daily basis. i'm so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you :) also, here's what the Floof 2024 posters look like

[thebunnednun]

You're my Coffee

Shouta Aizawa x Pro hero/Teacher! Reader

Summary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

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

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

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

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

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, lame!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude. 

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

Seemed to recognize me?

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

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

But he knew he couldn’t sleep. 

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

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

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

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

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

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

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

How it mocked him now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

Chapter 2 is here.

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

I own none of the images or art!!!

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

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Three)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, grinding, neck kisses, dry humping, nightmares, mentions of character death, panic attack, night terror, blood

A/N: a little peek into Geto’s past~ hmmmm wonder howthis is going to play out. Hm indeed 😈💚

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

Your best friend is staring into your eyes in stunned silence. He hadn’t expected you to be so open about what you wanted. In a way, it was sort of cute; in another, it was extremely attractive. You knew what you wanted and weren’t opposed to asking for it.

“Okay, so tell me, what was happening in this wet dream?”

Despite the fact you wanted to try, you were slightly embarrassed. What were you supposed to say? ‘Oh, you know I dreamed about us, making out with your knee between my legs.’ He was your best friend, but you couldn’t admit that to him.

“Uhm, I-I was dreaming about my characters in an alley—making out and stuff.”

“Oaklynn and Ilsan?”

Hearing him say the names of your self-appointed children had your heart racing. “Y-yeah, and we’ll. Uhm, he put his knee between her legs, and well, I uhm—not me! Oaklynn, she uhm was grinding on it?” Suguru hummed, getting out of bed and offering you his hand.

“I can do that.”

“O-Oh, like right now?”

He grinned as you gently took his hand. “Yeah, right now. If you’re okay with that?”

“Of course; how else are you going to teach me?”

The sweet innocence of your voice nearly had Suguru blowing his load. God, you were so damn cute it’s not even funny. He leads you to one of the walls in his room, motioning towards the spot you gladly took. Your back pressed against the wall, the cold contrasting the heat radiating over your skin.

“Alright,” Suguru’s hands press firmly against the wall, caging you in like you he had at the restaurant and in your dream. “If you get uncomfortable, or it gets too much for you to handle, say the word, and we’re done, okay?”

“Okay—uhm, so do we just?”

Your best friend laughed, his dark hair falling in his face as he kissed you softly. “I got you. Just lose yourself in the feeling, okay.” With your gentle nod, Suguru kisses you again, this time deeper.

His lips are firmer, moving gently over yours, giving you time to follow his lead, kissing him back with the same force, losing yourself in the taste of his minty breath on you. Suguru’s eyes crack open, staring at your face. Fuck, why the fuck were you so cute? Eyebrows knitted together, eyes tightly squeezed shut in concentration. That look that was so prettily plastered across your face was the exact look you had when you were in the zone. Hunched over your laptop, writing down in your notebooks, it was a look that he absolutely adored.

Seeing you look like that when kissing him made him eager to teach you more. So he gently kicked your feet apart, allowing him to slide his knee between your legs. You inhale sharply at the sudden sensation of his knee pressing against your shorts.

The sudden contact of having something other than your hand touch you is like magic. You gasp into Suguru’s mouth, whimpering as you squirm against his leg. Your panties are wet and slick, making it easier for you to glide stiffly against him. You’re not sure how to move or what to do. So you open your eyes before breaking the kiss.

“W-What do I do now?” You ask softly, gripping his t-shirt for support. “Do I uhm—just hump you?”

Sugar laughs softly, shaking his head before pressing his forehead against yours. “You can hump my thigh if you want, or I could help you?” Suguru can feel you throb against his thigh. “You like the sound of option two?” How your face flushed and your eyes widened has him chuckling.

“H-How did you know that?”

“Well, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but I could feel you throb.” You were humiliated, no, no, mortified was a better word! The hundred-yard stare has Suguru laughing softly, his hand cupping your cheek. “Nothing to be embarrassed about; it means you’re getting turned on.”

“O-Oh—okay.”You made a mental note to jot that down once you had your phone in your hand. “Okay, cool, uhm, y-you may commence?” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head at your uptight retort; seeing his reaction makes you want to hide away. Suguru tilted his head as his hands gently grabbed both sides of your hip. I mean, I can think of a couple of other things we can insert into your mouth.” the stuttering inhale that sounded from you lined with innocence had his cock twitch as he rocked you back and further other his knee.“But we’ll save that for next time. Just relax and feel.” that wasn't going to be hard, not when he rocked your hips against his knee like he was.

“M-mm.” bringing your hand up to your mouth, you moaned, “O-Ohh fuck.”

Suguru’s heart felt like it was running a 5K marathon. Hearing you, his pretty best friend, the girl he's had a crush on since elementary school, moan. God, it was a dream come true. Your voice was so soft and hesitant. You wanted to cry out but weren't sure it was okay. The utter innocence had him holding himself back. The last thing Suguru wanted to do was go too far.

“Feel good?” Suguru asked, voice thick with need. The fear you might moan out loud stopped you from answering, only allowing yourself to nod your head. “Good.”

His fingers dig a bit deeper into your hips, dragging you harder against him. You jolted, jaw clenching as intense pleasure rocked through you. It felt like there was a fire kindling between your legs each time he rocked you back and forth. The burning sensation began to spread through your entire body, making it difficult for you to stay quiet.

You didn't want to make him feel weird; he was doing this to help you. For you to start moaning and losing yourself in the pleasure was not what this was about. This was all about bettering your writing! Nothing more than that!

Telling yourself that didn't make it feel any less good. You whined, your swollen clit rubbed perfectly over your underwear, stimulating it just enough to have you dripping. Your hands gripped Suguru’s forearms for support as you tried rolling your hips against him like he was doing.

Seeing you try to rock had Suguru grunting. He slowed his movements, allowing you to take the reins yourself and get a feel for rocking to see what felt good for you. The absence of his hands had you flattering for a minute, your horny brain trying to figure out what to do to keep up with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Relax, just rock your hips back and forth, do what feels best.”

“R-Right.” You began grinding back and forth with a deep breath, mimicking his movements. “L-Li—ahh—like that?”

Seeing the way your cheeks flushed and how your lips parted as you humped his thigh made Suguru’s dick rock hard. “Well, it depends on you. Does it feel good?” He knew it felt good; it was the reason why you were moaning softly, why you held him in a vice grip.

“Y-Yeah, f-feels good—I’m uhm—”

“You what? You close already?”

“W-What? Close, no, I'm just—” Suguru smirked as you mumbled under your breath.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn't catch that?”

“I-I feel really wet.”

Your best friend leans in, his breath brushing over your ear, causing you to shiver. “I know you're wet.” Your body stiffened, and your hands trembled against his arms.

“Y-You do?”

“I can feel how soaked you are.” You try to look down to see what he sees, but he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to focus solely on him. “Don't freak out, just keep going, come on, rock those hips.”

