#this suggests nothing about me as a person i assure you

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

he’s just a silly funny guy to me (and i need him in a skirt)

flat colors for flat color enjoyers idk

[daisynik7]

Double the Fun

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)

Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.  

Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading! 

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?” 

You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different. 

“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster. 

There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be. 

You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”

“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door. 

You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight. 

With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him. 

He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”

It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”

You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.

You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”

Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”

Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”

The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining. 

Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually. 

“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up. 

You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming. 

You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”

~~~

You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.  

It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”

In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”  

He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”

With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”

His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”

You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. 

You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”

In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”

He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”

“We?”

As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.

This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”

~~~

It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?

Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight. 

And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need. 

You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.  

Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”

You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips. 

They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.

Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”

Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”

You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” 

He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. 

Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again. 

He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious. 

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.

Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”

The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative. 

“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”

You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.

From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier. 

“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”

“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”

“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him. 

Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be. 

You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss. 

Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”

“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole. 

Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”

You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.” 

They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure. 

Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.

Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy. 

“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”

Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.

Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.

You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”

Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.

Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”

Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.” 

You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.

They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking. 

Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them. 

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in. 

Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”

You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.

You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap. 

The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.

Maybe you should try getting stood up more often. 

[shibaraki]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: slow to heal and forced on sick leave, a lonely Todoroki Shouto decides to download the latest popular app, Enigmail, to cure his boredom. he finds you. the rest is… well. moderately disastrous.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, pen pal au, hero personal assistant reader, prohero shouto, strangers to friends to lovers, injury recovery, online friendship + eventual romance, feelings development, misunderstandings, identity reveal, pining, sexting, masturbation (male chara), making out + heavy petting, getting together, *slaps roof of fic* you can fit so much fluff in this thing

wc: 17K

It started unexpectedly—with a tremor.

Rather, it started with Oda Shuichi, the prolific villain known as Tremor. At the time of the incident his quirk had been unregistered, but doctors quickly found that it severely affected an individual's motor neurons. According to them the length of time that he has a five point touch hold on someone influences how long they will lose motor function—and how poorly their muscles atrophy.

Shouto spent three uninterrupted minutes trapped in his clutches.

“I promise I’ll come by and visit whenever we can. You’ll still get updates and reports through your work email,” Midoriya tried to assure him with that signature smile, brows drawn together into an almost pleading expression. “It’s just for a little while!”

“For a month,” Shouto pointed out petulantly. Nori, his elderly adopted cat, stirred from her place on his stomach while restless fingers combed over her short pale fur.

“A month,” Midoriya parrots. He offers an apologetic grimace and leans over where he lies horizontal, slumped and agitated, to fluff up the couch cushions behind him. The newly crowned Symbol of Peace obviously felt needlessly responsible for the situation at hand. Shouto had only allowed Tremor to grab him so Deku and Suneater could get the hostages out, after all.

“Taking a break isn’t so bad, Shouto. And Hawks told me you’ve yet to actually use any of your vacation days,” he continued. “Even Kacchan takes time off. Do you know how many hours you have to work to outdo Kacchan?”

“I’m sure you could tell me exact numbers”.

“Don’t be mean,” Midoriya said, dithering as he peers around the room, slightly unfamiliar now that the furniture has been temporarily moved around to make navigating the space easier. Thanks to an on-call specialist Shouto would still be able to walk in short bursts, but he’d have to gradually build up strength and stamina over the weeks to come.

A pleased sound reverberated in Midoriya’s throat as he finally discovered the TV remote, setting it beside Shouto’s phone on the arm of the chair. “Okay. There,” he hooked an ankle around the coffee table and dragged it a little closer. “If you need us to get you anything from the store just text us”.

Shouto grumbled. Midoriya sighed, fondly exasperated at the childish display. Before leaving he moved the nearby pair of crutches within reach, listing off all the things he can think of, “Hey, maybe you can catch up on Quirky Hearts now! Or read that series Iida said you’d enjoy. There’s that new app I heard about, too. Enigmail? That might be fun”.

The anonymous pen pal app, Enigmail, exploded in popularity after its release in the spring. Shouto barely knew a thing about it, only that you needed to be over eighteen and chatting partners were assigned at random. Nothing about that sounded tempting.

Midoriya’s suggestion hung over his head for the rest of that afternoon. Quirky Hearts droned on in the background. Halfway through the first episode Shouto had yet to retain any information. Nori hardly left her spot. Jaws stretched wide around a yawn, lips pulled back to display what remained of her teeth. He liked to think she sensed his inner turmoil, though realistically, she was likely too lazy to move.

Curiosity prevailed in the end. The logo featured a pink post mounted mailbox, the slot unhinged to receive a folded paper plane. Shouto opened the app onto a pretty basic interface that followed an almost pastel theme. The profiles are barebones. He supposed that was purposeful. It asked for pronouns and a nickname, offering the option to pick an icon from their default library, but nothing more.

From what he could discern skimming over the rules he would be assigned to a random chat room with another person in a speed dating style interaction. A timer would count down from two minutes and upon completion prompt the user to either switch partners or remain talking.

A simple concept. But anything had sounded better than sulking horizontally and staring dead eyed at reality television for the remainder of his night. And when was the last time he met somebody new?

Almost every username he could think up had been taken. Even his hero name was unavailable. In a last ditch effort he settled on a miraculously accepted Sooba and scrolled through the icons. “Hey, it looks like you,” he murmured, pleased by the regal white cat icon. She hadn’t heard him, but sunk her dull claws into the meat of his forearm as he turned the image to her, those dramatic yellow eyes dilating at his coo, “Don’t worry. You’re the only Nori in my life”.

Shouto clicked start.

The first few users are odd, and without tact. Others communicated in languages he couldn’t understand. He stuck around regardless—luckily the developers had thought to include a translation tool, and Shouto managed to befriend one or two people with innocuous pictures he’d taken on previous patrols alone.

Then there’s…

XpLoveGuest ▻ Hey sexy

By that point early evening had already flooded through his balcony doors and drenched everything in a gauzy orange glow. His nose wrinkled. “You have no idea what I look like,” he thought aloud, switching to his right hand to roll the ache from his left wrist

▻ ASL?

Shouto frowned in faint confusion. He minimised the app to search up the term. Results flowed in, and after a brief look over everything he discovered they all repeated the same description. It’s an old acronym.

His thumbs tapped across the keyboard in quick succession.

Sooba ▻ Age: 27 ▻ Location: Tokyo ▻ Sex: No thank you

The chat immediately disappeared. A loading symbol blinks in the centre of the screen. He snorted, and suddenly a new chat opened with a different username blinking at the top corner. It’s a bit on the nose.

‘InsertNameHere’.

You shared the same default cat icon, which he took as an immediate plus.

But a minute elapsed and nobody spoke. There was an unusual trepidation on your part. Shouto chewed his bottom lip. He contemplated starting the conversation when suddenly three dots skipped across the screen, indicating the other user was typing something.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re not going to send me a picture of your dick, are you? ▻ If you have one that is.

Shouto’s mouth parted in soft surprise, then pressing defensively thin, and he had glanced around his living room as though someone were there to witness this weirdness alongside him.

Sooba ▻ I have one.

InsertNameHere ▻ Ok. Well I don’t want to see it.

Sooba ▻ It sounds like you see a lot of dicks.

Not once taking his eyes away from the screen, Shouto felt for the TV remote and paused the show, brow arching at your next response.

InsertNameHere ▻ And it sounds like you’re new here.

Sooba ▻ I am. My friend recommended I try this to cure my boredom while I recover.

A few beats passed. He eyed the countdown looming over your shared interaction, conscious of how little time is left. You were the first interesting person he’s come across. Though he supposed that isn’t saying much.

InsertNameHere ▻ Recover? That sounds bad. Are you alright?

Sooba ▻ Injury at work. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.

Just as you were beginning to respond, the timer cut out. Shouto reflexively expelled his frustration and Nori lifted her head toward the abrupt movement of his chest, ears twitching. She blinked up at him in disapproval for shaking her. “Sorry sweet girl,” he murmured, wearing a small smile as he scratched under her chin. So temperamental.

A familiar pop up in the cartoonish shape of a postcard covered the chat. Your messages blurred into the background. It read: Do you wish to continue corresponding?

Shouto clicked ‘Yes’. And apparently you did too, because your contact pinned itself to his in-app mailbox.

A melodic chime pinged from his phone. Confetti burst across the off white background in pixelated blooms.

✎ CONGRATULATIONS! You have a new pen pal ✐

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess I can keep you company in the meantime. ▻ You’re the only sane person I’ve come across so far.

Shouto smiled, even as the muscles in his cheeks protested. It’s a stubborn reminder of his condition. He repositioned himself to lessen the strain on his wrists, chin tucked to his chest where his phone is propped, and said:

Sooba ▻ I’d like that. :)

The fortnight that followed is slow to pass. An endless cycle of wake, stretch, eat, lightly exercise as instructed by his physiotherapist, play with Nori, eat, watch Quirky Hearts, stretch. Midoriya stopped by, bringing Iida along with him. Jirou sent him playlists to listen to. Fuyumi called every evening and shared the phone with his mother, gentle in their fretting. He assures them all that he’s coping just fine from the Shouto-shaped depression in his couch cushions.

But there’s also you; the stream of consciousness keeping his seams together, lest he fall apart from the complete and utter boredom he’s been forced to endure. In the beginning he wasn’t sure of the rules. Talking online is not his forte and neither is making new friends. That entire first morning was spent ruminating whether or not texting you ‘good morning’ was strange, and estimating how many times was appropriate to message you before he violated some invisible social boundary.

Normal had been irrelevant until now. Normal, to Shouto, consisted of avoiding his father’s phone calls, sending the occasional concussive text message—indecipherable to even the greatest cryptanalysts—and giving Nori updates in the 1A Grad group chat.

Sometimes he’ll open the app to see you typing, pausing, typing. Imagining you, a faceless someone, equally uncertain about your footing pleases him a little. In the end he figured if you didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t respond. Evidenced by how you often saved him the trouble by messaging first, sometimes as early as five o'clock in the morning. Apparently you worked irregular hours in a rather unpredictable industry. Shouto weighs the possibility that you might be a fellow hero—or something close—more than he cared to admit.

Any trepidation he felt would always dwindle as soon as a notification lit up on the screen. He reads your username and his insides turn over.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve escaped to the break room. ▻ Do you ever think about how we don’t have muscles in our fingers? How fucked up is that?

Shouto smirks, pulled away from the conversation at hand. He unlocks the phone in his lap, beneath the kotatsu to remain hidden, an attempt at being inconspicuous as he replies.

Sooba ▻ I try not to think too much about anything.

You throw back a few laughing emoticons and satisfaction washes over him. “You’ve been texting a lot. Who’s got you smiling like that?” Natsuo asks slyly. He’s cross legged, tie tossed irreverently over his shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, having come straight from work. “A special someone?”

Shouto forces the muscles in his face to relax into feigned nonchalance. “Nobody. Nothing,” he says unconvincingly.

Rei enters the room with a modest tray of dango before Natsuo can open his big mouth. She’s wearing a bi-coloured hoodie. The sleeves slip as she sets the treats down on the table beside the green tea Fuyumi brewed earlier; another gift from Yaoyorozu’s family travels. Natsuo’s face twitches under Shouto’s unbroken stare, which is daring him to bring it up while their mother is here.

Then his phone vibrates and any possibility of peace is shattered.

His mother glances curiously at him, expression soft in the dewy afternoon light, and she smiles. “Are you speaking to one of your friends?” she asks. “Please tell Deku ‘thank you’ for sending me your new Shouto hoodie. It’s very warm”.

The words fill something cavernous inside him. Soothes the ache with gentle wonderment. She smiles down at his hero logo printed proudly across her chest, rubbing the hem between her finger and thumb. A younger Shouto could have only ever imagined it.

“I’m not so sure it’s a friend this time,” Natsuo teases, spoken with a playful, sing-song cadence. “Shouto wouldn’t text at the table and risk facing Fuyumi’s wrath just for a friend”.

Shouto does not pout. “I would risk anything for my friends,” he says, affronted; anything maybe except his older sister's well intentioned nagging. “…It’s a new friend, that’s all”.

Rei perks up, settling on her knees and laying the kotatsu blanket over her thighs. The quiet sound of plates and cups clinking together fade in from the kitchen. Natsuo hums, unconvinced, and hides a smile behind his mug. It's moments like this, when the people he loves are gathered in one place, and he can hear them in every corner of his home, that he’s glad for buying a smaller apartment.

“That’s wonderful, Shouto,” Rei murmurs as Fuyumi pads into the room, Nori not long behind her, threading through his elder sister's ankles. She too arrived right after work, donning a suit-skirt and blouse. “What’s their name?”

His thoughts stutter. Fuyumi’s nose wrinkles seeing the panic stark on his face. “Who are we talking about?”

“Beats me. Ask him,” Natsuo says, taking a stick of dango between his teeth as he tries not to grin when Shouto’s phone vibrates a second time. “I want to know who’s so eager to talk to my little brother”.

InsertNameHere ▻ Sooooobaaaaaaa ▻ I’m on my lunch keep me company

Shouto snatches up his phone to respond. He brings it closer to his face to allow Nori access to his lap. She monopolises the space instantly. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Shouto,” Fuyumi laments. “No phones during family time”.

“I know. I’m sorry, nee-san. I just need to…” his thumbs dance over the keyboard, head ducked in amalgamated shame and apology.

Sooba ▻ Question ▻ InsertNameHere ▻ What is your name?

InsertNameHere ▻ At the personal info stage already? You move fast. ▻ Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.

That stirs a faint unease in his gut and he understands better then. Anonymity is what gives people a sense of security and he isn’t exempt from that. In truth, right now he doesn’t want to know what might change if you knew who was on the other end yet.

Sooba ▻ You can call me whatever you want.

“Shouto”.

InsertNameHere ▻ That’s not even a line is it. ▻ Man. You’re dangerous.

Sooba ▻ ???

Shouto stares at the flickering dots by your username. You type, then stop. Type, then stop. As if you were deleting and starting over again. A habit of yours he’s quite endeared to. “Shouto!” Fuyumi huffs, poking a manicured finger into his side. Though short, the nail still causes him to flinch, and he’s quick to stretch his phone out of reach as her hand swipes through the air. “I mean it!”

Nori is jolted. She voices her immediate displeasure and Rei titters into her sleeve. The sleeve with his name stitched into the fabric. He breath catches, like it always does when his mother laughs. “Shouto doesn’t have to tell us anything until he’s ready,” she assured, offering him a gentle look—a look so sincere he feels awful for being evasive.

And his feeble resolve fractures.

“I don’t know,” he confesses bluntly. Natsuo and Fuyumi frown, at one another and then back at him, in unsettling synchrony cultivated through siblinghood. Shouto shrugs and pulls at a stray thread in his jeans cut loose under Nori’s claws, “I can’t tell you a name because I don’t know it”.

Natsuo appears mildly surprised. Fuyumi sinks into disbelief, feet curled beneath her body, going lax at his side. She drops her arm. “You… don’t know it?” she repeats.

“The app is anonymous,” he supplies hastily, attention flickering to his mother, far more worried about discerning her reaction. She’s unreadable. “My name isn’t on there either. We just talk about stuff”.

“Stuff?” his siblings' voices overlap, told apart only by the difference in tone. Natsuo’s shock has melted into some strange mix of pride and innuendo. “Is it that penpal thing everyone has been talking about? Enigma?”

“Enigmail,” he mutters. Natsuo lights up. Fuyumi does not share the sentiment.

“You’re a hero, Shouto! What if it’s someone with bad intentions?” she frets, brows drawn down and together, mouth pressed thin. “They could be tricking you. The internet is rife with predators, and—!”

“Nee-san. I’m a grown man. I understand the importance of internet safety,” Shouto interjects.

Natsuo slumps onto the table with a mawkish sigh, the sound steeped in fondness. “Let him have fun. You know he’s right, ‘Yumi, he’s an adult. It’s a wonder where all that time went,” he says. A few beats later he’s abruptly straightening his spine, “Gods, Fuyumi. You’re almost thirty five!”

Fuyumi glares from behind her glasses. She reaches across the kotatsu and swats lightly at his bicep, “Do you have to say it like that? You’re thirty one!”

“Please. Stop arguing,” Shouto says. He pets the unperturbed cat curled up on his thighs, “You might startle Nori”.

“Shouto. She’s deaf”.

Rei cuts their bickering short as she breathes, “When did you all get so big…” a serene smile hung on her lips, not a hint of grief to be seen. The answers surrounding your identity—or lack thereof—are lost to the nostalgia cloying in his throat.

They return to enjoying tea and dango after that. Shouto sets his phone face down on the floor and turns off vibrate. For now, he wants to ward off further interrogation.

His mother intuits this and steers the conversation in another direction, “Natsuo, how have things been at your new job? Are they treating you well?”

Things are good. Fuyumi’s class would soon be graduating, an award for Best Teacher polished and positioned on her desk. Natsuo had landed the job he always wanted—a medical welfare officer working closely with trauma survivors—and was already making waves. His mother, Rei, finally finished cultivating her traditional garden, weaving tales of lush foliage and water spouts. Touya too has been improving in his rehabilitation programme, according to his psychiatrist’s reports.

A tremor quakes through the tendons in Shouto’s forearm as he lifts his tea to sip the remaining dregs. Yaoyorozu outdid herself this time. If he hadn’t already known the price he would have discerned it from the refreshing, uniquely sweet taste. Thoughts of you cross his mind in these instances without warning. Would you like it? What’s your favourite tea?

Shouto scrunches his eyes shut as if it might wash those thoughts away. How is it that the stranger in his pocket possesses the ability to awaken such yearning in him; he feels mildly ashamed to have realised his loneliness with an audience.

The hour rolls into another. Shouto scrapes the last dango along the skewer with his teeth, jutting his chin to evade Nori’s curious sniffing. “This was lovely, Shouto. Thank you for having us over,” Fuyumi expressed as she carefully ran her hand along the feline's back.

Sensing the finality, Shouto motions to stand and sets Nori on the couch. Everyone protests it. He huffs, sliding a crutch over from where they lay nearby and letting it take his weight. A good decision, he thinks, inwardly grimacing as the blood rushes to his feet, prickling like violent white noise under his skin, and his knee almost gives out.

“I’m okay. The doctor told me I should be trying to move around more anyway,” he tells them, deigning to mention that he expended most of his energy tidying up this morning before their visit. “You’re my guests. I want to walk you to the door”.

Shouto tries not to bristle under their wary scrutiny. A cool hand slips around his arm then. His mother’s natural chill seeps through the sleeve of his shirt and allays the irritation. “We appreciate it, sweetheart,” she says.

“We do,” Fuyumi gently insists. “We’re happy to see you recovering well. Right, Natsu—?”

“Kiss tax!” Natsuo exclaims, oblivious to his surroundings. He scoops Nori up from the arm of the couch. She is comically tiny pressed against his chest. A continuous indignant drone rumbles in her throat as his brother peppers firm kisses to the top of her head.

“Put my baby down,” Shouto deadpanned.

“She isn’t your baby,” Natsuo slides one hand under Nori, the other carefully tucked into her armpits. He holds her close to Shouto’s face. Dramatic round eyes stare back; a flat expression emphasised by prominent cheekbones. Barely a hair's breadth between them, Nori begins to swipe her rough tongue against his scarred cheek. “See? You’re her baby”.

“Mine, too,” Rei rises to her tiptoes and scratches behind Nori’s ear, turning a smile toward Shouto. That same hand moved to cup his cheek. Though far taller than his mother, Shouto tips his head and finds himself feeling incredibly small as she presses a kiss to his forehead. “Your hair is getting long again,” she adds as she pulls away.

“I can trim it if it’s bothering you,” Fuyumi nods, sidling up beside Rei to survey the growth together. She brushes back the wayward strands framing his face and Shouto blinks. “Though, I think I like this look on you. What’s it called? A wolfcut?”

“I’m not sure. This is how Mina cut it a few months ago,” he replies.

Natsuo interjects without Nori in his grasp, now notably covered in short cat hair. He claps Shouto on the back and pulls him into a firm side hug, “She did good. Our handsome little Shouto”.

Initiating physical affection with his family was still a weary affair after all this time, though patently one sided. Having them touch him so freely always left him a little stupefied.

After they depart, Shouto hobbles to find his phone with all the grace of a newborn fawn. It is face down under the kotatsu cover right where he left it. And as it blinks to life, he skips the notifications from the 1A group chat to find your screen name at the bottom.

InsertNameHere ▻ My boss has these awful little nicknames for everyone in the agency. Mine’s ‘Maestro’. Nerd and butterfingers, too, but mostly Maestro. ▻ To do with my quirk and role, I suppose. Good for morale etc. His creativity astounds me (๑ಕ̴ _̆ ಕ̴) ﾝ？ ▻ Not that I don’t appreciate it but. Well shit, what about my morale? Lol ▻ You there? ▻ Sorry if I scared you off by getting personal.

Shouto worries at his bottom lip. Maestro. Something new about you. A foreign feeling churned in his chest. Faint, barely there, but new enough for him to notice. He’s not sure how to pin it; whether your mention of working at an agency bothers him or the fact that others, people who are not Shouto, get to see you everyday, close enough to give you a personal nickname.

Sooba ▻ Sounds like you have a good relationship. I’ve got a close friend who sounds similar. People say it’s just his love language ha ▻ And you didn’t scare me off. I’m the one who asked. Some family came to check on me.

He barely thinks it over before adding:

▻ My mother said hi by the way.

Your reply isn’t immediate but it is quicker than he expects.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re right. I do like my boss sometimes. Maybe. And I love this job but I think it has aged me ten years. My ulcers have ulcers! ▻ Also—telling your family about me now too? We really are moving fast.

A soft huff of laughter jumps in his throat. There’s a distant clamoring near the kitchen. The sound of Nori’s bowl being pushed around the tile. Her absence clicks in place when he looks at the clock. He should feed her soon.

Sooba ▻ Technically it was only my mother, older sister and brother. ▻ But I can relate about the work stuff.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah? You mentioned being on leave because of an injury. Do you like your work?

That’s a question he has never asked himself, nor has he ever felt the need to. Heroism was the path life handed to him. The path he ultimately followed of his own volition. Shouto loves his family, his friends. He’s good at his job—enough to have made it into the top ten. And isn’t that all that matters?

Sometimes he would take a long, weary look out the revolving agency doors, recognise the heaviness in his bones and give the entire thing a second thought. But that never made any difference. Because people needed him. And he needed them too.

There’s a fleeting urge in that instance; a temptation to come clean, if only to sate his own curiosity. To compare the idealised image of what you looked like or how you sounded. He’s spent many a shameful night thinking up romanticised scenarios in his mind about what it would be like to meet you in real life. Shouto always squashes it. He doubts you’d believe him.

Ever perceptive to his moods, Nori chooses that moment to pad in from the kitchen and sit herself directly in his line of sight. She wails, demanding attention and lacking any volume control.

Right now he is not a hero but a man alone on two unsteady legs with a small living thing reliant upon him. He’s just Todoroki Shouto. He’s just—

Sooba ▻ As of right now my occupation is ‘Nori’s dad’. I like it pretty well.

Your reply is immediate.

InsertYourName ▻ Oh you have a kid?

Nori’s frustration grows. Her tail swishes back and forth, agitated. “It isn’t time to eat yet,” Shouto tells her, pulling up his phone camera and zooming in. On her next yowl the shutter goes off. The picture is perfect. Mouth wide open, large ears flat and nose wrinkled in displeasure, lips curled up to display her pink gums.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_0243] ▻ Something like that.

It’s a risk and he knows it. Though infrequently his team has posted Nori to his social media in the past at the delight of his fans—she was younger in those pictures, but if you were well acquainted with him there was the possibility of you putting the puzzle pieces together.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god sooba. She’s so cute. Give her everything she asks for, you monster. ▻ Hey. Are those Ingenium themed crutch pads?

Anxiety rockets through him. He pulls up the photo and sure enough, his crutches are in the corner of the frame, laid within reach beside the couch. Secured around the handles are Ingenium themed pads to cushion his palms.

Sooba ▻ They are.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is he your favourite hero?

He turns his phone over in his hands before he types, overcome by an abrupt restlessness.

Sooba ▻ One of them. ▻ Do you have a favourite hero?

Nori wanders off in his periphery and not long after he hears the telltale sound of cardboard being torn apart. You stop typing, replies coming to a halt. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

It becomes clear you’re offline. Shouto spends the evening imagining your answer—ducking sheepishly at the idea that you might say him, then cringing at his reaction—and reading through his work emails.

Partnering with Hawks hasn’t been the worst thing in the world. Despite his carefree demeanour and general lack of personal space Hawks was professional and meticulous when it came to his work. As promised, Shouto was CC’d into every important thread and forwarded every significant incident report each day. Apparently there’s a big fundraiser tonight that he is unable to attend.

Hawks suggests matching Endeavor’s donation in spirit. Shouto doubles it.

The night air barely touches him. Leaning against the balcony railing he surveys the cityscape. A kaleidoscope canvas. He stares until the pinpricks of light stretch and bend, streaking his vision, regaining shape when he blinks. Nori is curled around his calf, playfully kicking her back legs at his ankle. She’s careful to never break skin.

It’s nearing midnight when you get back to him. A disconcertingly vague reply of:

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve had enough of heroes.

Shouto waits for you to elaborate before presuming anything nefarious. He would hate for Fuyumi to be correct. She’d never let him forget it.

▻ Shit that made me sound bad, didn’t it? I promise I’m not a villain

He snorts, reclining himself into one of the chairs on his patio. Yaoyorozu insisted upon helping decorate the space. This piece in particular had been chosen by Uraraka, if only for its cocoon, egg-like shape. She always sat in it if she came over; Shouto can’t say he blames her, now curling up inside it himself, leaving one foot flat to the floor for Nori to cling to.

