You felt like such a fool. This whole time? He’s been lying and manipulating all of your friends for who knows how long. He wrote himself so perfectly into your lives that you fear nearly, if not all, pleasant memories were just fabrications. Every laugh, every vulnerability you shared, every intimate moment you had together. It was all fake. It tore you up inside, made you sick to your stomach. Even worse when everything finally came out your closeness with Tamsy put a target on you.
How were any of the cleaners supposed to trust you? You were the one closest to him, you shared a bed with him, you were his lover. You were confined to your room for weeks. Pairs of two escorted you to the bathroom and to daily interrogations. Corvus looked at you in a way you’d never have thought he could muster in all the years you’d known him. It wasn’t just his expression either. Everyone looked at you with distrust and caution, maybe even a little anger.
Rudo. He looked at you like you were on the same shit list the rest of the sphere was on. After you first saw him looking at you like that you haven’t had the heart to look at anyone's faces anymore. As the days ticked by you became more and more withdrawn; you’ve told them all you can. You didn’t know. You never knew. He played you just like everyone else. You begged Corvus to believe you. In some way he must know deep down, you wouldn’t do this.
Near the end of your confinement you stopped eating entirely. What was the point? Tamsy abandoned you, your family hated you, there was nothing left to care about anymore.
It was when you collapsed during your routine escort to the bathrooms that Semiu finally talked some sense into every one. She insisted that she looked you over with her treasure several times, every interrogation, and found no deception in you. You were telling the truth or your memory of what Tamsy’s plans were was completely wiped from your mind. And that declaration scared you the most. Had you been a part of this? Had you caused pain to those who you cared for most? Were you a monster like him?
You broke after that. You were like a robot with no feeling. You sat in your room and just stared out the window. Then when you started hurting yourself you were restrained. Gris had to hold your arms to your sides while Eishia sedated you. It caused some nasty bruises, when Gris apologized for it you just nodded like a robot would. You stopped speaking. You ate only when told to, nodded or shook your head when spoken to, you didn’t even sleep regularly anymore.
Are you even a real person? Is your name even yours? Are your memories even yours? What is a person without their memories?
Enjin came by one day to talk with you. He said they all agreed that you shouldn’t be punished for someone else’s crime. They’ve all known you outside of Tamsy, all had personal experiences with you that they believe vouch for your character. They’re willing to trust you again, if only a little. You hardly felt relieved. When you stared at Enjin blankly, like you were looking past him, he broke. He pulled you into his arms and held you to his chest. He didn’t like the idea of this from the start and now look at you; wasting away while that bastard just fucks off to who knows where.
“I’m sorry.” He grips you tighter hoping to ground you in some way. “I wish we could have known, saved you from being played like this.” He pulled back but kept his arms on your shoulders. When you finally looked into his eyes you could see his steel resolve. He believes you but can you even believe your own thoughts anymore? Your eyes gained some life in them again just to break down in his arms. Your sobs wracked your body violently. You hadn’t cried like this since you were little, wails loud and shoulders shaking like a leaf.
You gripped his shirt tightly as he held you. Enjin knew that despite this relief and sadness you’re feeling, you’ll be changed by this forever. He vows in that moment as he holds you that he’ll make that asshole pay. Not just for the cleaners but especially for you.
❤︎august gives you special treatment? well, duh! ❤︎
a/n: i missed writing for august so here’s this small thing!!
────୨ৎ────
august loves you so loudly. everybody needs to know that you’re his! but even without vocalizing it, it’s so obvious how much he adores you.
mostly it’s in the clothes he makes you, which zanka is the first to take issue with.
“how come yours always get done so fast?” he presses you one day.
“hm?”
“your clothes. he takes forever for me and…” he pauses to motion to the very clothes you had on, “gets yours done as fast as he can.”
“ohh, i wouldn’t say it’s like that! it’s more like—“
“MORE LIKE MY SECOND HALF IS SUPER EASY TO DESIGN FOR!” august’s voice interrupts as he comes up beside you to sling his arm around your shoulder.
zanka’s face twists into an irritated expression, as if that didn’t exactly answer his question.
“so…” he starts, eyes flickering between the two of you.
“their measurements, dislikes, likes, neutrals—everything is practically burnt into my mind! they’re my muse!”
august always practically sparkles when he’s gushing about you, now was no exception.
“and of course my babe always gets the best of the best!”
“…isn’t that favoritism?” zanka tries to object.
“HELL YEAH!”
silence. well, other than you trying to contain your laugh. zanka on the other hand, decides it’s time to give up. he mumbles a few things under his breath as he turns to leave.
“sorry zanka…” you can’t help but say.
“what’s there to be sorry for? i’ve already got something new for you!” august beams, already pulling you by his hand to his workplace.
synopsis: when a blast from Dynamight's palms renders you homeless, you're compensated with the opportunity to join his agency as a (much needed) publicist! Except, he's an asshole.
A new friend you make along the way helps you through it, until you cross the line of friendship the very same evening your boss corners you with his tongue down your throat.
Now you have them both pining for your attention, but who says you have to choose just one?
genre: bkdk x reader, nsfw, slowburn, enemies to lovers (bkg), friends to lovers (izu), publicist!reader, teacher!izu, pro-hero!bkg, LOVE TRIANGLE
warnings: nsfw (18+!), abusive/foul language, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, mentions of war, injury detail
a/n: i am so excited to write this gahhhh ive had this planned for months. the format for this chapter index is inspired by @/tvkvi
this has been in the works for a while and i think i've finally finalised where i want this story to go, so enjoy!
↳ status: ongoing
character playlists here!
prologue. SUBURBIA — welcome to your new home!
01. THE STREETS ARE PAINTED ORANGE — you're yet to meet your new boss, except he's everywhere you look in all the worst ways. . .
02. GREEN TINTED GLASSES — your new friend has a disgustingly positive outlook on life, perhaps it's starting to rub off on you
03. IS IT A DATE? — friends can take each-other out for food, right?
04. FAILURE TO COMPLY — bakugo's only moving further down the ranks and pressure from the agency is only growing, can you remain true to yourself whilst staying good at your job?
05. GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME — working with someone as uncooperative as bakugo proves challenging
06. BOMBS AWAY! — a villain attack on the city thrusts you and bakugo into the limelight
07. THE FLESH THAT SCARS — the attack you became the centre of has left you (more than a little) shaken up, both boys try their best to make things right
08. HARD TO CHOOSE ONE — both boys are desperate to prove themselves to you, which results in a very slippery thursday. . .
09. CRASH — avoiding only makes things worse, you learn the hard way
10. BEST OF BOTH WORLDS — izuku (and katsuki) present you with an alternative
Summary: You're happy. You have a lovely home, a wonderful husband and four bright girls. So, why does Olruggio suddenly make your heart race? And why does Qifrey not seem to mind?
Pairing: Poly!Qifrey/Reader/Olruggio
Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Tags: qifrey is a freak and olruggio has a panic attack; multichapter, Established Relationship, polyamory, love confessions, major character injury, accidental love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, original characters used as plot devices, cross-posted to AO3, no beta cause i post for fun and for free
Word count: 4,027
Rating: T
chapter 3 - chapter 4
Olruggio stood beside Qifrey as he watched his companion work. He was propped against the table, one arm holding his weight while the other sat on his hip.
Qifrey had called him in here only a half hour ago, you and the girls were fast asleep, unaware of what was happening.
In front of Qifrey was a small round contraption. A red Kalhn gem, polished to perfection, sat comfortably in gold plated metal. The gem wasn’t rare. Olruggio had seen it, and used it, many times. It was a common decorative piece in Kalhn, used as altar details, jewelry gifts and bead embellishments. It was probably part of the reason that Qifrey chose it. It wasn’t unusual, or strange and fit right in with the world around it.
“Can you look at this seal for me?” Qifrey asked.
“Qifrey, you can’t give this to her.” Olruggio said.
Qifrey looked up at him, gaze penetrating over the rim of his glasses.
“You know why I have to,” Qifrey said. Of course Olruggio knew why. He just didn’t like it. You wouldn’t like it. Was it necessary? Maybe, Olruggio wasn’t sure. He only just learned about the threat that Qifrey was scrambling to neutralize.
After Senaka’s visit to the atelier and your reluctance to explain it, Qifrey pulled Olruggio to the side. Told him that there was no client, no job. He’d been looking for a brimcap who’d been leaving evidence of themself to everyone in Kalhn, sloppy spells and taunting sigils. They wanted to be found but didn’t want to make it easy. He’d been keeping a secret from him, and you, for at least two months.
Olruggio would say the reveal spiked his irritation but he could only sigh.
“Are you going to tell her what it is?” Olruggio asked. Qifrey often purposefully negated information, not out of malicious intent or psychotic manipulation but rather the paranoid belief that not knowing was sometimes better than knowing. He meant well, Olruggio knew that, despite not making the best decisions.
“Of course I will, she has to be the one to activate it.” Qifrey said it like it was obvious, like a tracking necklace was some casual gift made of nothing but sparkling red gems and a loving touch.
Olruggio sighed but pulled up a stool and fell onto it. He grunted as he held out his hand, asking for the contraption. He knew he had no other option than to look at it. Qifrey was going to give it to you either way, the least he could do was make sure the thing didn’t shatter after one use or burn your skin where it would rest against your chest.
Olruggio plucked a loupe from the edge of the desk, squeezing the cylindrical piece between brow and cheek to hold it in place in front of his eye. Qifrey moved the spotlight above them, casting a concentrated glow over Olruggio’s hands.
“What is it exactly supposed to do?” He asked, rotating the piece in his fingers. The weight was good, comfortable. Not too large, not too small. It was warm from Qifrey’s touch. He’d done well with designing it.
“A part of the seal is sketched on the gem and on the back of the fauceting. When you press it,” he reached over and gently popped the gem into place with a soft click. It flickered briefly before puttering out. “It glows, and triggers two rings to tell the wearer that something is wrong.”
Olruggio popped the gem out of its placement with the back of a wooden tool. He raised it to the light to examine the spell.
“It needs to be inscribed.” He said. He ran his thumb over the back of the gem and the markings smudged. “This ink won’ hold, ah know it’s used for painting like this but the constant friction will wear it down in days, whether it’s activated or not.” This ink couldn’t handle the heat of the body like it could outdoor temperature. Paired with the elements and human sweat it was bound to dissolve.
Qifrey peered under the light. He rocked forward a little for a better view. “I trust you.” He said simply. Olruggio glanced at him but didn’t reply. He reached for the searneedle pen, plucking it from a glass holder and activating it. It hummed with heat.
Just as he was about to press the needle to the back of the gem, Qifrey’s hand snaked underneath the table and settled on Olruggio’s closest thigh. The gesture was casual and Qifery made no comment as his long fingers squeezed gentle.
Olruggio was suddenly having a very hard time concentrating.
His finger twitched and he willed himself to focus. This sigil was sensitive and the slightest mistake would ruin everything.
Qifrey’s hand rolled tortuously, caressing Olruggio’s leg. Olruggio gripped the pen tighter, the steady hand of an inventor nearly unravelled by a touch meant for a lover.
It only took only minutes for Olruggio to inscribe the spell, even with his distraction.
Olruggio placed the finished gem on the table, before reaching for the metal bed it would sit in. Out of the corner of his eye, Olruggio could see that Qifrey was watching him work, rather than watching him. As if he were unaware (or good at masking) the fact that he was practically groping him. But Olruggio made no attempt to remove the touch. He actually adjusted towards it, his thigh moving just a tad closer to his friend.