You do as he says, rocking your hips faster against his thigh as a coil begins to tighten in your lower abdomen. “Nngh, Suguru.” Hearing your name pass through your lips was like a dream come true. “F-feels good, really good.” The coil tightens more and more, making Suguru swallow as you got yourself off on him.

“Y3ah~? Good, keep going, keep it up.”

Suguru had made plenty of girls cum before, so he could tell you were close. Your breathing was shallow, and your eyes kept closing at the intensity of your rapid movements against him. Your skin was flushed, your nipples hard, and god, he was almost positive that you were leaving a wet spot on his pajama pants. God, he wanted you to cum; what he'd give to watch you get off on him. To see how pretty you looked when you would cum. See the expressions you made in bed with your hand in your underwear.

“S-Sugu—”

“Fuck you sound so good~ make sure to savor the feeling, okay? It's going to help with your book.”

“Y-Yeah~ yeah!” The coil felt like it was getting tighter and tighter, making you chase the feeling, a feeling that was foreign to you. “Oh my god, oh god, oh god.”

Suguru pressed his lips against your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. “Yeah, keep going, that's it~ that’s it.” God, he was so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care about his cock; all he cared about was you.

Your thighs began shaking, eyes watering as a strange sensation wandered in your veins. Something was wrong. It felt like something was going to happen, to wash over you. The intense feeling was so overwhelming, making you choke as your heart rate spiked, not from pleasure but from fear.

You removed your hands from Suguru’s arms, placing your palms against his chest. For a second, Suguru thought you were going to grip onto him for support when you creamed your panties. You pushing him away was the last thing he thought you would do.

“Stop! Please stop!”

Just as he promised, Suguru stepped back, his hands held out before him as he gave you some space. He watched with worried eyes as you sank to the floor, hand over your heart as your ragged breathing filled his room. Your best friend followed you to the floor, on his knees in front of you, as you swallowed air greedily.

Overstepping a boundary was something he didn’t want to do, but he wasn’t the type to ignore the fact that you weren’t okay. “Hey.” He gently reached out, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You were shaking as you looked up at him.

“I-I yeah, sorry—” you swallowed hard, “I uhm, yeah, just got really intense.”

“Intense? Is it intense like it felt really good? Or were you sen—”

“Just intense!” You cut him off, cheeks burning as you shakily stood up on wobbly legs. “O-On that note! I think I’m going to head home.”

Suguru’s world felt like it froze over. He just watched as you headed towards the bed, grabbing your phone, your eyes focusing on anything other than him. The lust and need that had been roaring in his stomach subsided into dread. He didn’t want you feeling weird or awkward.

So he pushed himself up and followed after you. “Let me walk you back.” His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from moving further.

“I-I can do it.”

“I know you can, but I still want to walk you.”

“Suguru, it’s just two floors.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

And you didn’t; despite your best efforts, Suguru didn’t let you walk back to your apartment alone. You gave him a quick hug before glancing down. His gray pajama pants were stained with two wet spots. One on his thigh and the other around his crotch. Upon seeing the evidence of both your arousals, you rushed inside, slamming the door behind you, leaving your best friend alone in the hall.

That was two days ago.

Two days without a visit or a call. At least you’d texted him, letting him know you were in rewrite hell. Even knowing that didn’t make Suguru feel less shitty. Was this situation going to put a wedge in your friendship? God, he hoped not. Losing you, after all the shit he’d gone through, would be his breaking point.

He was about ready to throw himself into his paintings when Satoru showed up with mochi and coffee. The second Satoru pushed his sunglasses up, brushing his bangs back, he grimaced, and his lip lifted in pity. It was a look that so many people had given Suguru since his second year of high school, and he hated it.

“What?” He finally snapped as he flipped down on his couch, legs spread wide as he stared at the B-grade horror movie on the television.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hammered shit.”

Suguru shot his best friend a glare before leaning his head back. “Wow, thanks dickhead.” Satoru winked before shoving a whole mochi in his mouth.

“Hey, honesty is the best policy. Are you not sleeping? Nightmares about that night again?” Suguru shut his eyes tight, nodding; smiling images of Riko flashed through his mind. “You are. Does—”

“She knows; no need to worry her.” Suguru knew Satoru was referring to you. Whenever his nightmares got bad, you were with him constantly, or vice-versa, so for you not to be there with him is odd. “And before you ask, she’s at home working on her rewrites.”

“Oooh, uhm, I’m going to call bullshit. She’s never left you alone when you have those nightmares. What happened?”

Suguru turns his head, meeting bright blue eyes an inch from him. “Christ Toru! Fuck, personal space, asshat!” Taking his note, Satoru pulls back, humming as he eyes him. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for more of an answer than he’s getting, and Suguru knew if he wanted peace for the rest of the night, the only option was to tell him the truth. “Well, we uhm—”

Suguru told him everything, from what happened at the restaurant to his apartment. How you were grinding down on him and started freaking out. He then described in detail how you both hadn’t spoken or seen each other in two days. The entire time, Satoru hummed, nodding in agreement, not asking questions or making any comments until Suguru scrubbed his hand over his face.

Satoru huffed a sigh, grinned wide, and patted his friend on the shoulder. Suguru eyed him, unsure if he was truly ready to hear what his best friend had to say. He seriously doubted it was anything good from how he gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Let’s put two and two together, shall we?” Yep, it wasn’t going to be good. “Your virgin best friend who’d never kissed anyone freaked out when she was dry-humping your leg because it got too intense. It was intense because she was going to cum.” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head.

“She masturbates.”

“Okay, so do a lot of virgins, but they don’t cum.” Suguru slowly sat up, staring at the fake bloom on the television. “Especially girls.”

“She freaked out because she’s never had an orgasm.”

“Yep! So why don’t you go downstairs and girl her one!”

Suguru would love to storm downstairs, knock on your door, and offer to do that. To watch you wither under him when he ate you out had fantasies playing out in his mind. Ones where he made you cum so hard, there would be no reason for you to run off to Europe. Daydreams where you both were naked and he was slowly fucking into you, kissing and nipping at your neck.

But you were busy. Your work was so important to you that Suguru didn’t want to hold you back. “I can’t. She’s working hard, and I don’t want to disturb her.” Satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel, you’ll lose her.”

Suguru knows that Gojo is right. If he doesn’t tell you how he feels, eventually, someone else will tell you how they feel, and he will lose you. Or you would move to Europe and like it so much there that you stay. You might meet some European guy, fall in love, and get married. Leaving him alone in his apartment with his canvases and his paints. It would be his fault and his alone.

But he was nervous and didn’t want to lose you as a friend either.

These thoughts had him twisting and turning in bed long after Satoru left. His eyes focused on his clock as he tried to sleep. Suguru’s thoughts kept dancing between you staying with him, where you both were happy and others, where you left for Europe. He wasn’t an asshole; if this was something that you wanted to do, he would support you. Life was too short; he, of all people, knew that.

His eyes finally shut, allowing him to drift to sleep. When he was seventeen, sitting in an aquarium as the first and second years all wandered around, looking at the different sea creatures. He stood off to the side, watching as his group of friends, Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, you, and—Riko.