Sooba ▻ Only a little bit lol.

InsertNameHere ▻ I just mean for today! I’ve had enough for today! ▻ There’s… a whole lot of them at this work event I’m attending is all. ▻ See! ▻ [IMG_0589]

It’s the first picture you’ve ever sent to him that wasn’t a meme. Your legs are crossed, turned inward to show more of the showroom floor. There are people everywhere. You’ve overturned your lanyard in your lap, straps dotted with the charity logo, to display the back of your security pass. No identification. Just proof that you’re there—

Proof that you’re a real person, giving colour to the vague, shapeless figure in his head. The figure once outlined only by random tidbits, like your favourite food, the music you like, the movies you loved as a child. The figure now clad in tight fitting, seemingly pearlescent sheer material from the waist down.

—Shouto swallows dryly.

You have nice hands. He tries not to linger on that.

▻ That’s why I disappeared, btw. Sorry about that. ▻ I feel weirdly underdressed.

The logo on your lanyard has recognition prickling in the back of his mind. Hours earlier Midoriya had texted him two pictures from the ‘HEROKIND’ fundraiser Hawks mentioned. One being a selfie of him and an aggrieved Bakugo, each wearing their own fitted suit, and another of Uraraka in an evening gown stood behind the imposing silhouette that was his father, stealthily pointing her middle finger at his back.

He saved that one to his camera roll.

Sooba ▻ In that case I will close the HPSC anonymous tip line ▻ Sometimes people try too hard at those events and forget why they’re there. You look good from what I see.

InsertNameHere ▻ How very gracious (´・｀ ) ▻ Sounds like you have some experience with this kind of thing. My condolences lmao ▻ But thank you. I’m glad you think so.

Shouto entertains the idea of sending you something back. His eyes surreptitiously flicker around as though being watched. Nothing revealing who he is, but enough to maybe—

The camera captures a few of the modest flower beds and cat grass lining his balcony, Nori coiled around his bare ankle. He looks at his hand. Shuffles his hips further down to mirror your angle and flexes his fingers in his lap. Heat floods his body, guided by the shameless desire to inform the image you might have of him in your own head, too.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_288] ▻ At least you’re having more fun than I am.

You type for a long ten second interval. Then restart. A tedious minute elapses and just as regret creeps in, your messages come through.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’m not so sure about that. ▻ Actually it would probably be more bearable if you were here with me.

The sound of his heartbeat floods his ears. So warm it’s like he’s standing under the sun. Shouto belatedly realises it’s just his quirk, as the steam blows out through his nose. Nori butts his ankle in complaint. He bends to take her into his arms, feeling ridiculous and somewhat bad at being a person.

Sooba ▻ Think so? ▻ Just so you know I have been called socially inept on numerous occasions.

InsertNameHere ▻ Then we can hide together in the corner, get tipsy and sneak bits of the fancy spread.

This—doesn’t happen to Shouto. “Nori. I have feelings for a person I’ve never seen,” he pushes his face into Nori’s fur, and she purrs, feeling the vibrations of his voice. Admitting it aloud only highlights the absurdity. He feels out of his depth. And he decides he’s glad for the anonymity. Grateful, even. Lest he publicly humiliate himself and set off every fire alarm in the vicinity.

Sooba ▻ That sounds perfect.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll hold you to that. There’s another one of these coming up in two weeks. ▻ Prepare yourself (ꈍᴗꈍ)

“You’re really not helping,” he continues. Nori rubs insistently under his chin. “Fine, fine. I get it,” She croaks as he presses into the touch, mimicking her movement and cradling her as he gets up.

Before retiring to bed he pulls up Yaoyorozu’s contact. He settles into a comfortable position in the covers, propping his phone on his stomach, and he types:

Shouto : 00:14

I think I need help.

Consciousness eases into him slowly. It’s a sleepy pastel morning. Dust dances in the soft spotlight cast through his curtains. Shouto’s jaw unhinged to release a long yawn, limbs stretching every which way under the covers as his joints click.

Shouto props up on his elbow, twisting in place to reach and unplug his phone. He blinks away the blurriness hemming his vision and squints at the stack of messages from Enigmail right at the top of his notifications.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh shit. Hero Shouto donated double the amount of what Endeavor gave and he couldn’t even be here tonight. That’s hilarious. Can that guy get any hotter ▻ I didn’t intend for that to be a pun. ▻ These cocktails are becoming suspiciously easy to drink. ▻ You’re probably sleeping like a good boy but I miss you. Wake up! ▻ Have you ever had feelings for someone you’ve never met

The loose tongued messages stop there, at around one o’clock in the morning. Then there’s a seven hour jump to only ten minutes ago.

▻ Oh my god. Please ignore all of that. And then kill me.

Hardly awake, sleepsand still crusty at the corners of his eyes, Shouto’s mind reels as he considers pinching himself. He doesn’t know which part to focus on. Your apparent—and unknowing—attraction to him as a public figure or the implication that you had feelings for Sooba.

But you’re obviously embarrassed. So he bites back a smile and starts with something simple.

Sooba ▻ Good morning to you too ▻ Remember to drink water and take some bufarin.

Sitting upright with legs hung over the bed, Shouto clicks out to his text app by way of distraction. There’s another photo from Midoriya. This time it’s just him. Speckled light glitters along his cheeks, expression beaming as the hero holds a piece of sashimi in front of his pink face. Shouto heart reacts to the text.

InsertNameHere ▻ Send more Nori

He chuckles, sleepy. That makes known Nori’s absence. Strange, he muses. She is usually the one to wake him. Rather than search he scrolls through his albums to find a photo you hadn’t seen yet. It was taken a few months ago. He’d slipped his camera under her chin and pressed the shutter when she looked down, looming over the viewer with a dumbfounded look.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_142]

After a few minutes with no response, assuming that you had accepted his bribe and sought out some painkillers, Shouto braced against his bedside table and stood, phone in hand. Every muscle in his body felt like wet sand, held together by too tight skin. This morning, though, the incessant ache that beat alongside his heart was gone.

Walking still felt as though he was wading through molasses but strength was steadily returning to his physique.

The floor is cool under the soles of his feet as they shuffle down the hallway. There’s a noise in the kitchen that gives Shouto pause. A voice, hushed yet high pitched voice, cooing like someone might to an infant.

He drops into an ungainly defensive stance, pyjama bottoms and all. Worst case scenario they at least hang low on his hips, loose around his legs, leaving room for flexible movement. He rounds the corner without a sound.

And relief beats like a drum in his chest.

Yaoyorozu meets his gaze from the kitchen island where one hand is petting a very happy Nori, sipping from a glass of water with the other. Her face is bare, shadows soft under her eyes, hair pulled haphazardly into a low ponytail as if she had just rolled out of bed and rushed here. Creati in a bleach stained hoodie and leggings. The press would have a field day.

The sight brings a small smile to his face. Their schedules have been misaligned for months. It’s good to see her—if only her expression had not then darkened. “Todoroki Shouto,” she says with all the authority of an older sibling, “What on earth was that text last night? You had me worried sick”.

“Text?” he parrots dumbly, looking to check his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Painkillers acquired. Thank you Nori ▻ I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night.

“I let myself in with the key you gave me. I hope that was alright,” she continues, quiet and apologetic now. He skims over your reply and switches to check his text app. Sure enough the last thing he sent to her was an ambiguous plea for help.

“Of course it’s alright,” he replies, regarding her with a meaningful look to cover for how sheepish he truly feels. “I gave you the key because you’re always welcome here”.

Yaoyorozu smiles on the end of an exhale, idle hands smoothing down Nori’s cheeks. “Of course,” she echoes, examining his form closely now her anxiety is assuaged. Over him comes the muted awareness that he’s being judged. “How about we go on a short walk for once, since I’m here? The weather is quite pleasant”.

Shouto steps forward with mouth downturned, “Momo, I assure you I’m fine. You don’t need to walk me like a dog,” he says, wincing thereafter at his bluntness. She only hums.

“When was the last time you went anywhere?”

Very uselessly he replies, “I go places”.

Yaoyorozu’s potential to lead and assert had never escaped him, not even in his teenage years, and it was something he staunchly admired her for. But never has he resented his own affinity for compliance more than he does the moment she ignores his pouting and tells him to finish his morning gait training and get changed.

Dressed casually and statuesque in the centre of his living room, left leg lifted to mimic a flamingo, Shouto’s limbs shake far less than previous days. He can hold his phone while he balances now, too. You haven’t sent any new messages. Probably waiting for him to assure you that he isn’t upset, but even so he’s a smidge disappointed.

Sooba ▻ I’m here. A friend appeared in my kitchen. ▻ You don’t need to apologise for anything, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I've received worse drunk texts I assure you.

He switches to his right leg and chews the inside of his cheek. Facing villainy was far less daunting than navigating his feelings.

▻ I thought it was cute.

That’s about as brave as he felt today.

Yaoyorozu resurfaces from the coat closet with a jacket in hand and a pep in her step. There’s something else coiled around her wrist. Nori’s cat leash, red and attached to a blue harness, matching Shouto’s hero colours.

“Can we bring her along?” she asks, bouncing in place. Upon recognising the leash Nori makes her opinion known, releasing a drawn out yowl. “Oh please, Shouto”.

Nori didn’t regularly enjoy walking but she had been trained to do so from a young age. She was peculiar and picky, and Shouto trusted her to let him know if ever she wanted anything—something she never failed to do.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, bending to tap her nose. It wrinkles, a stray tooth flashing between her lips. “If you get tired I won’t carry you”.

Nori blinks. A lie and they both know it.

Shouto sighs, defeated. “Okay. She hasn’t wanted to in a while so I can’t really deny her”.

“Wonderful,” Yaoyorozu breathes, handing him his jacket before undoing the harness and crouching to slip Nori’s paws through one by one. “We can grab a warm drink to go from the cafe downstairs and talk”.

Shucking the jacket on and flattening the collar, Shouto dithers in the genkan with his crutches nearby. He tucks the wayward strands of hair into a knitted hat and loops his mask around his ears. The scar couldn’t be helped but atleast this way a majority of people would not think to look twice.

They leave the apartment together, all three. In the short time it takes to step out of the building's lobby you still haven’t replied. He shoves his free hand in his pocket, fingers clasped around his phone in case it vibrates.

The establishment across from Shouto’s home has been open for longer than he’s been alive. An elderly couple named Pierre-Louis and Tsutomu run the place. The two men moved back to Japan decades ago to care for Tsutomu’s sick mother, and with Pierre-Louis’ incredibly unusual coffee quirk ‘Bean Boost’, opening a cafe seemed the right route to take.

Since moving here they’ve endeared themselves to Shouto. If they see him on his way to work Tsutomu will often rush to offer him a takeout cup. This morning is no different.

“Mon petit chou!”

Tsutomu slides open the walk up window and calls his name, beckoning them closer. The breeze tousles the short grey curls around his ears. Shouto’s heart near stops when the older man leans out to greet Nori as she stretches upward and almost loses balance. “Tsutomu-san, please be careful,” he says.

“I am still rather spry, young man. Don’t worry about me,” he returns happily, gaze moving to Yaoyorozu when he rights himself. “Lovely to see you again, Momo-chan. Have you come to rescue our prince from his cave?”

Indignant, Shouto grumbles, “I wish you would all stop acting as though I’m a hermit. I haven’t been stuck indoors that long”.

The two level him with a look of doubt. Tsutomu gently pinches his cheek and rubs a thumb over the swell above the mask. “Your pallor betrays you, Shouto. Let the sun kiss you more, no? We worry”.

“Tout va bien?” another voice interjects. Pierre-Louis squeezes up next to his husband, ignoring his disgruntled noise, and brightens when he sees Shouto on the other side. “Mon chou, you’ve emerged! And with two beautiful girls at your side”.

Yaoyorozu muffled a laugh while Nori busied herself chewing on the nearby grass, leash never pulling too far. “Pierre-Louis,” Shouto murmurs, unable to keep the fond lilt out of his voice. “It’s good to see you both”.

“And you,” he beams. The wrinkles by his eyes deepen. Shouto never met his grandparents but he thinks perhaps this is the closest he’ll get. ��Are you going anywhere special?”

“We’re just taking a walk, Pierre-Louis. I thought it might be nice to get a warm drink for the journey,” Yaoyorozu spoke warmly and nudged his side. “Where better than here?”

“Bien sûr! Will that be one earl grey and one green tea?”

Shouto nods at her questioning glance, “Loose leaves today, please”, he adds.

Pierre-Louis disappears to make their drinks, shortly returning with two takeout cups, steam pluming softly from the mouth. Shouto swaps his crutch to his right side and accepts the green tea with his left hand, heat seeping through the cardboard sleeve.

“How much will it be—?”

“Nonsense,” Tsutomu interrupts with a sudden switch to English. He shakes his finger, silencing any protest, and his husband gives a resolute nod in support. “Take it, mon chou. Call it a family discount”.

Shouto bids them a dazed goodbye, leaving the walk up window; a lump in his throat that he tries to wash down with hot heat, tongue impervious to the temperature. “They’re very sweet. I’m glad you have them,” Yaoyorozu muses. “What is it they call you? ‘Chou’?”

“Mon petit chou,” he repeats clumsily, accent slightly gawky. “I asked Aoyama a while ago and he told me it means ‘my little cabbage’”.

Yaoyorozu pauses and Nori continues ahead, leaping up onto a nearby half wall with her tail hooked high. She pounces on a crack between the bricks, blissfully unaware of the nearby traffic, trying to eat a ladybug.

“My little cabbage?”

Shouto hums, squinting up at the early sun, rising in a blanket of pale blue and mottled grey clouds. The air is refreshingly cool. “Apparently it’s something French parents call their children,” he shrugs, as though he were not then warmed from the inside out at the reminder that they truly did see him as one of their own.

“That’s lovely,” she says, slowing to match his pace. He’s not tired so much as he is enjoying the morning dew. They follow a familiar path. Turning down a hidden narrow walkway that leads to a neighbourhood park. Nori’s chitters fill the spaces left by comfortable silence.

Yaoyorozu suggests sitting at one of the picnic tables. Tall trees flanked the area on either side, columns rising to create a weave of foliage that shrouded them in gold. The old wood is cold under his thighs. Nori hops up onto the bench, ears flat to her head, and hisses at a dog across the way which hasn’t even noticed her presence.

“So,” Shouto glances over toward Yaoyorozu as she speaks. Her arms are settled on the tabletop, fingers curled around the disposable cup and swirling the liquid inside. “Are you going to tell me what you were panicking about last night?”

He picks at the cardboard sleeve, twisting it, and supposes this was inevitable. Slipping down his mask, Shouto brings the tea to his lips in distraction, grasping for a way to articulate his situation without simply saying: “I have feelings for my anonymous online friend”.

In the end he realises there really isn’t any other way.

Yaoyorozu listens intently, as he expected she would. Of all his well intentioned friends Shouto knew she’d be the most open to his reasoning. Her expression visibly softens while he wrings his hands and rambles about the palpable connection that he first attributed to his own loneliness—

Rambles about you; you, the one now carried with him everywhere, the presence weaving his days into tapestry; you, accepting of his random thoughts, giving of your own; you, unintentional charm and bad jokes and sharp wit; you, faceless and voiceless, the one to receive first and last thought.

He expels his fears. Concerns of who you really are. Of what you might think upon learning his identity—if you wouldn’t like him anymore, or if his own feelings might change after meeting you offline, and if that makes him a terrible, shallow person.

Then he mentions the photo from the Herokind event and her head cocks in interest. “May I see?” she asks. Shouto murmurs his agreement and pulls his phone out from his pocket.

You’ve messaged him.

InsertNameHere ▻ Appeared? Like, teleported?? ▻ I’m glad we’re ok. I would miss you otherwise. ▻ But you can’t know I’m cute. You’ve never seen me lol

Shouto is typing back with unfounded confidence before he realises it.

Sooba ▻ I don’t need to see you to know that.

Then his eyes flicker to Nori, staring up at him clad in her Shouto themed harness, lip caught on her scraggle tooth. He takes a quick picture. Examining it before sending, he notices Yaoyorozu’s slender hands in the background, and wonders if you might be jealous.

He scoffs inwardly at his own childishness and sends the photo.

▻ Not teleported hah, just came in with a spare key. We are out walking now.

“Sorry—I just wanted to reply first,” Shouto clears his throat and presses his phone into her now proffered hand. Given without question.

Something flickers in her expression at your photo; it’s a brief shift that flies over her gaze like a shadow. Her thumbs pinch and part on the screen as she zooms in. “I was there for a few hours last night,” she says. “I recognise this outfit. Would it not be easier to check the list of attendants?”

“…That doesn’t feel fair,” he admits soberly. “I know that’s silly”.

“It’s not silly,” she affirms with a small smile, fingers now moving as she types. “You are aware of your position. You have the resources to find them and presumably they do not. Of course it seems unfair”.

It’s testament to their friendship that he feels no need to check what she’s doing. Her brows furrow slightly, then arch into her hairline, eyes brightening. Pleased, Yaoyorozu locks the device and hands it back.

“What did you do?”

“Don’t worry. I didn't do anything untoward,” she replies. “But I do know who you’re talking to now”.

Shouto’s fingers flex around his phone. “You do?” he breathes, incredulous. Just like that?

Yaoyorozu nods, lending her attention to Nori. “I don’t have a name. But if you want to find them I think you’ll want to speak to Bakugo-kun”.

“Bakugo…?” Shouto echoes.

“I believe your friend may work for him,” she clarifies. Ah. The clamouring in his head comes to a halt. In hindsight it’s clear. Your nicknames make sense now.

“I’ll think about it,” he swallows, bringing his tea to his face for another sip. He finds it tepid and warms it again with his quirk. Yaoyorozu doesn’t push.

They spend the hour catching up on the things Shouto has missed in the weeks he’s been absent, and the weeks prior. Midoriya’s claims of him being a workaholic become a reality he can’t outrun. Tea finished, Shouto takes both cups and disposes of them in the recycling bin. Yaoyorozu stands from the picnic table with Nori cradled to her breast—Nori stares back at him, smug—and they make their way back to his apartment.

“Shouto,” she coaxed, now standing outside the tall glass doors leading to the lobby. Nori’s claws sink into the collar of his jacket as she’s passed to him. He takes her leash from Yaoyorozu, bunching it up; and she covers his enclosed fist with her hand.

“Go for it,” she tells him, giving a firm squeeze. “I’m rooting for you. Just be safe”.

Stepping back into his apartment, his cheeks are warm and his limbs are trembling. You’ve buzzed inside his pocket three times.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god. How can such a perfect creature exist? And her harness! Shouto colours? ▻ I hope you’re having fun. <3 ▻ You know, you never answered my question from last night

“You don’t think I’m hopeless, do you Nori?” Shouto asks the thin air—Nori has already scrambled toward the nearby shoebox, bunny kicking at the corner as she chews. He sighs.

Yaoyorozu’s encouragement rings loud in his ears while he replies.

Sooba ▻ Yes. I think I’ve had feelings for a person I’ve never met.

And it feels like a confession.

Shouto sees the week come to an end before he finds enough strength, physically and mentally, to visit Bakugo’s agency.

Your conversations have evolved. They carry a flirty undertone now, the verbal toeing of the line that makes his heart pitter patter. You send pictures throughout the day. Always angled away from your face. Swathes of skin. A pen between your fingers. Stacked paperwork and an empty coffee cup. The burgeoning skies on your walk home. Comfortable at home, your legs crossed over the other, a fluffy slipper hanging at the end of your foot.

He never knew so much thought had to go into making a photo appear candid, effortless. At one point he purposefully shuffled his workout shorts lower on his hips and spent the remainder of the afternoon mortified with his head deep between the couch cushions.

Liking another person is humiliating. He feels exposed, like a flesh wound that you won’t stop prodding.

InsertNameHere ▻ [IMG_412] ▻ I hope you have a good day!

You’re sitting at your desk, presumably. A slide knot bracelet hangs loose around your wrist. Hand held out over the mouse and keyboard, you’ve pinched your thumb and finger—smudged with black in—together to make a heart shape. It’s cute. You’re cute. He files the pose away for any later run-ins with paparazzi. His PR has been getting on about trying harder when they photograph him for months.

Shouto’s body rocks with the train car as it careens down the tracks and readjusts his grip on his crutch. He smiles behind his mask, sinking into the confines of his hood which he has pulled over his cap. There are eyes on him today. It can’t be helped in such close quarters. But they’re uncertain—too afraid to bother him and be wrong about his identity.

Sooba ▻ You too :) ▻ Remember to take breaks. I read that you should spend five minutes away from your screen every hour.

InsertNameHere ▻ You have to stop making me smile at work. My coworkers think I have a secret husband or something.

Sooba ▻ I promise to send you off with a homemade bento tomorrow morning.

InsertNameHere ▻ And a kiss.

Shouto grabs the nearby pole as he is almost knocked on his feet. Passengers board, others depart, and his heart hammers in his throat like a fist.

Sooba ▻ A kiss?

You’re still typing a reply when Shouto hears the hesitant evocation of his name. It’s timid and hushed, belonging to a person trying to restrain their excitement. She covers her mouth with a gasp when he meets her eyes.

“It is you,” she bubbles. A metallic taste pervades the static air around her, short hair wiggling on end as if it were responding directly to her excitement; behaviour unbefitting of a typical reporter, he notes.

Your text box jumps onto the screen in his peripheral vision, bumping up the chat. He jolts and angles the phone away from her just to be safe.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah! A bento box and a kiss to get me through the day, obviously. As my husband.

There are three others a few feet away, huddled together beside a pillar and abuzz with energy. Mild dread churns in his stomach. Definitely not a reporter, then. “If you have a moment…” the young woman spares a glance over her shoulder and her friends excitedly encourage her forward. “Um. Would you maybe be interested in—”

“No,” Shouto replies. The young woman winces at his tone. Ah. She’s embarrassed now. He really should make a habit of lying in consideration for other people's feelings. Fuyumi did mention that, though not in as many words. Before her face can crumple further he continues, “I’m very sorry, that was rude of me. I’m in a bit of a hurry”.

Her relief is palpable, near contagious. Expression softened with understanding she folds her hands against her stomach and ducks into a slight bow. “Of course, I understand,” she says. Somehow it makes him feel worse. “And—I’m glad you’re well, Shouto-san. We’re all wishing you a complete recovery”.

Gratitude bubbles inside him. He smiles, pressing a finger over his mask, and her complexion turns a bright shade of pink. She nods in understanding, scurrying to her friends.

Shouto departs the train without disruption. The conductor takes stock of his gait and the crutch at his side, offering to lay out the ramp, but he politely refuses, stepping onto the platform with ease. He feels good; closer to his other self, the one before his muscles were run through a metaphorical centrifuge.

Sooba ▻ Obviously. ▻ I suppose I can add ‘house husband’ alongside ‘Nori’s dad’ on my list of occupations now.

Blast Zone isn’t far, a fact for which he’s grateful. Bakugo insisted on rooting himself in the centre of the city, right in the spot where all transport routes seemed to meet; there stood the symbol of victory’s headquarters, imposing in the skyline.

According to journalists at PowrStruct magazine The Blast Zone agency is an ode to modern architecture. A steel frame structure surrounded by reinforced concrete, an outer coating embossed with a texture that gives the award winning building the fragile appearance of having been meticulously glued back together while simultaneously being both blast proof and earthquake proof. Shouto cares not for design in general. He does, however, steal a mini Dynamite themed pen from the front desk while he’s waiting to be signed in.

There’s a thin chain attached to the cap with a Chibi Bakugo hung on the end. Sue him.

“He’ll see you now, Shouto-san,” the receptionist states, pupil-less eyes blinking back at him. Shouto tucks the pen into his sleeve, feeling foolish and somewhat nervous. “Head on up to the office on the twelfth floor. He knows you’re on your way”.

Shouto clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says, weakness in his knees that has nothing to do with his nerves. The Ingenium handle pads cushion his palm as he braces onto his crutches, supporting him toward the nearby lift. There are eyes on his back as he goes. They’re heavy, lingering like physical touch. Something in him spoils at the unnecessary pity.

The lift remains mercifully empty. He presses the twelfth floor button and it glows green. The ride up is smooth, and quick. Double doors slide open onto a sprawling office space flooded with natural light. No one bothered to glance in Shouto’s direction as he gawked. If he remembered correctly this area was specifically for employees that worked closest to Bakugo. They’re all so nonplussed and focused. No nonsense. He likes that.

“Loser,” Bakugo grunts. He appeared from thin air, standing aside with arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Shouto’s stiff form with suspicion. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re still on leave”.

Shouto makes a noncommittal noise, inwardly miffed. He straightens his posture and takes more of his own weight. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe I missed you,” he says. Bakugo’s expression suddenly soured, as though he swallowed a lemon, mouth thin against his teeth.

Amusing as it is, acknowledging the disconnect aloud makes him truly accept the distance he had put between himself and his friends; how he’d worked too hard, untied himself from the tangle of their lives and ended up isolated.

“Nori told me to say ‘hi’ by the way”.

Bakugo sweetens. “She like that cardboard house I sent you?”

“She already destroyed it,” Shouto admits. And Bakugo laughs, irritation split by a crooked grin.

“Atta girl,” he nods in approval, turning on his heel and starting toward a pair of towering doors. “Oi. You comin’? Or are you going to stand there all damn day?

Dynamite’s office is anything but corporate. Professional, yes, but it’s also so plainly personal in a way that screams Bakugo. A setup reconfigurable for days that he can’t sit still, a folding treadmill under his large mahogany desk to keep him moving. Bakugo works better on his feet, something Shouto knows well.

