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fic-over-cannon · 4 months

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a little something to celebrate 100 followers (and finishing my finals!)

Jason’s thigh shifts under your cheek. The fabric of his jeans is warmed by your combined body heat, worn soft in the way a best loved pair always is. It’s been a long day, a long week actually, but its over now. You’ve made it through though and there’s nothing but a glorious evening free ahead of you now. You’re lying on your side, eyes closed, head pillowed by Jason’s delicious thighs. He was sitting on the couch when you came home, thighs splayed wide open and absorbed in a book. He’d looked so comfy sitting there, it was all you could do to control your descent onto the couch. You’d flopped down, boneless the instant your body made contact with his. Jason’s thighs were just as comfortable as they looked, warm and firm with just the right amount of give. He looks down at you, fond.

“You gettin’ comfy down there sweetheart?” It’s wry, and probably accompanied by a smile, if you could be bothered to look up and open your eyes to see it.

“Mmmhmmm.”

You nuzzle your face further into his thigh, let the smell of detergent and Jason wash away the day. He reaches for something over you, pulls down a soft fleece blanket to cover you with. He drapes it over you, let’s you adjust it the way you like it. He pets over your hair once, twice, then buries his hand it to cradle your skull. There’s a rustle of pages and you know he’s gone back to his book.

You drift there, warm and comforted by Jason’s steady presence. There’s nothing but the sound of your combined breathing punctuated by the occasional turn of a page. You’re not sure how long you stay there, but by the time you open your eyes again the quality of the light has changed. The living room is only lit by the low warm light of several lamps, the sun completely gone down. For the past few minutes Jason’s gone back to petting your hair, finished with his book.

“You back with me yet?”

Instead of answering, you try and bury your face even further into his leg. His thigh just so firm and biteable that you give into the urge and gently clamp down.

“Hey! Okay, we’re both getting up now. You can either wait here on the couch or sit in the kitchen with me but I need to start making dinner.”

He tries to shake you free but you’re not ready yet. It’s not until he bends over to kiss you on the temple that you magnanimously let him go. Turn up to look at him appraisingly.

“Kitchen but I get to be your taste tester and I get to bring the blanket.”

He laughs then, bright and loud. Sweeps you up, blanket and all, and bridal carries you to the kitchen. Sets you down on one of the bar chairs across the counter so you can watch him, and then starts to pull out pans. Gets the black tea and spice chest out of the cupboard and starts digging for the mortar and pestle under the kitchen sink. Chops and peels a ginger root, adds it to the pot with the tea and spices before covering it all with water to boil. He cleans up as he goes, pulling out the ingredients for pasta as the water boils. You rest your head in your hands to watch him work. A few spoonfuls of sugar and a cup of milk go into the pot now. His hands are steady and mesmerizing as they use a ladle to aerate the boiling milk. The kitchen smells amazing, warmed spices and tea filling the air. A steaming mug appears in front of you, as if by magic.

“New spice blend. Let me know what you think.”

Jason winks before spinning back to the stove.The chai is rich and sweet on your tongue, warming you up from the inside out. It’s probably your favourite version yet, but then you say that about every new iteration he lets you try out.

Jason’s multitasking in a way your tired brain can’t quite catch up to. Pasta’s boiling in one pot, chicken seasoned and shallow frying in a pan, and his knife’s flying to dice garlic and cherry tomatoes. He darts forward with a bit of chicken on a fork, gets you to blow on it before carefully putting it between your teeth. It’s plump and juicy, fat adding salt and the basic seasoning doing the rest to make it delicious.

“It’s good. Taste tester approved. The chai and the chicken.”

“Glad to know my cooking meets your high standards.”

He grins like quick silver, hands never stopping their motions. There’s a pesto sauce cooking off with the chicken and its fat, garlic frying up with it. A dash of cream and the colour goes a soft green. The chai’s almost gone now, a satisfying weight in your belly that only makes you hungrier. There’s pasta on another fork waving in front of your face. Annoyed, you snap it up with your teeth.

“It’s cooked.”

A cloud of steam and the pasta’s drained, tossed into the chicken and sauce. Two bowls appear on the counter filled with chicken and pasta, topped with cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan. You’re not even sure when he had time to grate cheese. It looks so good, your mouth is already watering.

You’re warm and relaxed, still bundled in a blanket, the dregs of chai still in the mug wrapped in your hands. There’s food on the table, good food made with care. There’s a beautiful man leaning across the counter from you, in the apartment that you’ve made a home together. It’s been a long day, but you’re home with the man you love and none of that matters anymore.

#thank you everyone!#here’s something a little self indulgent to celebrate #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #tooth rotting fluff #snack fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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yuyu-bubu · 7 months

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invincibility candy!!!

#kirby #prince fluff #kirfluff #kirby fanart #Nintendo #nintendo fanart #the do's are me trying to write out the invincibility candy theme #all i do i show up every few months abd drop some kirfluff art for everyone that wants it #does anyone here listen to weatherday who here likes emo music who here likes emo i like emo music i think its cool i think its pretty cool

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yuwuta · 7 days

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yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always.

#atp i need to shut and write the omega verse fics that consistency plague my mind #but while im here time for my obligatory megumi mention bc i mentioned dogs teehee #yes megumi attack dog hes megumi grumbly yes megumi bark bark bite bite BUT BUT BUTTTT #megumi is also used to like... hm........ taming? having? caring for? people in his life and also literal (divine) dogs #so for him yes he bites and barks #but he also... he gets confused if YOU dont follow him around like a puppy bc everyone else in his life has so why not you?#gojo's always been the annoying yapping pomeranian chewing on his arm even if he didn't ask #always in megumi's space even tho he didn't ask but he learned to deal with it #won't admit it but knows that too much attention is better than having someone who couldn't give a shit about you #yuuji is the golden in everybody's life and megumi is no exception #unmovable unshakeable and incredibly addictive even if he doesn't mean to be #and very very attached to the people he cares about so yeah yuuji is loud and annoying but he's also loyal and megumi respects that so fine #nobara is like... she decided she liked megumi and was upset about it so she bit his ankle and he tried to kick her off but she has too muc #pride to get shaken off by someone as scrawny as megumi and somewhere along the way megumi became impressed that she was still there even i #it hurt a bit and she was a little rough it's not like he was worse so fine whatever she can stay too #so if you like... if you dont hover around megumi if you dont pry if you dont prod then he has to be the dog smh #now he's gotta bite for your attention and nudge you and how annoying. he's gonna keep doing it tho. as long as he has to #or until you learn to fall in line and accept your leash too whichever comes first n e way.... anyway.............#somebody's pampered omega always gets what he wants megumi complex is showing......#this was about yuuta right? ok i'll put his tags now....#juju #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader

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pjs-everyday · 7 months

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10. Hugs 🩷🎉 // Twiyor Month @twiyorbase

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silkspunweb · 4 months

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A Gift from Santa

w.c.: 4.2k

it's just delusional fluff. husband!nanami x reader, papamin in his glory. a very late christmas fic.

a/n: As President of the Haitchverse Fanclub, thank you for all you do for us fellow kento/hiromi lovers @pseudowho ❤️

School days were coming to a stop as the days ended sooner, the air was frostier, and the holidays got closer. You mentally scolded yourself for not ending class earlier this week so the kids could finally get some time off when you hear Itadori think aloud, "Ah, we only have a few days of school left before the holiday break, huh."