She was in her ruffled white sundress, her blue eyes focused on the stingrays and the whale sharks. She was so happy, innocent, and—alive. Riko turned, waving at Suguru. You hurried towards Riko, throwing your arms around her and pressing your cheek against hers. She was merely a first year, but she’d grown close to his friend group, and he saw her as the little sister he never had.

“Suguru! Let’s go!”

Did he have to go? This place was so peaceful, so calm. He knew if he were to step towards the group, this happy memory, full of blue tints, would be transformed into blood-stained walls and lifeless eyes.

He didn’t want to see her die again for the millionth time. It never got easier, no matter how many times she dreamt about it. Swallowing hard, Suguru pushed himself up and stepped towards his friends' smiling faces. Before the entire room filled with a cerulean glow faded to black.

The second second, he’s on the ground, wheezing for air as lifeless blue eyes stare at him. A pool of blood spreads out on the ground beneath him, and Riko is pale, paler than usual. A trail of crimson drips from her mouth as her white sundress and headband are saturated with red. Suguru’s body hurt whenever he attempted to move. He tried to grab and reach her but wasn’t fast enough.

Riki’s hand twitches as her lifeless eyes dart in his direction. “You didn’t save me.” Her voice gurgled as more blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth. “You could have saved me, Suguru, but you pushed her out of the way instead.” Suguru shakes his head, tears flooding his eyes. “It should have been her!” Riko screamed, the dreamscape shaking, flickering into darkness.

When the crimson amphotsphere returns, Suguru’s breath lurches as you lay in Riko’s place. The eyes that were so full of light and happiness were full and blank. Your blood shining your skin, lips trembling as the life faded from you.

“I-I couldn’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You let her die.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!” You screamed, your blood splattering on his face. “You let her die, Geto Suguru!”

“No!” Suguru screamed while sitting in bed, a cold sweat coating his skin.

Looking around the room, he was relieved to find no blood or past friends. But his gut twisted like a pretzel as the images of you lying on the ground flooded his mind like a poison. Were you okay? That had never happened before when you switched spots with Riko. So, his body was moving before his brain could produce rational thoughts. He ran, locking his apartment, bolting down the stairs to the first floor of the building.

Seeing you like that, coated in blood, left his skin icy as he ran to your apartment, slamming his fist against the door. “Answer, answer god, please.” He repeated over and over again, his eyes clamped tight as the fear tugged at every, never, every inch of his soul.

Just as he was about to slam his fist against the door again, it flung open, and there you stood, in your pajamas, with blue light glasses on. You were breathing heavily, eyes looking him over, taking him in as a whole, searching for injuries of any kind.

“Suguru? What’s wrong? What happened?” He doesn’t respond to your frantic questions; he instead grabs you, pushing his way inside your apartment and kicking the door shut. “Suguru?!” You yelp as you both fall to the floor, his arms wrapped firmly around you as he holds you flush against his chest; your best friend is shaking, his breath heavy as he clings to you as if you would vanish if he let go.

“Thought I lost you.” He whispered, his hands clinging onto your tank top.

“Suguru—” you whisper, hands gently caressing his back. “You’re not going to lose me.” You feel him relax against you, shaking softly as he pulls back an inch. “Nightmares again?” His dark strands of hair cover his eyes, but he nods. “Sugu, oh sweetie—do you wanna stay the night with me?”

Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannhilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945 @theobsidianempress @aquasan29 @toffeebrat @aussiemeerkat @chimichangagirl @zoroisminty @spankmydepression @em-aizawa @gojosimp26

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

[vampiretendencies]

jj being on hair duty for all the kids while you’re cooking breakfast, and he has his spray and brush in hand while he does the boys hair, then he’s just like “pigtails today for my miss maybank?” and she just squeals because she can’t even talk

so sweet n domestic luv it :,) dad!jj, children are a boy and girl.

he’d come beaming down the stairs with his usual dimpled grin, what’s not to adore about the family that he’d hoped for. dressed for work, acquiring a job that has him working with his hands, perhaps a mechanic. the thick material, hugging his bulky body so tightly.

you are the first to receive his good morning greeting, from behind of course. breakfast on the stove, yet all he could do was breathe in the scent of the otherworldly being in front of him. feeling it flood his airways, with a sensation of relief and calamity.

“morning baby,” he’d mumble into the deepest nook of your neck, fingers gliding evenly over the surface that was your hips. "so pretty," he complimented, despite the nest of tousled tresses on your head and the sleep still ridden in your features. peppering repeated kisses to your temple. really, though is was his way of buttering you up before evenly snatching a piece of bacon of off the plate, knowing full well the rule was everyone eats together.

"jj, put it back!"

the piece of meat hangs from his mouth, with hands lifted in innocence before he slaps a serene smack to your ass causing a fit of laughter from the two children behind him. oldest, aka jj's shadow— the three year old boy, who idolized his father as though he could do no wrong. youngest, the girl reigning in at one. sat close to the island on their bar stools, waiting partially impatient by their plates for food.

"you two better stop laughing before you end up in time out with him, now get on hair duty, maybank."

"yes ma'am!"

every occurrence that its jj's turn to tame the children's hair he always looks at it in a foreign matter. because he doesn't manage his, priding on the fact that "water works wonders for his hair." the baby's thin bright blonde locks were growing so much so that recently her hair can go up, he misses the days when he could just brush it and be done. but you insist it has be styled. he maps out the the hairstyle excessively, his large hand almost suffocating the little pink brush.

"hm what'll be today sweet girl? pigtails today for miss maybank?"

peering over your shoulder from the stove an ear to ear smile is plastered on her alike dimpled features. and she simply can't contain it, so overbearing with affection for her father that this little gesture is erupting a fit of squeals from her lungs. somehow growing more and more honored with everytime jj touched her head, it was as if she thought she was in the presence of royalty.

"she loves it, j," you grin back at her, whilst a delighted smirk is on jj's face.

"course, she does baby look who's doing it," he curves the brush the form one half of the hairstyle. "momma's not a pro at this like daddy huh princess?"

you shake your his in disbelief as he just always has something pest like to say.

"me next dad!" the boy clapped his hands, cheering for jj.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Father’s Day Special -

Pairing: Ralak x Fem!Sully!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day of working Ralak comes home to you and your children showering him with love (and gifts)

Content: Fluff, mated pair, gift giving, kids being cute, Ralak being the best father ever, reader being a good mate, just a cute little family fic, no use of y/n, suggestive content towards the end (if you squint)

Author’s Note: Decided to make my first Ralak fic FD themed because I know he’s an amazing dad!

- the character Ralak (and children) belongs to @zestys-stuff

- please excuse any mistakes!

Word Count: 1k

Glossary: Sa’nu - Mommy || Sempu - Daddy || Prrsmung - Baby Carrier || ‘itan - son || tanhì - star, bioluminescent freckle

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Masterlist || Taglist

Today was Father's Day and you were so excited to celebrate your mate. Ralak left early at sunrise to begin his clan duties. You tried to convince him to stay home and take the day off but of course, he decided to leave. You loved how hardworking he was and how he always provided for you and the boys.