Built in shelves line the accent wall, filled with framed pictures of friends and family, newspaper clippings and awards. There are even fan creations—mostly from his debut era, when being favoured felt far more significant, but Shouto finds it sweet all the same.

Walking ahead of him, Shouto approaches the desk. Bakugo lingers for a beat to holler something out the door before returning to his desk.

Two consult chairs face the head office chair opposite. Lowering into one of them, Shouto props his crutch up and takes his phone out of his pocket. Ever hopeful, he unlocks it, opens Enigmail and refreshes the chat list. There are new messages from a few other people he added in the beginning, but nothing from you. He tries not to sigh too obviously.

“What’s got you all fuckin’ mopey?" Bakugo leaned over to look down at the phone. Shouto hastily locked it and the explosive hero narrowed his eyes at the impassive veil Shouto pulled over his face.

“Nothing. How did the first Herokind event go?” he asks, fiddling with his newly acquired Dynamite pen. “Midoriya always sugar coats things for me”.

“Went fine. You didn’t miss anything,” Bakugo waves off. The leather office chair creaks as he leans back. “Boring as all hell since it was just the kickstarter. Food mild enough for a toddler to eat and too much alcohol. The auction will be more interesting. That birdbrain partner of yours was hilarious, though”.

“Hawks?” Shouto’s mouth twitches, failing to conceal his mirth. “What did he do this time?”

“Spent the night antagonising your shitty old man,” Bakugo pauses for a brief moment and rescinds his words. “Or aggressively flirting. Can't tell the difference with him”.

Shouto keeps his thoughts to himself on that one.

“Ended with Endeavor triggering all the sprinklers at the after party though,” Bakugo ends, eyes crinkled under the weight of his wicked grin. Shouto pursed his lips tight. Amusement huffed through his nose. He imagines his father standing in the middle of the room, pathetically soaked through, wisps of smoke rising from his put-out embers, and he laughs.

Bakugo looks rather pleased by the reaction. But then his gaze flickers over Shouto’s shoulder and his brow arches expectantly. “Did’ya need something? I shouted for the Egghead because I thought you were on your break”.

Shouto’s laughter dwindles as he follows Bakugo’s line of sight. His breath catches. An employee stands in the doorway peeking around a tall box of paperwork. Wide eyed as they examine him.

Wrapped around their wrist is a familiar sliding knot bracelet.

“I just—uh…”

His head spins. There’s a smudge on your finger where your pen's ink leaked, just like in the photo. Could this be you? You are—

“What the hell has gotten into everybody today,” Bakugo tuts, pushing up from his desk and striding over to receive the box himself. Your shoulders slump when you are relieved of the weight. Bringing your hands to your chest and massaging the joints.

—still looking right at him. Cute. He cannot help but think how cute you are, tripping over your words, losing your footing.

“Oi, maestro,” Bakugo clicks his fingers in your face and startles you out of your stupor. “Get it together. I need you with a clear head when that sleepy bastard from the HPSC gets here”.

You glare at Bakugo, “Mera-san is the least of your problems, Dynamite. Worry about yourself and the six unanswered emails I forwarded to you from the claims manager”.

You’re beautiful. And your voice, it’s so—his lips part, and he tries to speak, to interrupt Bakugo’s incessant teasing, but words fail him.

“Whatever. Those insurance claims are bullshit and you know it,” Bakugo mutters. He turns and moves to shove the box of paperwork beside the desk. His mouth downturns into a smirk when he stands and notices your attention drawn to Shouto once again.

“Is that everything? I’d appreciate it if you stopped gawking,” Bakugo drawls, a dry rasp to his taunting that seems to embarrass you further. Shouto isn’t sure he’s breathing. You’re right there. You’re within reach and he’s rooted to his chair.

“You’re such a—! Y’know what, no, I’m leaving now,” replying harshly you start toward the open door where you come to an abrupt halt. Shouto feels the distance like the pull of a leash. You incline your head into a short bow, losing strength in your voice as you acknowledge him, “Have a good afternoon, Shouto-san”.

Then you’re gone. He stares after you dumbly. In all the years he has worked in the hero industry Shouto has never been more thankful for choosing to make his given name his brand than he is now.

Bakugou falls heavily in his chair and sighs.

Shouto swallows, “Who was—”

“Don’t,” Bakugo stresses the command, as though telling a dog to heel. Shouto can feel the heat behind his pointed glare. Undeterred, his eyes linger after you, stuck on the spot where you once stood, heart beating like a hummingbird’s wing.

“I mean it, Halfie. Run off the only competent PA I’ve ever had with your pisspoor flirting and I will kill you,” Bakugo barrels on. There’s no true malice but it comes through gritted teeth, like he has resigned himself to the impending stupidity. Because Shouto is already looking back at him with that small, impish curl to his lips.

“I’m not that terrible at flirting,” he says.

“Making eye contact for three uninterrupted minutes is not flirting,” Bakugo scoffs.

Shouto hums. “And what is? Pulling their pigtails for ten years?”

“Watch it,” Bakugo grouses, bottom lip jutting. He kicks the leg of Shouto’s chair and he laughs; he’s missed this.

Hoping to get back on track then, Shouto asks, “Will you be attending the charity auction, then?”

The other man grunts an affirmative. “I’ve put some memorabilia and shit up to be sold. Sparky somehow convinced Eijirou to auction himself off for a date,” Bakugo snorts and gives an amused shake of his head. “I’m willing to bet he’ll rake in at least ten million yen. Minimum”.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Shouto agrees. Kirishima had grown a lot since graduation all those years ago. Pair a stocky build with a big hearted guy like him and everyone is tripping over themselves to get a piece. “Is he nervous that he won’t make much?”

Bakugo clicks his teeth, interlocking his hands across his midsection and getting comfortable. “He really hasn’t got a fucking clue. The HPSC schmuck I’ve got to talk to today has already suggested extra security in case certain high profile guests get resentful,” he says. Crimson peeks through narrowed eyes, considering, calculating. “Are you gonna go? You’re looking steady enough”.

The last Bakugo had seen of him was directly after the incident—crumpled into the fetal postion and involuntarily spasming with six second intervals. Unable to speak, to walk, to turn his head. Worst case scenario presented on scene was that he could lose the ability to function at all, and Shouto had been thrown into a pit of depression so oppressive that he withdrew from himself all together.

There’s an underlying relief in Bakugo’s question that comforts him in ways he wasn't aware he’d been seeking. Pleased, Shouto drags his crutch between his thighs and twists at the padding around the handle. “I’ll be in attendance. I plan on bidding on a few things. David Shield’s original design sketches maybe,” he admits. “…Will ‘maestro’ be there?”

Bakugo seems to parse the response carefully, as if it cracked open a hole into Shouto’s psyche. “Izuku is shooting for those, you know. I’m the one that’s gotta deal with him cryin’ if he loses”.

“I know,” Shouto’s mouth splits in a wry, intentional smile. “If I’m not outbid then I’m happy to give him whatever I win”.

“Shill bidding? Ha. Izuku never believes me when I tell him you’re secretly a dick,” Bakugo smirks. A thought visibly crosses his mind. He props his elbow on the arm of his chair, chin resting in his palm and considering Shouto closely. “…My PA will be there for the auction. Working. So if you show me up—”

“I won’t,” Shouto interjects.

“—I will see you to the pearly gates myself,” Bakugo continues, unperturbed. There’s no true malice to his tone, moreso fond resignation, and Shouto’s chest bubbles with affection for his hard headed friend.

“That’s nice of you,” he says sincerely.

“Get fucked. You want an update on the cases we opened this week or did you seriously come here just to annoy me?”

“To annoy you, mostly,” Shouto ducks away from the hand that swiped at him. “Hawks forwarded me the arrest report. Tremor ended up going for a plea deal?”

“Yeah. Sold out the extras that helped him gather the hostages,” a forceful click of the keyboard; Bakugo slaps the spacebar to wake his monitor and makes clear his disapproval. “They went too fuckin’ easy on him,” he sneers. “Deserved a longer sentence”.

“As long as they’re off the streets,” Shouto muses. He isn’t one to hold a grudge against villains who’ve harmed him, but he can understand his friends' frustration. Had it been Bakugo or Midoriya, Shouto too wouldn’t be so quick to accept this outcome.

The gentle light flooding through the office windows recedes a fraction as a dense cloud covers the sun. His visit to the Blast Zone is but a blip of time, cut short by the foreboding ring from Bakugo’s emergency pager. He’s up and moving immediately, routine woven into him like muscle memory, and Shouto can’t help feeling jealous.

Under the door to his office, Bakugo clears his throat. He cocks his head toward the impending rain, “You need me to have someone drive you home?” And appears to regret it right away as Shouto smiles up at him, touched by the suggestion.

“No, thanks but I’ll be fine,” he waves off. Bakugo departs with a grunt, demanding he take an umbrella from the receptionist, because who doesn’t check the weather before they leave the house. The thud of his work boots reverberate off the walls as he disappears around a sharp corner, and Shouto shifts in the residual silence.

He takes out his phone as he pushes upright on his crutch; a habit rather than necessity. You haven’t messaged him since before your paths crossed—though you wouldn’t know that. He sighs. A niggling guilt has burrowed into his chest but it remains largely outweighed by his impatience.

Employees greet him on his short journey to the lift he arrived in. Bowing their heads, evoking his name with appreciation and awe while he’s scanning the space for signs of you. It’s a fruitless affair. Coming up short he steps inside, frown etched into his brow, and presses the ground floor button.

The speaker alerts him that the doors are about to close. He turns on his heel, leaning a hand on the support bar. Looking up from his shoes his eyes fall on your figure. You’ve stepped out from one of the closed off rooms, thumb tapping away at the phone in your hand. Shouto swallows, watching his own with trepidation.

Sensing a heavy gaze your eyes flicker to meet him at the last second, contact through the crack right as it shuts. He can hardly think. If this were a scene in Quirky Hearts he thinks he might just cast aside his dignity and sprint up the fire escape to confront you. The mere idea has heat simmering under his skin; it makes him want to fold himself into singularity. Shouto, a top five hero, a sword without ire.

Waiting dutifully, the receptionist hands him an umbrella from behind the staff desk. He squints at her name tag, muttering “Thank you, Akiyama-san” while he tucks the umbrella under his arm, deigning to mention the murky blueish blush that floods her skin, those pupil-less eyes shimmering. Shouto pulls his mask up over his nose, breath warming his cheeks, and takes a moment to observe the street.

Throngs of people scurry along the pavements to get away from the unforgiving chill. Raindrops can become a thousand paper cuts when the wind wills it. Afternoon starters amble into the lobby with wet shoulders. In his departure nobody so much as looks his way.

Sooba ▻ Hope you didn’t forget an umbrella today. Stay warm.

His thumb stopped mid-air, right above the “send” button. Sparing a lasting glance to the upper floors, Shouto quickly presses it, pockets his phone and opens up the umbrella. Stepping into the storm white noise fills his ears, tapping harshly on the PVC canopy over him.

Shouto tugs his jacket closer to his chest. The pavements are soaked, water fed into the uprooted cracks. He threads through the moving bodies back toward the station. With the streets overcast he feels better concealed.

A train is already waiting at the platform, decorated in yellow. The colour identifies it as a slow running train, taking the local stops route rather than the rapid one. He hides in his collar and stands in the corner of the carriage, umbrella collapsed and hooked over his wrist.

Six stops later—rather than three—and Shouto is closer to home. In the time it took to reach his street the rain had thinned out, now a sparse sun shower as the clouds pushed eastward.

Nori yells accusingly the very second his key slots into the door. He turns the lock and pushes it open, holding out his foot to keep her from rushing past. “I know, I know. I’m sorry sweet girl,” he scratched her head while bent to line up his shoes. “I missed you too. Bakugo said ‘hi’”.

She mewls and circles in place on her delicate paws, flicking her tail at him. Shouto takes it as forgiveness. “I think I met someone special today,” he recites to her, “The one I told you about…”

Stopping in the middle of his warm apartment, Shouto becomes unbearably aware of how damp his clothes are. He fishes his phone and wallet out from his pockets and sets them on the kitchen island before padding toward the bathroom.

A thorough rinse and long soak later, Shouto sprawls himself across his couch, phone laid on his chest and arm hung loosely over the edge while Nori plays with his fingers. She clings to his forearm as he cups her full belly, lazily dragging her back and forth across the floor.

He’s sipping on the mouth of his water bottle, mindlessly watching as Aki-or-something begs for Saeko-or-other to take him back after going on a date with another contestant, when your messages come through on Enigmail.

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess what happened today ▻ Saw Pro Hero Shouto at work. ▻ I think he might hate me? lol

Shouto inhales sharply, choking on his mouthful of water. Tears prickle behind his eyes as his diaphragm spasms, and he tries to catch his breath, fist thudding at his chest. Oscillating between mortification and delight—it really had been you.

Sooba ▻ Why would you think he hates you?

InsertNameHere ▻ I left an awful impression. And he looked at me like this (⊙＿⊙’) the whole time.

Heat burns at his nape; embarrassment spilling over into every crevice of his body. The air around him distorts and he exhales, steam curling from his lips. Nori watches on from the floor in fascination, sparing no sympathy. Maybe Bakugo had a point.

Sooba ▻ Maybe that’s just his face.

InsertNameHere ▻ Maybe… ▻ It is a pretty face though. Prettier in person.

Shouto feels all the air deflate from his body. He sinks into the couch, head lolling against his shoulder as he turns to press a grin into the cushions, gripped by a sudden rush of endorphins. It had been you. You’re real. More importantly, you are attainable.

Now did he want to do anything about it?

Sooba ▻ You think so??

The typing dots bounce along the chat room border as you reply.

InsertNameHere ▻ I know so. I was there. Beautiful even when he is staring right through me (￣ロ￣lll)

The memory of you speaking his name echoes like a broken record. He has yet to tire of it. Though he’s lightheaded and hazy, your features are still clear in his mind. The sure fire in your eyes, your sharp tongue and your pouty lips. A slow, warm tension trickles into his gut, swooping in anticipation and breathless longing as he imagines the face you might make if he touched you.

Sooba ▻ That’s presumptuous. He was staring at you. Why wouldn’t he be

InsertNameHere ▻ I. ▻ You’re so unfair you know that ▻ If you were here I would

His breathing picks up ever so slightly.

Sooba ▻ What would you do with me

InsertNameHere ▻ Are we veering into sexting territory right now

Sooba ▻ Unintentionally.

Shouto shifts his hips. The movement pulls his sweatpants tighter around his hips and a familiar tingling rushes below his waist. When was the last time he touched himself? He brings the phone to his forehead for a moment of clarity, peering up at the screen through his eyelashes.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is this the part where we come full circle and you actually send me a dick pic

He tucks his chin, a lazy smile playing on his lips. The gentle throb in his briefs pulses throughout his body and he answers, reaching to squeeze himself through the fabric, just for relief.

Nori sneezes. He falters, reminded of her presence and overcome by the urge to cover up. Proverbial tail between his legs, Shouto retreats to the privacy of his bedroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. Evening filters in through the windows, mauve and rosy. He kneels on the bed and it yields under his weight, frame silent while he crawls to the headboard and reclines back, phone in hand.

▻ Shit, sorry. I was joking you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to

The message goes over his head. He opens the front camera and stares back at his flushed, disheveled face before tilting the device, angling it toward his body.

Frosted fingertips trail up his stomach and it jumps, laying the hem of his shirt across his chest. Down again to the fine dark hair below his belly button, goosebumps rising across skin, blood rushing to the surface. Hooks his thumb suggestively into his waistband, hand splayed across his hip, and takes the photo.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_628] ▻ I want to

Shouto. Shouto. Shouto. Abuzz with salacious apprehension he wonders what would it sound like above him? Under him? Breath knocked from your lungs, whining through the motions. He traces the outline of his clock. Covers his eyes with the crook of his arm and releases a shuddered breath, hips rising into the heel of his hand. A hand too big to be yours. Sweatpants pushed halfway down his thighs he pictured it anyway—you laid on your side, at his side, loose fist stroking him root to weeping tip.

Shouto thumbs at the head, smearing precum over his sensitive frenulum. Panting heavier, he squeezes his cock and wonders, would you tease him? Lick into his mouth and tell him not to be quiet?

The phone in his hand buzzes. Anticipation grips his heart. He almost drops it on his face when he squints up to read the screen.

InsertNameHere ▻ Fuck. You’re so gorgeous ▻ I can’t concentrate

Sooba ▻ You like it?

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll show you how much ▻ [IMG_447]

Heat races through him. You’re in a loose tank top, touching yourself over pale boyshorts. The dark straps have fallen around your shoulders in an almost demure manner, collar slipping forward to reveal the soft cleavage of your chest. You’ve mirrored his position, albeit a little higher, enough for your mouth to be in frame. Wet and rouge, if he thinks hard enough he can imagine he left them kiss bitten.

Sooba ▻ I want to touch you

He’s desperate to know what you like. The way you want to be touched, how you might yield under his wandering hands. Patterns dance behind his eyelids as he reaches to knead his pecs, pinching the pert nipple with a breathy moan. He smooths over his abdomen, corded muscle tensing beneath the added sensation, arousal coiling hot in his belly.

InsertNameHere ▻ Touch yourself for me instead, yeah? ▻ Gonna think about you too

“Fuck,” he chokes. Shouto loses his phone amongst the sheets. Feet planted flat to the mattress, his knees spread until the waistband protests. “Please. Please. I’m so close,” he whispers to the image in his mind. His pace stutters, feverish as he fucks his fist. Your lips brush soft along the column of his throat to feel him swallow. He turns into the pillow, mouth parted for heaving breath.

“That’s it Shouto. So beautiful for me,” you’ll murmur, so at home in the crook of his body. Amidst the desperation you’ll straddle his thigh, rhythm synchronized, chests rising. Your hand—his hand—slips further, fingers curled to press up behind his balls. He’s on fire. “Cum for me, baby. Let me see you cum”.

Shouto’s head tips back into the plush of his pillow, every muscle clenched. Pleasure rockets through him. His cock twitches in his grasp. He cums with a strung out moan, breaking into short, wet pants as he catches his breath.

Riding the gentle aftershocks, his arm falls heavily to the side and hits his bedsheets with a quiet thud. The smell of old petrichor blows into his room with the draft draws his attention to the darkened window. Streaks of gold sunlight peak between the buildings across the street where it settles under the horizon.

The stickiness between his fingers is difficult to ignore. Drying steadily on his chest. Reality returns to him slowly as he stares at his soiled hand. After cleaning himself up with the wipes in his bedside table, Shouto tugs up his sweatpants and rubs at the pink splotches leading up his throat. With clarity comes a vague haze of shame and he is loudly alone; something vibrates and he is anything but lonely. He lifts his head, rummaging through the sheets to find his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Want you to feel good ▻ You there baby? ▻ Sooba? ▻ Hm. That’s not the sexiest of names

Shouto laughed through his nose. Endeared by your awkward jump from flirting to nervously making up for a perceived misstep.

Sooba ▻ sorry can’t multitask ▻ shouldnt make fun of your house husbands name

Exiting his bedroom is uncomfortably close to a wall of shame. He drags his feet; gait unsteady for far nicer reasons than a near career ending injury. Nori has acquired his spot on the couch, retaining warmth in his absence. She observes him, all knowing.

InsertNameHere ▻ No capitalised letters? Punctuation? What have you done with my Sooba lol ▻ How are you feeling?

Sooba ▻ really good. sleepy

He wanders to the kitchen and dithers over his next message, leaning his forearms on the cool countertop. This fleeting, unintended conversation could change everything and that fact is starting to nag at him.

▻ what about you

InsertNameHere ▻ I feel really good. And sleepy <3

The implication is not lost on him. He chews his bottom lip, flustered at just how pleased that makes him.

The next burst of chat bubbles appear in an instant, one after another. Typed hastily as though to outrun your own apprehension.

▻ Can I ask you something?  ▻ Did you mean it when you said you’d come to the event with me? ▻ I have a plus one. I want to see you. But you don’t have to 

Shouto swallows. Tugged between elation and fear. You’ve become all he yearns for and you could be just that, his, yet he panics all the same. Heroism had consistently been his lacquered shield. An excuse for his self isolation that people had to begrudgingly accept. Working himself to the bone afforded the luxury of never having to dwell on it. 

Exhaustion aside he was content with the humdrum life he hid behind. Before you, Shouto rarely wanted for anything. He had his family, and good friends, and a job that felt rewarding; it didn’t seem worth it to lay himself bare and be dissected on the off chance that someone new might love him. 

Because hectic work and risks aside, he’s profoundly aware of the ghosts he has yet to conquer. That somewhere, there is something fundamentally different inside him that you might find disappointing. 

Unthinkingly, Shouto grapples with the courage in him existing on the fringes and replies in much the same way you had. 

Sooba ▻ I meant it. I want to see you too.  ▻ I’d like to go with you  ▻ Don’t worry about a plus one. I’ll meet you there 

InsertNameHere ▻ Wow, okay. That was easier than I thought. I’m so excited  ▻ And super nervous

As it turns out the impending date motivates Shouto like nothing before. Days pass without fault or interruption. The man-shaped dent in his couch rises without the constant weight. He sticks closely to the routine his physiotherapist drew up for him. Walks longer distances and soaks up the sun daily, to Tsutomu’s great delight. 

Too wrapped up in his own coalesced anxiety and elation, he realises he hadn’t found it remotely odd that you hadn’t questioned his ability to get into the auction. 

His train of thought is interrupted by a firm hand coming down on his shoulder. “Man of the hour!” A familiar sharp toothed grin blocks his vision. Shouto clenches under the sudden weight to keep himself upright as Kirishima gives him a shake, “We missed you around here. You’re looking good!”

The charity event is in full swing. An anticipatory lull permeates the atmosphere as the chosen guests, heroes and civilians alike, wait for the auction to finally begin. Shouto arrived fashionably late, as Mina called it, after spending nearly three hours on a group call with her, Yaoyorozu, and his sister. 

The applause upon his entry had not been expected. His palms are still clammy. 

Compared to Shouto's charcoal three piece suit, tailored to precision, Kirishima dons a charmingly loud burgundy blazer over a dark turtleneck, pulled together by a simple chain. The material is tight across his broad shoulders. “Thank you, Kirishima,” Shouto smiles. He looks him over, “You look good too”. 

That signature grin grows weary. “You really think so?” Kirishima lowers his voice into a hush, tugging at the loose hair framing his face. “I wasn’t so sure about tying my hair back. What if nobody bids for me? I’m dying inside just thinking about it”. 

Shouto turns away from the sea of vibrant clothing and chatter to pat his friend on the arm and level him with a serious look. “A lot of people are going to spend money on you tonight, Kirishima. But in the impossible event that they don’t I’ll bid on you myself,” he tells him. “We can go to Mythoscape and try that new rollercoaster”. 

“Bro…” Kirishima’s eyes are wide and glassy. While Shouto expects the firm hug, he is mildly surprised by the long, dramatic kiss to his cheek. His breath smells faintly of white wine. “You’re the best,” he continues as he sets Shouto back on his feet. “But is it really okay for you to do that?”

A flash goes off. Shouto frowns. He scans the crowd and rubs away the wet mark left behind. Yaoyorozu catches his attention with a delicate wave from her place beside Kendo and Uraraka. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, smiling back, yet distracted. You’re still nowhere to be found. 

“Well,” Kirishima draws breath through his teeth. “Bakugo kinda told me about your crush on his PA,” whatever he sees pass over Shouto’s expression has him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and scrambling to explain. “Nothing bad, man! You know he actually seemed pretty approving of it, in his own way”. 

The evermoving mass of bodies sharpens around a few other familiar faces. Midoriya is excitedly gesticulating as he rambles to a visibly overwhelmed HSPC shareholder. Bakugo watches the interaction with no intention of concealing his amusement. 

“I’m not sure about that,” Shouto rasps, narrowing his eyes at the man in question, like the pressure behind it might be enough to elicit his attention. Bakugo of all the people here would know where you are. The phone snug in his inside blazer pocket remains silent. A pout works its way onto his lips before he can stop it. “He said I’m bad at flirting”. 

Kirishima stifles a laugh and clears his throat when Shouto directs the petulant glare to him. “You are a little bad at it. But only when you’re actually trying! And even then that’s part of what makes it charming, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know”. 

“You’re the type to flirt without realising you’re doing it—or atleast people think you are, because you’re handsome and attentive and whatnot. But when you try it’s kinda obvious and bro, please stop looking at me like that,” Kirishima explains clumsily, tone pitching higher the longer he talks. 

Shouto’s lips thin as he tries to suppress a smirk. He rights himself as Kirishima nudges his side, catching a smile of his own, “What I meant is you have a chance. And Bakubro thinks so too. He wants you to be happy”. 

The sentiment warms him from the inside out. But it also makes apparent something trepid and cold in his gut. Regardless of his friends unfettered support there remains the real possibility that he will be rejected. That you will be disappointed or scared away by his status. That you could do as you please with the intimate parts of his life ‘Sooba’ gave you.

Scarier is the hope that you won’t.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Shouto announces, noticing Endeavor prowling around in his peripheral vision. Kirishima’s brow furrows, mouth parted in confusion, no doubt seeking to reassure him. “I’m okay, Kirishima. I just need something to do with my hands”. 

“Alright,” the taller man murmurs. Shouto finds himself at the end of a gentle smile once more. “Make sure to say ‘hi’ to Denks if you see him. He misses you too”.

“I will,” Shouto nods, ducking away from the inexpressible tenderness that has clung to him since stepping into the hall. People part to allow him through. His left leg has already begun to feel weak, not enough to worry but enough to notice, and he hopes he can later blame his gait on the alcohol. 

He reaches the bar and wrinkles his nose at the thick amalgamation of perfume, body odour and over-applied cologne. The bartender slides up to him. “Umeshu, please,” he says. “On the rocks”. 