When he finished searing the patterns into the metal Olruggio couldn’t put the necklace back together fast enough. He shakily placed the gem into its housing and pressed down.
Click.
Buzz. A long drawn out ring and a small light pillared in the bowl on the table. It wiggled before straightening, pinpointing the location of the pendant. Qifrey smiled, “They work perfectly.”
When Olruggio released the contraption the buzzing stopped and the light faded. He handed it to Qifrey. Qifrey’s one hand remained on his thigh but he used his free one to take the piece.
“I trust you with her, you know.” he said casually. He held the gem up to the light, watching the candle lick at the shadows of his fingers and dance along the back of the pendant. The red gem pulsed beside the flames, rolling shades of red and orange, dancing in time with the flickering candle.
Olruggio didn’t know what to say, that damn hand on his leg was already making it hard to think, so he gave up on even trying to talk.
“Olruggio, has she said anything to you?” Qifrey asked suddenly. The question jolted the other man back into reality, only a little less dazed by their bodies being so close.
“What?” Olruggio asked.
Qifrey hummed, “ah, I mean, has she shown any interest.”
“In what?” Olruggio questioned. Qifrey looked at him like you would look at a wounded dog, with nothing empathetic understanding. Was he? Olruggio’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to respond, but Qifrey smiled gently and spoke before he could get the next words out.
“Nothing,” Qifrey said, “Do not worry, my friend.”
The word friend was heavy, falling from his tongue with something adjacent more to that of a lover. Olruggio’s heart pulsed, he felt sweat bead at his brow.
Qifrey was married. He was married to you. But the way he spoke to him, the way he has spoken to him, dug a hole in his heart that he has never been able to fill. Never been able to satisfy, and he had no right to even try and fill it.
Qifrey was married and he was married to you and he should have pulled away when Qifrey placed his hand on his leg, but he didn’t, Qifrey never does anything by accident, it’s always calculated, this was no different, right,
and when Olruggio held you beside him at the market the other day and when your hands fell to his chest after waking up, they left the same heated touch as Qifrey’s did now, grounding, rich, addictive, but Qifrey was married and he was married to you and Olruggio knew he had no right to get in between that, but Qifrey was suggesting that he could just—right, right, right—?
“Master Qifrey? Are you awake?”
Olruggio nearly jumped out of his skin. Qifrey pulled his hand away, the weight of him now a ghost, the heat of him gone. “Yes, Tetia? Another nightmare?”
“...yes…” she said, defeated.
“I am coming, my dear. Let me clean up and I will help you settle back to bed.” Qifrey shuffled about the room, pulling on his evening robe and dropping the necklace in the bowl with the rings. He slipped out of the room silently, only looking back at Olruggio once, a glint in his eye.
“I mean it, Olruggio, I trust you with everything.”
When the door clicked shut behind him Olruggio let out a shuttering breath and rubbed his face with a trembling hand, barely concealed by his work.
“Fuck.”
That necklace haunted him for the rest of the night.
“Have you lost your mind, Qifrey?” You hissed. It was late, well into the evening, and the three of you were sitting in the living room. You’d been restless for the better half of the week. You could barely sleep and every little thing made you jump. Qifrey’s soothing hums and delicate caresses did nothing to ease you into the realm of dreams. You’d jerk awake every few minutes, the faint sound of phantom thunder and the rattle of the brass door knob rocking you from sleep.
Your nerves were fried and Qifrey suddenly telling you that he was going to the great hall to do some research, burnt out the last bit of stable light you had.
Olruggio sat awkwardly on the floor when you shot up from the couch, watching you carefully.
“Darling—”
“Do not ‘darling’ me, husband. You can’t just leave with all this going on!” You kept your voice low not wanting to wake the children, but the power behind it, the irritation was clear.
“I have to do this,” he said gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled back, and Olruggio could see the flicker of hurt that darted across Qifrey’s face. Part of him felt bad, but another part of him didn’t. He’d warned him this would cause a rift the longer he hid it.
“You have people in this home who need you here,” you said. You tried to not let your lip tremble. From the frustration, from the fear, from the anger. “We need you here. I need you here.” Your voice faltered.
“What if he comes back, Qifrey? What if he takes one of the girls from us.” You don’t know combat magic like they do, you never had the interest to learn, and you certainly never had the need to. Regular witches didn’t have the need for fighting.
He opened his mouth to speak and you cut him off when the realization struck you, “he’s going to come back, isn’t he? How long have you known?” Out of the corner of your eye, Olruggio dipped into his work and you knew you’d discovered something you shouldn’t have.
Your husband sighed. “You don’t have a client do you, Qifrey?”
“No, I do not.” When a lover slips out of bed in the middle of the night to dip away to privacy or when they stay out working late again and again, the conclusion is rather simple. A secret lover, a midnight rendezvous.
Yours was not so simple. You had other worries, stranger ones, because when your husband did exactly that it meant he was putting himself in danger not slinking off to have an affair. It just always takes you a while to realize it.
“How long?”
“A few months. The first time I recognized it was him we were at the market.” It’s been weeks since that day. He’s known for weeks and was only telling you now?
Olruggio was not spared your wrath, “you knew too, didn’t you?”
“…for only a week o’ so…” he mumbled, shrinking to avoid your fire. He was scared of those flames.
“Out of all the stupid things both of you have done!” Your eyes burned from frustration. Tears prickled the back of them and you struggled to keep your voice steady.
Here you were, beating yourself up for hiding a palm quire for a week and your husband knew about everything for months. You’d done the same thing yourself, in all honesty, but the bubbling irritation that all three of you seemed incapable of asking for help and now wanting to worry about each other was a testament, in your mind, as to why you were together.
“You didn’t tell me, you didn’t warn me!” You gripped the front off your night gown, the robe over it heavy and suffocating, “what if he took one of our girls! I could have seen him anywhere, he’s clearly following us. I would have known to avoid him, to tell—our girls you two. Our children!”
Days of little sleep and constant anxiety burst from you in a waterfall of tears. You gripped the edge of the couch to keep yourself from collapsing, the world was blurry. You could saw Qifrey, a mass of white and grey, reach for you but you stepped back to avoid him. Stumbling.
Warm hands fell to your lower back, supporting you and keeping you from falling bottom first into the glowing hearth. “Aye, let’s sit.”
“I don’t want to sit,” you grumbled. Nonetheless you gripped Olruggio’s sleeve as he helped you settle onto the couch. He crouched in front of you as you sniffled, your mind was racing, running circles around every scenario you could think of before stopping and starting over again.
You stilled when a small wooden box was placed in your lap. Qifrey’s long fingers titled your chin up and he delicately pressed a handkerchief to your cheeks, dabbing at stress-dampened skin. “I am sorry, my love.” He said carefully. He ran pacifying thumbs over your cheeks. “I did not want you to worry.”
“Too late for that,” You bit out weakly. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, the kiss was a shadow, a statement. You returned it weakly.
Olruggio watched the two of you quietly. It hurt him to see you like this. His hand twitched with the desire to comfort you. He wanted to place his hand on your knee, just to tell you that he was here, but he froze when Qifrey kissed you. A harsh reminder that it was not his place to do that.
“It will just be for a few days,” Qifrey said quietly. Your breath hitched, but you let him explain. “Senaka is a brimcap. There were whispers of one hiding in Kalhn, and I was trying to track him down. The last thing I ever wanted him to do was come to our home.”
“and you’re certain he’s after?” You grabbed the box, the edges digging into your hand.
“Coco. Yes. ” He said. Olruggio shifted back and settled on his bottom, bringing up a knee and resting his arm on it as he propped himself up. He stayed silent as you spoke.
This was not Coco’s first encounter with the Brimmed Caps. That poor girl had seen them once every few months since arriving at the atelier. The damned book she was given haunting her day and night. You’d thought they’d taken a break from chasing her, you’d hoped they’d given up but clearly that was not the case.
“I need to do more research. You said a storm hit when he arrived, yes?”
You nodded.
“I think he is manipulating the weather, those weeks of storms weren’t just an unusual rainy season. That was an attempt to keep everyone indoors.”
“So, he could snoop out the residents?” Olruggio said.
“Yes, precisely.” Qifrey said, as he reached for the box. “Residents would only leave for necessities, which allowed him to watch and observe. I suspect when he realized we did not live in Kalhn, he needed to find another way to smoke us out.”
He pried open the box with a gentle pop, and your eyes widened at it’s contents.
Settled comfortably a small satin cushion was a pendant, bright red and sparkling, it was connected to a golden chain.
He lifted the piece from its storage. He placed it in your hands, guiding your fingers to the facets.
“What is this?” You whispered.
You pressed into it and the pendant clicked, two bright red lights followed. Qifrey flipped his hand over to show you his fingers and situated beside his wed band was a thin gold ring lined in gemstones. They pulsed with light and the ring vibrated gently. Your eye caught Olruggio’s hand as he revealed his own, same color, same shape.
“When I heard of Senaka’s whereabouts I wanted to make something you could contact us quickly and discreetly in the event of an emergency. A portable windowway would not do. This should work, however.”
All those nights of him hidden away he was working on this. You caught Olruggio’s eye who returned it with a sheepish avoidance.
You gripped the piece between your palms as he added, “You will not be alone. Olruggio is staying with you.” Your eyes flickered to the dark haired man, he smiled at you. “Aye, you’re stuck with me until he gets back.” He bravely reached for your hand and you gripped it, allowing Qifrey to slip the necklace from your fingers.
He eased the chain around your neck, and the pendant settled just above your breasts, glowing softly across the cotton of your pajamas. Qifrey kissed the side of your head, placing his hand on top of yours and Olruggio’s.
“He will keep you perfectly safe, darling.”
Qifrey sought out Olruggio’s gaze over the crown of your head, the two stared at each other, speaking silently in that unique way only they understood.
“Perfectly safe.”
He pawed at the darkness, hands grabbing nothing but water. It flooded his eyes, filled his lungs, and he just spun and spun and spun as he was sucked into a blight of agony.
He could hear you, see your shadow above the rim of the pool, reaching for him but he couldn’t move. And when hands, that were not his, not Olruggio’s fell on your shoulders and pulled you back—
Qifrey’s eyes popped open and he inhaled deeply as he was pulled from a rather unsettling dream. It meant nothing, a whirl pool sucking him down into unfathomable darkness with no means of escape. It was normal for him. He traced the veins of the wood beams above him, the sheets of the canopy that surrounded his bed swayed gently in the earlier morning light. The sun had barely risen, illuminating the room with shades of orange and yellow. The sweat on his brow dried with the cool morning air.
Senaka had been on his mind since he’d fallen to sleep. The mystery of the man and the threat he held over them a haunting lullaby.
“Hmm…” you were curled at his side, head resting on his chest. He brought a hand up and gently brushed your hair from your face. You slept peacefully, finally, after nearly weeks of unsettled rest. Your gown, skewed and uneven from adjusting in your sleep. The rays of light caught the pendant around your neck, reflecting the gem across your chest. You’d not taken it off since he’d given it to you. He was happy for that, it eased him, if only a little. His ring sat securely on his finger.
He glanced at the wall clock opposite of the bed, it moved thoughtlessly, hands on 7 and 6. He sighed.
He needed to get up, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He always found sweet satisfaction in how you clung to him at night, hand desperately clenching his night shirt and nuzzling as close as you possibly could.