You've been working all day with your son Rak'äni so he could make the perfect gift for his father, "Sa'nu? Do you think Sempu will like my gift?"

Rak'äni has been working so hard on his gift, he's spent all day crafting it to perfection with your help. Watching him use his little fingers to weave was such an adorable scene that it made your heart melt.

"Of course he will, when he sees this he'll absolutely love it" You give him a reassuring smile as you rub his head softly, slightly tousling his hair.

As Rak'äni continued working on his gift your youngest son Neyäk began to crawl around the floor, making his way to Rak'äni's gift. As you watched him getting closer you swooped him into your arms, "No Neyäk you can't mess up your brother's gift" you coo as you tickle his stomach softly which makes him erupt with giggles and show his gummy smile.

You grabbed the prrsmung that was in the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body and placed Neyäk inside so you could be productive. You went over to the cooking fire and began to prepare dinner. You loved cooking and since you were making Ralak's favorite meal you were even more excited for him to come home.

—

After an hour or so everything was completed, you made a beautiful arrangement of food on your makeshift table and you began to clean up so you wouldn't have to worry about it later tonight.

As you put out the cooking fire you felt a tug on your loincloth, "Sa'nu? Sa'nu? When is Sempu coming home?" Rak'äni asked in a excited tone which indicated that he was ready to show Ralak his gift.

"Soon 'itan, he'll be here any second. Make sure when he gets home you shout Happy Father's Day" You look down at him giving him a soft smile

"I will Sa'nu"

A few moments later right on schedule, Ralak walked through the entryway with his spear in hand.

"Happy Father's Day!" Rak'äni shouted as he ran toward him with a grin plastered on his face.

Ralak's lips curled into a smile as he put down his spear, "Ah thank you 'itan" Ralak picked Rak'äni up and planted a small kiss on his forehead.

Once Ralak placed him back onto the ground Rak'äni grabbed his hand and began pulling him to the center of the marui, "I made you a gift!"

Ralak lets Rak'äni drag him to the center of the marui, watching the excitement in his little eyes as he grabs the gift.

"Close your eyes Sempu" Ralak does as told, closing his eyes in anticipation ready to see the gift his son created for him.

"Okay, you can open them now!" Ralak opens his eyes and sees a woven armband made with shell chips.

" 'itan this is amazing, you crafted this so well" Ralak can tell how much work his son put into creating it which just makes him even happier and excited to wear it throughout the village, showing it off to everyone in sight.

"Sa'nu helped me with it"

"Oh, she did?" Ralak turns and flashes you a smile, his blue eyes piercing yours which makes you a little giddy inside.

Neyäk was beginning to squirm around in the  prrsmung so you took him out and placed him on the floor so he could crawl around, "Yeah I did assist him but he basically did everything by himself, he barely even needed my help" you say as you walk over to grab the gift you made for him

"This is from me and Neyäk" You hand him a basket that contained multiple perfectly woven fish nets. The works were intricate. The weaving patterns were a raw display of your skill, a mix of your new and old culture.

"Oh tanhì, these are absolutely amazing" Ralak loved when you create things for him, especially fish nets because he felt like you were great at making them, even better than him.

Each net was made of durable seagrass, natural fibers, and sea hemp. All of these materials were harder to find due to them being closer to the edge of the reef. He knew how difficult it was to retrieve these materials so for you to take the time and collect them so you could make him this wonderful gift meant the world to him.

He could tell that you poured your love into each thread.

"I knew how much you needed new fish nets and you couldn't find the time to make any so I decided to make them for you, I hope you like them."

"Like them? I love them, thank you my love" Ralak walked over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead

"I have another surprise for you tonight" a smirk appears on your lips as you run your hands through his long slick hair.

You had a beautiful night planned for the both of you, you even had the seamstress create a new, more intimate outfit for you.

"Oh, a surprise huh? Well, I can't wait to see it" He replicates your smirk with a small twinkle of desire in his eye, he couldn't wait to have his way with you tonight.

"Happy Father's Day Lak. you're the best father to our children"

"And I couldn't ask for a better mate” he gives you a quick yet soft kiss on the lips, “now let's enjoy that great dinner you made" He scoops Neyäk off the floor and sits down next to Rak'äni, and begins to play with them.

As you watch them laugh and smile you couldn't be happier, you were so thankful that Eywa gave you this perfect little family.

I hope you enjoyed🩵!

Previous Fic

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are highly appreciated🩵!

A/N: thank you to @teyamsbitch and @number1gal for beta reading this for me🩵!

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Taglist: @liyahsocorro @iwantjaketosullyme @fanboyluvr @kapyzkms @ladespedidas @navegaluv @haileymsstuff @onlyloaksgf @kierys-blog @myh3artttt @julyytsireya @gamerxpfighter @h3l3na-pandora @skyv-n @potatoknishesofficial69 @downbadforloak @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @yeosxxx @bakugouswaif @hc-geralt-23 @myheartfollower @katsuki-httpslol

©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[ranbowkng]

His Kingdom, His Power, My Glory

Gary thinks it'll be a good idea to infiltrate the church. A tired priest, with an adorable face, reminds him why that's a bad idea.

Gary smirked as he pulled the hood of his jacket tighter. This plan was genius. Why keep sending cultists to sneak into the church in the dead of night to make a mess of things when he could just spark turmoil in the middle of the day. The best part, they wouldn't kick him out, and they wouldn't know he was doing it. Perfect.

"Morning Father," he nodded, walking right past the priest standing at the door, greeting church-goers.

"Good morning! I- oh hold on!" The priest grabbed Gary by the sleeve, pulling him back slightly, "You're new here aren't you?"

"Ah, was it that obvious?" Gary smiled, fearing that his genius may have betrayed him already.

"Just a bit," The priest chuckled. Gary got a good look at him, he had dark brown hair, and royal blue eyes that seemed to glow. Gary could have gotten lost in that expression for hours, but he had a mission to attend to, he had far more important manners than pretty boys to worry about, "We actually have a rule, no hats or hoods in the congregation."

"Oh? My apologies," Gary said, pulling his hood down, "My old church was a bit less strict."

"No sunglasses either unfortunately," the priest smiled, but his grip on Gary's sleeve tightened.

"Afraid I can't do that," Gary said, "Got a bad eye disease. Don't wanna scare the kids away."

"Hmm," the priest's look was brimming with disappointment, but he resigned, "Alright then, we will keep you in our prayers, but please consider how you're affecting other members of the church."

"Yes, sorry Father," Gary chuckled, wanting to sigh in relief. He would not have been able to explain the peculiar case of his eyes to the priest.

Once he took a seat, he grinned ear to ear. What a fool the priest must have been to believe such a stupid lie. Regardless, the sermon was starting soon. From here Gary would be able to learn just what happens at a church service, and just how he can tear it apart.

As it turns out, there was too much sitting and standing. Too much listening and not nearly enough talking. Too much and not enough of everything, it was mind numbingly dull. Not even the Order would stoop so low as to make it's devoted followers sit for an hour doing nothing with no freedom to move.