Another body settles beside him. He shifts to accommodate them but doesn’t look; too distracted as he inhales deeply through his nose and exhales long out his mouth to allay his beating heart. Pulling his phone out from his inside pocket, the screen lights up and he finds it void of messages. 

After the… sexting, things had been fine. Better in a lot of ways. You both felt emboldened to truly act on your feelings. Sharing more pictures, secrets—though never your names—and laughter.  It is disconcerting that you would now go silent. 

The bartender sets his drink down and Shouto quietly gives his thanks, bringing it to his face, briefly caught in the soft glimmer, cubed ice submerged in liquid gold, tasting the sweet aroma at the back of his throat. He tips it back and drinks. 

As the glass hits the surface once more, the person next to him softly asks, “Are you waiting on anyone?” 

And his mouth goes dry. 

You’re bracing on crossed arms, watching him closely. Speckled in the warm low light reflected on the bar, you are more beautiful than he remembers, and just as nervous. There’s an air of uncertainty about you that shifts as your eyes meet, faint but palpable, encouraged by what he can imagine is the wonder on his own face. 

Shouto wets his lips. The plum taste lingers on his tongue. “…I might be,” he murmurs. You brighten at his reciprocation, a more charged kind of nervous—the kind that swoops low in your belly right before you take a leap. 

“If I’m wrong don’t laugh and don’t tell Dynamite,” you turn to face him and smooth your hands over your hips. This allows him a better look at your attire. Silken fabrics that form gentle lines around the waist, loose but elegantly so, not in a way that the clothes wear you. 

Your eyes dipped low, averted to avoid his stare. He cannot seem to direct it anywhere else. The auction has fallen away in its entirety. As far as Shouto is concerned there’s only you. 

“It’s me. And you’re…Sooba?” 

The tremble in your voice shrikes through him and it occurs to Shouto that you have always been the brave one.

He leans into your space, enjoying the way you quickly draw breath at his proximity, forced to meet his gaze. Rather than something remotely suave or cool, he dumbly asks, “You knew?”

Part of him wants to tuck his shoulders to his ears as you begin to laugh. They’re warm, undoubtedly red. Amusement is not at all what he prepared for. He thought this might all end up in his scrapbook memory, to be taken out and pined over now and then. 

“Shouto-san with all due respect, you came to my workplace with your very recognisable crutches and stared at me like a deer in headlights”. 

“Shouto,” he says. 

Your laughter simmers, “Hm?”

“Just call me Shouto,” he tells you, equal parts relieved and embarrassed. 

“Shouto,” you smile at him with a fondness that derails his thoughts. He has the vague urge to whine when it wanes. “I’m—I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear I didn’t know until after you visited the agency. It all made sense after I looked up your socials and saw some old pictures of Nori”. 

“It’s alright. I knew and didn’t say anything either,” Shouto inclines his head, abashed. Then with a sudden sharp sort of clarity, he continues, “So then you knew, when you asked for a dick—?”

Words evade him under the warm press of your hand as you quickly cover his mouth. You glance around the room, closer than before, and you don’t seem to realise. Cautious, he touches your waist; he puckers his lips to kiss your palm; he feels your stomach jump under the silky fabrics. 

Your eyes darken, swallowed by pupil. “You’re a menace,” you simper, and reluctantly pull away. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere with less…cameras”. 

Umeshu abandoned, Shouto wraps an arm around your lower back and allows you to direct him through the crowd. You weave through the moving bodies like thread through a needle, at one point reaching behind to take his wrist, becoming his tether.

Bakugo meets his gaze from across the room. His eyes flit to you, widening in surprise. Shouto flashes a boyish grin before disappearing through the side door. 

The door you choose next opens to a private bathroom. Shouto surges forward, taking you by the hips and crowding you against the bathroom counter, overcome by the need to feel everything that you are pressing into everything that is him.

He kicks the door behind him and settles in the clutch of your thighs as you scramble to balance on the marble edge. Your hands slide over his shoulders, splaying over each cheek. You’re both breathing heavily despite having done nothing at all.

“I said talk,” you remind him with a tremulous smile. Shouto knows you’re being playful. He apologises anyway; rests his head in the crook of your neck, letting the moment simmer, and you comb through his hair with your fingers. A shiver rolls down his spine. 

“Did you know it was me? Before you came to the agency, I mean”. 

He reclines from his crook to look at you. Eye level, silhouetted by the cheap bathroom luminescence. “When I saw you in there—and put it together I was so scared,” you continued. 

“Scared?” he echoed with a frown, knuckles brushing your cheek. 

“Not like that. I was scared of what you might think,” you turn into his caress and his pinched expression falls away. He can’t stop touching you and he can’t bring himself to be sorry about it. “I mean, I looked terrible that day, and you appeared out of nowhere and I wasn’t mad it was you. I was just…”

You swallow thickly, emotion swelling in your eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners. “You’re so big and bright. I didn’t want you to be disappointed”.

You were unaware of it—the profound cord you struck within him. How even in anonymity, your incorporeal fingers always seemed to find it. Even now, as you echo his own fears. 

“Momo first mentioned you might work for Bakugo. I didn’t know before I saw you that day. I still wasn’t certain until tonight”. You peer at him through your lashes then, listening intently. He brings your foreheads together and tells you, “There is no way you could’ve disappointed me”. 

“Oh? I could’ve been a villain”.

“My oldest brother was a villain,” he monotoned, wandering hands squeezing intermittently at your waist as though to make sure you’re still there. “My capacity for love and forgiveness knows no bounds”. 

You snort. The sound is abrupt and the force knocks your skulls together. “Oh—ow,” he grins, insides melting. Together you dissolve into a warm fit of laughter. 

“Hey, Shouto?” 

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes fluttering as your thumb swipes over the red mark below his hairline. “I like you,” you murmur. “I like you so much it’s stupid”.  

Plunged into an ice cold realisation, Shouto freezes to process your words. “You—like me?” 

“Yeah?” you said it like he was dense, like it was clear all along. “I can’t help it when you’re so…yourself”

And isn’t that all he’s ever wanted? To be loved without pretense, without a winner. To be special to someone for no special reason. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “Me too. I like you. I want—” his fingers flex at your hips, grounding. He blinks. “I don’t know your name yet”. 

Affection colours your features. Shouto likes you best like this—sure of yourself, of his feelings for you. You recite your name. He repeats it endlessly in his mind and rolls it around his teeth. He calls to you even when you’re right in front of him. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

“You were waiting?” you laugh, tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s such a novel thing but it makes something monumental swell in his chest. “Kiss me. I want you to”. 

Given permission, Shouto traces the curve of your jaw with a bold shyness, from the sensitive skin below your ear to your chin. His finger hooks beneath. You’re lovely. He thinks he could spend an hour describing your demure half smile, how your lips yield under the light pressure of his thumb; your tongue darting out reflexively. 

He shakes at the desire that fills him. He’s not used to it—this wanting. It feels like a thousand insatiable butterflies in his chest. Dipping into your magnetism, his heart beat faster and faster with the simple brush of your lips. He kissed you, innocent and honest, and then he kissed you again, licking the seam of your mouth, arms coiling around your middle as you cling to him. 

You tip forward. Your thighs clench at his waist and drag him impossibly close. It brings you chest to chest. He tries to hold you steadfast as your hand wraps around his nape, softly scratching his scalp; he feels you smile against his lips when he shudders. 

You break for air. Arousal shoots through him at your half moan, the sound tapering into a happy hum the instant his lips trail down your neck, tasting your pulse before making his way down to your exposed collar. He peppers kiss after kiss on every swathe of skin he can reach, sinking teeth into every little reaction you give him. 

Big hands at your lower back arch your body into his. You yield, tension sapped from your limbs, grappling his shoulders to keep yourself from falling while you grind down on his lap. Shouto groans, grip slipping lower to cup your ass. 

“We’re getting carried away,” you gasp between kisses. That alone was obvious. His cock strains uselessly in his suit pants. But the light glints tantalisingly along your mouth, swollen and wet with saliva. Shouto kisses you again so you won’t have to tell him to attend to his responsibilities. 

A warm breath scores his cheek as you huff through your nose, nipping firmly at his lower lip. “I mean it. I am technically still at work,” you try again, voice lacking strength. “Dynamite will knock on every door in this building—don’t wrinkle your nose, you know I’m right”.

“Alright. I know,” he rasps, barely an exhale. It takes all his willpower to pull away. He steadies you on your feet, smoothing out the creases in your formal attire while you are quite pleased to simply watch on as he adjusts himself in his pants. “I’m glad my suffering is funny to you”. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” you murmur, pecking the corner of his mouth. “I'll hide with you in the corner like I promised I would. We can make up for lost time after the auction. You know. The one for charity”. 

Shouto hums and reaches for the door, knowing you’ve won. “Oh. I told Kirishima I’d bid for his date night,” he recalls as he turns the handle. “Would that bother you?” 

“Of course not baby,” you reply and take one last look at your reflection, less disheveled than before. The endearment ‘baby’ almost has him walking into the doorframe.

You straighten up. Shouto thinks he must look incredibly dumbstruck, if your concerned expression is any indication. “You okay?” you ask, proffering your hand. “You didn’t bring your crutches tonight, did you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” he intertwines your fingers, dizzy as you squeeze around him. 

“It’s just a tremor”. 

[demonpiratehuntress]

vampire shenanigans (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - your crew's stop at a nearby island takes a dark (but also kind of funny) turn when the town's vampire king tries to make you his wife. your boyfriend is NOT amused.

warnings - none

a/n - one of my stupid, random ideas

You were bad with directions. Because while everyone had been exploring the new island you'd stopped at, you had somehow gotten yourself lost. And found yourself deep in the woods, in front of an evil-looking castle that practically oozed danger. It was obvious enough to you not to go in, but before you could turn and walk away your vision went dark.

ZORO

"Wait, where's (Name)?"

Zoro was the first to notice your absence when the group met up in the town square, looking around worriedly. Even he and Luffy had found their way here before you, which never happened.

"Maybe she lost track of time?" Robin suggested. "She's probably in one of these shops."

After a while of looking around and asking shopkeepers about you, though, they had no luck finding you. Until a pale, eerily skinny girl came running from the forest, attracting the townspeople's attention.

"The king has chosen his bride!" She cried out, then collapsed.

The Straw Hats were confused. What happened to her, and who was this 'king'? Also where did she come from and why did all the villagers look frightened by her words? Questioning a few of them yielded nothing except 'vampire'.

"Wait a minute..." Nami started, frowning. "That must be (Name)!"

"What?" Zoro demanded, almost growling.

"Well, think of it, she's been gone so long and it's odd for her to be the last one to come back. Maybe that's because she was kidnapped by this king."

"Oh hell no," Zoro grumbled, "He is NOT marrying MY girlfriend. Only I can do that."

Before the other Straw Hats could even react to that, the green-haired swordsman was trudging up the hill and entering the forest. They hastily followed, giving each other uneasy looks as they got to the spooky castle.

"Give me back my woman!" Zoro was yelling at someone, "The only person who's going to marry her is me!"

Your eyes widened at his words, a blush falling over your cheeks as you watched your boyfriend challenge the annoyed vampire beside you.

I'm pretty sure we all know who wins this fight. An angry Zoro is NOT to be trifled with, after all.

"So, you're going to marry me huh?"

Zoro's cheeks turned slightly pink, "Someday, yeah."

ACE

The minute Ace lost sight of you, he flew into a frenzy. He was panicking like he'd lost a child, running all over town looking for you. He knew of your tendency to get lost, and it always scared him. Especially when he took his eyes off you for one second and then looked back to see you had vanished. The poor man wants to cry when he doesn't find you anywhere, and Marco has to calm him down and assure him that they will find you.

A nearby couple talking in hushed tones caught Ace's attention, as well as the fact that they kept glancing at him and Marco not-so-secretly. He went over to them.

"Hi, have you seen a woman with-"

"She was taken by the vampire king," someone behind them spoke. The couple rushed off, frightened by the newcomer. Ace turned to see a young woman coming towards him and Marco. She held an umbrella over her head, despite the sun being out.

"Um...vampire king?" The commander questioned.

"He takes a woman once every few years, marries them and turns them, and then leaves them," she explained. "So if you've lost your friend and can't find her anywhere in town, that must be where she is." The woman's tone was sad, as if she knew this from experience.

"Thank you," Ace nodded and sprinted off before Marco could protest or suggest telling Whitebeard what happened.

"Ace! You don't even know where he lives!"

Somehow, Ace found the place and by the time Marco had caught up with the pissed 2nd division commander he saw Ace challenging a man who was holding you hostage. This must have been the vampire king.

"Give her back!" Ace was aggressively demanding, flames dancing along his arms and legs, his eyes just as fiery. "If she's going to be anyone's wife, she'll be my wife!"

You blushed HEAVILY at that. You and Ace had spoken a lot about marriage, but you hadn't thought he was serious about it. Your heart warmed at the thought, and once he had taken care of the king - fire was a pretty convenient weapon against vampires - you immediately kissed him when he came close.

"There's only one person I would ever say yes to, Ace. And that's you."

LAW

You had split off with Bepo to find something to gift Law for your anniversary. When the bear came running back to Law with tears streaming down his face, the doctor knew the worst must have happened. And it was only confirmed when Bepo repeatedly apologised through his tears before finally telling Law you had been kidnapped.

"Kidnapped?" The surgeon frowned. "By who?"

"I couldn't see him very well," Bepo was sobbing, the poor bear, "But he was tall and pale. With red eyes."

Law cursed. He knew what that might mean, and he felt ridiculous putting you and his crew in this position in the first place. He had, for once, forgotten to check what island this was, and now you were paying the price for his negligence.

"Come on, I know where she is."

The crew followed their captain through the forest, getting frightened by the spooky atmosphere but still trudging through. You were one of them, after all, and that was their motivation. Especially Bepo and Law. The captain was practically fuming, and steam would have come out of his ears if possible. How dare someone kidnap you? Was this stupid vampire king not aware of who you were with?

It was almost as if he sensed Law's presence, because the doors swung open for the Heart pirates to enter. They found you in the dining room, you looking relieved to see them and the vampire smirking smugly at Law.

"A pretty thing, you had," he began, "Such a shame she's mine now. But I am generous, so I'll let you stay for the wedding."

Bepo was outraged, but Law held him back, "Wedding? I haven't planned one with her yet, but I appreciate you letting us use your facilities for it."

Your face turned beet-red, never having expected to hear that from Law. He 'room, shambled' the vampire and then quickly walked over to you.

"Are you okay?"

You smiled up at him, "I'm perfect."

"That you are," he smiled back and kissed your cheek, a rare display in front of the crew just because he was so relieved you were okay.

KAKU

You and Kaku had just been trying to have a nice vacation. But you should have really done your research first, because apparently women disappeared a lot on this island, but the islanders wouldn't tell Kaku why or where you had gone. He remained calm on the outside, but internally he was panicking and freaking out completely. How had he lost you??

He searched everywhere in the town, but found nothing. You were nowhere in sight, as if you had just vanished into thin air. One moment you were next to him, the next you were gone. You might have wandered off, but to where??

"Go look in the forest," someone spoke from beside him as he looked again through a store window. "She might be there."

He turned to look at who had spoken, and found himself facing a very scary looking woman. She might have been scary because she looked like all the blood had been drained from her body, and her skin was paler than any normal human's.

Kaku wanted to ask why she looked like that and how she knew where you were, but decided that finding you took top priority. He thanked her and went off to the forest, and it wasn't long before he realised the answers to the questions he wanted to ask that lady.

He was standing in front of a gothic castle, one that looked like it belonged to a vampire - and Kaku soon found out it did.

"I can't give her back," the vampire said coolly, smirking, "She is my bride."

Kaku glared, a sight so scary you'd hid your face the first time you saw it. Kaku was normally cute and shy, but when he got angry and when he glared he was the scariest person in the world. It was probably the unhinged look in his eyes.

"She will be no one's bride but mine," the CP9 assassin growled, drawing his swords.

It was a very intense fight, but you only had one thing on your mind. When Kaku tossed the ripped off head of the vampire aside, making sure to light it on fire, he turned only to have you crash into him and engulf him in a hug.

"Your bride, huh? I look forward to it."

SANJI

God help anyone who tries to marry you with this guy around. Even if said person was an immortal being capable of draining his body of blood. But he didn't know that's what the crew faced, when you suddenly just didn't return from a store you had gone to look at. Everyone had split up to explore, but you hadn't come back yet and Sanji was getting agitated.

"I'm sure she's fine," Chopper tried to assure him, "(Name) can handle herself."

An old man suddenly came up to them then, looking so sad that Sanji almost gave him a hug.

"Your friend is gone," he spoke dejectedly, "He comes and takes any woman he chooses, and you never see that poor girl again." Then he walked off, as if what he'd said had made perfect sense.

"Um..."

Sanji looked around, trying to see if anyone looked suspicious, until something caught his eye from the forest. As if drawn to it, he suddenly went in that direction and found himself in front of a very eerie castle a few minutes later.

"(Name) is in there?"

"Who dares talk about my bride?"

"EXCUSE ME?!" Sanji yelled. "THAT IS MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"I think not," the vampire finally showed his face, pulling you along, "She will marry me and become my wife."

"If (Name) is going to marry anyone it's going to be me!" Sanji cried and then attacked.

Once that was over, you went over to him and grinned, "Marriage, huh? I didn't think playboys had that in their vocabulary."

"Oh, ha ha," he replied sarcastically, sweeping you into his arms and peppering your face with kissed, "I mean it, you know."

You smiled, "Good, cause I want it."

LUFFY

I'm going to be honest with you, Luffy is lost with you too. He sticks to you like actual glue, so it's no surprise when he ends up by the castle with you. The only difference is that he's knocked out and left outside, while you were taken inside to face god-knows-what. When Luffy finally woke up, the rest of the crew was surrounding him.

"Luffy, what happened?" Chopper asked, concerned as he checked Luffy's vitals and made sure he was okay.

"I don't know," the captain frowned, "(Name) and I got lost, and came here to this creepy castle. Then I woke up now."

"Wait, so you don't know what happened to (Name)?!" Sanji panicked. "You idiot, you were supposed to protect her!"

Zoro glared at the cook, "Calm down, stupid cook. Take a look at this castle, something weird lives in there."

Luffy's eyes widened then, realising just now what he had said. He shot to his feet, head whipping around wildly as if that would help him locate you, "Where's (Name)?! Is she in there?"

The crew groaned collectively, knowing that Luffy was about to get them into possibly another life-threatening fight. However, before that could happen, the doors swung open and you walked out, but you were not alone. A tall, pale man was with you, a wicked grin on his face as his eyes gleamed red.

"Say goodbye to your friends, my bride."

"Bride?!" Nami and Sanji screeched in unison, followed by Sanji fainting.

"(Name) is not your bride!" Luffy argued, clenching his fists. "She should not be forced to marry you! She should be able to marry who she wants to, and that will be me!"

Your heart swelled at his words, and when he had gotten rid of your captor you walked over and kissed his cheek, "You're right, it will be you."

USOPP

"(Name)? (Name)!"

The crew found Usopp spinning in circles and frantically calling your name, as if summoning you through some weird ritual. They all raised their eyebrows, waiting for the sniper to stop and notice them.

"Oh, hey guys! Have you seen (Name)?" He asked them, his eyes wide with panic. "I think I lost her."

"You think YOU WHAT?!" Sanji yelled, eyes blazing.

Usopp laughed nervously, backing away slowly, "I swear she was just right next to me! Hurry up and help me find her!"

That didn't take long, because when they wandered into the forest and found a creepy castle, Luffy pulled them all inside and said you must be hiding in there. More like kidnapped, which is what they found out when they walked in on you sitting at a very very long table, across from a very very pale man with glittering red eyes.

"V-v-v-" Usopp couldn't even get the full word out of his mouth. "What are you doing with my girlfriend!" He took aim at the vampire.

The vampire laughed and dusted himself off, "She's not your girlfriend anymore, sadly. She is mine. And tomorrow, we shall be wed in front of the entire town."

Usopp's blood boiled. People and monsters alike could walk all over him if they wanted to, which they did, but you were a different story. When it came to you, hell hath no fury like an angry, protective Usopp.

A barrage of exploding stars is what led the vampire to his unexpected end, his cockiness getting the better of him.

Usopp glared at his burning body, "Sorry but the only person who can wed this pretty woman is me. And it'll be in front of our crew."

You beamed and threw your arms around the sniper, kissing him passionately, "Agreed."

[fayes-fics]

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[sleepyangelkami]

Heyyy I haven’t requested anything in a while but the way you write Ellie is pure perfection so I had to request something and of course you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :) but I was wondering if you could write something fluffy and domestic where reader is always taking care of Ellie, she makes sure Ellie eats well and gets enough sleep/rest gives her massages after patrol or if it’s cold reader makes sure Ellie stays warm making her wear proper winter clothing or something like that you know, but maybe she comes off as clingy or annoying according to some people and she thinks Ellie might think the same but that’s not the case

(Thank you in advance if you decide to write it!)

CHECK, CHECK, CHECK e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3.2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY -you've always been one to fuss over ellie, making sure she was warm enough or full enough or making sure her muscles didn't hurt too much after a particularly long patrol. ellie loved the way you fussed over her, constantly making an effort to assure both herself and yourself that she was always feeling just right. you knew she loved it until one day you questioned if she did.

 ☆ WARNINGS - ditzy!reader, suggestive joke, slight insecurity (r.), ellie not taking care of herself right, reader doing it for her, use of y/n, petnames, dina n jesse are kinda mean but they don't mean it, sensitive!reader, crying, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread  🩷

fussing over ellie came as a second nature to you. the minute you'd gotten together you'd made it your personal responsibility to make sure ellie had everything that she needed. whether it was food, sleep, a massage, anything of the sort. you were there, with too many supplies in your hands, stumbling about like a fish out of water. always so ditzy, her clumsy girl.

but whatever you did, you made sure ellie's problem was fixed.

your eyes glanced to the lunch you'd packed ellie. check. then fishing through the bag and making sure she had everything. check. you could hear ellie coming down the stairs, dressed but still groggy. you glanced down to your watch to see the time. check. you'd done everything for ellie this morning, as you always did, making sure she got to sleep in extra and didn't have to do anything before going on patrol. "oh, baby." she spoke once she laid eyes on you, standing in front of your work. "you didn't have to."

"wanted to." you grinned, skipping your way over to where your girlfriend stood and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. as much as she reminded you that she didn't need all this, you'd always wave her off, stating that she deserved it. she was so good to you, it was only fair that you were the same back.

you handed her one of the little blue plates from the kitchen, two waffles sitting on it with her favourite syrup. "for me?" she seemed surprised, as if you hadn't done it every other day for her. that was the thing about ellie. she was so easy to please and not only that but when you did things for her over and over, she still never expected.

"'course, silly." you giggled. she fell in love a little bit more.

to ellie, you were the most bubbly girl she's ever met. always skipping and hopping around with that ditzy head of yours. you did everything for ellie, everything you could. yet, even when you were making her favourite meal, she was still putting a hand on the cupboard door to make sure you didn't slam your head against it.

ellie had been sitting at the little round table in the kitchen, her eyes glancing to where you sat next to her. your chin was resting in your hands, a little frown etched to your features. "what's got my sweet girl frownin'?" ellie questioned, her lips in a tight knit smile at you. you always had such a bright aura surrounding you, passing it on everywhere you went. when ellie woke up, seeing your face was enough to have any frown erased from her face, a big grin widening on her cheeks.

"your clothes." you mumbled, almost pouting at her.

"my clothes?" she wore a little smirk curving up at the left side of her lip. "you wanna take 'em off?"

you rolled your eyes, placing your chin on her bicep. "ellie, 'm being serious." you informed her. "you're gonna be so cold in that." she was clad in a black shirt, that was it.

she shrugged her shoulders. "I'll get my jacket." pressing a kiss to your lips. "nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

but you weren't sold. "gimme a minute." and you were already hopping up from the kitchen table. ellie tried calling your name, stating that it wasn't worth it and that it didn't matter but you were already making your way up the stairs. ellie couldn't help but sigh, you never did listen when it came to things like these. seconds later, you were reappearing in the room, this time with one of ellie's brown sweaters in your hands. "gonna need it."

"thank you angel." she spoke softly, her upper arm finding its way around your shoulder. she pulled you in, pressing a kiss against your forehead and you tried to ignore the way your cheeks flamed up. "but you know you really don't have to worry so much."

ellie said this because she doesn't like to think that you worry. i mean, she knows you worry. you'd worry either way, whether she wanted you to or not. this was shown to her the many times she'd returned from night patrol ten minutes late with you sitting on the couch, worried expression etched across your features as you ran up to her, questioning if she was alright and asking why it had taken so long, all while your eyes dragged over her skin, assuring yourself that she wasn't hurt in any way. you were the worrier while she was the warrior, she thought it was a cute mix. even so, she still didn't wish to see the way your brows knit together and your lips formed a pout. don't get me wrong, she still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, but you looked even more gorgeous when you relaxed and took a breath.

"I know." you mumbled, suddenly feeling flush. you knew ellie could take care of herself, there really was nothing to worry about but you just needed to make sure.

"hey." ellie spoke, noticing the way your face had fallen a little. "doesn't mean i don't appreciate everything you do for me, sweets, you're the best." pressing kisses all around your face and ignoring the way it scrunched up, focusing on the grin on your lips. "jus' wanna make sure you're not worrying about me so much that you forget to take care of the one who really matters." one last kiss to your nose. "you."

you rolled your eyes a little, hands folding in on themselves. "you're so cheesy, els."

it was her turn to roll her eyes. "you love it."