"Hmm? Oh yeah," Kugisaki responded, "I was going to do some Christmas shopping."

"You're going to do it at peak Christmas shopping time??"

"Why not? Might as well get some shopping done for a new year wardrobe!" She snickered.

Noticing your curiosity, Fushiguro turned to you and asked, "What about you, Mrs. Nanami?"

"Me?"

"Yeah! What do you and Nanamin plan on doing for Christmas?" Itadori perked at the idea of his favorite teacher and favorite mentor doing mundane holiday things.

You responded without thinking much about the question, "I think we're going to work on dinner together and have some family over." Though, as soon as those words came out, there was a sense of deflation in the air.

"Ah, I see." They all shared a look, then Itadori spoke up, "I think this is my first time spending it without Grandpa."

"Now that you mention it, this is my first time spending it in Tokyo," Kugisaki shrugged.

"Usually, my sister plans dinner for us," Fushiguro said.

You could almost hear the lonely sigh they gave out as they tightly tugged their lips into a curt smile. Your heart went out to these kids. 'They're still so young. They shouldn't be spending Christmas by themselves in their dorms.' You frowned, trying to think of ways to spend time with them without making them think it was out of pity. There must be something their teacher can do. After all, what's closest to a parent figure than a teacher? Perhaps this was something your husband could solve.

Your husband. That's it. You quickly packed your bag, waving the kids off as they said their goodbyes and left the room. 'Would Kento oppose this?' You wondered, 'Nah, surely even he can't be that callous.' You headed straight for the door before pausing, "Ah, but he's definitely going to mock me for this."

You got home before Kento and sent him a quick message that you'd be preparing dinner. It was a little crazy, that idea of yours, but the craziest part would be if Ken would actually play along in your schemes (as he would call it).

"You know, you shouldn't poke your nose where it doesn't belong." You remembered him telling you that right before you took up the position to fill in as Gojo's substitute. "You're only going to get attached to them, Darling." Psh, what did he know? Only just about everything about you.

"I'm not going to get attached, Ken, I'm just doing a favor for an old friend. Besides, those kids are going to join us on the battlefield someday, maybe even tomorrow. They need someone to guide them properly, especially when Gojo's not around." You grumbled on the drive home, peering at him from the corner of your eyes as he chuckled.

"Sure love, whatever you say." He remained focused on the street before him, "Ten dollars says you do, though."

"Nanami Kento," you faked a gasp," are you making a bet with me right now?"

"Nothing wrong with a little indulgence, is there?" You turned to him with a raised brow. There was a playful glint to his eye; he knew what he was doing here, baiting you into these childish games. There was no real prize here; the money would stay where it belonged, but he got the right to say he won.

You scoffed to yourself, 'No one would believe me if I said that my husband would partake in stupid bets like this.' You rolled your eyes at him, "Alright, ten if you win. But if I win, I want to change the color of our bedroom."

He raised a brow at you, "What's wrong with our bedroom color?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, our new room color is just going to be a reminder of my new victory."

"You're a little too confident here, don't you think," he chuckled.

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. How dare he be right about everything. You felt the embarrassment on your face as you mixed the curry roux in the pot. Ugh, he was going to be so smug when he heard your stupid plans.

You could back down now, there was no reason you couldn't. Hell, maybe if it was a month ago, you wouldn't even think a second thought about these kids. But Kento, he just had to be good with children. You didn't think much of it when he came to pick you up from your mission with the kids last month. You didn't think much of it when he asked you and the kids if you guys ate yet. You didn't think much of it when he invited them to join you guys for dinner at home, seeing that it was late at night. You didn't think much of it when he offered them the couch and the spare bedrooms. You didn't think much of it when he told Itadori to eat his vegetables, handed Kugisaki a spare hair tie, and gave his seat to Fushiguro at the dinner table. You didn't think much of it when he told them to go relax, cool off, and that he would handle the dishes. But man, you saw the fond look in his eyes when he dropped them off at their dorm the next morning. You saw how happy he was to have them around, to occupy the spaces of your shared home, to relax and share a meal with these kids at the dinner table. Call it camaraderie, mentor-mentee relationship, or authoritative affections. Call it whatever you want, but Kento was meant to be a dad.

You smiled at the pot of curry in front of you. You knew he was going to mock you, but you couldn't help but wish that you were making this dinner for five right now instead of two. You knew that even though he was going to tease the hell out of you for feeling this way, the feelings were mutual and he wanted them around too. So, you sucked in a deep breath when you heard his car pull up in the driveway, turned off the stove, and made towards the door to welcome him in.

You opened the door before he could even pull out his keys, throwing yourself into his arms as he walked in.

He leaned in, putting his face into the crook of your neck, “Well hello to you, too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, taking in the little things that made his home whole.

“Welcome home,” you pressed your face into his chest, unwilling to let him see the look of defeat evident in your eyes.

He pulled away to look at you, your eyes downcasted and a slight puff in your cheeks. “What sort of trouble did you get into this time?” He mused.

“I need your help, Kento.” He quirked a brow at you as you suddenly helped him take off his winter coat and scarf. “There's something bothering me at school.” A light tug to loosen his tie, “It's been killing me all day,” another tug, “and I just don't know what to do.” You glared at the offending piece of fabric as if it was the cause of your demise. “Will you help me?”