He tried to slide from underneath you but you whined. He smiled and kissed the top of your head, hand caressing your cheek as he tried again. He evaded your touch the second time and managed to leave the bed without tripping. You groaned and rolled, pawing the bedsheets. He crouched when your eyes cracked open, looking for him blearily. He thumbed your cheek, “I am going now.” he said gently.
You hummed, half aware. You knew he was leaving this morning but the exhaustion sat so deep in your bones that you barely had the energy to speak. “Come back soon?” You muttered, burrowing further into the pillows. “Of course,” he said softly. He kissed you delicately, and all you could do was hum in satisfaction before being lulled back to sleep. Thank goodness. He was sure he’d be able to leave if you begged him to stay again.
Qifrey rose and dressed, pulling the curtains to the canopy closed just before he left the room.
He stood in the kitchen now, tucking bread and dried meat into a sack. Checking to make sure he had enough ink and parchment for spells.
“Goin’ away for a while are yuh?” Olruggio leaned against the wall, watching him casually. His accent was thicker in the mornings.
Qifrey continued packing, “I hope for just a day or so. I won’t be long.”
“Aye, like I’ll believe that.” Olruggio hummed. Qifrey’s plans always derailed in one way or another, and Olruggio was always prepared for that inevitability. Qifrey, from the way he was packing, was too.
Qifrey’s face was set in melancholy, “She will get lonely.”
“Well, that means you’ll ‘ave to hurry back.” Olruggio said. It wasn’t often that you were separated from Qifrey but it always felt like the weight of the world was suddenly crushing you when he wasn’t around.
“Will you stay with her?” Qifrey asked. He stepped in front of Olruggio who righted himself, straightening to his full height as he looked up slightly at the taller man.
“We already talked about that, I’ll keep the girls safe too.”
“Olruggio.” Qifrey said.
The dark haired man raised a brow, “Hm?”
“When I spoke to you that night, when I first started drafting the seal.”
“Yeah, wha’ about it?” Olruggio asked.
“I told you I trust you with everything. With her.” Olruggio remembered. The night was not easily forgotten.
“If she needs anything, wants anything. You do it.” Qifrey paused, rolling the next words in his mouth to taste them before saying, “If you want to give her anything, you’re more than welcome to. I’m sure she’d like it.” Olruggio’s breath hitched and his eyes darted to Qifrey’s lips before catching the man’s bright blue eyes.
Olruggio muttered the phrases to himself, lips mouthing the movements, trying to understand exactly what he meant. He couldn’t possibly—?
Qifrey didn’t break eye-contact as he secured the bag around his chest, and grabbed his cap off the hook by Olruggio’s head. Olruggio followed his movements. They were steady, assured. When he pulled his arm down he paused, glancing at Olruggio’s lips just before he leaned in and brushed his against Olruggio’s cheek instead. It was so light that if Olruggio wasn’t paying attention he would have thought it was a brush of the breeze.
“I will be back soon.” He placed his cap on his head, “Stay safe, Olly.”
He swept past Olruggio, his strides long as he exited the atelier with a click of his heels, leaving his life long friend with too many thoughts to organize and a racing heart.
After years of growing up together, you, Qifrey, and Olruggio part ways after passing the Fourth Test, each pursuing your own path while staying connected through letters. When a dangerous relic investigation leads you back to Qifrey’s atelier, the trio reunites and is drawn into a mystery surrounding a divided “wishing” artifact, forcing them to confront forgotten bonds, buried feelings, and the growing threat of the Brimhats, who will stop at nothing to obtain its power.
Summary: You're happy. You have a lovely home, a wonderful husband and four bright girls. So, why does Olruggio suddenly make your heart race? And why does Qifrey not seem to mind?
Pairing: Poly!Qifrey/Reader/Olruggio
Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Tags: qifrey is a freak and olruggio has a panic attack; multichapter, Established Relationship, polyamory, love confessions, major character injury, accidental love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, original characters used as plot devices, reader is seen as a mother figure, cross-posted to AO3, no beta cause i post for fun and for free
Word count:
Rating: T
chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3
You’d woken alone, Qifrey already pulled into something early this morning. You’d felt him slip from the bed, kissing you chastely on the cheek with a soft ‘good morning,’ before slinking out of the room. When you’d finally pulled yourself from bed, groggy from sleep and wishing nothing more than to crawl back into it, you heard him rustling in his work room. You didn’t see the need to disturb him.
“And what do you four think you’re doing?” you asked now, standing in the living room. You pulled your morning robe tighter around your frame before crossing your arms as you patiently waited for the girls’ reply. They were crowded around the record player, heads tucked close as if forming one big brain was going to solve their problem.
“Nothing!” Coco squeaked. Tetia stood with her back to the player and her arms spread like she was hiding a secret.
“Are you sure?” You asked.
“We were trying to fix it.” Richeh said, still poking at the wood.
“And did you?”
“No…we can’t figure it out.”
“That’s alright.” You couldn’t ether. They were charming, the four of them. They knew how important the thing was to you and they were always so eager to help that they’d try and meld their minds together to come up with a solution. A trait you were so happy they continued to nurture. They’d need each other, even when they thought they wouldn't. They would. Always.
But right now, there were other pressing matters to attend to. Like feeding a small herd of children and two grown men.
“Let’s focus on that later, hm? How about breakfast?”
Tetia bounced on her toes and skipped to the kitchen, the others followed. They went to their respective stations, moving around one another like a song, melodically weaving under arms to reach low cabinets, spinning to avoid crashes. It’s practiced.
You’re used to this and, well, you loved it. To be able to do anything with them was an honor and you cherished every moment they chose to spend time with you. Even if it was as simple as cooking breakfast in the morning.
“Girls, did any of you lose your palm quire?” You asked as you cracked eggs into a bowl for Coco to whisk. Richeh, elbow deep in a bowl of dough and Agott with flour on her cheeks, shook their heads no.
Coco popped up for a second, thinking, but paused, “ah, no, I don’t think so?” You could see her racking her brain for where she last left it. Honestly, if anyone was going to lose theirs she was the likely culprit. Too much excitement left her scatterbrained.
“Yours is on your desk, Coco.” Agott said casually. Coco beamed, “oh, you’re right! So, it wasn’t me.” She went back to whisking, you casually added spices to the mixture.
“Tetia?” The girl was facing away from you, dividing fruit amongst 7 bowls. She stiffened and turned, cheeks filled with fresh strawberries. She wasn’t supposed to be eating them yet. You playfully glared at her, placing one hand on your hip.
“Ah—um,” she gulped, “no?” Her fingers were stained red from the juices.
“Tetia!” Agott said.
“I’m sorry but they smelled so yummy!”
“No more Tetia, we need to make sure everyone gets some.” You said, chuckling.
“Yes, ma’am…” She dropped the strawberry into a bowl, counting to make sure each one had an equal amount.
“Is the palm quire Master Qifrey’s?” Coco asked, “He was looking for it the other day.”
“I found it,” Richeh said. She took the dough that Agott had rolled and slowly pushed it into the oven. The bottom of it was glowing from a soft flame. A contraption Olruggio had made to make managing the temperature easier. You watched her hands, ready to say something just in case.
“Ah, okay, nevermind then.” Coco said.
The girls didn’t pry into your inquiry so you let it die naturally. When Coco was done with her eggs she waddled over to the stove top and poured them into a pan. Richech watched her and they spoke quietly as Coco scrambled the mixture.
You tried to push down the unsettling fact that the palm quire was none of theirs so you moved to set out the plates. Yes, keep your hands busy so they don’t start to tremble.
Typically, a palm quire will have a name or a symbol stitched into the back cover to help identify the witch it belonged to. Like a cap was a calling, so was a quire. It was common for a witch to customize it and you knew the girls loved to cover theirs in embellishments. The palm quire Senaka gave you negated any personal touch but at the root the lack of personalization was not the issue. The problem with Senaka’s delivery was that the last page of the book had a complex spell that none of your children would have or should've known.
They were symbols you were even unfamiliar with and you hoped, somewhere deep down, that it was just a misplaced drawing. You’d have to show Qifrey and Olruggio. Coco was already toeing the line. When Qifrey brought her to you, you’d at first been on Olruggio’s side. Sending her to the Knights was the only option, but when you saw her, terrified and confused, you knew you were going to have to fight tooth and nail to keep her safe.
BUt, if this was another forbidden spell, you couldn’t risk it. They’d take her away, even if she technically wasn’t involved.
You heard the door to Qifrey’s study open swiftly and Olruggio’s step soon echoed his. When had he snuck into the room with him? He was usually comatose at this hour. They both came scrambling into the kitchen. They pawed for toast and pieces of sausage, popping a few bites of fruit in their mouths as they simultaneously tried to secure their cloaks around their shoulders.
“Woah, where are you two off too.” You asked. Breakfast together was a tradition.
“Great hall called,” Olruggio said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice to wash down his frantic meal. “Oxen trampled a village. We’re the closest.”
You followed them as they descended the stairs. Qifrey was placing his cap on his head when his eyes caught your worried face. “It’s alright, no one is hurt, but a farm house collapsed and there are people trapped inside.”
“Girls!” Qifrey called. The four of them popped up, heads floating above the stone divide. “Personal lessons today, work on your lines and keep a steady hand.” They saluted him.
“We’ll be back by lunch,” he said gently. He pressed a hand to your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. The gesture was soft and reassuring.
“You better be,” you said.
“Ready, Olly?” The dark haired man grunted, swinging a satchel of supplies over his shoulder.
“Lead the way,” he said. Qifrey stepped out first, waving goodbye. You grabbed his wrist and brought close for another peck to the cheek. Habit, really.
As Olruggio passed you, however, you also grabbed him. He jolted, “Oi—!”
You pressed your lips to his cheek in the same way you did to Qifrey. You both froze. Your lips tingled from the scruff that decorated his face. Your eyes searched his.
Olruggio broke the awkwardness first, clearing his throat. “Right, well, see you later.” He said before he scurried out the door like his ass was on fire.
“Bye, be safe…” The words fall from your lips slowly. What was that? Qifrey was far ahead and Olruggio caught up to him swiftly. You watched as he immediately started a conversation but you caught his eye when he glanced back at you. You looked away, face warm.
You closed the door with a quick, ‘click’ and tried to ignore how girls scrambled back to their stations. By the stars, why did you do that?
They don't make it back by lunch but you’re not worried.
The girls finished their practice for the day so you now found yourself relaxing in the field outside the atelier. The sky was clear and vast and three of the girls were playing down by the trees. Richeh's reflective ribbons catching your eye every so often. You had a book in your lap but you were using it as a shield, the palm quire tucked between the binding. You stared intently at the seal that covered the last page. A water sigil? Maybe? No, not fluid enough. Earth, it looked like. Despite its complexity it'd been drawn quickly, the ink lines weren’t even and the weight of the sigils together leaned more to the left. There was an inch long gap that kept it from activating.
The grass swayed hypnotically, the wind was low and sweet, but did nothing to ease the tension in your neck. You sighed and slipped the palm quire into your front dress pocket, buttoning it closed to ensure it stayed on you.
You reached down at your side and ran your fingers through Tetia’s hair while she napped. Her body was curled against your hip, soaking in the warm afternoon sun. The contact settled her and every time she shifted you would repeat it.
The laughter from the others suddenlt fell off and the silence made you look out in the distance. Your breath hitched and you yanked your hand away from Tetia. She blinked blearily at the sudden disturbance, “Wha?”