"maybe." and you did, you really did.

ellie moved to pick up the bag that was strewn across the kitchen counter. "i gotta run, you know how jesse is when i'm late." jesse was possibly the most sour yet loving boy in the world. "see you later, princess."

you returned her goodbye kiss in full, standing on your tippy-toes while she had her hands splayed across your face. "bye, els." and so, she was out the door.

the house suddenly grew awfully quiet.

you liked taking care of ellie, liked fussing and worrying over her. now that everything was in check, you suddenly had nothing to do with your day. you supposed you could go visit your good friend dina, if jesse was on patrol it was no doubt that she'd be bored too. perhaps you could go to the tipsy bison with her, sipping on the sprite they sell while she drinks the alcohol. you two were so different.

just as you smiled fondly, thinking about your favourite jewish girl, your eyes flickered to the lunch bag that sat on the counter.

oh no, ellie'd forgotten her lunch!

ellie stood by the stables, giving jesse a sharp eye as she unbuckled shimmer. "you don't know anything about women." she told him. "you and dina break up every week, me and y/n are never even arguing let alone breaking up."

"yeah, well," he rolled his eyes, trying to find the words. he was currently all fussy because she was a couple minutes late, when she'd told him it was because she was with you, he didn't seem so happy. "whatever, williams."

she smirked at him. "no comeback?" he stayed silent to which she could only chuckle to herself. jesse talked a big game that he could never keep.

"hey." squinting his eyes. "isn't that y/n right there?" at that, ellie whipped around, confusion evident on her face.

"els!" you were practically running towards the stables, out of breath and cold. but you'd wanted to get there before ellie had left, insuring she had food with her.

"yep." jesse nodded, chuckling as he took out his own horse. "there's your clingy clutz."

ellie threw a glare at him but before she could speak, you were in front of her. now that you were closer, she could see the redness of your nose and the slight shaking of your arms. in all your rush, you'd completely forgotten to cover yourself up. "what are you doing outside, baby? 's freezing." her gloved hands came up to your arms, rubbing them up and down to attempt to console you. truthfully, the snow on her gloves made it worse but it was her touch, you'd never refuse.

you breathed in and out, catching your breath. you held out the brown bag. "you forgot your lunch."

you heard the chuckle from her lips almost instantly as she took the bag into her hands. "thank you, bunny, would'a been starving." you nodded your head as your cheeks tinged pink. "now go get home, you're gonna catch a cold."

you giggled to yourself, feeling all floaty when talking to ellie. "okay, bye els." before she let you go, she grasped your arms, hauling you forward. she made sure to give you the tightest hug she could before murmuring one last 'thank you' then letting you go and bidding goodbye. "bye, jesse!"

the asian boy turned around, brows slightly raised. "what? no homemade meals for me?" you knew he was joking but you deflated a little.

"I could make you something next time, if you want?" shuffling your feet forward a little.

"i'm kidding." he shook his head. "but listen to your girlfriend, you're gonna get sick and if you get sick, ellie takes patrol off and i am not being stuck on patrol with max for the week." you giggled, giving ellie one last kiss to her cheek and bidding goodbye to both the pair. when you fled from the scene, jesse was shaking his head. "It's cute she cares about you and all but i could not handle dina running after me like that."

ellie scoffed, placing the brown paper bag in her bigger bag that held everything else. "lotta talk as if dina would go through the trouble." dina would never wake herself up that early on a tuesday morning just to insure jesse had a packed lunch.

he led the horse out by its lead. "love has made you cruel." he informed her, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes.

jesse was in love too, there was just a big difference between the way he loved dina and ellie loved you. jesse would die for dina, perhaps that says more about how disposable he views his life but ellie? ellie would kill for you. she'd take every drop of blood on her hands if it meant sparing your own. "you're just jealous."

but the next words that fell from his lips caused her to stop right in her tracks. "id' rather be known as jealous than clingy." the mutter caught her off guard.

it was said under his breath, as if she wasn't truly meant to hear it. "dude." she scoffed at him. "don't call her that, okay?" she didn't want to argue with jesse but then again, nobody was allowed to talk about you and just get left off the hook. sure, he probably hadn't meant it in a condescending way but it was jesse, he often didn't think before he opened his mouth. "she's not clingy, she's just good to me." rolling her eyes suddenly. "sorry you don't know what a healthy relationship looks like."

he placed a hand on his chest, offended. "what me and dina have is very healthy." one two weeks, off the next three, yeah, very healthy.

she huffed out a laugh at him, almost in shock. everyone was well aware that what dina and jesse had was not healthy. it was love, sure, but it wasn't healthy love. "as healthy as a rotten pear, jesse."

"oh wow." pushing his hands up in fake awe. "how long you been waiting to crack that one?"

she dragged shimmer by her lead. "can we just go?" the quicker they were, the quicker she could get back home, and home was wherever your sweet soul lay.

ellie knew to others you may seem like 'too much' people have commented on it, both to her and to you, sometimes even to you both while you're standing next to one another. you'd always feel deflated afterwards, trying to shrug it off as to not upset ellie but she knew how you could be, one minute inside your head and you were caught up in a loop.

of course, everyone in jackson always felt the need to comment on just about everything that didn't concern them. like other people's relationships and family feuds, ellie remembered when her and joel had fallen out and suddenly everyone was approaching her. "well, if i were you..." but that was the thing, they weren't her, they weren't you either, so ellie thought they should just learn to keep their noses where they belong which was not in your guy's business nor relationship. they'd often commented on how ellie 'acted like a man towards you' or that you were 'throwing away your life for her' many more things. often, they were targeted towards her. that was the thing about ellie williams. people in jackson either loved her or hated her, there never was an in between. they told her that she was forcing too much pda, or that the names she called you in public were merely inappropriate, so on, so on.

but ellie didn't care for what people said about her. if they wanted to talk, they'd talk. and that was exactly what everyone in jackson was good for, talking. yet never was the topic of discussion about themselves.

but what really got ellie mad, what genuinely made her blood boil and her eyes squint, the only time she'd ever lay hands on someone let alone merely yell at them. was when they talked about you. her precious girl.

ellie knew you better than anyone meaning she knew that when people talked, it got the better of you. you had the habit to stay inside your head for days on end, trying to scribble away what someone had said about you. she'd always notice it, her bubbly girl suddenly all deflated. you were her pride and joy, seeing a frown on your face could lurch her stomach.

but she also knew that you had the tendency not to talk back. when something was bothering you, your head being 'at' you. you kept it there. you didn't release it, you made sure that no one even knew who planted the seed in your head. merely because you thought it wasn't fair, if you said it out loud it was like talking about someone behind their back. you thought you were doing something wrong when all you were doing was feeling what your body was making you feel.

that's why now, as ellie lay on her stomach wearing only her sports bra, you straddling her bottom with your hands working your way through her muscles, she knew something was off.

perhaps your breathing pattern was different than usual, perhaps it was the way you hadn't said anything in minutes. or maybe it was the way your fingers were moving so softly against her tense muscles, not applying nearly as much pressure on her as you usually did.

she could tell, your mind was far away.

she'd asked you once she'd come home if you were alright, you seemed sort of off with her. but you shook your head, stating that all was okay.

before she could grill you more, you were taking her bag off her shoulder, jacket off her back and leading her up to the bedroom. it wasn't unusual for you to give her back massages after her patrols, while she didn't expect them, she sort of knew they were coming.

"okay." ellie sighed, not having any more of your silence. "up." you did as she said, confusedly albeit. you hovered from her backside, sitting on your knees.

ellie used this time to flip herself around, plopping you back down on her crotch and leaning up against the back of the bed frame. "els, what―"

her back was scrunched against the pillows, your hands folding in on you, confusion evident on your face. "what's wrong?" she deadpanned, though there was nothing but concern in her eyes.

suddenly, you were squirming. "told you, els, nothin'" the way your eyes couldn't look at her, staring down at the side dresser or the roof. your tell tale sign.

"hey." her fingers reached out, hooking around your chin and sort of forcing it forward. "look at me when you talk to me, yeah?" you nodded your head, dumbly. "now tell me what's wrong, i don' wanna hear your 'nothing's because somethings obviously wrong." her hands fell around your waist, hooking you close. "you're too quiet, baby."

you didn't tear your eyes away from her, scared she'd get frustrated. "'m sorry―" you started but ellie was quick to cut you off.

"no you're not, you're not sorry remember?" you'd had the talk with her multiple times. you weren't allowed to be sorry when you didn't do anything wrong. "jus' tell me whats wrong, wanna know what's upsetting my sweet girl."

you could feel the tears welling. this time when you looked away, she didn't drag your face back. she let you collect herself. "was jus' talking to dina today..."

ellie's face fell a little. "what did she say, baby?"

she'd placed a hand in yours, letting you fumble with her fingers. she caught you doing it before, seeing the way you couldn't stop your hands from moving about at one another and she decided that you could use hers instead. she let you play with her hands while you got nervous. it sort of just stuck. "she wasn't trying to be mean." you spoke, still defending your best friend. "sometimes, she jus' says stuff... like 'm clingy." you finally got it out. "'m too much, ellie." the first tear rolling down your cheek. "dina thinks 'm too much, jesse thinks 'm too much, you probably do too!"

"oh, honey." her face was looking at you all saddened, a coo falling from her lips. "you know i'd never think you're too much." she held you when you started to cry, your head in the crook of her neck, her sensitive baby. "jesse 'n dina don't know what they're talking about half the time, m'love." she pulled your head from her neck, letting you look at her. "wanna hear a story?" pathetically, you nodded. "today, me 'n jesse were walking the same roads we've been taking for years. and jesse still managed to forget there was a massive pole in the middle. so next time you see him you better tell him that the bump on his head is too much, it's practically weighing down his whole body."

you gently hit the girl. "els." you whined. "that's so mean." but you couldn't help but giggle at the thought of jesse with a large, red bump on the middle of his forehead.

"there she is!" grinning at the smile on your face. "need to see more of that pretty smile on that pretty face, m'kay?" you nodded at her, big doey eyes staring up at her. "words, baby." reminding you.

"okay, ellie." and your grin couldn't stop stretching.

your smile could be so big that it was occupying your entire face and still, to ellie it would be downright beautiful, never too much.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[lovingseventeen]

Hiii hope you're well 🫶🏼

I really really loved the svt doing your make up 🥺 honestly getting make up done is so relaxing and it can be so intimate (me when lol)

I have a suggestion for a svt reaction bec you see I have a thing for hands, like the hands are one of the first thing I notice about a person so I wonder how svt would react to their s/o randomly grabbing their had and kissing it 🥹

randomly kissing svt’s hands 🫶🏽

a/n: HI ANON i LOVE this request omggg. i have so many things queued but i HAD to write this rn rn

edit: i’m literally biting my lip as i write this bc FAWK this is such a cute idea i need all of these men’s hands in marriage rn

seungcheol:

❥ he loves holding hands so he doesn’t question when you grab his hand

❥ he’s about to lace his fingers with yours when he feels you bringing his hand up to your face to kiss it

❥ but he does malfunction a little bit because his brain is thinking: wait i’m supposed to do that to you

jeonghan:

❥ you can hear his typical “ayy” as he watches you

❥ he won’t admit that he’s a little flustered

❥ you only find out that he is when he tucks his hair behind his ear and you notice that the tips of his ears are pink

joshua:

❥ watches you with the most endearing smile

❥ lets you do you what you want but still leans in close to your face and asks, “what’s this for pretty baby, hm?” AAAAAAAA

jun:

❥ so so confused but he doesn’t pull his hand from you (because he never would)

❥ “what’s this?” he asks as you’re bringing his hand up

❥ “mm, nothing babe” you hum, placing a light kiss to the back of his hand

❥ “oh, okay?” he replies, pink dusting his cheeks

hoshi:

❥ LOVES IT

❥ blushing so bad but he isn’t even embarrassed

❥ goes “oo” as your lips make contact with his skin

❥ “does this mean you have a crush on me?” he jokes, making you drop his hand and smack his arm

❥ but ofc he catches your wrist and pulls you into him so he can properly kiss you

wonwoo:

❥ you could do anything to him and he’d go with it

❥ smiles as you kiss his knuckles

❥ he might not comment on it but he’ll give you a few extra kisses that day

jihoon:

❥ you were chilling with him in the studio as he was going over his work

❥ without thinking about it too much, you took his hand to give it a little kiss which grabs his attention

❥ he hums in surprise and he’s so flustered that he’s immediately asking “am i not giving you enough attention today? i’m sorry baby give me a minute-” as he’s already starting to close some tabs on his desktop

❥ “oh, no! jihoon, i just felt like doing it!” you quickly explained, but he’s still closing off his things

❥ “i’ve done enough work today anyways” he decides, assuring you

minghao:

❥ so so giggly as the slight foreign feeling of your lips brushing against his hand

❥ so smiley even as he’s asking “what’s this? you don’t usually do this”

❥ hair ruffle right after you do it

mingyu:

❥ you tease him a little as you run your thumb over his knuckles

❥ he’s wondering what you’re doing but it’s also not entirely new

❥ it’s when you’re lifting his hand that he’s already blushing because there’s no way you’re about to do what he’s thinking

❥ “what’re you doing? baby, what’s this?” right as you hold eye contact and kiss his hand

❥ for a pretty big and buff man, he feels like putty in your touch, he’s covering his face with his free hand because he can’t even look at you with how pink he’s getting

❥ “so i can’t even kiss my boyfriend’s hand?” you tease

❥ “not when it makes me like this!” he whines (definitely do this to him again)

seokmin:

❥ you couldn’t help but kiss his hands god they’re so pretty AAAAAA

❥ for seokmin, you took both of his hands in yours, making him raise his eyebrows, “oh?”

❥ casually, you place on kiss to his left, then one to his right and his eyes follow your ministrations

❥ best believe his heart is hammering and he’s blushing madly

❥ “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, swearing that he’s falling even harder when you coyly shake your head no

seungkwan:

❥ you kind of adored him when he was in a state of rambling about his day, even when he was tutting about the member teasing him but especially when you could tell that he felt like he did well. you were watching him from your couch as he paced your living room

❥ but there’s a moment when his eyebrows are furrowed because he’s talking about this dance move that he’s supposed to do on top of singing something quite difficult

❥ “it’s supposed to go something like this..” he murmurs slowly walking you through the dance steps, quirking his head as he wonders how he’ll do it

❥ he plops down onto the couch next to you when he’s finished walking you (and himself) through the whole chorus, leaning his head back. “i just don’t know how-”

❥ you take his hand because he’s so clearly stressed and place a kiss to it. his words stop as his face heats up from the sudden gesture

❥ “why all of a sudden?” he murmurs, looking away from you because you caught his so off guard

❥ “because my baby’s so stressed and i know you want to avoid getting wrinkles” you chuckle

vernon:

❥ also so chill with it — would also probably let you do anything to him

❥ a small smile as you randomly kiss his hand

❥ “this is new” he observes, smiling wider when you giggle

❥ “just felt like it, why, is it weird?”

❥ he shakes his head, “no, not at all”

chan:

❥ “w-what, what is this?” he’s mumbling as you unexpectedly take his hand and kiss it

❥ “just wanted to give you a kiss” you reply simply

❥ he’s so pink but he’s trying to quickly think of a way to recover

❥ “well, why don’t you give me a real one” he decides, surprising you by pulling you into him by your waist

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Hi! Can I please request 1 and 16 for Cassian x reader 🥹

“He treats me well-" "Okay good for you." "-but he isn't you."

Cassian x Reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: so i couldn’t decide how i wanted to combine those 2 different prompts so i’m just writing 2 separate cassian fics i’m sorry. working on the other one right now, but for now here’s this!

warnings: angst, slight suggestiveness at the end

prompt list

Cassian was sick of it. He was sick of watching you date these undeserving males, fall in love with them, and then get your heart broken. Every single time, you run to him to console you. And every single time, he wipes away your tears and assures you that somewhere out there, there is someone who will love you and treat you right. Little do you know, he’s silently praying to the Mother that one day he can be that person for you. Not so silently, he prays that the stupid prick that broke your heart will drown in the Sidra, which usually earns a laugh from you.

Currently, Cassian was trying to keep the irritated expression off of his face as you told him about your most recent date with some new guy.

“He even paid for dinner! How sweet of him, right Cass?” You ask excitedly.

Bare fucking minimum, Cassian thought.

“That’s great y/n.” The words come out a bit more annoyed than intended, making you frown.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

“Bullshit, Cass. Did I do something to piss you off?” You try to think back over the past few hours to remember what you did to upset him, but nothing comes to mind.

“I just don’t really care to hear about yet another male that you think is your one true love, who will inevitably break your heart in a week.” You stare at him, stunned.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to talk about my love life to my best friend.” You argue stubbornly. He lets out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call getting broken up with every other month a love life, sweetheart.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” You storm off before he can even apologize.

———

Unsurprisingly, the new guy ended up being a jerk and stood you up the following evening. You had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, earning apologetic looks from the waitress.

Cassian tried to act casual while he sat on the couch at the House of Wind, waiting for you to return from your date. He picked up some random book that Azriel had left and began scanning the pages when you winnowed home. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, admiring your stunning figure accentuated by your dress. As soon as his gaze reaches your face, he notices the tears threatening to spill and stands up immediately. He debates walking over to comfort you with a hug or letting you come to him, still unsure if you are mad at him.

“I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ And I know you don’t want to hear about my dating life anymore, so I’m going to bed.” You rush from the room quickly, leaving Cassian alone once again.

Yeah, you’re definitely still mad. Cassian has to fight the urge to follow you. He knows how your brain spirals in these situations, blaming yourself and doubting your self-worth, all because of a stupid male. He wants so badly to go up to your room and console you. He wants to wipe your tears like always and say some idiotic joke to make you laugh. More than anything, he wants to reassure you that this isn’t your fault. But he can’t, so he just sighs and sits back on the couch, picking up the book again.

———

It had been a few weeks since you and Cassian had a proper conversation, both of you too stubborn break the silence first. There had been a few short exchanges, usually just during training or when others were around, but the tension was apparent to everyone.

Cassian had heard from Mor that Feyre set you up with one of her artist friends, Kallum. He can’t be mad at his High Lady for doing what she thinks is best for her friend, but gods he was pissed about it.

You had gone on several dates with him over the past few weeks. He overheard you telling Feyre about them, describing the romantic gesture that Kallum made recently.

Was this it? Would this be the male who finally stole his best friend from him for good? If this male is a friend of Feyre’s, he must be a good guy.

Cassian hurries past the sitting area, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but somehow you catch his eye. He can’t help but notice the flicker of sadness in your stare.

———

After four weeks of stubborn silence, you approach Cassian at training.

“Hey.” He turns to you, surprised.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He notices that you’re picking at your nails, a nervous habit from when you were a kid.

“So, I’m bringing Kallum to dinner tomorrow evening. To meet everyone.” You say awkwardly.

Oh.

“I know you and I are still in a weird place, but can you please be nice? I want to make a good impression and see what everyone thinks of him.” You bit your bottom lip nervously.

“Why do you care what we all think of him?” He huffs.

“Because I care what my family and friends think of the person I’m dating.” You counter defensively.

“Do you really? Or do you need us to like him in order to convince yourself you like him too?” You scowl, but Cassian has that stupid cocky smirk on his face. He’s not wrong, which only pisses you off more. You had tried desperately to like Kallum. He’s a nice guy and he seems to like you a lot, but you just couldn’t find a spark between you two.

“He’s a good guy Cassian!” Your face turns red and you are too flustered to come up with a more clever response.

“If you say so.” Cassian rolls his eyes. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.

“He is! He treats me well!” You argue.

“Okay, good for you.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent for a long moment. Cassian turns to leave, not wanting to argue any longer.

“He treats me well…but he isn’t you.” You say softly.

Cassian freezes. Surely, he misheard you. He turns back to face you and is faced with the vulnerable expression on your face.

“Seeing as you don’t seem to want to be my friend anymore, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.” He takes a long stride towards you and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Cassian presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You melt into his touch and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, and you let out a soft moan. Cassian pulls away, and you give him a confused look.

“As much as I want to continue this, sweetheart, I plan to take you to dinner first. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated on a date.” He leans in close, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “And then maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated in bed as well.” Your face turns bright red, and you nod. Cassian lets go of you, but you pull him in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the last.

“I should probably go break up with Kallum.” You giggle between kisses. Cassian growls at the mention of another male’s name and pulls you closer.

“That is the last breakup you are ever going to have. I’ve waited 500 years for this, I’m sure as hell not going to mess it up.”

Feel free to keep requesting prompts :-)

prompt list

[clumsyromantic]

NOT ANOTHER RAINBOW LEGACY CHALLENGE

Welcome to this ten generation legacy challenge based on vibrant colors! Inspired by all the other color themed legacies out there, because who doesn’t like basing their sims whole personality on a color (I know I’m a sucker for it lol). I won’t put a long list of rules here, because at the end of the day I want this to be your gameplay and story that you create. I will suggest that you follow each generation, but if something isn’t to your liking, by all means, change it for yourself. With that being said, don’t claim this challenge as your own, even if you tweak it. Remember, though, legacy challenges are all about having fun!

If you play don't forget to tag me here or on instagram @clumsy.romantic or use the hashtag #notanotherlegacy. I would really love to see some gameplay/stories!

Generation One: Licorice.

You never stay in one place too long. As a criminal, you’re always on the run. You don’t commit to anything. The only thing you’ve ever truly loved and committed to is your career. When it comes to actual love, you dip as soon as it seems like things might get serious. You don’t like being that close to people, letting people in like that. You can’t trust anyone, or so you thought.

Traits: Evil, Non-Committal, Romantic. (Additional: Self-Assured, Mean)

Aspiration: Serial Romantic.

Career: Criminal.

Have more enemies than friends.

Have a child with an enemy.

Move to a different world each time you age up.

Only your child(ren) can be your partner in crime.

Get caught cheating at least once.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Mischief, Handiness and Programming skills.

[Packs used: None]

Generation Two: Pearl.

From the time you could hold things, you were coloring, drawing, painting, anything that could help you express yourself. You are the exact opposite of your parent. Maybe you’re like the other one? You wouldn’t know, though. You never met them, nor heard a single truth about them. That doesn’t matter, though, because as soon as you can, you move out of your parents home so that you can start your own life and family. Love isn’t easy, as you don’t truly know what it’s supposed to look like, but with how kind and caring you are, it almost comes easy to you.

Traits: Creative, Cheerful, Family-Oriented. (Additional: Loyal, Good)

Aspiration: Big Happy Family. 

Career: Painter.

Complete the Artist Prodigy as a child.

Move to a different world from your parent.

Marry someone with amazing compatibility (or someone with similar traits).

Have 5 children.

Have a bowling night with the family at least twice a week.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Painting, Parenting and Bowling skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Growing Together, Parenthood, Bowling Night]

Generation Three: Latte.

You come from a big family, and you’ve always loved every bit of it. However, nothing can compare to the love you have for fitness. As a teenager, you become a simfluencer who models athletic wear and shows off your healthy lifestyle. As a Young Adult, you constantly have dogs. You tell yourself all you need is dogs, until you meet another fitness buff who you end up having a baby with.

Traits: Active, Dog Lover, Vegetarian. (Additional: Ambitious, Outgoing)

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals.

Career: Simfluencer.

Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.

Go to the gym four times a week.

Change your hairstyle once a week.

Have at least 3 dogs as a YA.

Become a B-lister.

Have a baby with someone you meet at the gym (bonus points if they have the active skill).

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Fitness, Entrepreneur, Media Production, and Pet Training skills.

[Packs used: Cats & Dogs, High School Years, Get Famous]

Generation Four: Dandelion.

It was hard for you to relate to your parents, as they were much more outgoing and sociable than you were. Keeping up conversations and being around people always made you feel drained. You preferred being by yourself with a good book. It was usually a sci-fi book about robots. It’s no surprise that you’re the first in your family to go to university and you end up working in engineering. Your best friend, perhaps lover as well, is a robot you built. Seems like a good life to you.

Traits: Loner, Overachiever, Socially Awkward. (Additional: Bookworm, Geek)

Aspiration: Nerd Brain.

Career: Engineer.

Attend university.

Build a servo bot.

Be romantic partners with the servo.

Woohoo with the servo in the rocketship.

Only adopt or have science babies.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Logic, Handiness and Robotics skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Discover University]

Generation Five: Emerald.

You want to make the world a better place for the next generations. Everything you do involves Mother Earth. You live off the land, garden and fish for your food. You raise chickens for your eggs and cows for your milk. You also fabricate and make things for yourself, others and your animals. Some of the things you create you sell on Plopsy for income. You have a baby with someone you’re engaged to be married to. But as soon as you can, you pack up and leave them, taking the baby with you.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Maker, Freegan. (Additional: Green Fiend, Recycle Disciple)

Aspiration: Master Maker.

Career: Plopsy Seller.

Live in Evergreen Harbor (If you don’t already, move there as a YA).

Live in Port Promise, where you must make the eco footprint green.

Additional Challenge: have the Simple Living lot challenge in Evergreen.

Knitted and Fabricated items can be sold on Plopsy when you need simoleons.

Get engaged and try for a baby until one of you is pregnant.

Once you have reached green for the eco footprint; break off the engagement, take the baby and move to Sulani.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Knitting, Fishing, Gardening and Fabrication skills.

[Packs used: Eco Lifestyle, Nifty Knitting, Island Living]

Generation Six: Turquoise.

Growing up on a beautiful beach with your single parent doing everything for you made you into a spoiled brat. The only thing you actually want to do, besides sleep and chill, is fashion photography. You have a real eye for fashion. Although, you don’t really have a knack for picking up work. You’re more likely to be suntanning than actually doing your job. The few times you do accept a job, you fall in love with the model. Instead of falling happily in love together, you are constantly fighting, and to make matters worse, you have a kid together. Something neither of you wanted.

Traits: Self-Absorbed, Lazy, Hates Children. (Additional: Jealous, Squeamish)

Aspiration: Beach Life.