“That depends,” he hummed, “what's got you so worked up that you need my help at school?” You gave out an exaggerated sigh, walking back into the kitchen to plate him his dinner. He followed, washing his hands and setting up the table. “Is this about the kids?” He doesn't even look at you, knowing you'd do anything to deny it. It was childish, you both knew it, but you couldn't help the heat creeping up your back. How does he always know? There was a pause, then another. You placed two plates onto the dinner table, sitting down without another word, red staining your cheeks as you flushed in embarrassment. He sat down and chuckled, “I'm right, aren't I?” You scrunched your nose at him, debating to deny it or admit your grievances. “Darling,” he reached his hand across the table for you to meet his in the middle, “is this about the kids?”

Another deep sigh, “Yes Kento, it's about the kids.” You rolled your eyes, slipping him a ten dollar bill across the table.

He chuckled, “You know that's not what I wanted in the first place.”

“Ken, really?” You frowned at him, placing one hand on top of his. His brows quirked up, making you run your other hand through your hair. “Alright, alright. You were right. I grew attached to the kids. I said I wouldn't, but I did. You warned me and you told me so. Now stop being a butt head, and help me with this.”

“I was going to tell you to say, ‘please,’ but this'll do too,” he gave a gentle squeeze. “Now, what did you have in mind?”

“I need you to dress as Santa.”

“No.”

“But—

“Absolutely not.”

“Ken—”

“Nope.” He met your offending glare with indifference on his own face. “Why on Earth would I dress as Santa.”

“It's for the experience.”

“You think I should experience wearing red velvet and a—”

“No, not for you! The experience is for them.” His face deadpanned. “I'm serious, I think you should dress as Santa, like when dads pretend to be Santa for their—”

“They're not our kids.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Of all things you want me to do—”

“It'd make a fond memory for them!”

“To put me in a big red coat and that ugly—”

“You wouldn't even have to wear the beard!” He gave you a pointed look. “Okay, the beard would help a lot, but Ken—”

“No.” You opened your mouth in protest, “Absolutely not.” A pout formed on your face, cheeks starting to puff in frustration. He gave out a big sigh, “I'll get them gifts to open for Christmas. Won't that suffice?” He poked one of your inflated cheeks. “We can even head over to celebrate with them if it'll make you happy.” You refused to look at him at this point, disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for your plans.

Getting up to clear your dinner, you grumbled as you walked past him to the sink, “They don't have anyone to go home to like we do. I just want to give them something happy to remember.” Your words hung uncomfortably in the air as he stared down at what was left of his dinner. He heard the tap turn on, then off. You left him to simmer in his thoughts. Another big sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, he quietly pulled out his phone and made some orders online.

“They're not our kids.” Why did he say that? He knew you saw how happy he was whenever the kids were over for dinner.

“You don't mean that.” You were right. He didn't mean it. He loved every minute of it when the kids stayed over, even if dinner time was rowdier and messier than usual. Even if he had to give up some of his comfort and private space to have these kids around. Even when he had to scold them for something as miniscule as eating their vegetables out of his work hours, for goodness sake. “I just want to give them something happy to remember.” He frowned. This could've been a happy memory for you, too. After all, it was just one day, probably not even the entire day in a stupid red suit. So what if he thought it was ugly, that dumb suit could've really made his wife happy. He groaned, opening his phone once again to make another impulsive purchase. He may have won your little bet, but it seems like you won something else after all. Even if you didn't know it yet.

After he cleared his own plates, he made his way to get ready for bed so he could return to you. He walked through the bedroom door, disappointed to find you facing the other way. You weren't even sparing a glance at your husband nor making any cheeky comments about how wet he looked and how low that towel hung around his waist. Nothing, zilch. He sighed again, throwing on a pair of checkered pajama bottoms before making his way next to you. He had his arm over your waist, testing the waters, and a little glad that you hadn't shaken him off.

“Good night,” you grumbled.

He pressed his own “good night” into the crown of your head.

You woke up a little earlier than usual with your husband's arms around you tighter than it was last night. With one arm across your chest and the other around your waist, he had your hips flush against his. It was so pleasant, you almost forgot why you had your back facing him to begin with. You blinked the sleep away, mentally at war with yourself to either stay or to forcefully peel away from his embrace. You shouldn't, ‘He doesn't deserve it,’ you pouted. ‘Even if I reaaaallly want to, I should be firm about this.’ You tried to reason yourself as you felt him shift from behind, only pulling you in closer, tighter. His face was in your hair, his puffs of breath tempting you to go back to sleep. You mentally screamed, ‘Damn him! I need to— ugh. It's so comfortable.’ You wanted to cry. This was the ideal morning, but you had to get up now if you wanted to work on setting up the classroom for the kids. Time was of the essence, and since somebody denied you of some good, fun Christmas spirits, you just had to make up for the non-participating party's lack of enthusiasm.

You willed yourself to pull away from your husband as you slipped out of the comforter, not making it far before he had his arm around you again. “Stay.” You didn't realize he had sat up when you tried to sneak off. If not for the arm that wound around your belly, you would've mistaken his low morning voice for something else. It was something akin to dark chocolate and warmed honey, running deep and slow; it woke you up in the morning. You wanted to whine at how unfair he was being. How affectionate and cuddly for someone so stern and callous last night. You shook your head and quickly pulled yourself out of his arms and into the shower.

‘I have to stay strong,’ you repeated to yourself under the freezing water. After getting dressed, you went to the kitchen where you found your distracting husband in just his checkered pajama bottoms. ‘Oh, dear lord, I am not your strongest soldier.’ He gave a soft smile, his hair sticking to one way and the other. You wanted to run your hand through it so bad, but if you got any closer, you might not leave as early as you had hoped.

“G’morning.” There he goes again. Him and his stupid, perfect face, and his stupid, perfect— “I made you tea and breakfast.” Oh no.

You forced yourself to grab the coffee pot instead, “No thanks, I plan on leaving to work earlier today.” You didn't even bother with the cream and sugar, needing the bitter taste to jolt you out of this domestically inviting scene. Nope, nope, nope. You grabbed a piece of toast, gave him a quick peck on the cheek for good morning, and rushed to the door before he could stop you from leaving again. He blinked at the whirlwind that was his wife, frowning when you slammed the door. The door opened again, “I'll be a little late today! Don't wait up!” His frown deepened at the second door slam. Knowing you, you were probably going to set up some lights and a small tree in the classroom or at the dorms just to make it a little more festive for the kids at school.

“I must've really messed up,” he scratched the back of his neck, “No use in moping about it now.” He sighed and eyed the unwanted cup, then went to check his phone.