But Gary-begrudgingly-endured it. He was certain that eventually something would happen that would be worth it. Then again, if he had to endure one more of those godforsaken psalms! They weren't quite songs, because a song required being good.

Eventually he found something, a payoff. The priest who had greeted him at the door had finished reading the gospel, and he spoke directly to the audience.

"God loves us all," he began, speaking slowly. You could hear the sound of his careful thought between each word he spoke, "The other day a woman had come to me asking how I knew."

This was perfect! If he wasn't reading off of the text then that only meant one thing, an open discussion. And when people spoke without reading off of their source, they were prone to making mistakes. And one slip up would be enough to pick him apart piece by piece.

"So I was open with her," he said, "I have suffered loss, divorce, and failures over and over again."

"Sounds like God hates you!" Gary shouted. As soon as he spoke everyone turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his face. He'd win over the crowd in twelve seconds flat.

The priest just gave him a tired glare before he continued speaking, "Despite my grievances, I still have the privilege of waking up every day. I have a new chance to prove myself every day. And the Lord tells me that I am his child and he will continue walking with me."

"I thought Jesus was the only son of God!" Gary yelled. He did his homework. Well, he read just enough to know where the hypocrisies stood out.

"We are all children of God under Abraham," the priest spoke through grit teeth, "We will be going over that next week."

"Sounds like God needs to close his legs!" Gary's smirk was growing into a grin.

"Alright," the priest took a deep breath, "Let's start over, since you clearly seem confused. I was trying to explain to a woman that God loves her and is with her through her every struggle. And to do so, I used my own life as an example."

"How did you manage to prove it?" Gary said, "Hey! Father! How do you know it's actually God talking!? Are you-"

"Some of us clearly need to start working on our relationship with the Lord!" The priest said, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to calm himself, "Some far, far more than others, but regardless. God is patient and will wait for us until the end of time."

"If God's so patient why are you getting so upset?" Gary argued.

"God is a patient man, I am not," John said calmly, "And that's okay! Because God gives us strength. Strength to overcome any challenge like frustration, or an inability to respect your church leaders."

"I fail to see how-"

"God gives us strength!" The priest spoke over him, "I believe we all have it in us to become better people through the Lord. Amen!"

Gary wanted to speak up, but the congregation seems to have accepted it was time to shut up. Unbelievable. How does a man who looks so pathetic manage to control the situation so well? Oh well, at least he can still figure out the weak points in the sermon simply by listening.

Meanwhile, said priest was glaring at him. A far older priest had taken over, but he still was looking straight through Gary with furrowed brows. Gary stared back, not that the priest could see past his sunglasses.

When the sermon was over, Gary was about ready to collapse. How does an hour of doing absolutely nothing become so exhausting? He would never blame his acolytes for their boredom during a meeting ever again.

He stood, prepared to leave, only to be stopped.

"Excuse me sir," it was the priest. He had gripped Gary by the sleeve, a soft smile on his face, "May I speak with you for a minute?"

Gary tried not to let his confident smirk falter, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

The priest chuckled slightly, "Oh no, I meant at the front. I have a couple things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Ah," Gary said. Had he been anywhere else, there was no doubt in his mind he'd be able to strike down the priest with a single glance, but this was a church. He was already weakened here, but this is where the priest would thrive. And yet, he was cocky, "Well, I don't see why not."

"Good," the priest said, "Follow me."

The priest waited for the entire congregation to leave. He stared up at the stained glass window as he waited to be alone with Gary. Gary kept a hand in his pocket, rubbing over his claw-like nails.

"I can explain," Gary said, "It's actually my first time in a catholic church, I didn't know the proper proceedings for the gospel."

"No no, I have to thank you," John said, "When one questions the bible, it means they simply wish to apply it to their life. I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to expand on what I had to say."

"Wait, really?" Gary said.

"Of course," the priest said, his nails digging into his palms, "Although, I would like to make a request." He turned towards Gary.

"Oh?" Gary raised an eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

"Take off your sunglasses," John said, "I'd like to look you in the eyes when we speak."

"But my eyes-"

"I am not a child," the priest said calmly, "I will not panic at the sight."

"But-"

"Is that a no?" The priest asked. Gary felt that he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, of course," Gary said, reaching for his glasses, slowly taking them off. He and the priest's eyes never stopped looking on to each other.

"Mmm," the priest looked at his eyes, black with glowing red irises, "You're a demon."

"Nonsense!" I'm a normal human being just like you!" Gary argued.

"I'm no fool," the priest said, "I knew you were a demon from the moment I saw your face. Your eyes are a simple confirmation."

"I apologize," Gary said, "I simply needed information about the church."

"I'm afraid that this isn't your territory," the priest said, "Now I have to request you leave before I exorcise you."

Gary chuckled, despite the priest's clear advantage, "I'm afraid I won't be doing that." He used a clawed finger to tuck a piece of the priest's hair behind his ear, "For you see, I have a new interest to pursue, and I have no reason to leave just yet."

"Then allow me to give you one," the priest said. Before Gary could even process what was being said to him, the priest gripped him by the wrists and pushed him backwards, slamming his back against the altar, "Leave this church. If you come back I will give you a fate far worse than an exorcism."

"Heh, I suppose you reciprocate my interests," Gary smirked, only for the priest to increase the pressure he was using to hold him down.

The priest glared at him before speaking again, "You will not come back, but I will keep my eye on you. When I find your lair then we can...discuss things as adults. But for now, I expect you out of my sight, understood?"

Gary's breath hitched slightly. It's been so long since someone's given him a command without solicitation, "Yes sir~"

"Ah-ah," the priest said, "Use my proper title."

Gary rolled his eyes before smirking, aiming to piss the priest off, "Sure thing, daddy."

The priest's eyes remained unamused. He slid his right hand away from Gary's wrist and down to his throat, "I said..." his grip tightened. Not enough to constrict, but enough to cause pressure, "My proper title."

Gary did not want to admit out loud the things that those words did to him, "Of course...Father."

"Good," The priest's voice was quiet, mumbled only so he could hear. God he'd kill to have that done to him with a mattress beneath them, "Now go on, get out and don't show your face. I expect to be meeting with you very shortly."

"Of course Father," Gary said, turning to leave before the priest could get any ideas about exorcising him.

After all this, perhaps information wasn't the only thing he could get out of the church. This would be far less boring as well.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Though identical in build, in height, and in the way he stood, this veiled man was not your König.

At least, not the König you’d grown up with.

He took a step forwards. You scrambled back.

He flinched, as if you’d injured him.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, the length of his veil wafting at his words.

His eyes hardened. Steeled.

“I told you not to come down here.”

You swallowed, thickly.

That voice.

This was your König.

“What is this place.”

You weren’t asking a question. You were demanding answers.

König sighed, his broad shoulders lowering. His guard deflating.

He stepped forward. Reached for you.

“Engel–” 

“König, what is this place?!”

He flinched, your voice piercing him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, heaving another sigh.