You weren’t, generally, a fearful person. Raising four girls instilled a specific level of calm in you, whether you wanted it or not. When you panicked, they panicked, so you learned quickly that controlling any form of fear or anxiety was crucial.
Right now though, you couldn’t hide that fear as you watched the new body in the field approach your girls.
Senaka was towering over Coco, talking to her. She had her arms tucked close to her chest, shrinking in on herself as the man stepped close. He's trying to hand her something but she’s vehemently declining.
You stumbled to your feet and bolted down the small hill to your child.
“Hey!” you yelled. They turned to you. Coco’s shoulders shook as she shifted. She felt so far away, and your legs were so slow. She fought through the grass like it was pushing back at her before she anchored herself to your side, swinging around your hip to hide behind you. Her shaking hands grasping your waist. Senaka straightened.
“Hello, again.”
“You need to leave,” you said. You don’t care why he’s here, you don’t care what he wanted or how he kept finding his way back. He just needed to get off your property.
“Coco, get the others and go inside.” You said, not looking down at her. You felt her nod, reluctant to release you, before turning heel and rushing to find the girls.
You waited until their trails fell silent, the grass no longer disturbed by their movements. It's a stand off with Senaka and you're the one to fire first. “I won’t repeat myself.”
“I was simply passing through.” He said casually.
Your first interaction was strange, yes, but easily brushed aside, the palm quire was a warning, and this was a threat.
“You stay away from me and my children, do you understand?” He looked like he was going to say something else, but you don’t give him the chance. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle him on your own. You needed Qifrey and Olruggio. Your best bet was to get away.
So you did.
You turned your back to him, you knew you shouldn’t have but you weren’t going to entertain whatever sick thing he was doing. The march home felt longer than it was, and you wanted to look back after each unsteady step but you didn’t.
“You think you can replace them, don’t you?” Senaka called. The wind picked up and dark heavy clouds started rolling in. “Their mothers.” Your march lost its rhythm, but you continued on.
Thick droplets of water hit the top of your head and rolled down your neck. You glanced up, the sun was engulfed by a sudden storm and there were cracks of lightning in the distance.
“That girl is worth more than you know!” He sounded like he was right next to you even though you were steps away from your front door. You were drenched to the bone, hair plastered to your cheeks and skirts dipped in mud.
Right as your hand reached for the door, there was a heavy whisper in your ear, “Give her my gift, will you?”
When you touched the knob the voice faded and only the storm rumbled up above.
The girls didn't question you when you stumbled back inside. They didn’t ask where the picnic blanket was or where your book had gone. You left that in the field, abandoned, to be consumed by the storm or taken by Senaka. You didn’t care what happened to it.
You sat on the couch, hands trembling. From the cold or your fear you don’t know. Maybe it was both.
"Um..." Coco said your name. Your head jerked up, your eyes like saucers. It took you a moment to realize that Coco was speaking to you. She’s holding a towel in her hand, with a twisted look of concern and confusion on her face. “Here…” she held the towel out to you, encouraging you to take it. “Master Olly’s door is locked, I couldn’t get the link rings…”
You reached out with jerky fingers, pulling her into your chest, the towel caught between you. Your cheek rested on the top of her head. “Are you hurt?” you asked.
“N-no,” she stuttered. You heard her sniff, “who was that?”
“I…I don’t know, Coco.” You let her pull away from you, she brought the towel to her face to stop the tears that bubbled just below the surface. The front of her clothes are damp and you pressed a hand to her cheek, “What did he say to you?”
“He had a palm quire,” she whispered, “he tried to give it to me. B-but I kept thinking about when I got the book the first time, and something felt wrong. So wrong. I-I didn’t take it I swear!”
“Oh, sweetheart…” You cooed, “I know you didn’t.”
You took the towel from her, “nothing is going to take you from us. Do you understand? Nothing.” Coco nodded, whimpering and rubbing at her eyes. Your heart sank. The three of you had been trying so hard to keep her from spiraling. With the Knights Moralis constantly checking in, Olruggio’s status as a watchful eye, and the Brimcaps chasing her, Coco was living life in a state of anxiety induced limbo.
“Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.” She nodded again, sniffing. You pat at your neck with the towel and stand, unsticking yourself from the fabric of your seat. The other girls were watching you from the opposite of the atelier. You opened your arms to them and the three barrel into your embrace. Your heart clenched at their unease.
“Let’s get ready for bed, yeah? How about that?” You said it for them, but you needed it just as much. A bath, a cup of tea and to curl up in your bed and go to sleep. You looked at the door, the rumbling of the storm low and vibrating. The door rattled with the wind. Where were Qifrey and Olruggio? You needed them here.
You should have told them earlier. You were such a fool.
When baths were done and everyone was a little more calm, you’d corralled the girls into the living room where you all curled up against each other. You were closest to the door, your body a shield to whatever may enter. Sleep was a liberal word to use in this situation. Every time you dozed off, you’d jolt awake from something. One of the girls is turning in their sleep, the brush buddy rummaging in the sheets, an ember popping too loudly in the hearth. You couldn’t relax, but, god, who could blame you?
Just as you had fallen into another semi-lucid rest you were startled awake at a particularly loud crash of lightning. You jolted up and immediately eyed the entrance to the atelier. What time was it? The magic lanterns burned soothingly, casting a soft glow. The girls were still asleep.
The knob shook and you froze. The wind rattled the kitchen windows and the brush buddy that slept curled in Richeh’s arms popped its head up at the sound. The knob shook again and your heart skipped. Had he come back? You scrabbled to find something to hold him off. Would you have time to get to the kitchen, a knife would work? You couldn’t remember any offensive spells and it wouldn’t matter since your palm quire was soaked and you didn’t have the energy to dry it.
The hinges on the door squeaked. You’d have to think fast. Quick. What was there to grab, what could you get?
The door opened and the figure behind it stepped inside. They knocked their muddy shoes against the door trim, a small flash of light zapping away the debris. You heard rustling as they removed their outerwear before taking a step into the space. You kept a hard face and a stiff figure, intimidating. You hoped.
“Darling, what are you still doing up?”
Your lip quivered and all of the tension expelled itself from your body when you realized who it was, “Q-qifrey?” Your voice was unsteady, the adrenaline of what could have been rushed through you, but your relief was flooding. You’d never been happier. He was dry, unsurprisingly, despite the raging storm and his eyes were filled with worry as he took off his cap and cloak. He hung them on the hook next to the door. You caught sight of Olruggio stepping in behind him, shaking off his shoes. When he looked up, he paused, brows furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong? Why are the girls out here?”
You stumbled to your feet and Qifrey dove for you, “What happened?” he asked. He steadied you under the elbows. You tried not to step on the children. Your knees wobbled and Qifrey guided you to sit.
“Help me get the girls to bed,” you said, “...please.” You knew this conversation would go on for a while and the girls couldn’t stay out here all night. They’d wake with crooked necks and aching backs.
Qifrey and Olruggio don’t question you as they move to gather the children. You fall onto the couch watching them closely.
“Richeh, come on kid, let’s get yuh to bed.” Olruggio muttered. She mumbled something tiredly before standing, leaning heavily into Olruggio's side. When Tetia responded to the same command with a swat of her hand and a quiet, “Go away,” Olruggio picked her up effortlessly. With her head against his chest and arms secured behind her neck and knees he cradled her close and slowly marched them to their room. Every few seconds checking to make sure that a half asleep Richeh still clung to his pant leg.
Qifrey did the same with Coco and Agott, both girls coherent enough to stumble their way through the darkness to their room. The brush buddy was close on their heels.
You were left alone, with the cracklingly hearth and the heavy rains your only company. It only took a few minutes for Qifrey and Olruggio to get them settled but the time dragged. Every creak of the atelier left you questioning where the sound was coming from and who was causing it.
You were so hyper focused that you didn't realize both men had returned. Olruggio fell into the seat next to you, the shift from his weight doing little to catch your attention. It took Qifrey, kneeling at your feet with his hand pressed against your knee, for you to be pulled from your trance.
“My love,” he rubbed his palm up your thigh and back, repeating the motion as he spoke, “what happened?” Olruggio shifted, his knee knocking gently into yours as he placed his arm along the back of the couch. He tilted forward and you subconsciously leaned closer to him.
You licked your parched lips. Qifrey’s eyes never left your face, even when you couldn’t look at him.
“The man at the market,” the air chilled when you started, “he talked to Coco today.”
“What?” Olruggio hissed. Qifrey held up his other hand, stopping his friend from speaking further. Olruggio bit his tongue. He prompted you to continue, removing his hand from your thigh and grabbing your fingers. You’d been pulling at them, they were rubbed red from the friction and ached some but you didn’t care. He let you pull at his instead.
“Start at the beginning,” he said. You cupped your hands around his and squeezed. He always spoke so gently when others were panicking. He never rushed but he made sure to kept you speaking when it was needed.
“His name is Senaka.” you said, “when we were at market he was flirting and he was creepy but you both ran him off. I didn’t think we’d see him again.”
“Was he the one who was at the door last week?” Olruggio asked. You nodded.
“He gave me a palm quire. Said he thought it was one of the girls.” You stood slowly, Qifrey was reluctant to let you go but allowed you to do what you needed. You shuffled to the kitchen, tapping a lantern awake before moving to the locked tea cabinet. You pulled a tin box from the top shelf and unearthed the mysterious palm quire.
“I asked the girls if they had lost theirs this morning and they said no.” You handed it to Qifrey, who flipped through the pages.
“Last one,” you said as you sat back down, settling between them. “I thought it was blank but the last page—”
Qifrey let out a defeated sigh. “Forbidden magic.”
“Shit,” Olruggio cursed. He rubbed at his brows. You felt awful, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I was going to but he—he showed up again.”
Qifrey snapped the book shut. “When?”
“After lunch? The girls and I were outside. Tetia was taking a nap, I was reading, and when I looked up he was just…there. He was trying to hand Coco another palm quire. She refused to take it.” You shuddered, “and when I confronted him he said things that no normal person would know.”
Olruggio’s hand fell to the center of your back as he encouraged you to speak, “What was it?”
"That girl is worth more than you know. Give her my gift.’” you could hear him in your ears, taste the water of the storm on your tongue. “I think I heard him on the day of the picnic too. Whispers on the wind, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“That’s why you were—why didn’t you tell me?” Qifrey asked. Why didn’t you tell him? You don’t know. There was no sense of entitlement or desire to prove yourself by solving this mystery on your own.
“I was going to tell you both today, but you left so I was waiting until you got back.” This had become bigger than you ever thought it would be.
Olruggio said, in frustration, “We have to report this Qifrey.”
“No!” both of you cried but you’re the one who continued speaking, “Please, Coco is terrified. She didn’t take anything from him, I swear.”
You knew Olruggio had a job to do. Being a Watchful Eye gave him a unique position in the atelier but he had bent the rules before and you hoped he would again.
“We’re just goin' to let a brimcap wander around out there?” Olruggio asked. Both men wanted to help solve the problem but they had vastly different ways of doing it. “Let whatever that thing is harass our family.”
“I will figure something out,” Qifrey said.
Olruggio rolled his eyes, “Yeah an’ if I leave it to you, you’re goin’ to come back hurt. O’ worse.”
“Please don’t leave, not now.” Your voice painfully cut through their conversation. You couldn’t fathom the idea of either of them walking out, the atelier was vulnerable. If Senaka really was a brimcap that meant they knew where you lived, where your home was. Tainting the sanctity of your life with their poisoned ink and cursed hands.
Qifrey sighed, “give me a few days. I’ll make a plan.”