You were quieter than usual for the next couple of days, not so much as being upset with him, but more distracted with your thoughts. You already had the lights up to the kids’ surprise that one morning and promised them that the tree will have more ornaments the next day. They tried to wave you off, saying, “No need ma'am, you already do enough for us,” and “Really, we're fine, it's just Christmas.” You hushed them, something about ‘the presents are already wrapped’ and you ‘already mailed Santa for them’. You knew they were old enough not to believe in some merry folklore, but you wanted them to look forward to something this week. You checked your phone to see if the surprise was going to arrive on time.

‘Today's Wednesday, and the package is going to come tonight. Then break starts…Friday?’ Your brows furrowed, ‘Would I have time to get dinner for them too? Ugh, I should've told Kento to prepare food instead of wearing a Santa suit or something. That would've been smarter. Ah! What about the second years? Did I buy their gifts yet?’ The day ended, leaving only two days left for you to prepare, so you hurried home to think of gift ideas for the others. ‘Socks are only cool when you're in college and realize you need to appreciate useful things, like parents who provide socks,’ you scoffed to yourself. ‘What would high schoolers even like? Are CD albums still cool? But what do they listen to? Do they even listen to TommyHeavenly6 or L’Arc-en-Ciel? Oh god, am I outdated now? Are Scandal still cool??? Ah, focus! Now’s not the time. What would these kids like for Christmas?”

You pulled up into your driveway, making your way to your front door, brows still furrowed as you nearly walked into your husband, “Oomph.”

“Welcome home,” he said warmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he helped you out of your work shoes. “How was work?”

You eyed him momentarily before speaking, “It's going well, I think. The kids are…Well, they're losing focus now that break is just two days away, so it's hard to get them focused on the lesson. Itadori nearly ran into the door this morning because he forgot about doors.” You chuckled fondly, “Though I suppose that's my fault for putting up all those Christmas decorations. I probably got them excited and whatnot.” You tiptoed ever so slightly to kiss him on the cheek, “What did you do today?”

“Had a mission that ended early, so I made dinner,” he said. It wasn't a total lie, he did make dinner, but instead of a mission, he actually drove around town, picking up what you missed on your not-so-secret Christmas plans list. He knew it wasn't going to fully make up for his harsh words, but you were going to appreciate it either way.

Dinner went smoothly. Better actually, now that you were both hip to hip at the sink, washing dishes together. You two were back to your usual routine; he connected Bluetooth to your phone, and you got to play music that made you nostalgic for your teen years again. He rolled his eyes when you blew sudsy bubbles at him, “Real mature,” he hip bumped you before flicking water onto your glasses. His heart swelled seeing you look at him, like it was his first time again, seeing how your smile widened the slightest of increments or how your eyes darkened a little more with mirth. With another nudge, he insisted you showered and got ready for bed, “I can handle the rest,” he waved you away.

After you showered, you went to bed, tucking yourself underneath his chin, and pressed a kiss to his sternum for “good night.” He could've melted right there and then under your touch, but instead held you close, hoping the next few days were going to be to be easier for the both of you.

Thursday went by fast, and all of a sudden it was Friday. ‘D-Day’ as you'd called it in your head. ‘Kento’s gonna be at work, so he probably won't make it to see the kids open their gifts.’ You frowned as you remembered the shaky handwritten cards you wrote for the second years, embarrassed that you had to stick to gift cards in the end. Nothing wrong with gift cards, but you would've liked to be as personal with their gifts as you were with the first years.

It was a bit before lunch that you decided to give them a short break, and quickly made your way to the bathroom to change into your outfit. It was a silly oversized red coat, and you realized why Kento had been so stubborn about wearing such a thing. You laughed at yourself in the mirror, ‘Okay, I get it, it is ugly.’ You made a beeline for the staff room, imagining Kento’s reaction to you and the hideous outfit, but nothing could've prepared you for what you saw next. Your husband, the love of your life, the most stubborn man on Earth, stood before you in the same exact outfit. You could've sworn you were in the soda can commercial with how cold and stiff his face was.

“Kento.”

“Yes?”

“What on Earth are you wearing?”

“I could say the same to you,” he raised an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down.

“I thought you didn't want to,” you trailed off, not sure if you should be pointing and laughing or crying over your husband in those ridiculous clothes.

“I didn't.”

“Then why are you—”

“You were right.” You stared at him with your mouth wide open, “The beard does help a lot.” He offered a taut smile and you jumped into his arms, happy enough that you could have married this man a second time.

“I can't believe you,” you buried your face into his neck, “you silly, silly man.”

He let out what sounded like a small laugh, “Let's go before I change my mind about this outfit.” He gave you a peck on the forehead and went to pick up the bags off the table.

“You got them gifts???” He raised his eyebrow once more, opening the bag to show you the contents. Your face fell at the trays of food, “Really??”

“Hey, these kids are big eaters, and besides, you left food off your list.”

“Ah! You saw that?” You flushed, unable to contain the smile growing wider on your face.

“Of course I saw it, it was the only thing you looked at all week,” he rolled his eyes, taking your hand in his free one as you both walked back to the classroom.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Dunno, but next time, how about you don't reject my—”

A water bottle fell to the floor when the door opened.

“Na-nanamin?”

“Why are there two Santas?”

There was a camera shutter click. “I'll send this to you guys later,” Kugisaki smiled.

“But seriously, what are you two wearing?”

Kento sighed, “There was a little mix up. Mrs. Claus here almost left some of the gifts back at home, so I'm here to deliver the rest of the presents.”

You smiled at him before turning to them, “You should go call for the second years, tell them to come inside for lunch.”

The kids immediately rushed outside to bring the upperclassmen in. Something about, “Hurry up,” “Food’s here,” and “Forget the food, hurry before he changes out of those clothes!”

No one understood why Kento was dressed as Santa. After all, he wasn't technically their teacher. Sure, they’d had dinner with him a few times, but did that really warrant buying them presents and helping them celebrate with a Christmas meal? Or maybe he lost a bet? No, Nanamin would never take part in bets. Then what was it? They weren't exactly sure. All they knew was that the way he smiled at his wife was the same as when he sat at the dinner table with them at home. The Nanamis sure love Christmas, they joked. You watched all five kids lean in towards your husband as Kugisaki whipped her phone out for a selfie with Santa. It reminded you that you ought to capture the moment while Kento was still willing to participate. With another click of a shutter, you took the picture of your smiling husband and your kids.

“Darling,” he gave you a warning glare.

“Oh, c’mon Santa, lighten up,” Maki joked and the others giggled.