“Ah…well, this is awkward–”

“Awkward?”

You couldn’t believe how calm König was.

“König, ‘awkward’ is the last word I’d use to describe this situation ! At the very least, I’d say it was creepy !”

“You–... you don’t like it ?”

Königs eyes went wide, a puppy in a wolf’s suit.

Your mouth hung open, and you shook your head.

“König, you mean to tell me that you think there is some universe where I actually appreciate—” you gestured all around you. “This?!”

“Well…” König took a step forward. You stood your ground.

“I was hoping that…” his hand reached for yours.

And, for either shock or some other unfathomable assailant, you let him take your dwarfed hand in his, run his fingers over your knuckles.

Which he took as an invitation.

“Maybe, if I made this shrine – a tribute to you – maybe…something in your mind would…”

He swallowed thickly. You could hear it.

“Like me back.”

His gaze met yours, having dragged along the floor, accumulated shards of glass and other torturous materials.

His eyes were filled with no less than adoration.

You blinked, stepped back – or tried to. König kept a strong hold on your hand.

“König…you…” you swallowed. “You like me ?”

Now König blinked, his head tilting.

“Like you ?” he said, breathless. “Like you–” he stepped forward, his voice raised. And you shrank away. König stood down.

“(Y/N), I–” his voice caught in his throat. “I love you.”

You stood, dumbfounded.

König made his move.

He slipped his veil off, letting it drop to the concrete floor, his second snake skin.

He brought you closer, tugged you towards him, and, given how massive he was, you could hardly argue.

He held you in his arms, a glass figurine.

Like you had done so many times in the past, König rested his hands upon your waist, pulling you so close to him that you all but became one.

He bent down, inhaled the scent of your hair, your skin.

“I have been in love with you since we were children.”

Your heart sank.

That long?!

With only your rabbit, thumping heart to speak on your behalf, König couldn’t handle your silence.

“(Y/N)...” He squeezed your hips. You clenched your fists. “Say something.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

Despite the situation, despite all the pieces falling into place – König’s behaviour these last few months especially – you couldn’t resist the comfort his scent provided you with.

Even now, you nuzzled into his shirt, wanting nothing more than this fever dream to come to an end.

A mistake you’d live to regret.

You’d practically green-lit König’s rampant thoughts.

“My Love,” he whispered, his voice becoming the wind. He plastered his face to yours, your skin all but fusing as his cheek ground against yours, making you wince.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he imparted, eyes closed with what you could only assume to be euphoria.

He turned your face, his lips melting against the side of it, mouthing every inch of skin available to him.

It didn’t feel inherently sexual – not the way he handled you.

But it was…lustful.

A paradox of its own existence.

A venture without a goal.

He just wanted to be with you.

You noticed, as you struggled to pull away, that he avoided your lips.

Even as you shunted free and you almost made fatal contact, König withdrew, eyes wide.

“No…no,” he said, either to you or himself.

You saw him swallow.

“Not yet.”

Relief washed through you.

Yet you knew it would be short-lived.

You knew that, under König’s roof, reprieve would be hard to come by.

And your point was proven when König smiled down at you, his lips slim and sly.

“I have so much more to show you – to tell you – first.”

Your life began with König, and now, as his forehead was pressed to yours, his nose grazing your tip, you knew it would end with him.

Main Body of Fic

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist

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Taglist: @mushroompepina @gothlollipop09

[danikamariewrites]

i love your fics so much, i have all ur notifications on and you’re literally the only reason i still have this app😭😭💜 i was wondering if i could please request one where azriel x reader where reader has a MASSIVE crush on azriel. they’re mated and married and all but she is so blushy around him. like she literally giggles and blushes and melts whenever she’s around him. imagine she’s laying on her stomach and has her legs up, kicking them just thinking about azriel sith half lidded heart eyes, and feyre next to her teases her for it, and reader is like i don’t even care, i’m so inlove with this man, i’m gonna carry his children and UGHH LOVEEEEEE🥹

So In Love hc

Azriel x reader

A/n: first of all thank you I’m happy you’re still here and I hope you like this anon. Second, I too would just stare at azriel with heart eyes

Warnings: very fluffy like so super fluffy

Even though you and Azriel have been mated and married for decades he never fails to make you swoon or blush

With every kiss and small touch you’re putty in his hands

You love watching training. When he takes off his shirt and flexes his muscles you start drooling

Az’s tattoos are also mesmerizing

Sometimes when you’re in bed you straddle him and trace his tattoos and leave lil kisses on his chest

Whenever Az talks about you within ear shot you get all shy and blush

He’s also insanely in love with you

If you’re alone in a room Az loves to see how giggly you can get

One time you were making yourself a snack in the kitchen and Az sauntered up behind you, gently holding your hips, swaying you

“Hi lovey, what are you up to?” He says, you could hear the smirk on his lips. “Hi Az,” your cheeks heat and you lean back into his chest, tilting your head to look at him

“You’re so cute love. How did I get so lucky with you as my mate,” his smile widens as you turn and hide your face in his chest. Az places a kiss on your head and holds your chin between his fingers making you look back at him

He leans his forehead against yours and keeps whispering sweet nothings until your cheeks hurt from smiling and giggling

Sometimes everyone gets sick of how in love you two are, other times they think it’s adorable

During the latest family game night you just observed from the couch with Feyre

Card games get very heated in this house

But you’re just looking at Az (as always) with heart eyes and the most obvious smile

Feyre nudges you, “You’re drilling again y/n.” She said with a light laugh

“I can’t help it he’s just so pretty.” Feyre hummed into her wine glass. “You did get the prettiest one, there’s no denying it.” You giggle at the compliment for Az

You let out a sigh, leaning back into the couch. “I know you’re probably sick of me saying this, but Az is just so perfect. He’s so attentive, and charming, and caring. I love him so much.” Feyre laughs at the far away look plastered on your face as you only focus on Azriel

“I can’t wait to have his babes, I hope they all look like him so we can have perfect children.” You hadn’t realized how quite everyone had gotten

Cassian looked like he was trying not to laugh while Nesta and Rhys looked at you with wide eyes. Amren wasn’t paying attention and Elain just had an awww expression on her face

Azriel had gone red in the face as he was trying to get everyone back to playing cards

Cassian broke and started laughing and Nesta hit him, “I hope when we have kids they look and act like me.” Cassian looked offended, “So I get nothing!?” Nesta gave him a death glare and the boys started laughing at him

Once they went back to cards Azriel sent love and a message down the bond, “I love you too angel. And I hope they look like you, because you’re so beautiful.”

[milkmanxreader]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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.

.

.

.

You paused brushing your hair mid-stroke, head quirking to the side to look at the door. Faintly, the sound of the door opening and slamming shut could be heard. Dammit. You had really hoped your husband— Robert, a short round man with messy dirty blonde hair and dull brown eyes— would be working late, yet again. With a sigh of unease, you heaved yourself up from the stool in front of your vanity, gazing at your tired face in the clean mirror.

When had your appearance changed so much?