“We’ll make a plan,” Olruggio emphasized.
“Right, we’ll make a plan.” He smiled at you gently, reaching up and brushing your hair from your forehead. He was on his knees, arms supporting himself on the couch, taking his weight, as he leaned over your lap. He pushed up, kissing you reassuringly. You whimpered but immediately kissed him back, your shaking hands cupping his face as you accepted his touch. It was more grounding than anything else. I’m right here, it said, I’m not going anywhere. He pulled away first and you smiled gently as you rested your forehead against his.
“Let’s turn in for the night,” he encouraged, your eyes weren’t open to see but Qifrey’s gaze cut up to Olruggio after he said it. The dark haired man was watching the hearth in front of him, trying to ignore your exchange.
“Okay…” You whispered. You sighed and let Qifrey guide you to your feet. You wrapped your arms around his and leaned into his side, resting your head against his shoulder as he stepped towards the exit.
“Is Olly going to join us?” you whispered. You don’t know why you said it, but the idea of him being away from the two of you made you anxious.
When Qifrey turned to inquire he was shocked to see that Olruggio had already gone back to his room. The soft click of his bedroom door echoing in the distance. Qifrey’s chest clenched, he wouldn’t have minded if the man had joined. “Qifrey?”
Qifrey spoke before you could turn to regard where Olruggio just stood, “He won’t be, not tonight.”
Summary: You're happy. You have a lovely home, a wonderful husband and four bright girls. So, why does Olruggio suddenly make your heart race? And why does Qifrey not seem to mind?
Pairing: Poly!Qifrey/Reader/Olruggio
Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Tags: qifrey is a freak and olruggio has a panic attack; multichapter, Established Relationship, polyamory, love confessions, major character injury, accidental love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, original characters used as plot devices, cross-posted to AO3, no beta cause i post for fun and for free
Word count: 4,377
Rating: T
chapter 2
The atelier was as it always is, comfortable, safe, and warm. The sun flooded the living room with beams of sunlight and the smell of fresh morning dew seeped inside, soaking into the fabrics of the couch and sinking into the wooden floors.
You were kneeling in front of the record player that sat between the hearth and the stairs. It was a gift from Qifrey, years ago, tuned especially to your tastes. Rich, beautifully polished walnut, with gold faceting and a blooming curved horn to match. It was a masterpiece. Something you had never directly expressed that you wanted but had mentioned it enough that your husband thought it appropriate to buy one. Qifrey has always refused to tell you how much he got it for.
Now, after years of near regular use, a few of its parts were, unsurprisingly, starting to fail. And no matter how much you tried to repair it at home, you couldn’t. You knew that all you needed was a new lever and to rework the spells tattooed on the grain but you needed to understand the sigils first. That was hard to do when they were steadily disappearing. When you’d ask Qifrey if he remembered what they were he bashfully said no and you when tried to redraw them, your hand would always miss something.
They would glow for a slip second before dimming, nothing would follow. They were more complex than you had anticipated and were rooted in a speciality magic you didn’t know.
You sighed as you watched the lever fall for the 20th odd time. With every crank it would play for a few seconds before puttering out expectedly.
“Mama?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of a new voice. You staggered, the crouch you were in suddenly off kilter from the interruption.
Richeh stood innocently to the right of you, watching you work carefully.
“Richeh, darling, you’ve got to stop startling me like that.”
She was always so quiet. A soft voice, paired with soft steps and an even softer temperament, left her not forgotten but easily camouflaged. She could slip in and out of a room without being noticed, even with that bright hair of hers.
“What are you working on?” She asked, tilting her head.
You reached for her and she stepped forward. You brought her between your legs, leaving your knees to hover near her hips and you jerked your chin over her shoulder. You pointed at the lever and Richeh, fully immersed in your explanation, pressed her palms into your knees as she leaned back.
“Your music player from Master Qifrey?” Her small hands plucked at your skirt.
You hummed in acknowledgement, “It’s broken, look,” you reached around her and turned it, the player sputtered. Richeh tried it herself, “we can fix it.”
“And do you have an idea of how?” You asked.
She hummed, her lips pursed as she leaned in to examine it, “…no.”
You chuckled, ruffling her hair, “well if you come up with anything, let me know, okay?” Richeh seemed rather engrossed in trying to repair the thing. With her chin on her hand, she studied the smudged sigils that lined the side of it. Volume, speed, and time related spells that kept the thing going without much human interaction. That was as much as you were able to decipher. You weren’t sure if she would understand more, but who knows? She was bright.
“Let’s not ponder too much,” you said, fondly placing your hand on her head, “We’ve got somewhere to be.”
As if on queue you heard incoherent hollering from the girls' rooms. You both looked up and watched as Tetia trapeze down the steps with a bag in her hand and a grin on her face.
“Give that back!” Agott yelled. She came rushing after her, face flushed.
“But I wanted to see!” Tetia cried out as Agott descended upon her. “It’s so pretty, you never make stuff like this! Coco was making one similar yesterday, right? A little ink bag.” The statement only made Agott flush. Coco came stumbling after them, her hands shaking placidly as she tried to calm the two.
“Tetia, that’s Agott’s,” she looked nervous, eyes darting between the girls. You raised your brow curiously. While they did fight, it was extremely rare. Families always had their quarrels and if you knew anything about sisterhood you knew that sometimes they were something vicious. Even if it was just over a little ink.
Tetia, thinking it was better to cause more of a ruckus than end it, darted to the opposite side of the table to avoid Agott, the meager ink pouch held in her hand. From what you could see it was decently constructed if not a bit uneven and patchy.
“What is going—” You tried to gather their attention but their bickering drowned you out.
“Give it back, Tetia!”
“But it’s cute! I want to show Master Qifrey.” Agott’s face was lit aflame.
“Children.”
“Tetia!” Coco squeaked. Now the pink haired girl was pinned between Coco and Agott and she simply found it amusing. Your voice fell on deaf ears and you sighed as you felt an oncoming headache. “My lord, childr—”
“Girls, enough.” All of the children froze, including Richeh who clutched your skirts silently, as Olruggio’s voice commanded them from afar.
“What is goin’ on?” He asked. He moved casually from his perch, descending the stairs and approaching you with a basket in hand. You thanked him appreciatively, it was a woven piece you’d often used for groceries and had broken just a few days ago when you were lugging herbs in from the garden. You’d tripped over a rouge brush buddy and stepped on the handle, cracking it right in half.
You thumbed the newly woven wicker as you watched him.
“N-nothing, Master Olruggio.” Coco started, trying to keep the peace. “Tetia just—!”
“Tetia took my things and won’t give them back!” Agott accused pointing at the girl.
You always admired how Olruggio handled the girls. Both you and Qifrey had a bad habit of letting them get away with things. You were stern but when they looked up at you with those big puppy dog eyes you tended to buckle, and it worked on Qifrey more often than it did you. Olruggio though, the girls had to work to get him to side with them. Olruggio didn’t put up with the bickering and the pouting, he made them stand tall and speak confidently when they wanted something. While he disciplined them far less often, respecting how you and Qifrey were raising them, when he spoke up it meant the children were uncharacteristically out of line.
He ignored Agott’s yelling and Tetia’s whining as he tied his cloak around his shoulders. He nodded towards the two who weren’t creating chaos, “Richeh, Coco, go get yuh coats an’ caps.” The two scurried off obediently.
“Rain shoes girls, the ground is still soft!” You called after them.
Olruggio reached for your cloak, where it lay draped over the banister. He approached you while addressing the girls that remained.
“Tetia, should yuh have taken Agott’s things withou’ permission?” He asked. He shook out your cloak and unbuckled the front clasp before stepping in front of you and swinging it around your shoulders. Your immediate reaction was to tell him he didn’t need to do all of that, but Tetia interrupted you.
“N-no, but—”
“There are no ‘buts’,” Olruggio said, he brushed away the dust at your shoulders and adjusted the fabric that draped over your front. “Tha’ is not yours.” Tetia handed the small pouch back to Agott who quickly shoved it into her pocket.
“Agott,” Olruggio said, as he placed your cap in your hand. It’d been sitting on the coffee table. “Do we yell like that when there’s a problem?”
“...no, sir.”
“What should we have done?”
“Get an adult…” she kicked her toe against the hard wood, gaze low.
“Good, now apologize t’one another an’ go get yuh things. We’re leaving shortly.”
You smiled softly as you watched the two girls offer each other defeated apologies before they left to go gather their cloaks and caps. You looked at Olruggio, “thank you.”
He shrugged, “they’ve been testy lately. Bein’ cooped up in here has done ‘em no good.”
This spring season has been wrought with storms, and you all, more often than not, have had to stay indoors. Today was one of the only clear days the atelier had seen in weeks and thank god, because you were down to your last loaf of bread and a block of cheese that was starting to grow a second life. You needed to head to Kalhn…for both home goods and your sanity.
When the girls were ready and the carriage was secured you all piled in. The wide seats accommodated the children comfortably. You and Olurrgio sat directly across from one another, while the girls split themselves into two beside you and him. When Olruggio tapped the roof, the pegasus jolted and the carriage soared through the sky. The girls spoke amongst one another, much calmer than they were moments ago while you struggled to un-twist the embellishments of your cloak. You sighed in frustration, the tassels had some how managed to hooked themselves carelessly to the buckles.
Olruggio’s large hands settled over yours and gently pulled at the threads.
“Where is Master Qifrey?” Agott asked.
“Meetin’ with a client, he’ll catch with us in Kalhn,” Olruggio said, not looking away from his work. When the tassels fell away he mumbled in satisfaction. The sound made you pause and your eyes caught his as they lingered on your skin that poked out of your collar. When you adjusted your shoulder, the image of your flesh falling away, he cleared his throat and moved to look out of the window. You observed him for only a second before smiling at the girls.
“Now, would we like to play our game this trip?”
Tetia cheered, “Yes!”
You laughed and pulled a set of lists from your pocket, handing each child a page. “Remember, you should all work as a team.” You gave Tetia and Agott a pointed look, “and?”
“Whoever finishes the list first gets to pick something from the Starry Sword!” Coco said cheerfully.
It was a simple game, the girls would race against each other in groups of two to gather all of the items on their list with a limited amount of money. There were never penalties for ‘losing’ but there were rewards for finishing first. You only ever did this when they were willing to. It was a fun activity that taught them time and money management along with speaking and navigational skills. They’d have to talk to vendors to get the best deals, keep track of their cash, pick the right produce and work together to do it all in a decent amount of time. In the future, when they started working with their own clients, they would be far more prepared to negotiate with the more…stubborn ones of the bunch.
“Tetia and Agott,” you started “you will work together today.” Both girls nodded, expecting it.
“That leaves you and me, Richeh!” Coco said.
“Yes.” Richeh replied.
A little game never hurt anyone.
The market was packed, nearly shoulder to shoulder, clearly you weren’t the only ones who thought it was a good idea to take advantage of the nice weather. Olruggio helped you down from the carriage and just as the girls were about to disappear into the fray, he whistled, “Oi, yuh have two hours and we meet at the park. Understood?” They saluted him, all grins and giggles before ducking into the sea of people.
You chuckled and thanked the man, “a bit of peace and quiet?”
“With this crowd, hardly.” He grumbled. He stood close to you. Heat radiated off of him like a furnace but it was surprisingly comforting in this atmosphere.
“How much money did you give those kids?” He asked as you weaved in and out of the masses. The front stalls were the most crowded but it started to calm as you got closer to the city center.