Career: Freelance Fashion Photographer.

Accept a job once a week.

Have a baby with one of the models that has the Mean, Hot-Headed or Evil trait.

Only have 1 child.

Have a bad relationship with your child.

Move to San Myshuno as an Adult.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Charisma and Photography skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, Outdoor Retreat, Moschino, City Living]

Generation Seven: Ruby.

You constantly heard your parents fighting over something. They were never not fighting. You found your solace in music; listening to it, writing it, playing instruments, just everything about it. You get married young just so you can move out. But you’re in love with a musician on the side. You’re not really sure if you should keep seeing them, or stick by your spouse. You never really were good with decisions, especially ones that could really impact your future.

Traits: Music Lover, Hot-Headed, Childish. (Additional: Erratic, Dance Machine)

Aspiration: Musical Genius.

Career: Live off tips and fame.

Marry and move out as a YA.

Have a bad relationship with your parents.

Cheat on your spouse with someone who plays an instrument or sings.

Only earn money from tips when you play instruments or sing in public.

Have either a dance battle or karaoke night once a week.

Obtain fame, at least c-lister, from music.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Singing, Dancing and any instrument skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, City Living, Get Together]

Generation Eight: Magenta.

You’ve always used humor and pranks as a way to cope with everything going on in your life. No one but your best friend really gets you. It’s hard for you two to get over being friends when you realize that you have feelings for each other. Except, after having a baby together, you realize you were better off as friends. You still civilly raise the child, just not under the same roof anymore.

Traits: Paranoid, Goofball, Gloomy. (Additional: Clumsy, Cat Lover)

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief.

Career: Social Media.

Have a childhood best friend.

Have a baby with said best friend.

You and your best friend fall out, but you still raise the child civilly.

Have at least 1 cat.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Comedy, Writing and Mischief skills.

[Packs used: Cats and Dogs, Strangerville, City Living]

Generation Nine: Tangerine.

You prefer the finer things in life. You live in the city, but as a young adult working in law, you often take vacations to Mt. Komorebi. Where, when you fall in love with a local and have children, you take your children there often. Not until you retire, do you and your spouse move there. In the meantime, you enjoy the time you spend there; skiing, snowboarding, rock climbing, sightseeing, etc. You dream of your vacations while at work.

Traits: Adventurous, Kleptomaniac, Bro. (Additional: Lactose Intolerant, Materialistic)

Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer.

Career: Law.

Take 2 vacation days a week to go to Mt. Komorebi.

Marry and have children with someone who lives in Mt. Komorebi

Continue living in San Myshuno until you retire and move to Mt. Komorebi.

Steal one item a day.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Skiing, Snowboarding and Rock Climbing skills.

[Packs used: Snowy Escape, Cottage Living]

Generation Ten: Aubergine.

Your parents always showed you the luxurious sides of life. Treating you to everything and anything you could ever imagine. It lit the way for your future career as a critic. You enjoyed being able to put your 2 cents into whatever you could get your neatly, well kept fingers on. You also always looked and presented to be your best self. 

Traits: Neat, Foodie, Snob. (Additional: High Maintenance, Perfectionist)

Aspiration: Party Animal.

Career: Critic.

Host 3 parties a week.

Each party has a theme; decorate and cook accordingly.

Get married 3 times (not to the same person).

Have 1 child per marriage.

Don’t get close to your children until they are Young Adults.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Cooking, Writing and Gourmet Cooking skills.

[Packs used: Spa Day, City Living]

[rileyslibrary]

Aggressive mimicry

Synopsis: A power blackout hits your base, plunging you into darkness. As fear grips you, Ghost tries to calm you down. Little did he know you had other things in mind.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,085

Notes:

Aggressive mimicry: a tactic in which a predator acts harmless to lure its prey.

Fluff. A little suggestive, but SFW.

No, there’s no part 2.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Looks like you’ll both be working until late this evening. New recruits are constantly arriving, and the base is rapidly filling up.

The two of you take comfort in the silence of your office, a small space with two desks next to each other and a bookshelf full of records lining the opposite wall. It’s a little tight, especially with the new chairs you brought for the interviews. However, you cannot conduct them anywhere else since they’re confidential and private. Your job is to assess the recruits’ mental health, look into any past traumas that may have affected them, and determine their trustworthiness with firearms. Ghost, on the other hand, interviews them about their battlefield abilities and skills.

Under normal circumstances, he does not wear his mask when in the room with you. But these aren’t normal circumstances; People are constantly coming in and out of the office, and he feels uneasy without it.

“He was good, that last one,” he says, his attention still fixed on the paperwork. “Don’t mark him.”

“He suffered three concussions in his last deployment and reeks of alcohol,” you explain, baffled. “How can you trust him?”

“These are the best,” he shrugs, “they’ve got nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, stunned, as you look at him. You two come from different worlds.

“Have you considered therapy, Lt. Riley?” you ask sarcastically.

“Have you considered minding your own business, Dr Y/N?” he snaps back. You knew what he was going to say even before you asked. But you enjoyed teasing him every now and then.

“It’s ‘Professor Y/N,’ please.”

Instead of responding, he mockingly repeats your statement, imitating you and pushing invisible glasses up his nose bridge.

You chuckle, and he turns to look at you, slightly proud that he made you laugh. Your opposing personalities complement each other well, with your order and his chaos balancing each other out. It was like mixing black and white to get some form of grey. And that’s the state you’ve been in for years—in a grey area. You two have never been romantic. Still, the flirting was definitely there, even if it came in the form of playful jabs and teasing.

Ghost shuffles through his papers before turning to face you. “Where are the next ones’ files?” he wonders.

You look over your desk and move your gaze to the bookshelf. “I must have left them on the shelf,” you say as you stand up. “Let me go get them.”

But as you approach the bookshelf, everything goes dark—pitch black.

“What just happened?” you yell in a high-pitched voice.

“The lights went off,” he says calmly. “The base has too many people to handle all that power cons-”

“Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant!”

“You just asked me-”

“I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!”

You freeze in place, with your back against the bookshelf like a trapped animal. You try to see through the impenetrable darkness, but nothing is visible. Fear grips you and paralyses you.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Ghost says through the darkness, and you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Despite his words, the panic rises. As your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, you get ready to defend yourself. You lash out, grabbing the first thing you can get your hands on and swing right at the source of the touch.

“What the hell, woman!” Ghost curses in pain.

“G-Ghost?” you stammer, “is that you, Lieutenant?”

“How could it be anyone else?” He says and rubs his forehead. “Christ, professor, no wonder you know so much about concussions.”

“Did I get you good?” you ask, worried, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve had worse,” he assures you, taking your hand and placing it on his chest while muttering soothing words.

As you touch the coarse texture of his uniform, you apply a bit of pressure to get a better feel of him. And just like that, the fear fades gradually, giving way to a more... playful mood. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, then back to his chest. You can feel his heart rate increasing as it desperately pumps the blood it requires for him to stay sane. But he doesn’t need sanity right now; he must lose it completely. So you do it again. He lets out a sigh.

“These are dangerous games you’re playing, Professor,” he warns, trying to sound like his usual self and failing miserably.

“I like taking risks, Lieutenant,” you smirk, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

He takes your hand off him and steps closer, bridging your gap. Seems like the blood is pumping elsewhere now.

“Fuck, professor,” he murmurs, “I need to go check if they need my help.”

“No,” you command, “what you need to do is stay right here.”

“Like this?” he asks huskily, his breath warm on your forehead.

“Yes, exactly like this.”

But, as he tilts your head towards him and begins to remove his balaclava, the door bursts open, and a blinding light shines in, threatening to expose you.

Your reflexes kick back again. You instinctively push him away and begin screaming, grabbing files from the bookshelf and hurling them at the light source.

“Damn it, Professor!” Ghost yells at you, “You’re hitting the engineers with box files!”

You pause midair and focus on your target; two figures squatted on the ground, their hands protecting their heads.

“Motherf—can’t you knock first?” You yell at them while holding the box file in front of your face. “Should we include basic etiquette in the manual, too?”

They all look at you, puzzled. Unable to comprehend your absurd request, they turn to Ghost.

“Sir, we need help with the generator.” One of them explains, and Ghost nods.

They hand him a flashlight and return to the power junction box, leaving you alone again.

He turns to look at you one last time.

“I’m curious,” he says, leaning in close, “did you plan this all along?”

You raise an eyebrow, acting innocent. “What, the power outage?”

“Are you acting all daft now?” he asks, his eyes forming two thin lines. “The whole screaming and acting vulnerable thing so I could come to your rescue and fall into your trap.”

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant,” you playfully roll your eyes, “don’t pretend like you didn’t want it.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “So you’re okay with staying alone then?”

“Of course I am,” you say seductively, “as long as you come back and let me finish what I started.”

———————————————————————

[astarionxhappiness]

This is my first piece of writing in about five or so years, so thank you Astarion for giving me that fire again.

I did my best to find all the typos, but this was written on my phone at about 1 AM while half asleep, and autocorrect is a bitch, so bear with me.

Prompt: you have a bad past of sexual abuse, but catch feelings for Astarion.

Word Count: A little over 4,000 words

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse if you squint a bit. Fluff. Lots of fluff.

The two of you had been traveling together for some time now. And while you had gotten of to a rocky start, you felt that you had grown a rather strong bond over the past months.

Though you supposed that facing constant and never ending threats, as well as having a tadpole connecting your very minds could do that to anyone.

Having to constantly put your life into another's hands like that. . All of your trust. And in turn, they offered you the same.

It had been years since you had felt such trust for a person. Such faith and warmth. And to a vampire spawn no less.

The thought made you smile to yourself with great amusement, biting your bottom lip absently and tugging.

Perhaps it wasn't even putting your trust in a vampire spawn. . Perhaps it felt funny to find yourself putting your trust in him.

"What's so funny?"

The words knocked you from your daze, bringing your attention back to the world around you.

The sound of the crackling fire, the uncomfortable log making your ass sore the longer you remained seated on it. The night air chilling your skin through the thin fabric of your tunic.

"Tav?" Astarion's voice sounded again, ever demanding. His tone made you look over at him quickly.

"You keep doing that today. . Are you falling ill or something?" You did not offer a response to this rhetorical question, knowing it was asked out of fussiness from being ignored, rather than genuine concern.

"I'm just thinking," you replied, glancing over at him again. "Nothing is funny."

You had had a hard time looking at him all day. You knew it had to do with the dream you had had the night before, though you were still having trouble admitting it to yourself.

The very memories of it made you feel flush.

"Oh?" He quirked a brow as he gazed at you from the corner of his eye, his head tilted back in a manner that showed off his jaw nicely.

"And what is it you're thinking about so intently then, hm? It must be something quite interesting to have you so distracted." The suggestive smile and knowing glint in his eye made you flush, looking away bashfully.

"Whatever you think it is, I can assure you it isn't that," you replied with vehemence, listening to him burst into musical laughter.

"Oh, it truly is so much fun to tease you, darling" he replied, tilting his head to look at you, a smile dancing on his lips that showed off his fangs.

"So what was it, then? If not the idea of me ravishing your body?" He had been making such jokes more and more for weeks now, but the immersion did nothing to stop your face from going red once more, forcing you to look away from him so he wouldn't see.

Not that it truly mattered. You knew he could tell exactly what your reaction was. Hence the reason he loved to make comments.

"Astarion, could I ask you something?" You found the nervous words leaving your mouth before you could stop them, making your body tense.

Your head remained bowed, gazing intently at your lap.

The smile fell from his lips, a look of uncertain curiosity taking place in his features instead.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He asked, making you wring your hands together.

"Do you. . Do you actually like being with people?" The question made him pause for just a moment before a smile cracked the far more real expression that had come before it.

A breathless laugh left his lips.

"Of course," he replied, unwilling to admit to the possibility that that was in fact a lie.

He felt the question was building to something more, and he was unwilling to make himself unavailable should you want him.

His eyes squinted slightly in curiosity when you offered little more than a nod of your head, wringing your hands together.

"So. . So you enjoy. . Being touched?" You glanced over at him, tensing harder when you found his inquisitive gaze already looking back at you.

"Why are you asking me these things my sweet?" He asked. "Is it perhaps. . Because you really would like for me to touch you?" He brought his hand out to very lightly cover your wrist, making your breath catch.

Silence grew thickly between the two if you as your response to the question remained stuck firmly in your throat.

You startled violently when footsteps sounded from off to your left, followed by Wyll's voice.

"Are you two coming to eat? Gale's just finished cooking. " He hesitated as he spoke, watching Astarion's hand slide subtly off your wrist.

"I am actually not feeling particularly well," you replied, flustered as you got to your feet. "Excuse me." They both watched you go, having similar expressions if uncertainty as Astarion stood up next to Wyll.

You remained in your tent for the remainder of the evening, listening to the others talking and laughing over warm food.

You shivered absently as you laid on your bedroll, the thick furs feeling less warm than usual. You hoped that it was simply the nights getting colder, but you had a feeling it was rather your thoughts giving the impression of warmth leaving your body.

You shut your eyes, your fingers tracing the palm of your other hand tucked by your face as you heard Astarion reciting one of his favorite stories to the others, undoubtedly keeping the company of a nice glass of wine.

The tips of your fingers traced down to your wrist where his hand had covered just a few hours before, your mind wandering back to the dream that had corrupted your thinking all day.

You had sworn off touch long ago. Your experience with it being only violent and cruel.

You did not want it.

A simple brush of the shoulder led to temptation of touching one's arm. Then, perhaps the urge to move in closer. Feel their breath against your skin, inhale their scent. .

These were temptations that people seemed incapable to control.

No! You wouldn't risk it! Not again! Not ever again.

You would not be used for another's pleasure.

And yet. . Astarion had touched you, had he not? Not just tonight, but other times as well. Whether it was catching you mid trip, protecting you in a fight . . even waking you from a nightmare or two. .

You took in a deep breath as these memories crossed your mind. The feel of his hands clutching your shoulders, his soothing, concerned voice as he tried to calm you down.

You had felt faint that night, waking with the air out of your lungs.

You had fallen against him, your hands shaking, weakly grasping at his arms as you tried not to faint. You could still feel the sensation of your temple resting against his broad chest. The feeling of his cool hand coming to rest on the side if your head.

He had never stopped talking while you worked through your panic attack. Plenty of it was not actually comforting, but the simple sound of his voice grounded you. And his touch made you feel drunk.

You had pushed those feelings away after that night. but after your dream, after the vivid sensation of his touch against your skin, his soft voice easing your tension. . You knew the sensation. It was too vivid not to have been spawned from a memory.

That feeling of safety. . Never had you expected to ever feel it in your life. .

You bit your lip as you curled in on yourself, wrapping an arm around your torso.

If your fears were right, and all touching always led to pain and violence, then why had Astarion never tried anything?

Even tonight, the touch had been. . Gentle. Hesitant, almost. Offering the option for you to pull away if you so pleased.

But you didn't. Something about it felt right. Like having a taste of water when you didn't realize just how thirsty you were.

Perhaps. . Just maybe, it was possible to find safety with him.

You trusted him with your life, after all.

And from things he had told you in the past, you got the feeling he would understand the fear you had of being taken advantage of more than anyone.

Your attention was grabbed by the sounds of everyone getting ready to head to bed, most likely due to the rain that had begun falling, making it's presence known to you by tapping rhythmically against your tent.

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach twisting at the resolve you made.

You would just ask him. What was the worst that could happen?-

You had to stop your brain from answering this question.

It took you a little under ten minutes to harden your resolve.

You kicked off the thick fur blanket, stuffed your feet in your unlaced boots, and headed for the vampire's tent across the camp from yours.

Except, by the time your feet stopped in front of his tent, your resolve had weakened once more, leaving you standing in the dark with rain slowly absorbing into the thin layers of your clothes.

You were already shaking with nerves by the time that thunder boomed in the sky so loudly it had you yelping in surprise, your mind having been far more preoccupied with other things than the lightning overhead. flinging yourself through the flap of fabric that covered the entrance of his tent, you froze as you laid eyes on the man laying in the dim lamp light.

Your entrance made Astarion look up with a start from the spot on his bed, his finger marking the page of his book he had been reading.

He looked confused by your odd entrance, though your meek posture and flushed skin made him smile at you. It rather made your head dizzy and your feet want to run.

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted, his tone ever seductive. "I figured I would be seeing you again tonight." He shut his book in a way that had you wondering how many times he had practiced the motion in order to get just the right amount of seduction out of it.

He was. . Everything that you were not in such moments.

Confident, charismatic, smooth and seductive. Experienced, and more or less functioning.

You looked down, hands clasped before you.

"I-i didn't mean to bother you," you whispered, finding yourself far more nervous than you normally were.

"I just. . I wanted to ask you. ." You shut your eyes as your cheeks went bright red.

He couldn't help but notice the soft tremor rattling your body. Your meek position was not one he often saw you possessing. Only in moments when you were truly terrified or nervous about something.

It was, much to his horror, rather.. endearing.

He had only seen you in such a state a spare few times, but when he did, he had the odd urge to handle whatever it was causing it.

And in this case, he felt certain that the thing causing you trouble, he could definitely take care of.

He stood up, moving over to you, making your heart beat quicken with nerves.

He had a way of looming that made you want to flee.

When you flinched back from him, suddenly rethinking if your request was such a good idea, you watched to your great surprise as he took a step back, frowning.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked with sudden realization.

The action had not been made out of anticipation, or longing. No. . People did not flinch like that unless they expected something unpleasant to happen.

You looked up at him with round, horrified eyes.

"No!" You replied quickly, your body trembling a bit harder.

"I- no, of course not, I just-" he turned his head to the right slightly as he continued to look at you, frowning as he brows furrowed.

"I just get- nervous, with people. . Touching me," you finally managed to get out, sounding royally ashamed.

You had survived an illithid tadpole swimming around in your skull, the crashing of a ship you you were on only because of being abducted, countless perilous fights, and even knocked the head off of one or two goblins without ever skipping a beat.

But this. Proximity to someone that had never once tried to murder you, or handle you in a way you didn't want to be handled. . This terrified you?

It was only then that he realized you had always avoided being touched by others. You had never shown interest in any form of romance, or even friendly pats on the shoulder by the others in your little party.

You had always managed to casually and seamlessly avoid such interactions.

"Why do you get nervous being touched?" He asked, though he had his suspicions. "I assure you, love, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of." He offered his hand out to you, but made no further attempt at contact. Remaining a respectful distance from you.

You looked away, a part of you desperately wanting to reach out and grasp his hand, feel the sensation that you had found yourself desperate to for.

You did not, however. You remained rigidly shaking in place as you looked away.

"You. . You said that Cazador, . . That he made you do things you didn't want to do? With him? And. . Others? " You whispered nervously.

It had been a conversation you had had with him some weeks ago, out on a ledge relaxing beneath the stars while the others slept.

He frowned at the mention, dropping his hand when the offer was not accepted.

"Yes," he replied, seeming slightly more guarded. "Why?"

You tensed as another roar of thunder raged in the sky, your eyes shutting.

"Well- someone. . Someone did things to me. To hurt me, and- and use me-" you looked up at him, eyes round and nervous, a part of you expecting to be met with disgust.

The expression you were met with however, was one of a silent understanding. The defense in his gaze softened.

Though the bitterness remained, you felt certainty that it was not directed towards you.

"I see," he replied, his suspicions finally being confirmed.

"So why are you here, then?" He tilted his head back slightly. "Trying to rewrite the pain in your past?" He guessed. "Well, I'm okay with that. Happy to be of service, darling." He offered you a charming smile as his weight shifted to one hip, his hand coming up to hang loosely at the wrist.

"No, actually," you replied, watching the false happiness slip off his features. "I-. . I wanted to ask if. . You would want. . " you scrunched your face, looking tortured.

"I can read your thoughts if you'd rather not say it aloud," he offered when you fell silent.

You looked only more pained by this offer, but nodded mutely, opening your mind to him as the request was caught in your throat.

He shut his eyes was he felt the connection take hold, swimming in your thoughts to latch on to the question stuck in your mind.

"Do I want to cuddle?" He demanded in confusion, taking an affronted step back, letting out a breathless laugh as he looked at you.

You tensed, shaking just a little harder at his reaction, your stomach twisting in a manner that made you glad you had not eaten that evening.

"I-. . No one's ever asked me that before," he went on, the vehemence in his voice dissipating as he looked at you, features taking on more trouble attributes.

He looked at you quietly, your small form shivering, your clothes clinging to your body wetly, making him wonder how long you had been outside his tent, too scared to come in and ask for such an odd. . Innocent, request.

The strange part was, it. . Sounded rather pleasant.

You had never asked anything of him before. You offered loyalty to him and never asked for anything in return. Not even his own loyalty to you.

You had fought for him. Saved him. Cared for his wounds, and been there for him in moments when he felt he could open up.

"I-" he hesitated as you stayed silently staring at him, waiting for something bad to happen.

He did not need an tadpole to read the nervousness and fear in your mind.

"-i think I would rather like tjat," he found himself genuinely admitting.

He offered his hand again to you, his demeanor soft and delicate. The same demeanor he had offered when he held you when you couldn't catch a healthy rhythm with your breathing.

You looked down at his hand, hesitantly stepping forward and putting your hand over his, feeling a rush if excitement and longing rush through you as you felt his fingers wrap gently around your hand.

You took another step closer to him, your mind almost blank as you shut your eyes, and wordless pressed your body against his in a gentle, soothing hug.

He hesitated as you did this, fairly certain no one had ever hugged him before this very moment.

It felt. . Warm. . Comforting, almost.

Safe.

He wrapped his arm around you after a moment of uncertainty, the hold tenuous and hesitant.

He kept your hand in his, pressed between your bodies up against your chests.

He shut his eyes, feeling himself melting into the embrace.

When you pulled away finally and looked up at him, he quietly used your hand still in his to tug you with him towards the bed on the ground. He sat down on top of the blanket, looking up at you wordlessly, his hand still tenderly grasping yours.

You took in a deep breath, looking down at him intently as you sat on the ground in front of him on folded legs, taking in another deep breath with nervous giddiness from the proximity.

It felt just as you had dreamed it. The warmth, the tenderness. .

You leaned forward for what Astarion instinctively expected to be a kiss, but found himself freezing when you pressed your forehead tenderly against his, your eyes shutting.

The soft little breaths you took in to try and calm yourself, soaking up the touch in a manner that clearly felt euphoric- it was not things that went unnoticed by the vampire spawn.

You were. . Positively adorable. The gentle way you hesitantly brought your hands up to let the very tips of your fingers touch either side of his face. The soft, earnest expression you wore as you soaked up the feeling of being touched . .

He shut his eyes, bringing his hands up to gently cover your hands, feeling your tadpole reaching out to his, should he want it.

Curious, he reached out, and felt himself tale an inhale as a feeling of warmth washed over him.

Feelings of care, and trust. understanding, and longing.

But not for the thing most people wanted from him. . It was a longing to be to see, as well as be seen. A longing for understanding.

He brought his hand to press against the mid of your back, gentle and coaxing, you slowly agreed to the request, and let him guide your body to press against his.

The touch felt so different than usual. Perhaps it was the connection of the tadpole, but it felt warm, and safe

You felt safe.

He had never felt such a sensation before in his life. To genuinely trust someone. To care for them.

There were small, subtle glimpse of pain in your thoughts. Ones that he found he wanted to prod at further, but resisted.

He brushed his nose against yours mindlessly, and you returned the action, feeling entranced as he opened his own mind mind you in return, letting you see how cared for you were with him.

You melted further into the touch, slipping your arms around his back, a hand coming up to the back of his hair mindlessly to play with the soft silver locks.

He brought his hands to your sides, keeping you pressed against him as he carefully headed backwards so you rested down on top of him, his fingers coming to run along the divot of your spine.

Wrapping your leg around him, you settled comfortably against him, the heaviness of your body on top of him feeling like a pleasant weighted blanket.

He let his hands roam along your wet clothes before making their way into your damp hair.

He wanted to ask how long exactly you had been out there to have gotten so wet, be he refrained, simply listening to the rain hit the tent as you both soaked up the comforting touch.

You folded the blanket up around the two of you after a time, and felt him roll you both a moment later.

You opened your eyes softly to look at him, gently resting your forehead against his once kore, though there was no tadpole connecting you this time.

"If you ever want someone," you whispered, bringing your fingers up to tenderly touch his cheek. "If you ever want to talk, or just. . Have someone to be with, I am here." You brushed your nose against his, watching his lids fall half closed.

He looked like he wanted to respond, but was perhaps, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

He felt an overwhelming sense for gratitude towards the offer. He had told you things before, but it had been in moments of weakness, or because it was necessary.

He had never shared just because.

"Well," he finally whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "This. . Offer, goes for you as well." He looked down, clearly trying his best, but having a hard time with more vulnerability.

"Thank you," you murmured, inching a little closer. "I'm. . Astarion, I'm so sorry, for everything you had to go through." The words were spoken with great feeling, your heart aching thinking about of of the things be had admitted to happening.

"It's in the past now, well isn't it," he replied, stroking your cheek. "But. . Thank you, love," he added with a great deal more hesitancy.

You smiled slightly, which he found did odd things to his insides.

He sighed mentally to himself. He was not going to allow himself to feel things things for you- he couldn't.

You were just-

His breathing froze as you shifted up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and head as you shifted him so his head rested against your chest, the position feeling incredibly shielding and warm.

He felt his stomach twist, his throat strangely tight.

He wrapped his arm around your torso hesitantly after a moment, apprehensive.

No one had ever- held him before. It was not how this worked-

And yet. . He found his eyes falling shut with sudden exhaustion.

He cursed you, unsure what exactly it was about your touch that had him feeling so. . Melty. But it was unaccept-

Singing?