You poked his side, “Yeah, Santa, who knows when I'll get to see you like this again.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his response; he gave you another flat look, then replied, “Probably when we have our own kids.”

credits to @cafekitsune for the beautiful Christmas banner

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #papamin ♡#everyone needs to read pseudowho's work #gotta post this before someone takes my crown title #thanks to my best friend too cuz she's been pushing me to write and post for years now but she's not on here so it's hard to tag her #thank you to the two who supported me ❤️#and thank you for those of you who are reading ❤️#stay warm and safe :)#silk spun tales

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mysteriesmuse · 4 months

Text

Pro-Heroes New Years Livestream Q&A Featuring Katsuki Bakugou / Dynamite

The next morning you couldn’t help but find yourself reflecting on years past — and not just the previous one!

You’d gotten out the box full of your childhood yearbooks that your parents made you take to your new apartment. Ironically, using the wobbly stool you’d stolen from your parents house in order to grab the dusty stack off the top shelf of your closet.

And now you sat on the floor by your coffee table coughing and sneezing as you flipped up all the yearbooks labeled with: Musutafu Middle.

You flipped through them all. Laying each book out in front of you as if you were some kind of detective with a red string to connect; and honestly, you kind of did because for the life of you. You. Could. Not. Remember Katsuki Bakugou. You had absolutely zero recollection of him from your time in middle school.

The worst part about it was that none of your friends could really remember him either. Like you knew he was rich, and snobby, and sporty, but that’s just because it was a small middle school. The way that you still remember a lot of other classmates, except that was all you could recall about Bakugou Katsuki. I mean, you don’t think you knew each other well enough for your name to be the one uttered by a ProHero in a nationally televised talk show?!!

You’d watched that video over and over and over again until you could practically see him on the talkshow repeating himself behind the red folds of your eyelids. And now you’d embarrassingly see him behind your eyes every time you blinked. But besides the video corroborating the fact that you had to be the girl Dynamite was speaking about you and your bestie couldn’t figure out how he’d encountered you in middle school? Because at the very least you never ran into him. Like you knew he was there and who he was in the small town sense, but you don’t recall having met Bakugou.

At least, not in the way that your eyes light up and you cause a charming boyish grin on a man whose reputation is just THAT. That devilishly handsome, incredibly chiseled Adonis looking with the cheekbones and jawbone that may injure a person, incredibly smoldering eyebrows and sharp intellectual eyes, kind of way. Not to mention, a top ten hero at the tender age of 23.

The past few days yours and your classmates photos had been circulating through various social media platforms as the general public tried to piece together the puzzle with their own detective work.

Meanwhile, you’d managed to hide out in your little apartment as the internet took Dynamite’s childhood crush by storm. You were immensely grateful that the public hadn’t picked up on it yet. Watching the internet frenzy from afar was enough for you.

Dynamite had already released a statement that he would not confirm or give up your name for the sake of protecting your own privacy. And as quoted by @dynamiteoffical, “absolutely fucking not. that’s low shit to do to anyone you know, especially to someone you don’t know very well yet.” If the revelation in itself did it have you swooning, then the public defense, and the mention of yet did. but still? ProHero Dynamite?? A guy you’d apparently known as children and harbored a small celebrity crush on for the past year and a half, it just didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense, why? What did he see? You dragged the final yearbook off the coffee table and much like the others you’d blown off the dust and immediately gone to find Bakugou Katsuki.

Your fingers traced around the corners of the pages. A delicate finger around the generic blue background that framed your pictures. There you stood smiling back at yourself your red kerchief matching the ribbon your mother had put in your hair. You touched the back off your head. The same hairstyle that you’d never quite grown out of: a braided ponytail; just like ProHero Dynamite had called it.

Frantically, you’d pushed your way through the filler pages of clubs, ceremonies, and school events that had occurred throughout the year. The ones that always separated the graduating class from the rest of the student bodies pictures. So many clubs and event were put on — including the semi-annual quirk emergency training. That was coordinated through the Mustafu Police Department. They canceled all club activities for one afternoon and divided up the school in half; 1st year and 2nd years together, and then 3rd and 4th years. Which according to your calculations meant that you’d been in the same safety seminar as Katsuki for 2 years. And that only explained how you did remember, and meet, ProHero Deku. They always split off the kids with quirks capable of self-defense and gave them some small group training. Meanwhile the rest of you stayed in the gymnasium learning self defense moves with partners. — You always paired up with your best friend.

You flipped past more stuff. Fondly remembering the Battle of the Books win that year. As well as the Middle school Medieval themed dance with the inflatable sword duel with the Student Body President and Vice President. And especially the Battle of the Bands an event you participated in every year til high school, much to your parents chargin, and finally that final year you’d placed top three. In the photo you stood clutching the neck of your guitar to your chest with the golden microphone in your hand. How you ever left the house in that outfit you’d never understand. You smiled fondly tracing over the trophy with your hand, a relic that your parents ironically kept in order to show off to their friends still.

Finally, you’d flipped to the grade below you and spotted the elusive head of blonde hair. In a frustrated sigh you asked, “seriously Dynamite how on earth do you know me? Like actually?” Because honestly how could a ProHero like you when you were sooo cringe.

#mysteriesmusing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #I mean very realistic everyone thought they were cringe in middle school #peak cringe time honestly #Also loving imagining the yearbook detective work here 🕵️‍♀️📖😂

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

you take a shirt from katsuki when you’re pregnant enough to start showing.

the black material has faded to a washed out grey, there’s a hole in the collar and the skull on the front has almost peeled completely off. you find the shirt when he’s out for patrol and you’re just touching four months a long— it smells like him, it’s still soft and it reminds you of your younger days back at U.A. the ones where you and bakugou pretended to hate each other despite how hard you were secretly crushing on him.

you deem it the pregnancy shirt.

that old skull t-shirt becomes one of your go-tos when you’re pregnant— when you need comfort, when you’re too tired to change, bakugou always makes sure it’s within your reach. he always reaches for it when he’s helping you change after a long day out with your in-laws too as he takes off your sandals and massages your swollen ankles. katsuki always pushes the fabric of the worn out shirt over your bump when you start to show more, kissing where your belly button is as he chatters sweet nothings to your baby, telling them how much he loves them— katsuki freezes, you freeze too when you feel a light flurry of tiny hands and feet push at your bump from underneath the fabric. and it’s the shirt you pull on when you make bakugou drive you to the nearest convince store for ice cream at five in the morning.