“Hm…enough.” You said playfully. You always gave them a little extra cash to buy themselves something. You knew what each of them would come back with. Tetia would be carrying a small bag of chocolate. Richeh with a new trinket. Coco with a little accessory for her brushbuddy and Agott would come back with nothing. She hoarded her cash until she saved enough to get something big.
“Yuh spoil ‘em,” he said.
“As if you don’t?” you countered, he looked away. You see what he does for them. It’s often small. Extra servings at dinner, letting them get away with things that Qifrey wouldn’t, offering them contraptions that solve problems that are unique to each girl. He tried to act aloof but he loved seeing them smile and he loved seeing them safe.
You opened your mouth to tease him further but a young man crashed into you nearly sending you to the ground if it wasn’t for Olruggios fast reflexes, “Oi! Watch where you're goin'!” The boy didn’t stop but you figured he wouldn’t. You patted Olruggio’s arm as he balanced you back on your feet.
“Y’alright?” You hummed in response. You were a little startled but not harmed. You heard annoyed cries from the crowd as the kid continued his race. Crowded, indeed.
“Let’s just get off the street,” you said, searching for a stall you recognized. Ah, the repair shop! You grabbed Olruggio’s wrist and tugged him along. He followed without any protest. When you pushed back the curtain you were greeted by a portly man with oil stains on his forehead and an unruly beard.
“Hi, darlin’, what can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for a crank, for an old record player.”
“Ah,” he wiped his greasy hands on his apron, “let me see if I have some, it's been awhile since I’ve sold any. You know how big it needs to be?”
You grimaced, “uh, no, unfortunately.”
He chuckled, “that’s alright just give me a sec.” He disappeared behind the counter, tucking into a room that was piled high with gear and gadgets.
Olruggio observed a cuckoo clock in the corner, it chimed at the 30 minute mark. “What do you need it for?”
“The record player in the living room broke, I’m still trying to figure out the spells used on it but the manual crank needs a replacement. It only plays for a few seconds before it dies.” Olruggio hummed, “ah, an’ do you know what yer doin’?”
You chuckled, “no but I was gonna guess until something worked.” Olruggio chuckled and the sound made your chest ache.
The older man slipped back into the room, digging through a rusted bucket of spare parts, “I don’t think I have what your looking for, must have sold the pieces and forgot. I’m sorry darlin’”
You wave your hand casually, “it’s alright.”
“Try Louis at the end of the street, he’s got parts for instruments. He may have it. Don’t tell him I sent you through.” You smiled and nodded offering him a gentle thank you for his time before stepping back to it into the market place. Bummer, you’d simply have to wait to fix it then. Something was bound to crop up eventually.
“Off to get the food then,” you said, Olruggio used his body to carve you a path. You didn’t really notice but the crowd did, they parted for him like water.
“Are you alright with stew this week? It’s been awhile.” You’d wanted to make some during the rain storms but you didn’t have the ingredients. You needed bones for the broth and the last time you cooked a full chicken was weeks ago.
You smiled and held up a head of cabbage, “if I get some bacon will you make those things again.” Olruggio rolled his eyes, “yeah, just put'em in the basket. I’ll buy.” You silently cheered. You were a well enough cook and actually did most of it out of everyone in the household but there were some dishes that only Olruggio and Qifrey could make. Not because they were difficult but they always tasted so much better made by their hands.
You tapped your chin as you continued down the line, greeting familiar vendors with a warm smile and waving at the little ones that sat stationed in the back. The produce looked divine, surprisingly. The wet weather did little to deter their growth. You plucked tomatoes and carrots from one stall, apples from another. Your favorite flour for dough and some spices for seasonings. You bartered with a gentle tongue and made enough deals to save you some cash.
“Y’okay if I step off for a second. Want to check that place out.” He nodded towards a newly opened contraption shop, run by a younger woman and her father. They made easy to cast contraptions readily available for the public. Olruggio had talked about wanting to visit a few weeks ago.
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be here.”
When you reached the end of your list you spent a moment looking over the wine at Mrs. Hannah’s stall. She was an interesting woman with only one eye and a pesky cat but she did make the best liquor in Kalhn and you knew the boys were running low.
Qifrey doesn't drink as much as Olruggio does but you knew he liked to partake every so often. You turned the bottle over in your hand, a little to expensive.
You wondered when Qifrey was. He left the atelier much earlier, before the girls even woke. You'd seen him just long enough to get a kiss good morning and a kiss goodbye before he slipped out the door. Him taking a client is extremely rare given his obligations to the girls but he said it was an opportunity he simply couldn’t pass up. When you tried to pry the information out of him, he smiled sweetly and told you not to worry.
Which, honestly, made you worry. A little.
While you were examining a bottle of rich apricot wine you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your head turned. At first you thought it was the boy from before, coming to apologize for the ruckus he caused, but it clearly wasn’t.
“Name's Senaka.” He said confidently. He was a few years older than you based on the smile lines that decorated his face, but still relatively young with warm brown eyes and slightly crooked teeth.
You offered your name politely but didn’t say anything else.
“So, Hannah’s homemade wine?” He mused, “the stuff’s strong.” You caught Mrs. Hannah taking a long drag of her cigarette as she watched your exchange.
“Um, I don’t really drink. It wouldn’t be for me.” You said.
“My girls love a good drink,” he laughed, his smile was charming but that’s all you would give him credit for, “the two of them can put me under the table with how much they can gulp down.” You paused, ah. You knew where this was going. “They’ve even hoping for another drinking buddy, since I can’t keep up.”
He was trying to recruit another wife.
It wasn’t unusual for witches to take more than one partner. It’s an old tradition that can be traced back to the end of the war, where witches would tie themselves to multiple families to ensure the security of their legacies and the safety of their practice. While many of those unions still existed and were legally recognized, they were significantly less common.
No one really wanted their marriages to be treated like a trade. Your hand for mine. His hand for hers. The magic stays in the family, the power comes with the name. The lifestyle does attract a manipulative lot who often took advantage of the system to gain things for themselves. Whether it be more money, more power, more sex, there was a benefit to the exchange that was almost addictive.
While you'd never thought about adding a third to your marriage and Qifrey has never brought up the possibility, you wouldn't be against it if it were the right person.
“Are you married?” He asked.
“Yes.” You said, picking up another bottle. Peach, delicate, sweet, light. Discounted. You reached for the cash in your breast pocket and handed it to Mrs.Hannah. A small black, yellow eyed cat popped up when she went to take it, his tail caressing your wrist, blessing the exchange.
“Hm, children?”
She handed you your change, it’s twice what it should be but from the glint in her eye you knew she did it on purpose. For your troubles.
“A few.”
He whistled, “wow, must be a happy marriage.”
“Very.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he chuckled “so I’m not surprised that you—ah.”
You squeaked when a hand slid along your lower back and settled on your hip.
“Everythin’ alright, honey?” You looked up and nearly choked. Olruggio observed you casually, as if approaching you like this was the most normal thing in the world. His fingers were stretched across your hip; they didn’t press or poke, but they felt like lead weights. Have they always been that big?
“O-oh,” play along you thought to yourself, play along. The ring on your finger glints as you point at your basket. “Look at what I found, your favorite!” Olruggio casually reached for it with his other hand, making sure to pull you in a bit closer as he examined the label thoughtlessly.
Senaka tried to speak again, Olruggio cut him off. “The good stuff, thank you.” He brushed his chin against the side of your head in such a way that the angle looks like he kissed you. His narrowed eyes catch Senaka’s over the crown of your head.
“Can I help you?” He asked but before Senaka could reply he’s interrupted again by your actual husband.
“Darling, there you are! I’m sorry it took so long, I meant to join you all much earlier. But, look at this pen set I found. It’s adorable, perfect for the girls. Do you think—” He paused when he noticed how Olruggio clung to you, how you were tucked carefully into his side as the dark haired man looked at him over his shoulder.
“There y’are,” Olruggio said, “come here. Our wife has a bit of stuff t’carry.”
…our wife? Qifrey blinked. He looked between you and Olruggio. You knew he wouldn’t suspect anything untoward about the situation but you couldn’t help but be nervous under his careful eye. When he noticed Senaka, his face relaxed in realization.
He stepped forward, slipping the package into your basket and grabbed for the handle. He pulled it away delicately and kissed your cheek.
“It’s okay,” you tried to take it back but he held it out of your grasp.
“Let ‘im take it, honey.” There that nickname was again. You shivered.
They slipped into this shared roll a little too easily.
Qifrey’s shoulder brushed yours and for the first time in your life you’re intimidated by them. Not in a way that caused you to fear or made you feel like you needed to cower. It was just…intense and the sensation that filled the pit of your stomach was something you wouldn’t even be able to share in a confessional.
Olruggio’s grip on your waist tightened when the man in front of you examined you like you were a freshly purchased center piece. You felt Qifrey’s hand twitch against the back of yours.
There was a sudden gasp and the tension snapped as you craned your head over your shoulder to find the source.
A middle aged woman clutched her collar as your four children slid around a group of people, nearly toppling into a stray vegetable cart. You winced. No one was hurt and they missed the cart by a hair but the near crash made your heart skip. When they spied you, they rushed forward, crashing into the backs of one another as they skid to a halt. Agott, then Tetia, then Richeh followed by Coco, yelling and waving their purchases like victory pennants.
Olruggio quickly dropped his hand and casually stepped away.
Qifrey smiled crouching to their level. He's well acquainted with their race, he's the one who created it. “and who won?”
“We did!” Both pairs yelled. You laughed, reaching over and prying them apart. You brushed the dust from their cloaks and smoothed down their wild hair, “Oh, a tie?”
Senaka was forgotten as you spoke, standing to the side of the family like a ghost.
“Oh hello, sir. Did you need something?” Coco asked, ever observant. She greeted him kindly and he seemed to receive it well. He opened his mouth to speak but paused when he caught sight of her bright hair and cap. He looked back at Qifrey and then to her. “Nothing, my friend.”
Senaka’s gaze lingered on Coco. She tilted her head, inquiring silently as to why he was there. She doesn't recognize him and it doesn't seem like the adults did either.
“No, he was just leavin’ weren’t yuh?” Olruggio said.
Senaka blinked, prying his gaze away from the girl and looking at you. “Yes, right, well…have a wonderful day.” He bowed with his cap in hand before turning, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared into the crowd.
“Curious, I’ve never seen that pattern before.” Qifrey hummed. Most witches recognized each other’s cap designs. It was a calling card, an identifier. You knew what atelier they were a part of, who their teacher was, where they lived. But Senaka’s was unknown to the both of you.
“Neither have I,” you said, watching the man leave.
“Master Olruggio, look what we got!”
“You girls cause nothin’ but trouble.”
“It’s this contraption that Agott found,” Richeh said, “got it from the new store.”
“Let me see that.”
"Alright everyone," Qifrey said, catching the group's attention, "I think it's time we head home."
trey clover, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge (separate, established relationship) x gn! reader
warnings: cursing, cringe, minor angst in some
I LOVE WRITING THESE!!! im quite rusty and sleepy so forgive any errors..
trey clover
cater diamond
leona kingscholar
vil schoenheit
rook hunt
idia shroud
lilia vanrouge
malleus draconia
Extra part for Malleus: You stared at your phone in disbelief when a knock came at your door. That was quick.
Plodding down the stairs of Ramshackle, you opened the door to see Malleus Draconia in all of his glory, staring at you. A small chuckle bubbled up in your throat as you noticed his demeanor. The cool-headed, intimidating heir of Briar Valley seemed antsy for once, shifting slightly as he gazed at you with unmistakable fondness.