His ears perked up slightly, distracted from his thoughts as a sweet, soft melody gripped his attention instead.

His body eased to rest more heavily against you as his muscles relaxed.

Perhaps. . It would be okay just to relax and enjoy for a little while? And then he could get back to his plotting and manipulations later. .

He took in a deep breath, feeling your fingers touching his hair tentatively, running the tips of them through the outer layers of the silvery strands.

The soft vibration of your chest as you switched between signing and humming different parts of the song had him entranced.

You kept your gaze on him as you did so, feeling your stomach twisting with giddiness.

This had been it. It was just like you had dreamed. . The feeling of his arms around you, the dim light of the lantern casting calming shadows.

The tender, warm touch with none of the unpleasantness.

It was everything you had been craving and more.

You shut your eyes after a time, feeling him slowly heating against you as he slipped off into peaceful slumber.

You slipped down sleepily after nearly an hour of just enjoying the position of holding him safely in your arms.

You felt him shift in his sleep as you settled down against him, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You pressed your forehead against his softly, eyes shutting, feeling his breath tickle your face with every slow exhale.

You let your leg rest loosely in-between his, wrapping your arm around his waist before settling.

You slipped off a little while later to join him in slumber, the soft drumming of the rain and rumbling thunder in the distance lulling you to sleep.

[junicult]

!! showering w the bachelors for the first time

contains ; mostly fluff. fem!farmer. some suggestive parts. making out. newly established relationships. nsfw in sebastian’s, implied in shane’s & alex’s. afab!farmer. brief mention of fingering. not proofread, will later.

note ; i intended for this to be entirely sfw i swear

harvey.

- the honeymoon phase.

- where he doesn’t even live with you, yet he’s at your house nearly every night, or sometimes vise versa.

- when he uses your stove (with permission) to make you both dinner to share after you’ve finished work.

- where you’re still so in love all you wanna do is gaze into each others eyes and kiss until you can’t breathe.

- that’s exactly what kind of phase you’re in.

- and it’s been a long time since he’s been in that phase.

- you sorta have a whole routine atp.

- whenever he comes over, you make it a plan to wrap up work quickly & spend the evening with him,

- which is why you felt so guilty when you lost track of time, backpack full of rocks and geodes you couldn’t wait for clint to break open the next morning.

- when you glanced down at your watch, you nearly jumped ten feet in the air like a cartoon lmfao

- and you’ll definitely regret running up the ladder one level before you reached another button on the elevator—but right now, you weren’t even focused on that.

- by the time you made it back to your house, a mere two hours after you told harvey you’d be back, it was pitch-black outside.

- thankfully, he didn’t leave. instead, he stood scrubbing the dishes clean, before whipping around at the sudden swing of your front door.

- “harvey! i’m so sorry, i lost track of ti—“

- “oh thank yoba you’re okay,” he sighs, (u already know he wanted to call someone to check up on u but he didn’t want to seem controlling😭😭)

- and he didn’t waste a second to meet you at the door, scanning you just to see if you were injured.

- “i’m fine, i’m fine, just got way too distracted. did you make dinner? did you have to eat alone?? oh, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to—“

- ur word vomit is making him fall in love with you even more. two peas in a pod🫶🫶

- then it’s just back and forth of you constantly questioning and reassuring each other for a few moments.

- “but you made such a nice meal for me, and i kept you waiting, i just—i’m so sorry—“

- “sweetheart, it’s okay, i’m not mad,” he almost chuckles, holding you close.

- as soon as he established you’re not hurt or injured, he’s no longer stressed.

- he understands what it’s like getting carried away at work, so who is he to ever be mad at you for that?

- after you ate and assured him you were fine, that’s when you mentioned it.

- “i’m pretty dirty from the mines, i was gonna shower. make up for lost time with me?”

- his mind doesn’t inherently go to sexual things.

- honestly, he was just excited you wanted to.

- he also doesn’t give a fuck that he took a shower earlier. he just wants to spend time with you lol.

- although ik he’s all organized and has like a little routine where you both keep taking turns under the spray LMFAO

- like you get in first, rinse yourself off, then switch with him while you soap yourself up, switch & rinse, switch and apply shampoo, switch, etc, you get it.

- it’s so fucking funny LMAO.

- but the entire time you’re making casual conversation, some little comments about how much you missed each other, things like that.

- he loves how you look in the shower. not even bc ur naked, it’s just a vulnerable way to see the person you love, and there’s nothing sexual in the way he’s looking at you.

- even when you tug on his neck to pull him down for a kiss, he’s just swooning over your affections.

- unless the implication, or intention of sex came before the shower…he’s probably not approaching anything with that.

- it’s a completely different story if you’ve had a ton of tension all day,

- constantly making passing remarks that make his palms sweat, but unable to go any further because of your busy day,

- and you leave him all hot and bothered until you come home in the evening, and ask him to join you in the shower.

- that’s when he forgets all about the little routine.

sam.

- ah, the start to ur most important routine.

- honestly, i feel like you were the one who started it all.

- the whole, “every time you shower, we shower together” thing.

- at least, that’s what it becomes once you move in together. but before that, anytime he was over & you needed to shower, he’d totally join in.

- it’s not even sexual. there’s only like a 30% chance you’ll end up having sex, or even just do foreplay whenever you shower together.

- he’s just so clingy, and he craves the closeness after he realized how much he enjoyed you being there the first time.

- you both were quietly laying together, watching the tv wordlessly, just enjoying each others company after you two decided he should spend the night.

- which then prompted in him asking, “do you think i could use the shower? i smell bad.” he frowns after taking a whiff of his arm.

- you giggle. “i think you smell good, but go ahead. i don’t have your soap, though.”

- like he could care lmfao.

- “thanks!” he just grins, hopping on his feet and giving you a little kiss on the forehead before he skips off.

- you give it like 5 minutes before you decide u miss him too much (attachment issues😞)

- “sam…y’think you got room for two in there?” you knock before creeping the door open.

- he peeks his shampoo’d head from behind the shower curtain. “you wanna come in?”

- “is that okay?”

- u might’ve just asked him to marry you.

- his whole face lights up, grinning wide and opening the curtain wider as he steps to the side. “the more the merrier!”

- he doesn’t even care ur naked. there’s nothing sexual running through his mind, he’s just excited you’re standing with him rn. now he doesn’t have to rush to go see you.

- he even steps to the side to give you the chance to soak your hair under the spray.

- it’s easily just a little awkward at first.

- you’ve had sex before, that’s not why it’s awkward,

- only because it’s the first time you two are seeing each other completely naked without any intention of sexual advancement. not that it would be such a burden if you did, but neither of you want to.

- while you drench your hair, he can’t help but smile lovingly at the sight of water droplets all over your skin.

- he could easily be thinking about how much fun it’d be to have sex right here, but he’s too focused on how this might actually be his favorite thing you’ve ever done together.

- like minutes of silence pass, nothing but the water running and he’ll just lean in and press a kiss on your temple or shoulder.

- it’s not bc he’s trying to hint at something,

- he just wanted to do it, and he doesn’t really overthink the things he wants to do.

- but the affection makes you smile, and by how pure it was, it doesn’t send any false messages.

- it really doesn’t last that long. probably about 15 minutes of you both washing off and short displays of affection.

- yet it clung to you both so well, that it just became the routine you never skipped out on.

shane.

- it definitely just happened naturally.

- ur relationship at first was strictly sexual.

- to the rest of the town, no one even knew you guys even spoke. which, to be fair, there wasn’t much talking between u two anyways💀💀

- but i wanna say that was only for a couple weeks.

- it was still super slow and progressive. your conversations went from short & passing, to getting to know each other a little more. but the sex was still there.

- it went from instead of him leaving right after you finished, you’d stay up and talk for a couple hours.

- to waking up together, to spending the day together, etc etc.

- now ur relationship was approaching friends w benefits category. except it was unspoken, but neither of you wanted to be friends at this point.

- despite all of this, you’ve still never showered together.

- until you spent the whole day working outside. you feel gross, sticky, and sweaty. he just so happened to stick around after you started working.

- ur checking in on your animals he just follows you lol.

- before u both knew it, the sun was coming down and he spent the whole day helping you.

- the thing was, neither of you wanted to mention it. you were both nervous even bringing it up would spark the implication of wanting him to leave.

- which was not the case.

- not to mention, he’s a huge help. when u passed him ur axe to chop down trees, you almost couldn’t look away 🤷‍♀️

- so after you’ve finished, sun starting to set and sweat dripping from your temples—he’s still standing with you.

- “i feel gross, i’m gonna shower.” you frown, plucking your clothes away from your sticky skin.

- ofc he’s thinking it.

- but he doesn’t have time to make a sly comment before you shoot one over your shoulder, “there’s room for two, y’know.”

- say no more, he’s following close behind you throwing off his shirt.

- “thought you said there was room for two, there’s hardly room for one.” he snorts, squeezing himself beside you in the cramped space.

- “oh c’mon, you’ve never had a problem with making it fit.”

- he’s gonna lose his mind.

- u don’t really waste any time LMFAO

- drenching your hair under the spray before you look over at him,

- and you both just lean in cus it’s unspoken, but obvious you guys aren’t in there just to shower.

- he’s quick to slotting his hands at the small of your back, while you wrap yours around his neck and press yourself against him.

- …not much showering gets done, i’ll just say that.

sebastian.

- i feel like sebastian spends more nights at your house then he does at his own at this point.

- he’s not the type to get super attached very easily, even getting to the step of sleeping together took a while.

- but after it happened, he found your little cottage so comfortable. he liked waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep in your arms at night.

- the only reason he goes home is to work.

- and the minute he finishes up, he heads back over.

- honestly, if he could pack up his computer and leave it at your house, then he’d never leave—which is probably why you made it clear he can’t do that.

- your relationship is already committed.

- i don’t really think he’d wanna sleep with you if hadn’t discussed a romantic relationship.

- anyways, i feel like bc of this, he’s already showered at your place lol.

- you were too busy to ask, and he knew you wouldn’t mind, so he just jumped in and took a quick shower.

- hours after you already started your chores for the day, he woke up & just sniffed his shirt and winced a little.

- he also did some laundry (for your sake).

- so then it kinda just became a, “hey, do you mind if i take a quick shower?” while you were preoccupied.

- sometimes you’d be the one to ask. like if you were lying together, on your bed in your house, you’d turn to him and say the same thing.

- it never rly occurred to either of u that you could knock out two birds with one stone🤷‍♀️

- one evening you were exhausted. you smelled horrible, you could already tell. you had spent nearly the entire day down in the mines, just covered in dirt and rubble, stinking like sweat yet he still kissed you when you came in.

- “i need to shower,” you groan, still accepting his kiss.

- ugh but he’s already spent the majority of the day without you, why are you going to deprive him of more?

- “i think you smell fine,” he tries his best to persuade, but you won’t budge.

- pressing against his chest, you giggle, “you know that’s not true. i’ll only be a few minutes, promise.”

- he’s honestly so clingy, literally tugging on your arm as you try to walk away and following behind you like a lost puppy.

- and suddenly, “i could use a shower too…” despite him using it earlier.

- you look at him for a second, narrowing your eyes, before you tease, “yeah, you could.”

- he’s much like sam, just less openly enthusiastic.

- when you tell him to get the water running, he’s only nodding, but it’s not hard to miss the way he’s turning to start the water so quick.

- and how he’s undressing like he has somewhere to be, despite presenting so nonchalant about it.

- for him, it’s just a better reason to be so close to you. he likes when you’re around.

- it really depends on how much he was missing you, but for the most part i don’t think it ever leads to anything sexual.

- sure, he stands back to let you rinse yourself off and his eyes wander, but that’s about as much that’ll happen if neither of you are in the mood.

- and even then, if you end up wanting to have sex, it hardly ever happens in the shower. most is just foreplay.

- which he is never opposed to.

- i’ve said it once, i’ll say it a million more times,

- he lovesss fingering you.

- and lowkey, if you’re intending on having sex and starting with foreplay in the shower…phew.

- gently pressing you against the shower wall, the water running all down his back but he doesn’t even care,

- and his lips are making out with yours, which are sloppy in response while his fingers press against that spot inside of you that has your neck craning and moans spilling…

- that’s what he wants when he’s been missing you and joins you in the shower.

alex.

- i actually think he’s similar to sam too.

- he’s a huge fan of showering together.

- for starters, he’s the kind of man who makes himself at home very quickly💀💀

- even when you guys weren’t even dating yet, still just in that getting to know each other and hanging out regularly phase.

- when you’d plan for him to come over once you finished up work and spend time w each other casually.

- the cocky side of him just took your hospitality as flirting.

- which, i mean, isn’t unbelievably far off. you do like him.

- but it was probably like his second time over at your house, and he just casually asked if he could take a shower.

- you might’ve raised an eyebrow, but you still said sure.

- so then it became a pretty normal thing. he never took longer then 10 minutes, so you could appreciate that.

- after you both started dating, and had seen each other naked, it became much more casual.

- the transition between not showering together, to showering together was so subtle.

- it just started with you showering, and he needed to pee so he’d just come in and, well, pee.

- then he’d be showering but you still needed to brush your teeth and do your skincare, so you hung out in the bathroom.

- and pretty soon it was so normal that when you asked if he wanted to join you one evening—you didn’t even think much of it.

- it wasn’t until you were midway through washing your body when you realized he was doing the same thing beside you.

- it was just like a, ‘oh, okay, this is normal now’ kind of realization.

- “can you pass me the shampoo?” like he was asking for the salt at the dinner table.

- it just felt natural, especially after he moved in.

- it became a thing you both do together.

- literally a part of your nightly routine. when you were ready to shower, you’d let him know and he’d start the water while you got undressed.

- so since it was your nightly routine, i feel like the longer you’re together, showering together and having sex doesn’t really pair up.

- you shower 9/10 times together. there’s no way you’d be able to keep up (he can tho lol)

- but that doesn’t mean it’s rare.

- he loves looking at you when you’re naked. no shame.

- there could be zero sexual energy between you two at the moment, and he’s still looking you up and down, admiring.

- he can’t help it! he doesn’t even have to be turned on for his body to react to yours.

- “are you hard right now?” you laugh almost like you’re making fun of him.

- and his response will always be, “well duh,” because you just have that affect on him.

elliott.

- another man that loves to shower with you.

- well…yes he likes to shower together, but he’s definitely a bigger fan of bathing together.

- i’ll get to that in a minute.

- your relationship progressed very steadily. it wasn’t until after a few dates when you actually slept together.

- once you had sex though, i feel like it opened you up into being much more comfortable around each other.

- spending time constantly, always inviting him over, allowing him to see you in more vulnerable ways like in your pj’s or all dirty.

- he approached the idea first, i feel like.

- you’ve been having a stressful week, working nearly every hour you were awake, and you had complained about it prior.

- so he just wanted to help you relax, setting up a nice bath with candles and bath salts and anything to help you relax.

- he’s so sweet about it too, not even intending on joining you until you clasped your hands together and asked him to.

- “join me, please. i’ve hardly seen you all week.”

- and he’s all ears.

- sitting in the opposite end, either sitting in peaceful silence or listening to you recap your day.

- i lowkey think he’d bathe you LMFAO

- like hear me out, he’s offering to wash your hair and he’s all delicate with it, giving you a whole head massage and dipping a cup of water to rinse it out.

- kissing your neck and shoulders, pampering you while you don’t even care to protest.

- and even if you did, he wouldn’t allow it. not when you’re all he wants to focus on right now.

- and despite him loving to bathe with you, i feel like his shower routine is so intensive and meticulous that it’s not often you shower together.

- he never minds your company, i promise you that.

- i just firmly believe he’s a morning showerer and you don’t really have the time for that in the morning.

- if you were to ask for him to join you, i don’t think he’d turn you down. he’d just stand away from the spray and tie his hair back so it doesn’t get wet LOL

- but he’s all for spending as much time as he can get with you.

[everscorner]

My Brother's Best Friend

Author’s note: The plan was to hold on to this one until the summer, but here I am posting it. It’s a slowburn, and there will be two parts. For those of you who want to visualise the villa, it was inspired by this one. This is only for fictional purposes only, and please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: bad language, slow burn, not smutty but suggestive, brother’s best friend!Mason Mount, age gap but nothing significant, alcohol, fluff (???), frustrating Mason Mount, sort of love triangle (let me know if I missed anything).

university student!Reader x brother’s best friend!Mason Mount

Word count: 10k words

☀️☀️☀️

July 4, 2022

You don’t fancy yourself a negative person. Painfully shy maybe, even so, you’re not negative. But as you lay face up on your bed, you dread the day ahead of you. You contemplate missing breakfast, but that would make you rude. People can accept shyness, but no one likes a rude person. 

What have I gotten myself into, you think. 

And with a heavy sigh, you blindly reach for your phone, and find it tucked beneath the pillow beside you. 

The time reads nine o’clock, on the dot, but you’ve been awake almost an hour now. Timewise, you’re cutting it fine, but maybe if you pretend that you forgot you had to meet your group for breakfast, maybe feign illness… 

You scoff at the thought. You’re not negative, you’re painfully shy, and you’re a bad liar. 

One look at you and your brother will catch you in your lie. But maybe if you explain the situation to him, he might understand. Or maybe he won’t understand, after all, he didn’t pay to fly you to Majorca only for you to spend the day locked up in your room. 

It’s his fault anyway, you think as you toss your phone back onto the bed. 

If only you had turned down the offer. More dread, this time mixed with regret. And now the question stands: if you’re so miserable at the thought of going upstairs to breakfast, why did you agree to come in the first place?

Well, that’s easy—Eleanor, your brother’s girlfriend. She had brought up the trip at lunch nearly a month ago, and pitched it so well, you couldn’t turn her down. 

☀️☀️☀️

Sometime in June, 2022

“Do you have plans for the summer?”

The simple answer to her question was ‘no.’ There were plans, but none definite.

“I’m not sure, why?”

“B/N and I are heading to Majorca next month, and we thought it’d be fun if you joined us.”

Majorca, you had never been but had seen pictures. It was a beautiful island on your bucket list of places to visit. 

“When do you leave?”

“July third.”

That wasn’t enough time to get your finances in order. And you could’ve asked your mum and dad for money, but you felt bad as they were already paying so much for your tuition. 

“I can’t come.”

“Why not?”

“I’m broke.”

“Who said you’re paying?”

Your brow slowly raised, signalling for her to elaborate. 

“You won’t have to worry about covering the bill, B/N’s got you.”

Back in February, your older brother had started working for a new company, and from what you had heard from your parents, he was earning quite well. 

“Does he know that he’s covering my bill?”

Eleanor laughed, and assured you that he did. “It was his idea to invite you. So, should we book you a ticket?”

You contemplated the offer. 

“Come on, think of the beaches… the warm sun… the men!”

She had you till the last bit. “I think I’ll pass on the men.”

She beamed.

“But the beaches and sun sound tempting, I can’t lie.”

“And you get to spend the summer with me and your favourite brother. All expenses paid.”

“And you're sure B/N agreed to this?”

She nodded and repeated what she had said earlier, that it was his idea. “And did I mention that you are his favourite sister?”

“Eleanor, I’m his only sister.”

She chuckled. “So what do you say?”

☀️☀️☀️

From that point forward, any other plans you had were indefinitely placed on hold. You would spend the summer with your brother and his girlfriend, and that was final. 

A week from the trip, your mother was generous enough to take you shopping for a new summer wardrobe. ‘Just a treat,’ she had expressed over the phone. And your father? Well, he sent money. ‘Just a treat.’

And then you were sitting in the back of a black Mercedes Sprinter, being driven to a villa with your brother and his girlfriend. It was late, and you were tired, but you were excited to be in Majorca. And that made you chatty, which was apparently uncharacteristic of you.

“I can’t remember the last time I heard you talk this much,” your brother teased.

You lightly shoved his shoulder. “Stop.”

He laughed, “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.”

Eleanor slung her arm over your shoulder and pulled you in for a side embrace, “I’m just glad you came. We’ll have so much fun together.”

“Just a warning, little sis,” B/N chimed in, “Eleanor went a little crazy with the itinerary.”

“That’s not true.”

He held his hands up defensively, knowing better than to try to start an argument with his girlfriend. He was sure to lose. Instead, he dug his phone out of his pocket and began texting someone. 

Eleanor was rattling on about the items on the itinerary when your brother announced, “It seems our party has arrived at the villa.”

Party? What party? You whipped your head towards your brother, “‘Our party?’ What does that mean?”

“Our friends.”

Friends? Up until that point, no mentions of friends had been made, so you were confused. You turned to Eleanor, “Which friends?”

“Oh, James, Edward, Maya, and her friend Jordan. She’s American.”

“And Mason.”

You whipped back to your brother—man, you were going to get whiplash. “College Mason?”

“No. Mason Mount, he’s a good friend.”

You had never met Mason Mount before, but you had heard your brother mention him a couple of times in passing. He was a footballer your brother had befriended at a party in Ibiza after he had saved him from a group of rowdy football fans who wanted a picture with him.

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed now,” he chuckled.

Not disappointed, confused. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned that part to you? 

As if she could sense your panic, Eleanor lightly squeezed your shoulder and assured you that it would be fine. “They’re good people, don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

☀️☀️☀️

Eleanor was right, they were good people and it was fun, just not your kind of fun. You walked into the villa and were greeted by James, your brother’s best friend from uni, and Edward, his boyfriend. The two of them were standing in the middle of the darkly hued modern kitchen, preparing vodka tonics for everyone, and they were quite pleased to see you.

“And you brought Y/N! Hello, love!” 

You smiled. James was tipsy, you knew that because his face was flushed, his voice just a bit too loud. “Hello, James.”

He pulled you in for a hug. “It’s so lovely to see you again. Vodka tonic?”

You hugged him back, “Yes, please.”

“Already on it!” called Edward from his spot at the large kitchen island. 

“You’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” James said as he released you from the tight embrace. “How���s the first year of uni? Or would you rather not talk about it?”

“Uni’s been good.” And because you thought the answer was too curt, you added, “Challenging, but good. I like it there.”

Edward appeared, bright smile and vodka tonic in hand. He handed it to you, and told you, “Let me know what you think.”

You thanked him, and raised the tumbler to your lips to take a small sip, but it was too tiny to taste anything. So you lied, “It’s good.”

And he seemed pleased. 

James was telling you about their flight over to the island when he was cut off by the commotion behind you, a group of people coming up the stairs. 

You turned around to see Maya and her friend Jordan, the American, and a guy you assumed was Mason Mount, come into the kitchen. More greetings, more volume, and more happy people. Maya was first to greet you, and then Jordan, and then Mason. 

The other two walked over to the island to grab their drinks, but Mason stayed behind to make conversation. 

“I’m Mason.”

“Y/N.” You felt your cheeks heat up under his cheeky gaze. What your brother had forgotten to mention in the car was just how cute Mason was. “Pleased to meet you, Mason.”

His smile widened, “Likewise. What are you drinking?”

“Uh…” your mind froze for just a split second. Of all the times your brain chose to act up, it had to be in front of the cute older guy. “A vodka tonic. Made by Edward.”

“Is it any good?”

You took a second, more generous swig from the tumbler, and grimaced at the taste. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, but there was far too much alcohol in your drink. “A little heavy handed on the vodka.”

He laughed. “Then I think I’ll like it.”

And then he walked away and you released a quiet wistful sigh. You had a crush, oh God. How would you survive the summer?

Edward took you to your room, and gave a mini tour of your floor. Your room was sandwiched between Maya and Jordan’s rooms. Inside, the walls were white, and mostly bare, with just a single picture hung up above your bed’s headboard.

There was a wardrobe to store your clothes; a sleek and elegant bathroom with a shower, a toilet, and a sink; a tiny desk tucked into the corner of the room; and a wide glass sliding door that led out onto a balcony that overlooked the rest of the neighbourhood. Also, the balcony was shared between the three rooms. 

You placed your bag on the bench that sat at the foot of the bed, connected your phone to the WiFi, and made your way back to the main area, where a welcome party had commenced. 

You spent the hour that followed observing your fellow villa mates. Some were drunk, most were tipsy, and you were way past the point of exhaustion, but you held on, not wanting to earn the label of ‘party pooper,’ and it was a struggle.

The group was divided in two. Your brother was out on the covered patio, animatedly telling a story to James and Edward, his arm possessively hooked around Eleanor’s waist. She wore a smile on her face, invested in whatever it was he was saying—you weren’t exactly paying attention—so smitten with her boyfriend. That’s the group you chose to hang around.

Inside, just a few feet away, Jordan and Mason were sitting next to each other on the sectional, and they looked rather cosy which made you speculate on the nature of their relationship. 

They seemed comfortable in each other’s presence, Mason leaning into her as she showed him something on her phone, his hand resting on her knee, and it looked to be inching higher with each passing minute. 

If only I was brave enough, you thought as you took in the scene before you.

But you felt you didn’t stand a chance. Not only was Mason friends with your older brother, which was bound to be an issue, a violation of some bro code, but guys like Mason didn’t go for girls like you.

It’s the simple fact of life, but it didn’t stop it from hurting any less. 

You polished off the remainder of your vodka tonic, the once icy drink now at room temperature, and placed the glass on the table in front of you. 

Moments later, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Claire. A text:

Claire 🐻: Yayyy! 

Claire 🐻: I cant believe youre in majorca and i’m stuck at my grannys cottage :/

Claire 🐻: I’m jealous

She was responding to the text you’d sent her earlier. You were letting her know that you had arrived at your destination. 

You: Kinda wish I’d joined you instead

Heading to the countryside with Claire was one of the ‘not definite’ summer plans.

Claire 🐻: Its not too late to change your mind…

You chuckled at her response. 

Claire 🐻: Up for a late night call?