Of course, you were still stunning, your hair neat, and a nice colour. Despite all the years of a loveless marriage, your {E/C} eyes were still magnetic, and full of hope. Part of you really did hope your awful love-life with Robert could be fixed— even if deep down you knew it was far beyond repair. But it was a nice thought none the less.

"Where the hell is my food?" An irritated voice called from downstairs, snapping you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you made your way down the stairs with your hand gliding along the railing next to you.

For the most part, you loved your life, and home. Robert had a nice job, which meant you'd be able to live in this nice, large home, and not have to worry about getting a job you'd end up hating, though you didn't much like being a housewife either. You found it boring, and often fretted the common thing of husbands' cheating on their wives whilst out "working late."

Once you made it downstairs to the living room, you saw Robert pouring himself a glass of amber liquid, ice in the bottom of the glass. He brought the glass to his lips and quickly downed half of the whiskey. "Hello, honey," you offered lamely, brows upturned and a small smile plastered across your face— even if you didn't feel like smiling. He liked women who smiled, and Robert being happy meant less arguments in the long run.

He sharply turned his head to face you, glaring at you with contempt. 

"..I'll get your supper dished out,"

Robert nodded, before turning his head back around and going back to his drinking. Fucking asshole. With meek steps you scurried to the kitchen. Once there, you opened the oven, a pan which was still — thankfully — warm sat inside of the interior, and it smelled wonderful too. Putting on oven mitts, you took out the pan and set it on the counter. Meatloaf. 

.

Supper was silent, the only noise being the quiet sounds of eating, and forks scraping against the plates, a sound which made you cringe slightly. Robert acted like you weren't there. And maybe mentally you weren't.

Why on Earth did you want this life? To be a housewife? Growing up your mother was unmarried, nor was she dating anyone. She had always romanticized this life, her words laced with honey as she would pour out her dreams of finding some rich handsome man. Of course, she never did. But her raw adoration for such a simple, yet attractive lifestyle made you crave it just as much as she.

It was the worse mistake of your life. You loathed this, loathed Robert. His passion was long gone, with it your happiness, and sexual pleasure. Whilst "love"-making wasn't completely vanished, any of your pleasure being priority was. He was fast, rough, and awfully bad, too. Not a good combination. 

Not to say at one time you didn't mind the roughness, or fast pace, but that was back when he loved you. Now, he treated foreplay like a chore, and all you'd receive was bad dirty talk, and mediocre fingering, and hardly much of the latter. It was just all that— a chore.

You didn't even have anyone to properly weep your woes to. Robert didn't like you shooting the breeze with other men, and all of your women friends were cherry-picked by him, the wives of his friends

They were all rude bitches. It was as if they saw just because they were a bit older that they were somehow better than you. Or maybe they felt that way because of your lack of children.

Not that you were infertile, no, you could have a child if you wanted it. But that was just it, wasn't it? You didn't want children. Occasionally you'd have to look after one of your "friends" ankle-bitters, and they seemed much more trouble than they were worth. If you wanted something to take care of; just get a cat, or dog.

Robert seemed a bit upset with your lack of child, too. It was often a sore subject which led to arguments, so you seldom brought it up. And he did the same, for which you were grateful. 

You were a lonely housewife looking for some form of escapism. Cheating was never on your mind, but you craved excitement, and something far away from Robert.

.

.

.

Without wasting a single moment, the second Robert had finished eating he stood up and walked away, likely to the shared bedroom. With a grunt of irritation, you stood and collected up the freshly emptied plates, taking them to the sink to wash them.

Your hands slowly scrubbed the plates, wanting to prolong the time you stayed up into the night. Robert seldom cared if you laid with him at night, but the way he just.. ignored, turned away, or shoved you off stung, and often you'd have to blink away tears.

Half the time you couldn't even register your own feelings. Maybe isolated. Definitely lonely.

But, surely there was more out there for you, wasn't there? Maybe you could divorce Robert, move far, far away. You'd for sure be shunned if you got a divorce, nobody would want you— a woman who couldn't even be a right wife? Awful. But if you moved away, you could tell the new folks that you were.. a widow, or something. 

That sounded nice.

Even if deep down,

you knew,

Robert would never allow you to divorce him. It'd hurt his ego far too much.

[kgetb]

I like shiny things *⁠.⁠✧, but I'd marry you with paper rings ! ||>> Blaize Zabini

song to listen to : Paper Rings (Taylor Swift)

summary : The thought of Marriage seems to already peek Y/n's interests, as she talks about how much she's looking forward into her Married Life, with her husband, and Kids. Blaise pretends not to care, as he concentrates on folding... paper?

established relationship, fluf, literally around 10% of reader's yapping‼️

lover masterlist ! ♡

⤷ : : YANNA'S MAP .. : :

A usual day at Hogwarts, wherein Blaise has to endure Y/n's holy mother of yap about a random topic, again. not that he was complaining though... It was adorable watching her express what was on her mind, every day. It was interesting to say the least, And for what Y/n chose to talk about today was... marriage.

“I just can't wait when I finally graduate, and get married! I wonder what it'd be like!” Y/n chirped excitedly, in her own little world as she yapped to her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini about how excited she was to get married. Hell, they were still in their 6th year!

“Ugh.. like I can just imagine my wedding dress, and the cake.. ooh! and my bridesmaids! Definitely gonna be my bestest friends, of course!” She stated excitedly, with a huge grin plastered on her adoring face.

Blaise nodded nonchalantly, remaining quiet while focusing on folding the piece of paper in a ring shape. An origami heart that serves as the small little crown on the ring.

“Ooh! I also cannot wait to have children, they're so cute! Blaise, have you met my younger sister? I told you about her, right? she's the absolute cutest!” Y/n continued, empathizing the word 'cannot'. She kicked her legs forward, then backwards repeatedly. Making hand gestures as she talks.

She paused, and sat in silence for a few minutes, her puffy cheeks warming up at the thought of her and Blaise... actually having children. She shook the thought away, and leaned back on the chair she sat on. Then there she realized.. Blaise has been oddly.. quiet

As Y/n sat in silence, Blaise finished folding what looks like a Paper Ring.. It was a little bit wrinkled by the many failed attempts. but other than that, it was pretty, and adorable.

“Blaise? What're you doin'?”The girl piped up with a confused tone, and one eyebrow raised at Blaize's hand that hid behind his back with his lips curving upwards

“Close your eyes, milove.” Blaise spoke softly, while he tried his best to stifle a chuckle. Y/n complied by closing her eyes, Blaisw then stood up from the couch Infront of her, and slowly got down on one knee..

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at all the shuffling, yet her eyes remained closed until Blaise told her to open them. “You can open your eyes now, Y/n..” Blaise once again used the soft, and the ever sogentle tone he used only ever with Y/n.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, and was immediately met with the sight of Blaise on one knee, smiling at her while laughing. He held up the Origami Paper Ring that he spent literally the whole day folding, as he spoke such words... “Y/n Y/L/n, Will you marry me?”