"Child of man," he breathed out, "you needed to speak with me?"
You thought back to your attempt at the prank. It was probably never going to work on him anyways.
"Yeah," you grinned, opting to drop the gag, "I just wanted to tell you how much I love and appreciate you."
You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, intertwining your fingers with his.
Malleus Draconia was left frozen. The power you had was amusing. To be able to reduce one of the top five mages to a lovesick puddle was no small feat. Who said your lack of magic capabilities left you defenseless?
"Why don't you come in?" You asked.
He followed you without a word, as he would for as long as you'd permit him.
end note: to avoid having to go look up translations (i know how you feel), rook's part is from the song "Tu es partout" by Édith Piaf! Translation:
"I see you everywhere in the sky
I see you everywhere on the earth
you are my joy and my sun
my nights, my days, my clear dawns"
and the thing he says at the beginning is: "I cannot imagine a summer day without the accompaniment of your smile."
𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.3k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ the ushijima version of distraction is here!! oh i love toshi sm ;) this one is shorter than oikawa's hope you don't mind
requested ☆
"why is he looking at l/n-san like she's a particularly difficult math problem?" tanaka whispers, shielding his eyes with his hand as if ushijima's gaze is the sun (theyre indoors..). "it's unsettling. he's trying to psych us out by targeting our managers!"
"maybe he's trying to intimidate our support system," nishinoya hisses back, puffing out his chest and stepping slightly in front of you. "don't worry, l/n! we'll protect you! he might be a very strong, but he hasn't met the power protection of the guardian deity yet!"
you sigh heavily, clicking your pen repeatedly and focusing very hard on your clipboard.
you try to keep your expression neutral. "he's just.. looking, guys. he's a very observant player. focus, come on – we're down by five points and the set is almost over."
tsukishima, however, is even more observant than usual today – and trust me, that's saying something. he leans back against the bench, intelligent eyes darting between you and the giant across the court.
he'd noticed the way your hand trembled slightly when ushijima had stepped up to serve, and he'd definitely noticed the nearly identical sports watches on both your wrists – a brand that was notoriously hard to get in this prefecture.
he hasn't said anything yet, but the smirk playing on his lips suggests he's putting the pieces of a very scandalous puzzle together.
and that's not a good sign.
the whistle blows for a timeout, and the gym goes quiet. as you step forward to hand daichi a water bottle, a large, looming shadow falls over you.
everyone – karasuno and shiratorizawa included – freezes in place. a hush has fallen across the gym.
ushijima wakatoshi had walked across the court, which certainly wasn't allowed. he was so tall that you have to peer up just to see his face, which remained as expressionless as a stone wall.
"y/n," he says. his voice is deep, carrying across the entire gym like he's announcing a royal decree.
"ushijima-san," you reply, your voice cracking slightly as you try to maintain a professional, 'manager to opponent' distance. you widen your eyes suggestively at him, 'ushijima-wakatoshi-you-better-shut-the-fuck-up-right-now'-i-swear-to–
you and your boyfriend had been doing a pretty good job at keeping things on the down low. so why was he acting like this now? "you're, erm, on the wrong side of the net. your coach is staring daggers at you."
but he doesn't move. he doesn't even acknowledge the rest of your team, who are currently staring with a mix of fear and confusion, which isn't exactly surprising since ushijima wakatoshi just walked across the court like it's nothing.
including tanaka and nishinoya. especially tanaka and nishinoya.
instead, ushijima reaches out, and for a terrifying second, tanaka and nishinoya look ready to launch a physical assault to save you – but ushijima merely reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear ever so gently.
"you forgot your lunch on my kitchen counter this morning," he rumbles matter of factly. not a question. "i brought it. it's currently in my gym bag. you should eat it. nutrition is vital for a manager's best performance, and you mentioned you felt off yesterday."
now, we all hear about silence being described in stories all the time, but they can't compare to the one that follows this. you can hear the distant sound of a bird chirping outside because no one in the gym is even breathing.
"kitchen.. counter?" hinata squeaks, tilting his head in confusion. "this.. morning? like.. the morning that happened today?"
tsukishima tuts, rolling his eyes. "no. last year's."
kageyama frowns. "that lunch must be very mouldy then, if it was from last year. l/n-san shouldn't eat it."
"idiot, i was being sarcasti-"
"wait," sugawara says, his eyes intrigued as he looks between your beet red face and ushijima's non expressive one. "you two.. live together? is that what 'kitchen counter' implies? ohoh-"
"our families are neighbors!" you blurt out, trying to save whatever scrap is left. "we've known each other since we were kids!"
ushijima frowns slightly, looking at you with a hint of disapproval. "that is an incomplete and flawed explanation, y/n. we've been in a relationship for fourteen months now. why are you omitting the truth?"
why are you telling the truth? you think sourly, but you're not too mad. in fact..
"it is inefficient to lie when the evidence of our cohabitation – even if only for breakfast somedays – is so apparent." ushijima finishes.
yeah.
"FOURTEEN MONTHS?!" the karasuno bench explodes in a flurry of pure shock.
on the other side of the net, tendou is doubled over laughing, slapping his knee as if saying, 'oh, what a kneeslapper!' "oh, wakatoshi-kun! you're so blunt! look at them, they look like they've seen a ghost! you really know how to kill the vibe, you ju-"
"ushijima-san," daichi says, stepping forward with his left eye twitching uncontrollably. "you can't just.. cross the court and claim our manager during a match."
ushijima turns his gaze to daichi, looking at him with the same interest he might show a mere weed. "i'm not claiming her. she's a person with her own thoughts and has chosen to remain at an underperforming school despite my advice. she should have come to shiratorizawa – the volleyball program here is superior, and the commute would be shorter for us both. it'd allow for twenty more minutes of sleep per day."
he then looked back at you, ignoring the collective gasp (mainly from tanaka and nishinoya) from the karasuno team at the underperforming comment.
"i'll wait by the bus after the match. i have the salmon onigiri your mother made for me to give to you. i also have the sweater you left in my car."
"wakatoshi, go back to your team!" you hiss, pushing at his solid chest with your face red. no use, though. it's like trying to move a brick wall.
"very well," he says, nodding respectfully to kiyoko, who watches with an amused smile.
as he walks back to his side, tendou drapes an arm over his shoulders, whispering something about romantic dominance, while ushijima just looks confused.
the match resumed, but karasuno was a wreck. every time ushijima spiked the ball, tanaka would scream, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OUR MANAGER, YOU MOUNTAIN!" which only resulted in ushijima looking bewildered because, technically, he wasn't touching you at the moment.
even hinata was distracted, whispering, "ushijima? boyfriend?" every time he rotated to the front.
when the game ends, with shiratorizawa unsurprisingly taking the win, the teams begin to pack up. you're just trying to avoid the interrogation glares from your teammates.
"so," tsukishima drawls, walking past you. "he.. is your boyfriend? i have to say, your taste is… interesting."
"he's very sweet once you get to know him!" you defend, narrowing your eyes at the blond.
just then, the gym doors open. ushijima's standing there, already changed out of his jersey. he's holding a small, insulated lunch bag with a little cat pattern on it – your lunch bag.
"y/n. the rice will get cold," he calls out across the gym.
you sigh, waving a hand to your 'are you guys seeing what i'm seeing' eyed team. "i'll see you guys on monday. don't.. don't make this a thing in the group chat, okay? please."
"it's already a thing!" nishinoya wails as you walk away. hinata nods in agreement. "he stole our manager! how are we supposed to win against a guy who gives our manager salmon onigiri?!"
as you reached ushijima, he takes your bag from you without a word, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own.
"did you find the match satisfactory?" he asks, looking at you as you walk toward the gates. "your team has improved, though their defensive positioning is still quite erratic."
"it was fine, toshi. a bit dramatic, though, thanks to you."
"i don't understand," he says, looking perplexed as he blinks at you.
"yeah.. don't worry about it."
sooo hope that satisfied you and i'm so sorry you had to wait two whole months 😭🙏🙏 i didn't know what to do for the title so erm
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Synopsis: After a long day of hero work,Bakugo returns home to discover the tender, chaotic evidence of your new shared reality. Pregnancy research left open on the screen. In the quiet hours, he finds his own way to unwind with the woman carrying his future
cw:Pregnancy, mild language, domestic fluff
wc: 1,85k
The apartment was dim when Katsuki pushed the door open, the only light spilling from the living room where you’d left the computer on. His boots thudded heavily against the entryway floor before he kicked them off, the reinforced soles clunking against the wall. Patrol had dragged longer than expected, some minor villain skirmish that required more cleanup than actual fighting but the weight of his gauntlets and the familiar ache in his shoulders reminded him he was finally home.
He shrugged off his hero jacket, hanging it on the hook beside yours. The fabric still carried the faint scent of smoke and nitroglycerin. The place smelled like home otherwise: the faint citrus of the dish soap you preferred, the lingering warmth of dinner you must have made earlier. His stomach rumbled, but food could wait. Right now, he wanted to see you.
Instead, his gaze landed on the glowing screen.
You’d fallen asleep with half a dozen tabs open, the browser history a winding trail of curiosity that pulled a low snort from his chest. He dropped into the chair, the wheels creaking under his weight, and leaned forward. The mouse hovered for a second before he started scrolling.
“Does pregnant women’s pee become poisonous?”
He barked out a short laugh, the sound rough but genuine, echoing softly in the empty room. His scarred fingers scrolled further.
“Can pregnant women drive?”
“Is it safe to eat spicy food while pregnant?”
“What if the baby kicks too hard?”
Each new question painted a clearer picture of you earlier that evening, curled up on this same chair, eyes wide with that mix of wonder and mild panic you’d been carrying since the test turned positive two weeks ago. The doctor’s appointment had confirmed it, solid and real, but you were still in that stage where every tiny detail felt monumental. He could almost see the way your brow would furrow, the little hum you made when something worried you.
Katsuki leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Dumbass,” he muttered fondly, though there was no heat in it. He kept reading, the blue light washing over his sharp features. Another chuckle escaped when he hit “Can I still take hot baths?” followed immediately by three different medical sites debating the exact temperature thresholds.
He didn’t rush. The quiet gave him space to process it all again, the fact that there was a kid in there now. His kid. Yours. The thought still hit him square in the chest sometimes, a strange blend of pride and terror that made his palms spark faintly before he reined it in. You’d been nesting already, rearranging pillows and reading baby books like they held the secrets of the universe. He’d teased you for it, but secretly he’d started looking at cribs online during breaks.
One more tab: “When does the nausea stop?” He shook his head, the smirk softening into something gentler. You’d been tough about the morning sickness, never complaining much, but he’d caught you grimacing more than once. He made a mental note to pick up those ginger candies you liked on his next day off.
Eventually the screen dimmed from inactivity. Katsuki closed the tabs one by one, leaving the computer in sleep mode. The apartment settled back into proper quiet, broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant city sounds filtering through the windows. He stood, stretching his arms overhead until his spine popped, then padded down the short hallway toward the bedroom.
The door was ajar. Soft breathing greeted him as he stepped inside.
You were curled on your side under the covers, one hand resting loosely near your stomach even in sleep. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, catching on your hair and the peaceful line of your cheek. Katsuki paused in the doorway, just watching. The usual fire in his chest banked down to a steady warmth. This, coming home to you was the part of the day that made everything else worth it.