“it’s the baby’s cravings! not mine!”

you’re wearing the same ratty old skull shirt, in the doctor’s office— pushed up a little while she applies a thick layer of that cold jelly to your belly. katsuki snickers when you shiver, a kiss pressed to your head at the time but he damn near sobs, squeezing your hand for dear life when he finds out you’re having a little girl. it’s a little gross but you have to use the shirt to wipe his nose, especially when her tiny heartbeat echoes throughout the room.

a new tear is made in the skull shirt a when you hit the third trimester, seven more months in, and you’re watching katsuki flash across your mother in law’s TV screen—fighting for his life, the people of Japan and most importantly his unborn child against a villain that’s injured half of your classmates already. mitsuki switches off the news channel before the end of the fight, reminding you that you’re at the height of your pregnancy, that the stress hormones aren’t good for your body and that she’ll make you something warm to drink instead. for hours you wait for katsuki bakugou to walk through the door, fidgeting with lose strings on his old shirt that your nearly cry over as they unravel and you tell yourself and your unborn daughter that it’s all going to be okay, that daddy will come home.

“missed me sweetheart?”

this time it’s your tears that the shirt wipes away when bakugou steps through the door— a little worse for wear but his eyes still lit up at the sight of you in his old shirt with your precious bump popping out from underneath. he doesn’t mind so much when you squeeze him as close as you can, sob mean things into his scorched hero costume because he can feel his little baby kicking him at him through the shirt anyways.

the skull shirt is what you’re wearing, stretched beyond belief over the baby bump, when you go into labour at the beginning of December— katsuki hates the cold, strewn all over you with blankets up to his nose and of course his brat had to decide to be due then. he’s startled awake by you finding some ungodly amount of strength to shove the pro hero out of bed, yelling at him to get the baby bag and to call the hospital and to help you to the damn car ( he’s praying he’d put the car seat in already ) between yelps of pain.

your baby girl with a head of blonde curls and eyes the colour of your own is born bright an early the next day, with a strong grip to her daddy’s finger and one to his shirt too.

sixteen years later, you watch katsuki shove his finger through the hole in the collar and the tear at the side of his very old skull shirt— thumbing the fabric while his daughter packs up her room for the U.A dorms. excitement runs through her body, intertwined with sparks of nervousness before he sits her down, a proud expression pulling across his fine wine aged features.

“i wan’cha t’have somethin’ squirt. it never failed me, ‘n it didn’t fail yer ma when she was pregnant with you. so it’ll look after you when yer at school and we’re not there to look out for you anymore.” he says quietly, eyes warm and tired and mirroring your not so little-little girl’s own. her face lights up when he passes her the shirt, the one that you carried her in, the one that smells like her dad and holds his memories too and she hugs him, close like he’s about to disappear and your heart melts as the story unfolds.

“i’ll make you proud, dad.” she whimpers, tucking her face into his neck.

“squirt, i’ve been proud of you since you were just a twinkle in yer mother’s eye.” bakugou mumbles back, catching your eye from over her shoulder— both of you knowing that with the shirt, she’s going to be just fine.

#tteokdoroki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugou drabbles #katsuki bakugou x reader #everyone’s posting about dad bakugou so here u go #🗑. aali’s chatroom

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somerandomdudelmao · 1 year

Note

admit it, you like to hurt us you sadist

Well, according to numbers in my blog stats, you guys like it a lot more

#tumblr: oh no don't hurt them we want fluff and jokes #Donnie: dies #tumblr: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE IN TRENDS NOW #OH AND HERE'S A HUNDREDS OF FANARTS #AND FICS #AND ANIMATIONS #SAD SAD SAD #CELEBRATING SADNESS EVERYONE🎉🎉

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chuunai · 4 months

Note

i know odasaku barely lost the poll buuuut you should do it anyways :)

baby daddy odasaku ! who hugs you tightly for a while silently after you tell him you’re pregnant. you two had been trying for a while now—sure, you had the orphans to take care of, but you wanted one of your own—and now it was real.

baby daddy odasaku ! who is the definition of a perfect husband and father-to-be. calmly holding back your hair as you puke your guts out at four in the morning. cooking all your cravings (perfectly) and feeding it to you. reassuring you that you were the most beautiful woman in the world and that a bit of weight gain from his child wouldn’t change anything.

baby daddy odasaku ! who totally does one of those belly casting kits for when your stomach starts to swell. smoothing the strips over your stomach and occasionally patting it. expect the orphans to paint on the casting (he made two—a blank slate and a casting for the kids to paint and gift to you).

baby daddy odasaku ! who (with your permission) tells Dazai and Ango one night at Bar Lupin that he’ll be a father soon. Dazai asks to be the godfather of which he declines. Dazai’s a child himself, after all. Ango merely offers his thanks and support for you two. he doesn’t drink as much anymore, too.

baby daddy odasaku ! who holds you on the days where everything feels like shit. the curtains drawn, the air conditioning on and his sturdy arms wrapped around you as you cry into his chest. those days are the ones where he takes the next day off to make sure you’re okay and feel loved by him. he’s read about the mood swings and insecurities that pregnancy has.

baby daddy odasaku ! who paints an entire nursery for the newborn. a light yellow is chosen for the walls. stuffed toys (gifted from Ango) are neatly placed in the crib. the whole house is baby proofed, too. he isn’t taking your newfound family lightly.

baby daddy odasaku ! who cradles your sleeping daughter to his chest after she finally falls asleep. while she snuggles into his chest, he’s sat at his desk, supporting her tiny head carefully as he revises a draft of a story he wrote about a woman that oddly resembles you. it’s expected though. you’re his muse. the one who gave him his daughter. he just hopes to finish the story as a gift for you.

baby daddy odasaku ! who relishes in his new life. escaping from the mafia wasn’t easy—thank god for his friends’ help—but it was worth it. for you and his daughter.

Oda would be one of the best dads and he is strictly a girl dad !

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #odasaku x reader #oda sakunosuke #odasaku sakunosuke #pregnancy fic #comfort fic #bsd fluff #fluff #no death #he’s not dead here #this is in a universe where everyone is happy and like the kids don’t go boom boom boom

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lilfriezatyrant · 1 month

Text

Deer Nighttime Peace 🌙🌟

Several weeks have passed since you landed in hell. Although you wanted to understand the real reason why you ended up in such a place at all, although you are still human and cannot remember whether you actually died... this mental quest is becoming more and more forgotten with each passing hour.

The more time you spend with one of the strongest regents, the less important this thought becomes.

Alastor, he was the being who gave you refuge in this hotel.

Your safe haven. Protected from the other demons outside the building.