He jokingly proposed with a sarcastic, and also serious manner, and the sight, along with Blaise's words had Y/n’s stomach infested with butterflies. Even if they were both just messing around

She let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on her mouth, as she slowly nodded. the teenagers both giggled at the same time, Blaise slipped the Paper ring easily on Y/n’s ring finger, as if it's actually made for her..

“I thought you weren't listening!” Y/n let out a huff, as her lips curved downwards into a frown. Then, wrapped her arms around Blaise's neck. As they shared a tender kiss, filled with nothing but affection, and love for one another.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds, before the two broke it. Blaise looked at Y/n, admiring all of her features that made up.. her. What Y/n saw as her imperfections, was the most perfect to Blaize. Everything about her, was perfect.

“Of course I was listening, I want to fulfill whatever dream you have, milove. As it is the only way I could ever show my undying appreciation, and love for you. I love you, forever. Y/n.” Blaise caressed her cheek with his thumb, as his other hand caressed Y/n’s hand which wore the Paper ring perfectly on the ring finger.

His smile was full of adoration towards his girlfriend, and also, his soon to-be wife, and most especially the mother of his future kids..

“I love you too, Blaise. soso much.” Y/n whispered fondly, both of their words. genuine and looked at Blaise with the same devoted look he gave her. Both of them already sure, of how their future will unfold. With them, still together, both with a ring that identifies their loyalty, and times spent together. Along with the family they will built, out of the passionate moments they've shared.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

pampering day

pairing: no apocalypse joel miller x female wife! wife reader

summary: Y/N enjoys a pampering day at the salon and texts her husband Joel, who arrives with lunch and gets a haircut while she gets her hair done.

Y/N’s phone buzzed as she relaxed in the salon chair, the foils in her hair shimmering under the salon lights. She glanced down at the screen and smiled at Joel’s response to her text about being hungry. He had been quick to offer to bring her something, and she knew he’d come through.

She’d been at the salon for two hours already, gossiping with her hairdresser, H/N, who was midway through applying her highlights. This was one of her rare pampering days, a chance to unwind and enjoy some ‘me time.’ She’d already spent the morning getting her nails and toes done, a routine she cherished not only for herself but also for Joel, who adored the feel of her nails.

The salon door chimed as Joel walked in, a Chick-fil-A bag in hand and a cheesy grin plastered on his face. “Saved the day, didn’t I?” he joked as he approached her.

Y/N’s eyes lit up, and she reached out to take the bag. “You always do,” she said warmly, accepting the food gratefully.

H/N glanced up from her work and chuckled. “Right on time, Joel. You need a cut while you’re here? I can get you in while her bleach is developing.”

Joel looked at Y/N, who was already munching on her sandwich, and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

He took a seat in the chair next to his wife’s, and H/N got to work, moving seamlessly between Y/N’s foils and Joel’s hair. “You know, Joel,” H/N said conversationally as she snipped away, “Y/N’s been telling me all about your latest adventures. Sounds like you two have been keeping busy.”

Joel smiled, watching Y/N enjoy her food. “Busy is an understatement. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Y/N swallowed a bite and laughed. “Especially not when I get to pamper myself like this and have my favorite person bring me lunch.”

H/N finished up with Joel’s trim just as Y/N’s timer went off, signaling that her bleach was ready. “Perfect timing, as always,” H/N said, directing Joel to the sink to rinse his hair.

As H/N rinsed out Y/N’s foils, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way Joel looked at his wife, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and love. He always had that look when he was around her, and it made H/N’s heart warm to see such a genuine connection between them.

Once Y/N’s hair was rinsed and she was back in the chair for the final touches, she glanced over at Joel, who was now scrolling through his phone, looking relaxed and content. “You know,” she said, “I think this might be the best pampering day yet. All thanks to you.”

Joel looked up and grinned. “Anything for you, babe. Plus, I get the added bonus of seeing you all dolled up.”

Y/N blushed, her heart fluttering. She loved these moments, the little things that made their relationship so special. And she knew that no matter how busy their lives got, they’d always find time for each other, whether it was through simple acts of kindness or stolen moments in a salon chair.

As H/N finished up Y/N’s hair, she couldn’t help but smile at the couple. “You two are adorable,” she said. “And Joel, your haircut is looking sharp as always.”

Joel stood up, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. “Thanks, H/N. You always do a great job.”

Y/N stood up, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, her hair looking perfect. She turned to Joel, her eyes sparkling. “Ready to go, handsome?”

Joel nodded, taking her hand. “Always.”

They thanked H/N and headed out of the salon, stepping into the warm afternoon sun. Y/N squeezed Joel’s hand, feeling grateful for the day, the pampering, and most of all, for the man who always made her feel beautiful. Joel and Y/N drove home, their hands intertwined as they chatted about their day. The anticipation of seeing their children added a special warmth to the already perfect afternoon.

Pulling into their driveway, they were greeted by the sight of Y/N's parents playing with their four daughters in the front yard. Their laughter filled the air, a sweet melody that made Y/N’s heart swell. The youngest, their newborn son, was nestled in her mother’s arms, cooing softly.

As they got out of the car, their daughters ran over, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Mommy ! Daddy!" they squealed, wrapping their small arms around their legs.

Y/N bent down to hug them, feeling their little hands patting her freshly styled hair. "Hey, my loves! Did you have fun with Granny and Grandpa?"

Joel lifted their youngest daughter into his arms, kissing her cheek. "Did you all behave?" he asked with a playful tone.

Y/N's father walked over, smiling warmly. "They were angels, as always. And little matthew here has been a delight," he said, gently handing the baby to Y/N.

Y/N cradled her son, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Thank you, Mom and Dad. It’s been a wonderful day."

Her mother waved a hand dismissively. "It’s our pleasure, sweetheart. You deserve some time for yourself."

Joel put an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. "We appreciate it. Really. It means a lot to us."

Y/N's parents stayed for a while longer, catching up on their day and sharing stories with the grandchildren. Eventually, they headed home, leaving Joel and Y/N to settle back into their cozy family routine.

Inside, Y/N put Matthew down for a nap while Joel helped the girls get ready for dinner. The house was filled with the comforting sounds of family life, the clattering of dishes, and the giggles of children.

As they sat down for dinner, Y/N looked around the table, her heart full. Joel caught her eye and smiled, a silent understanding passing between them. They were a team, partners in every sense, and together they had built a beautiful life.

Later that evening, after the children were tucked into bed, Joel and Y/N sat on the couch, the baby monitor softly humming beside them. Y/N rested her head on Joel’s shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"Thank you for today," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

Joel kissed the top of her head. "Every day with you is a gift, Y/N. I’m just glad I could make it a little easier for you."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. "You always do."

They sat in comfortable silence, savoring the quiet moments that came with the end of a busy day. Y/N’s pampering had been a treat, but it was these moments, surrounded by their children and the love they shared, that truly made her feel pampered.

As the night wore on, they talked softly about their hopes and dreams for the future, content in the knowledge that whatever came their way, they would face it together. And that was the greatest gift of all.

*not me writing this while in the salon chair getting my hair done*