He moved quietly, mindful not to wake you. The hero gear came off piece by piece: the belt with its support straps, the reinforced pants, the compression shirt that clung to the hard lines of his torso. He tossed them into the laundry hamper with practiced ease, leaving him in just his boxers. The cool air of the room brushed against his skin, raising faint goosebumps along his arms. Scars from years of hero work stood out under the low light, marks he wore like badges, each one a story you’d traced with gentle fingers more than once.
Katsuki rounded the bed and eased down onto the mattress. It dipped under his weight, but you only shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before leaning in. His lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. You smelled like the herbal shampoo you’d switched to recently, something mild and soothing. The faint warmth of your skin grounded him.
“Oi,” he whispered against your temple, voice barely audible. “You’re gonna drive yourself nuts with that crap. We’ve got this.”
You didn’t stir, lost in whatever dream currently held you. He smiled faintly, rare, unguarded and settled in beside you. One arm slid carefully around your waist, palm coming to rest over the still-flat plane of your belly. Not much to feel yet, but he imagined the day when there would be. The thought made something in him twist pleasantly.
With his free hand, he reached for the lamp on the nightstand. The click of the switch plunged the room into full darkness, save for the faint city glow beyond the curtains. Katsuki exhaled slowly, body relaxing into the familiar contours of the bed and the even more familiar warmth of you beside him.
Tomorrow there would be more questions, more research, maybe another appointment. He’d grumble and tease, but he’d be there for every single one. For now, though, the night wrapped around the two of you–soon to be three and the world outside could wait.
He closed his eyes, breath syncing with yours, and let sleep pull him under.
oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.
you want to go shopping? here's his card.
you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!
you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.
he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.
he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.
he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.
he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.
he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 was so excited the entirety of the honeymoon—damn near beaming every time he got the chance to introduce you as his wife, showing everyone your matching wedding bands.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 was barely holding it together anytime someone congratulated you, fighting the desperate urge to tell everyone that he genuinely cried his eyes out when he saw you walking down the aisle.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 carried you into your honeymoon suite, just to drop you unceremoniously, both of you sharing a short giggle fit as it dawned that yeah, you had the rest of your lives for a moment like this.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 already knew you were drop-dead gorgeous but felt like he won the lottery when he first saw you in your wedding dress—you looked so ethereal that he just knew he couldn't feel this way about anyone else.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 wakes you up the morning after the ceremony with luxury morning service and a back rub, repeatedly calling you 'Mrs. Midoriya' in awe, reminding you that you chose this.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 paid good money to figure out how to store your wedding dress properly where it could be out of the way, and remain undamaged
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 keeps the final slice of wedding cake carefully stowed away in the freezer, wanting to hold on to a little more than just memories forever—though sometimes you'll catch each other swiping a bit of icing & just laugh & laugh
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 who changed all of his profile pictures to different photos of you & him from the wedding the moment they got sent back, wanting to show each special moment its own little bit of love and pride
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 came back to his class & put a big frame with 'The Kiss' on his desk, making sure he & his students could all see it.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 who comes up behind you while cooking and just rests his head on your shoulder—keeping his 'tired voice' to a minimum while helping you make breakfast, liking the quiet mornings he gets to spend with you.
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 always calls you his wife, always. But still losing his mind, with literal heart eyes whenever you call him your husband
𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝!𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 loves being a husband, and more than that, he adores that he gets to be your husband.
she shifted carefully in bed, glancing at her boyfriend sleeping beside her. his messy blond hair stuck up in every direction, his chest rising and falling steadily as he snored softly. for once, he was completely out and that made this the perfect time for her prank.
in her arms was a blanket she had bundled into the shape of a baby. holding it close, she sighed dramatically before nudging his shoulder
"katsuki" she whispered "my love wake up please"
he groaned, eyes still closed, rolling his head away from her touch .
"suki, I need you" she said, rocking the fake bundle gently "I’ve been up all night with the baby… can you hold him for a while?"
his eyes cracked open just enough for a red glow to peek through. his brows furrowed as he blinked at her, his voice low and gravelly
"the hell are you talkin’ about… what baby?"
she held out the bundle in her arms, swaying it softly .
"our baby, katsuki" she said with a tired whine "please, just hold him"
that woke him up instantly. his eyes went wide, and he sat up so fast the blanket slipped down his chest .
"what the fuck do you mean our baby?!" he hissed, voice sharp but shaky "when the hell did you— how—"
but despite his panic, he carefully reached out, scooping the bundle from her arms. his hands trembled slightly as he held it against his chest, his jaw tight .
"shit… he’s so small" he muttered under his breath "is he even breathing, what the hell, why’s he wrapped like this"
she bit her lip hard to stop herself, but when she saw him hovering nervously over the pillow-shaped bundle, she lost it. laughter burst out of her so loud it startled him.
"the look on your face— oh my god, katsuki!!" she gasped between fits of laughter, tears forming in her eyes
he froze, blinking down at the bundle. he unwrapped it quickly, only to find nothing but a pillow. his face turned crimson in an instant.
"you’ve gotta be shitting me" he growled, glaring at her as she fell back on the bed clutching her stomach, laughing uncontrollably
"that’s not funny, dumbass" he snapped, though his grip had been so gentle just moments before "I thought— tch, I thought— damn it!"
she crawled closer, still giggling, and kissed his cheek .
"you’d be a great dad though, you know that" she teased
his ears burned red, and he clicked his tongue, shoving her face away with a grumble
"shut up and go to sleep, you idiot"
just saw this prank on tiktok so i wrote it and found it so cute :)
Noooo ‘cause I’m too soft for Bakugo coming home to his family 😭 Like—grumpy at the door, mush the second he sees them 🥹
The front door creaked open to the gentle hush of nighttime silence—warm, lived-in, and familiar. Katsuki Bakugo stepped inside, boots muffled against the welcome mat that read “Wipe your damn feet.” A gift from you, of course. He smirked as he shut the door behind him, the heavy scent of home wrapping around his shoulders like a blanket—fabric softener, the lingering aroma of dinner, and the faint, sweet smell of vanilla that always clung to your skin.
It was past ten. Patrol had run long—damn villain got bold in the suburbs—and paperwork ate the rest of his time. But none of that mattered now. Not when the hallway lights were dim, not when the hum of the television flickered from the living room in soft blues and purples, not when he could hear the quiet buzz of cartoon voices floating through the house like a lullaby.
And there, in the soft halo of TV glow, was the center of his universe.
You were fast asleep on the couch, one arm tucked protectively around your belly, the other curled gently under your head. Your shirt had ridden up just slightly, revealing the curve of your four-month bump. He felt something squeeze in his chest at the sight—familiar and ferocious. Love, in its loudest silence.
But what tugged the softest smile out of him was the small figure curled at your side.
His daughter.
Five years old and already a menace to society, Katsuki Jr. in spirit if not in name. She had your eyes, wide and curious, but everything else screamed Bakugo: the wild blond tufts of hair that stuck up in defiance, the permanent scowl when someone offered help she didn’t ask for, and the explosive energy that lived behind every pout, every stomp, every determined, “I can do it myself!”
Yet now, she was quiet. Eyes half-lidded, thumb in her mouth (a secret she’d deny until death), and her tiny frame pressed against your side like she belonged there. Like she'd been placed on this earth solely to keep you safe while he was away.
Bakugo crouched slowly, careful not to make a sound. His hands were still dusted with ash and gravel, faint scrapes along his knuckles from earlier. But he looked at her—really looked—and it was like the world clicked into place.
She turned at the sound of his movement, blinked once, and then narrowed her eyes with that same trademark glare he saw in the mirror every morning.
“Where’ve you been daddy?” she whispered, arms crossed, just like he did when he was pretending not to care. “It’s late.”
Katsuki raised a brow. “Says the shrimp who’s still awake watchin’ cartoons.”
“I was protectin’ Mama,” she said, as if it were obvious. “She fell asleep, so I stayed. Just in case.”
That same squeeze wrapped around his heart again.
“He kickin’?” he asked quietly, glancing at your belly.
His daughter nodded solemnly. “I think the baby likes cartoons. Moved a lot when the princess punched the bad guy.”
“Tch,” Bakugo chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Good taste.”
He sat down beside the couch, letting his back hit the floor with a quiet sigh. He leaned his head against your thigh, one hand gently brushing the curve of your belly, the other reaching out to hold his daughter’s smaller one. She took it with no hesitation, her fingers warm and sticky from the grapes she must’ve snuck from the fridge.
This was what people didn’t expect from him.
Not when they watched him on the battlefield, shouting orders, leveling threats. Not when they saw him barking at sidekicks or outpacing heroes twice his age. They thought he was too rough for soft things. Too volatile for family. Too sharp to ever be someone's peace.
But here, in the quiet, with your hand twitching slightly in sleep and his daughter gripping his pinky like it was a lifeline—he knew better.
He was fire. But he had built his life with things worth warming.
And when his daughter looked up at him with sleepy eyes and mumbled, “You can rest now, Daddy. I protected her,” he felt something unnameable bloom inside him.
“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then your belly. “You did good, baby.”
She grinned in that smug, Bakugo way and curled into your side once more.
And Katsuki stayed there—on the living room floor, with the weight of the world tucked safely in his arms.
i saw that your request are open again :)
how about a katsuki x reader
they have a one year old daughter who is so small
like is not malnourished or anything just a bit smaller than other babies and is the cutest baby katsuki had ever laid eyes on
Little "Boomlet"
It was late afternoon when Katsuki Bakugou found himself on the floor of the living room, legs crossed, calloused hands holding a bright yellow teething ring while the tiniest human he had ever seen sat wobbling in front of him.
"Oi, you better not drool on my pants again, squirt," he muttered, voice low and rough—but his eyes were soft. The one-year-old blinked up at him, gummy smile wide, two bottom teeth peeking through as she babbled something unintelligible and reached for his face with tiny fingers.
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and heart full. Watching him melt into this version of himself—gruff but gentle—never got old.
“She’s got your scowl,” you teased, walking over and kneeling beside him.
“She’s got my everything,” he muttered, without thinking.
Your daughter, Suki, as he insisted on calling her (because “Mini Katsuki” was “too damn long”), was small. Smaller than other babies her age. Not weak—just compact. Like all of her strength was folded up neatly inside her, waiting to burst out. Kind of like her father, really.
The doctors said she was perfectly healthy—just petite. Katsuki, for all his bluster, had been worried at first. Ran every test, questioned every check-up. But eventually, he relaxed. She was just small.
Now? He was obsessed.
“She fits in one arm,” he told Kirishima once, cradling her like a football. “One damn arm. She’s ridiculous.”
But anyone with eyes could see it: he was hopelessly smitten.
Back in the living room, your daughter had successfully climbed into his lap and was now patting his cheek with her soft, drooly hand.
“Y’got no sense of personal space,” he muttered—but he didn't move her.
“You love it,” you said, smiling.
“Tch. Whatever.”
You rested your head on his shoulder, watching as Suki curled into his chest, eyes already fluttering closed despite it being too early for bed. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, one large hand covering nearly her entire back.
“She’s so small,” he said, voice quieter now. “So damn tiny. But she’s the strongest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You nodded. “Just like her dad.”
He kissed the top of your head. “Damn right.”
And in that warm, quiet moment—your little family pressed together on the living room floor—you felt it too: that nothing in the world could touch this. Not the past, not the villains, not even time.
Just the three of you, together. Your tiny daughter, safe in the arms of the man who would burn down the world to protect her.
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