Your protection is also maintained by a pact made by the elegant scarlet demon in deer form.

"If you continue to entertain me well, you will stand in my favor."

Actually a very fragile offer, at least for your part in this convenant. After all, it also means that if you no longer bring him that certain amusement, there's no place for you here anymore.

But would that really be the case? After all, the other demons here, who are also guests and hosts have grown so fond of you and they seem to like you too!

Even the tall grumpy black owl cat, who shunned you at first, secretly enjoys your frequent little caresses on his ears. A cat's purr, however quiet it may be, still sends out vibrations that you can clearly feel under the palm of your hand.

There is almost never an evening when you don't end the day with Alastor. Whether it's just with a cup of tea or one or more glasses of whiskey before you are led back to your room by his shadow or, if the tiredness or the alcohol effect has been too great, even personally by him.

On this night, however, it should be an unusual event...

Your hand grips more of the pillow you are lying on, while your other hand grips a soft surface...it feels even softer than the pillow...you clutch the outline a little tighter...it feels furry. Yet you don't exert any great force, as if you want to feel every detail, every hair.

You sleepily open one eye and only now realize that there is some weight on your chest. You just can't make anything out in the darkness.

Perhaps you were half asleep when you brought the little radio back to bed that Alastor gave you as a gift?

But...the device doesn't feel so fluffy. No, not at all. It should feel metallic, hard and a bit warm...right? Only the warmth of the fur shares a commonality with the little vintage medium...

As you carefully slide your petite hand over it, you now feel something of a hard material and it emanates coolness in contrast to the previous texture. You feel your way upwards and the material ends in a sharp point, but even in your sleepiness you remain careful not to hurt yourself.

Suddenly your eyes widen as you hear a noise. A strange noise, it sounded like a hoot of an owl...? Why would there be a forest dweller here when you're in your room in a hotel? Right In the middle of hell?

But your confusion is now turning into fear. Panic, to be precise, because right in front of you huge, monstrous eyes glowing in an eerie red flickering. The ebony pupils amidst the bright red, deformed into dials that rotate clockwise every second.

Your hand instinctively loosens and although you want to sit up, startled, you are prevented from doing so by the weight on your body.

"Waking up so early?" bright yellow teeth glare out of the darkness. A hellish, distorted grin so unholy, that reaches up to the two scarlet saucers.

"Unusual for you, little doe."

Your heartbeat, which you could still hear pounding so clearly in your body, vibrates along with the static radio sound lacing the voice.

Your own voice almost catches in your throat as you try to name the now familiar creature that caused you such panic before.

"Al-Alastor...!"

The eldritch eyes now swing counterclockwise and return to normal size, his chin perched now right on your collarbone, his eyes, still seeming so huge now due to the lack of distance, focusing only on you.

"Yes, why! Did you expect someone else?" The voice seems amused and cheerful, and you can even hear the audience laughing in the background. It's an amplification that he likes to use to make fun of something, which even you notice after a short time.

And yet... as close as the radio demon is to you right now, he has never been so close to you.

Your face blushes more and you only give a non-verbal, slight shake of your head in response. Right now you are completely overwhelmed as to what is actually going on...is this just a dream?

You slowly look around yourself in the darkness to avoid the demon's hypnotic gaze and the faint sounds of animals and the leaves blowing in the wind through the trees...you must be in his room. In the personal realm of this overlord.

"Your heartbeat...what a harmonious rhythm it makes...lovely." He props his cheek with one hand while he briefly tugs playfully at your pajama with the index finger of his other hand before tapping the spot above your heart in unison.

In response, you only let out an embarrassed giggle and you recognize the outline of Alastor better now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness and your surroundings and he is indeed actually lying on top of you with his weight.

It doesn't feel oppressive, but it's still impossible to get away from him.

The question is...do you even want to?

"You should go back to sleep, my dear. After all, you have to get up very early in the morning to listen to my first broadcast, don't you?" His asking is more of a rhetorical question, since you take it for granted. You've never missed one of his broadcasts before.

His finger continues to tap gently to the sound of your pounding heart, but slower and calmer. In a way, you feel safe with him, this...protective gentleman. Whenever you have left the hotel, he has always been with you and nothing has ever happened to you...even his shadow seems to feel comfortable in your presence and strokes now your hair for a brief moment.

"Hmm..." the radio demon seems to muse, stopping the contact of his finger and rubbing his chin instead, before finally resting his head fully on your chest again.

"I could create a melody based on your delicious heart beat, what do you think?" his voice sounds static, with a recognizable, smug undertone.

Your face remains red, but with a slight, very sincere smile.

"That would be very flattering, Mr. Alastor."

The noble patron morphs his grin into a much wider and crooked one. He seems more than delighted with the answer, nestling his head more against the pajama, now listening with one ear to your once again uncontrolled tune of your heart.

"Then it's a done deal! Very good!" The cheerful echo in his voice is clearly audible, but his next sentence makes you now puzzled.

"You may continue, you know?." He purrs these words and they sound honest. Unfiltered. They are not in the usual voice that sounds through a radio.

But what does he mean...?

Before you could ask your question, a cool breath grips your palm and Alastor's shadowy image directs your hand to his head.

It is the first touch you have experienced with him, which he allows and tolerates. At that precise moment, time stands still for you and every quiet ambient noise is completely muted.

It was his ears and hair that you felt in your sleepy state. His inconspicuous antlers that you felt towards... the warmth and closeness emanated from him...

You silently thank the shadow with a smile before you start stroking its very soft texture again. Your ministrations remain delicate and almost reverent, as you don't want to ruffle any of his hair. Your eyes slowly close and you can hear a very soft static purring sound that goes through your body like a gentle wave.

It feels so real, it can't be a dream.

#so for everyone who wants to read a fluff little oneshot with Alastor uvu #I needed that comfort tbh and it helped c:#alastor x reader #my writing #oneshot #I did not really count the words I just write uvu #soft #Alastor #Alastor the radio demon #comfortable scene and I guess it is still in character 🤔#have a soft radio demon here ✨#based on a rp with reptile--queen <3 #hazbin hotel oneshot

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 6 months

Text

One of Us is Guilty; Epilogue (Final)

Azul is now gone, but the actual room is known. Perhaps they will live to tell this tale.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Jade Leech, Silver, Azul Ashengrotto, Cater Diamond, Rook Hunt

Content; Murder mystery, the ending of this tale

Content Warnings; Blood, injury, death, murder, kidnapping (aka dead dove content)

Word Count; 1.3 K

Do not put my work into AI If you enjoy my writing, check out my masterlist

Azul was gone, in much a similar manner as Cater — the only evidence serving that he was there being the shattered glasses that now lay on the ground.

“AZUL!” Jade was too late though, and this was the most emotion that he had really shown that night; the bottled emotions finally coming to the surface.

He knelt down and carefully picked up the glasses, paying no mind to the tiny shards that pricked at his skin through his gloves. Paying no mind to the pinpricks of scarlet that had begun to stain the white fabric. And he stared at the broken glass; in a way, it represented their night. Normal enough at first, but once you got too close, it cuts at you and makes you bleed… it hurts you. And Jade was hurting, he had been since he had found the Prefect’s body earlier that night.

There was no time though; to mourn, to panic, to freeze. Time would come later, now was the time for action; to stop this here and now.

“Sorry,” Jade breathed, dusting himself off, and pocketing Azul’s glasses. “Are you both alright?”

Silver and Vil both looked at Jade, taking in the slight tremble of his hands as well as the pinpricks of blood that stained his gloves. The calm mask had slipped for a mere second, but they both knew that this affected Jade just as much as it affected them.

“None of us are alright,” Vil sighed, massaging his temples. “And you don’t need to apologize; it’s okay to not be alright… especially in this situation.”

Silver nodded his head in agreement. “If it were Malleus… I would have the same reaction,” he whispered. “You’re strong, Jade.”

Jade pursed his lips but said nothing, instead just offering them both a silent nod; he got the message, but he also knew this was neither the time nor place to lose control of himself.

“But if the teacher’s lounge wasn’t the room–” Silver mused.

“The library,” Vil exclaimed, eyes widening at the realization. “Think about it; where was Rook at the beginning of all this? The library!” Vil calmed himself down though, since that outburst was quite unlike him. “And if Cater and Azul are being held there, that’s where they will likely be.”

Silver and Jade looked at each other before looking back at Vil, and they followed after him, hands on their pens; ready for the worst, but hoping for the best. Because hope was the only thing that they had now.

…

The library was brightly lit up, almost harshly so. And although it was bright, the brightness cast equally as dark shadows.

Rook was nowhere to be seen, and that was both reassuring and a cause for dread. If he wasn’t here, he could be anywhere — hiding.

“Stay together,” Vil murmured, taking the lead again.

Silver and Jade looked at each other, each of them taking to a side of Vil; Silver to his left, and Jade to his right.

“MhmMMMMM!”

Muffled yelling; at least one of them was alive.

Following the muffled sounds, Vil, Silver and Jade found themselves in a sheltered alcove of the library. And amongst the dusty books that rarely got any use was Cater, who was looking at the trio with tears in his eyes, and Azul, who was currently unconscious.

They were both alive. And while the trio felt tremendous relief that they were both alive, they couldn’t help but question why.

Why did Rook spare them? Why did he kill Crowley? Why did he kill Crowley and Professor Crewel with magic, yet he slit the Ramshackle Prefect’s throat? Expired love potions caused some nasty side effects, but nothing to this level of violence and bloodlust.

Jade acted first though, cutting Cater free of his bounds first; using the broken glass from Azul’s glasses to cut through the ropes.

Once Cater was free of the ropes, he ripped the gag off, taking it heaving breaths. “Get out,” he hissed, gripping Jade’s shoulders. “He’s planning something and you need to get out!”

Jade stared into Cater’s eyes and nodded, and took his hands off his shoulders before moving over to Azul. “We will, but not without both of you,” he said just loud enough that Cater could barely make it out.

Vil and Silver covered Jade as he cut through Azul’s ropes, and then carried his house warden like a bag of potatoes over his shoulder. Yes, he would be livid once he woke up, but this allowed Jade to carry Azul while wielding his pen, should he need to protect himself, Azul, or the group.

And right as they were about to cross the threshold of the library’s doors, they slammed shut, and all the lights died out.

It was a trap, but I already knew that. It was too easy. Vil thought to himself, and brought out his pen, illuminating their immediate area in a purple glow.

“Ah, leaving so soon?” Rook’s voice called out from the darkness, a breathy chuckle echoing off the walls.

Vil grabbed a book, and while the others were looking at him with shock — since now is not the time to read — he paid them no mind. “It seems that you caught us,” he answered, hoping that some banter would allow him to do what he needed to do.

Give me a few minutes of time, please. Vil looked into the darkness, searching for that familiar face. “It is awfully rude of you though, to leave your guests in the dark. After all, you can only see the fairest of them all with proper lighting.”

Leave, get out now. Vil’s message got across though, and using the third-year’s distraction, Jade (still with Azul over his shoulder), Silver and Cater managed to slip through the door.

“Roi du Poison, what are you planning? Do you think I would be so foolish to accept anything from you knowing how your unique magic works?” Rook finally stepped out from the darkness, just enough to where he was faintly visible.

Vil quirked his brow at Rook and shook his head, “No, I know you well enough.” But do you know me when I’ve been backed into a corner? “And I know that the real Rook wouldn’t do any of this. It’s the duty of the beautiful to take responsibility for all of their choices. So — Take. Responsibility.” Vil hissed, his grip tightening on the book.

Rook cocked his head, staring at Vil with empty eyes, the sclera still stained black. “Why does the cat chase the mouse, even though its food dish is full? Why does someone hunt, but not for food?” Rook mused, taking a few steps closer, not breaking eye contact with Vil.

Just a bit closer.

“For sport. For the thrill,” Vil tutted. “Was that what all of this was for then? For you to just have fun hunting down your professors and peers just because you were bored?!”

Rook stopped walking, just an arm's distance away from Vil. “No, it wasn’t fun; they didn’t know…”

Now.

Vil took a breath, stealing his nerves. “You trapped yourself, and you shall remain trapped until we find a way to fix this,” he placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder, and once Rook looked at Vil’s hand in curiosity, Vil pushed the book he was holding to Rook’s chest.

Remain trapped until we find a way to fix this.

And the book sucked Rook into its pages; a prison of paper. And Vil slumped to the floor. Out of relief — that for now, it was over — but also exhaustion. He was so tired.

And while, yes, Rook was now caught, he and the others still had far to go. With reporting everything that had happened. To figuring out how to free Rook and reverse the effects of the potion. To working through the trauma they all had lived through, since this whole ordeal definitely had taken its toll on all of them.

...

Fin!

Author's Note; Thank you to everyone who voted throughout the duration of this event. Without you, none of this would be possible. I hope that you enjoyed this event as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

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