As far as you were concerned, there was no use in hanging around, but you didn’t want to make a fuss by announcing your departure. Instead, you excused yourself under the guise of someone who would return, and made a slick escape to your room.

You locked the door and launched yourself onto the bed with an audible huff. 

☀️☀️☀️

You passed out after two o’clock, which meant you had a little under six hours of sleep, but you don’t feel tired. And now it’s morning, and it’s breakfast, and you can’t cook up an excuse to remain locked in your room. 

There’s ten minutes till breakfast, and you don’t like being late, so you drag your feet to the bathroom and do your best to freshen up, but there’s just not enough time, and you still have to change into something breakfast appropriate.

Suffice to say, you’re the last one to arrive, and all eyes are on you as you walk into the kitchen/dining area. There’s a spread of food laid out on the table, and a bunch of hungover grown ups convened around it.

“You made it. I almost came down to get you.”

That’s Eleanor, and you’re grateful she didn’t come down. You tell a little white lie, that you had missed the alarm, and take your place at the table next to Maya, who looks like hell, the result of too many vodka tonics last night.

Across the table from you is Mason, who looks worse than Maya does. He looks to be in actual physical pain. 

“Are you alright?” you question.

He shakes his head and looks like he might throw up right there on the table. It’s only then that you realise that Jordan is not here.

You turn to Maya, who’s devouring a cheese croissant, “Is Jordan not joining us for breakfast?”

She shakes her head, then swallows, “No, she’s too worn out. Someone kept her up all night.”

It takes you a moment to realise what she means by that. And then your cheeks heat up, and you wish you hadn’t asked. 

“Got it.”

With a soft chuckle, she apologises for the TMI. As you plate your own food, you tune into the different conversations taking place around the table. 

Eleanor is telling Edward and Maya about her plan to spend the day at the beach, and B/N is listening to James tell him about an old pal who recently contacted him about a project he wanted the two of them to work on.

Neither interest you, so you focus on eating your breakfast. And after some time, Eleanor proclaims, “So it’s settled then, we’re spending the day at the beach!”

And her tone is final—bossy. 

“I think I’ll sit this one out.”

The table turns to Mason, who really looks to be suffering. 

With an apologetic smile and slight shrug of his shoulder, he states, “I feel like shit.”

The corner of your brother’s lips curve into a knowing smirk, “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to stay behind?”

Mason rolls his eyes at what B/N’s insinuating.

“Where is Jordan anyway?” he continues. 

“Mate, shut the fuck up,” and despite feeling ill, Mason smiles, and blushes.

The table erupts into laughter, and you force a laugh, but you’re green with envy. 

Mason doesn’t make it to the end of breakfast, and when you leave for the beach around 11, you don’t see him.

☀️☀️☀️

The sound of the waves lightly crashing into each other serves as the perfect soundtrack to your morning. There are other people on the beach with you, children running across the sand and into the shallow waters, and you’re happy—content.

“I also should’ve brought a book with me.”

You turn to Maya, who is splayed stomach side down on her brightly hued large beach towel, directly under the sun. 

“When was the last time you reapplied your sunscreen?”

She can’t remember. “Oops. Do you mind?”

You place your book to one side, “Where is it?”

She sits up and extends her arm to Eleanor’s bag, that’s mere inches from where she’s sitting, for the lotion. She doesn’t have to dig far since it’s at the top of the bag.

“Thanks. I keep forgetting to reapply it, which is really bad for my skin. And not to sound vapid, but I’m not trying to age.”

She takes her place in front of your beach chair, and quickly unfastens the knots of her bikini top, but keeps her hands over her chest area. As you rub the lotion onto her back, she tells you about her boyfriend and how he was supposed to come onto the trip with her.

“He bailed at the last minute.”

Your lotion slick hands glide down to the middle of her back, where you continue to rub, “Did he say why?”

“He’s just an asshole.”

You both laugh at that. 

“But it’s fine. I’ll have a better time with Jordan anyway, even though she’s currently ditching me for Mason’s dick.”

You flinch at her choice of words, the visuals of the two of them fornicating flooding your mind, and you’d rather not think about it.

“How do you know Jordan anyway?”

“We work for the same PR company. We have similar interests so we instantly hit it off.”

“Oh.” You lean back on your chair to assess your work, “Well, it looks like I’m done.”

She thanks you, calls you ‘a star,’ then moves back to her previous spot and starts lathering the rest of her body. You reach for your phone—which you have wrapped in a towel and placed under your beach chair to keep from overheating—to check the time.

You’ve been at the beach nearly three hours now, and you’re kind of over it. Plus you’re hoping to take a quick nap, the lack of sleep finally catching up with you.

“Hey, Maya. I think I’m going to head back to the villa.”

“You’re not joining us for lunch?”

The plan is to lunch at a restaurant a walking distance from the beach, but you’re more tired than hungry.

“I think I’ll pass. And tell Eleanor not to panic, I’m fine.”

Maya chuckles at that.

You pack your belongings into your cotton canvas tote, and raise off the beach chair. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

Eleanor has gone with your brother to search for a cove to take pictures for her Instagram, and James and Edward are splashing in the water nearby. You wave at them as you walk away, and are grateful when they don’t question your departure.  

“Hey, Y/N?”

You whip back to Maya, “Yeah?”

“If you happen to see Mason and Jordan, tell them to come down to the beach. I’ll send them a text, but I doubt they’ll see it.”

You nod, but deep down, you don’t wish to see them. 

The temperature has gradually risen since you first arrived at the beach, but under the protection of your beach umbrella, you didn’t realise the intensity of the sun. It beats down on your exposed shoulders and back, and makes you wish you had worn a cover-up. 

The streets are empty, everyone in this particular area seemingly gathered at the beach, and you’re so lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the stranger that’s now walking beside you. 

“Hi.”

You stop dead in your tracks, startled by his sudden appearance.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You instantly recognise his accent to be English, and he looks to be around your age.

“Hi…”

He smiles wide, his teeth exposed. “I’m Alexander, Alex.”

Your eyes drop to his extended hand, and you reluctantly extend your own to shake it. You feel it’s too formal though. 

“I’m Y/N.”

Alex’s taller than you are; his pale skin dark from being out in the sun too long; his hair sandy blonde, sticking up in different directions; and his eyes a light brown. A cute face, and he’s smiling at you, making conversation.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head, “Are you?”

He tells you that he’s here on vacation with his family, and that they come here every summer, so he’s quite familiar with the place. 

“How about you?”

You tell him something similar: that you’re here with your brother and his friends, but unlike Alex, this isn’t an annual tradition. 

“Nice. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

And then he asks where you are headed and without giving it much thought, you tell him, only to realise that you have made a blunder. 

What if he’s a creepy stalker? 

“You’re not some creepy stalker, are you?”

He laughs at your question. “No, I’m not.”

“That’s what a creepy stalker would say.”

He doesn’t give creepy stalker vibes, at least you don’t get that energy from him, and you honestly don’t want to overthink it. Alex seems nice, knows how to hold a conversation, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. 

He then offers to walk you back to the villa and you allow it, and on the way there, the two of you make conversation about the island and places to visit. And you think he might be flirting with you, but you’re not sure. 

“Well, this is me,” you announce as you slow your pace in front of your temporary home.

“And what does your brother do for a living, exactly?”

You’re not sure what he means by that, so you choose not to answer him. Instead, you reply, “Thank you for walking with me.”

He tells you not to sweat it, says goodbye and tells you that he hopes to see you again soon. And then carries on his way. 

Inside the air conditioner cooled house, Mason is perched on the large sectional in the sitting room, on a Facetime call with a friend. He sounds livelier than he was this morning, his earlier sourness replaced by a jovial mood. 

Upon hearing you enter the living room, he turns in your direction, the smile on his face widening at the sight of you, and suddenly, you feel self-conscious. The sudden drop in temperature inside the house has caused you to perspire, and you’re a bit out of breath, and you’re sure you look a mess.

“Hey, Deckers,” he cuts his friend off mid-statement, “I’ve got to go, mate. Chat later.” And then he hangs up the call, and fully turns to regard you. “You’re back!”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, “I’m back. Are you feeling better?”

He shrugs, “Eh. How was the beach?”

“Warm, sunny. I liked it.”

“Then why are you back here?”

“To nap. I slept late last night,” you confess. 

And when he beckons you over, you make your way to the sectional, and take your seat next to him—with space between you.

He scoots closer and assures you that he doesn’t bite. “So, what did you do at the beach?”

“Maya told me to tell you and Jordan to join them at the beach,” you blurt out suddenly. 

Why, why, why have you done that? Your mind implores. And how does one recover from such? For a moment, you sit stunned, and wish the ground would open up and swallow you.

“For lunch. Maya told me to tell you to join them at the beach because it’s almost lunch.”

“Am I sitting too close?”

Yes. “No, it’s fine,” you lie, but it’s not convincing.

He smiles. “Then why do I get the sense that you are nervous?”

“It’s all in your head,” and you barely recognise your own voice. Who is this girl? And how is she so calm?

“It’s all in my head, huh?”

You place your hands over your face to conceal your smile and let your head fall back, “What do you want me to say?”

With a soft chuckle and a hand over your bent knee, he tells you, “I want you to be honest.”

The sound of a door closing downstairs disturbs the moment and you are reminded of Jordan’s presence. A few moments pass, then she appears at the entrance of the sitting room, in a bikini with a towel around her waist.

You don’t blame Mason for fixating on her, she really is so stunning.

“Are you guys back?”

It’s Mason who answers. “No, only Y/N. Where are you going?”

“Maya texted. They’re waiting for us at the restaurant, you coming?”

Mason moves away from you, and you feel your stomach drop—ouch. 

“Yeah,” he raises off the couch, “Let me go change quickly.”

Your eyes drop to your fingers that are knotted on your lap. Your face is heating up for a different reason now, and you wish you had stayed at the beach with the rest of the group. Moments pass and you hear a slap sound, followed by Jordan’s giggle. 

You sink further into the couch. It’s going to be a long vacation.

☀️☀️☀️

You successfully avoid Mason for the remainder of the day, but your luck runs out at dinner. In what you deem an unfortunate turn of events, you’re sat next to him at the restaurant, its tight configuration meaning that you were practically on Mason’s lap as you had your meal.

Arms and shoulders touching, knees bumping, and at one point, he has his arm draped over the back of your chair, the fabric of his shirt grazing the back of your neck. You try to ignore it, but he’s so close and smells so good, and it pains you to know that your feelings aren’t reciprocated. 

And so you drink to numb your unrequited desires. 

The sound of plates clattering and cheerful chatter fills the table. As previously mentioned, the restaurant isn’t large, with only five tables laid across the establishment, and they are all taken up by patrons who are here to enjoy the local cuisine. 

It sits directly on the beach, a body of water a short distance from its front entrance, and its lack of walls makes it so you can see the ocean in the distance, waves rolling onto the shore, the sun setting in the horizon.

This is good, this is paradise, you think. 

“It looks like Y/N’s got an admirer.”

You arch a questioning brow at your brother’s girlfriend, who sits directly across the table from you, her half-eaten plate of food now abandoned as she sips her alcoholic beverage. “I do? Who?” 

“Okay, don’t turn now, but he’s sitting two tables away from us,” she seems ecstatic, “and he’s cute too.”

You like the sound of the last bit. Maybe a summer romance is in the cards for you after all. 

“Okay, he’s turned away. You can look now.”

And you do so, only to discover that your admirer is none other than Alex.

“Oh, that’s Alex.”

“You know him?” 

You swallow the last forkful of your meal then push your plate away from you, “Yeah, we met earlier. He’s here on vacation with his family. He’s nice.”

Enter Maya. “Just nice? Is that the best you can do?”

You get the sense that you have said something wrong—offensive even. “Yes, he’s nice.”

“Girl,” she continues, “you’ve got to do better than that. He’s clearly crushing on you, go talk to him.”

With wide eyes, you respond, “What? No!”

“Uh, why not?” they, Eleanor and Maya, ask in unison.

“Because that’s forward, and if he doesn’t actually like me, it would be extremely embarrassing for me.”

Maya turns to Eleanor, “Does she have a boyfriend back home?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Do you not want a summer fling? Or do you not swing that way?”

You laugh. You like Maya, she’s funny. “I can assure you his mind’s not on a summer fling.”

She throws her hands up in defeat. “I give up.”

“Maybe she’s not into guys like Alex. He looks like he’s a bit of a dweeb.”

Mason’s interjection catches you off guard, and you’re offended on the behalf of Alex. 

“He’s not a dweeb,” you defend. 

“The only word you could come up with to describe him was ‘nice.’ I think he’s a dweeb, friendzone material.” 

And I think you should mind your own business, you want to retort, but you swallow your words, not wanting to make things awkward.

“Y/N’s into the bad boys, I reckon.”

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but you didn’t see the point in arguing with him. 

“All I’m saying is that he keeps looking this way, and dweeb or not, he’s really into Y/N.”

Mason shrugs, and in a casual movement, his arm returns to the back of your chair. This time, his warm hand rests on the corner of your shoulder. “I don’t think you should waste your time, Y/N.”

You don’t respond, because you don’t trust your voice to not betray you. 

☀️☀️☀️

It’s past three in the morning, and you’re tipsy from the liquor you consumed at dinner, and you can’t fall asleep, kept awake by thoughts of Mason. He currently occupies a too large portion of your thoughts, and it pains you because you know it will only lead to heartache. 

Of all the people on this island, why did your heart choose to fixate on him? So stupid, so masochistic your heart is. 

You grab your phone from its spot beneath your pillow and open the WhatsApp app to send a text to Claire:

You: Can’t sleep :/ wish you were here with me

She would know what to do in this situation. And if not, she’d find the perfect way to distract you from your moronic emotions.

You wait ten minutes to see if she’ll respond and when she doesn’t, you figure that she’s asleep, and decide to head out onto the balcony instead. Your mother’s words come to mind, ‘Fresh air clears a clouded mind.’

You pad across the cool tiled floor, and take caution not to cause a ruckus as you slide the door open. A light breeze greets you the moment that you step outside, and you inhale deeply through your nose. 

And then you hear them, the distant moans coming from Jordan’s room next door. And your heart sinks at the realisation of what is happening. You weren’t aware she was with Mason again tonight. 

Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!

More than anything, you’re frustrated at the fact that you care so much. He doesn’t like you, you’re his friend’s little sister, and he will never see you as anything more than that. And despite that knowledge, you’re bothered and you’re jealous and you think that life isn’t fair!

The icing on the cake—the most ridiculous part of this whole ordeal—is that you barely know the guy. But I guess emotions don’t work like that. The heart wants what it wants, or whatever, and you just have to accept that. 

Fuck.

The moaning gradually intensifies and it suddenly feels wrong, dirty, to be standing out here. So you retreat back into your room, afraid that someone might catch you and get the wrong idea. 

You’re not negative, you’re painfully shy, you’re a bad liar, and you’re not a pervert. 

You dig your AirPods out of your tote, and listen to music to drown out the obnoxious sounds. 

☀️☀️☀️

July 5, 2022

Breakfast the next morning is interesting. It seems you’re not the only one who heard Jordan and Mason’s impassioned moans. Everyone keeps teasing them about it, inappropriate jokes cracking from all sections of the table, making you wish you hadn’t come up for breakfast.

But eventually, the taunting ends, and the discussion turns to the day’s activities. B/N, Eleanor, James and Maya want to visit Castell de Bellver; and the other half, yourself included, would rather stay at the villa.

And so it’s decided that today, you will split up.

After breakfast, you accompany Maya to the beach because she wants shots of herself in front of the ocean, to ‘show my asshole boyfriend what he’s missing.’ And you’re not the best photographer, but the pictures come out decent. 

You spend the rest of the morning texting Claire. The Castell de Bellver group leaves the villa around midday, and in their absence, a sort of party kicks off. You have come to discover that where there is Edward, there is booze. And music, obnoxiously loud music. 

“You sure I can’t make you anything, love? I make a mean margarita.”

And because you can never say ‘no’ to Edward, you inquire, “A margarita?”

His face lights up, pleased at the prospect of you day drinking with him, “I promise to go easy on the booze.”

Jordan’s in the kitchen with him, but Mason’s nowhere to be seen. You have the first margarita, and when you finish it, they convince you to have a second. And you give in.

The volume at which they speak rises with every sip, and you witness them go from tipsy to borderline drunk in a matter of an hour. And in his borderline drunk state, Edward arrives at the conclusion that he wants to be near the ocean. 

Why?

“Because I’m in mother fucking Majorca, bitches!”

And Jordan agrees. 

Your flags go up, but you can’t properly articulate your concerns, the booze muddling your mind. You don’t think it’s a good idea for either of them to be near a large body of water in their state, but they’re out of the house before you can string together a coherent sentence. 

Curse being a lightweight. 

You think to follow after them, but then you realise that a tranquillity has descended upon the villa at their departure. And maybe it’s a selfish thought, but in their absence, you can finally read your novel. 

You run down to your room to grab it, head out onto the terrace, and make yourself comfortable on one of the pool chairs. 

This, you think, is what I imagined my summer to be.

And you’re basking in the solitude, lost in the words on the page, when-

“Where did everyone go?”

Right. Mason’s still home.

Without tearing your eyes from the page, you tell him, “The beach. They left about 10 minutes ago. I’m not sure if they took their phones.”

“And you stayed behind?”

“I don’t feel like sitting out in the sun.”

You hope that he might be repelled by your stoic tone, but he’s apparently not easy to deter. He makes his way over to where you’re sitting, and takes his seat at the foot of your chair. 

“What are you reading?”

“A book.”

He’s amused. “I know that, but what’s it called?”

When you don’t respond, he reads the title on the cover.

“What’s it about?”

You give a brief summary of the plot. 

“And do you like it?”

Oh god. “Don’t you want to join Jordan and Edward at the beach?”

“No.”

You drop the book to your lap, your finger placed between the pages to not lose your spot. Mason is in nothing but his board shorts, his face nap-swollen, sleep lines marking the one side of his face. 

“You were napping?”

“Mm-hmm. Scoot over.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to lie next to you. So you can read to me.”

What? “It’s a boring book.”

“I don’t mind. Unless that’s you kind way of telling me to fuck off.”

And he smiles, which makes you smile. 

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?”

You shake your head, “No. But I don’t think there’s enough space for the both of us.”

That’s not entirely true. It’s narrow, but the pool chair’s built just wide enough to seat two people. 

“We’ll make it work. Scoot.”

And despite your better judgement, you do as he instructs. It’s a tight fit, but he fits—his body pressed right against your own. 

“You comfortable?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Mm-hmm,” then you turn to your book, clear your throat, and start reading from where you left off. 

You do your best to focus on the words on the page, but you’re very aware of Mason’s gaze fixed on your face as you read. And you feign indifference, but he’s so close, and it makes you nervous, and it makes you stumble on your words.

Why are you so affected by him?

He laughs at the funny bits, but for the most part, he’s silent. Listening. You expect him to get over it at some point, bored of the premise or the sound of your voice, but he stays put.

And at the end of the chapter, you close the book. “I haven’t bored you yet?”

“Mm-mm. Why d’you stop? Are you tired of reading?”

“A bit,” you shift in the chair, careful to avoid his sensitive area. “Are you sure you don’t want to join Edward and Jordan at the beach?”

“Why do I get the sense that you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not. I just figured you might want to–”

Your breath hitches at the feel of Mason’s fingers gliding up and down the skin of your exposed thigh.

“You figured I might want to what?”

He’s so casual as he asks the question, meanwhile, the words are lost to you, your brain malfunctioning.

“I figured…” you blank. 

Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak. 

A fuzzy feeling burgeons from the deepest pit of your stomach, and you know you have to get away, but you stay put because a part of you likes the fact that he’s touching you, but the other part—the reasonable one—sees the danger in his actions.

He’s leading you on. You’re nothing but an ego boost for him.

“Y/N?”

Say something, your mind screams at you, but your tongue’s heavy in your mouth—just a lump of lead.

“Earth to Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you still with me?”

Barely. Barely. 

You lie perfectly still, afraid that if you move, it might ruin the moment. Under his touch, your body relaxes; your breath slows in tempo, shallow; and you catch yourself giving into him—and you don’t see the use in fighting it.

Thud.

Your novel hits the floor and the sound snaps you back to reality. You place a hand over his to stop its suggestive motion. 

This is wrong and this can’t happen. What would your brother say if he walked in to find this sight? And Jordan? He was with her just last night.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

In quick movements, you peel away from him, raise off of the pool chair and without as much as a goodbye, scurry back into the house. You run to your room, shut the door behind you and lock it. 

Stupid, stupid girl! Why would you act like such a buffoon? 

“Holy crap…” you breathe out.

You’re aroused, your breathing erratic, and you feel like the biggest loser. 

Why did you stop him? Your mind beseeches. Is that not what you wanted? 

And now you can never face him, and he’ll never look your way ever again—not after this.

“Fuck.” 

You might as well pack your bags and fly back to England. Or worse, come to terms with the fact that you’ve just ruined any shot of a summer fling with Mason. 

☀️☀️☀️

An hour has passed since yours and Mason’s pool encounter, and you’ve managed to calm down but the embarrassment hasn’t been as forgiving. 

You tried to call Claire, but she was out biking in the fields with her cousin and couldn’t talk. Reading was out of the question after you had abandoned your book on the terrace, and starting a new one seemed silly.

And so you sat and stewed in the feeling. And when that got too overwhelming, you listened to music to help drown your torturous thoughts. Would you ever get over it? Time would tell.  

Around three o’clock, the Castell de Bellver group returned with the bad news that they didn’t get to see the castle. Apparently, in their excitement, they had forgotten to book their tickets online, and when they got there, the lines were too long.

“I take full blame, I’m generally an unlucky person,” Eleanor quips.

She calls it the ‘sightseeing curse,’ and launches into explaining the phenomenon, but you don’t catch a single word she says, your eyes fixed on Mason standing at the terrace with your brother.

The two of them are engaged in conversation, a smile on Mason’s face as he takes in your brother’s words. 

“… But I did get you a gift!” Eleanor concludes.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She digs into her Louis tote and pulls out a bright pink braided leather bracelet. “I didn’t know which colour to get.” 

“Aw, Eleanor. Thanks.”

It’s such a sweet and unexpected gesture. She puts it around your wrist and it’s the perfect fit. 

And then James comes from his room, looking for his boyfriend.

“At the beach with Jordan. I was actually about to head there, so I’ll let them know you’re back.”

And that’s how you escape Eleanor and her many stories. You love her, think she’s good for your brother, but man, once she gets started, there’s no stopping her. You grab your tote and phone from your room, then leave the villa.

There’s no definite plan for when you’re out the house, but it beats being in the same vicinity as Mason.

☀️☀️☀️

Edward and Jordan are still at the beach and they have befriended an elderly couple. Odd, but they’re still tipsy and they’re very happy to see you. After you tell them that the Castell de Bellver group has returned, they bid their company farewell and head back to the villa. 

“You’re not coming back with us?”

“No. I think I’ll hang here for a bit. But I’ll see you soon.”

Jordan throws her arms around you and pulls you into a tight embrace. It amuses you how people are always the most affectionate in their drunk state. They blow a thousand kisses as they back away and then they are gone.

You take pictures of the ocean to post onto your story. On vacation mode, you haven’t been very active on your socials, which means that you’ve been behind on your friend’s summer activities. 

You’re lost in your explore page when you hear a familiar voice call for you. It’s Alex, and he’s with his twin sister, Charlotte—Lottie.

Like you, they wanted to escape the house and the beach is the perfect spot to chill. And they invite you to join them,

“If you’re not busy, of course,” he clarifies and you appreciate his manners.

The rest of your afternoon is spent at the beach with the siblings, doing nothing in particular, but it’s a lot of fun.

Eleanor: Dinner’s at 8

Eleanor: You don’t have any allergies, right?

The second message was sent nearly an hour ago.

You: Sorry, didn’t see these. I’ll be home before then. 

You send your response to her allergies question, and then you get an idea.

You: Can I invite a friend over for dinner?

You don’t expect an immediate response from her, but–

Eleanor: Only if it’s Alex ;)

You snort at her response. 

You: It’s Alex

You: And his sister, Lottie

It’s been good spending time with your age mates.

Eleanor: Yes! The more the merrier.

Eleanor: Are they allergic to anything?

You invite Alex and Lottie over for dinner at yours, and when they accept, you ask if they’re allergic to anything.

You: No allergies, but Lottie doesn’t like peas.

☀️☀️☀️

It’s just past six when you and the twins part. At the villa, James and Eleanor are at the kitchen island, unpacking the groceries they’ve just come home with. 

Your brother is out by the pool with Maya and Edward, and Mason is back to flirting with Jordan. The whole thing trips you up, and you conclude that it’s best not to dwell on it. Why lose sleep over something so trivial?

Because it isn’t trivial.

“What’s this I’m hearing about a potential love interest joining us for dinner tonight?”

James’s question catches you off guard.

“You told him?”

With an apologetic smile, Eleanor says, “He asked who Alex was and I didn’t know what to tell him.”

Oh goodness. “Alex is a friend.”

But James isn’t buying it. “A friend, huh?”

You laugh, “Yes. He is.”

“Then why are you giggling like that?”

“Nervous habit,” you take your seat on one of the stools at the island. “And I’m not sure if this will change your mind or not, but he’s bringing his twin sister.”

He dramatically stops mid-movement. “You’ve already met his family?”

“Who’s met who’s family?”

You really wish Mason would stop butting in your conversations like this. Your eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the fridge, where he grabs himself a bottle of water. 

“Y/N. Her friend,” James winks knowingly at you, “is coming over for dinner tonight, and she was just telling me how she’s already met his family.”

“Not family, just his sister,” you clarify. 

“Right, his sister.”

“Which friend? The dweeb?”

It annoys you that Mason keeps referring to Alex as that.

“Alex. His name is Alex, not dweeb.”

“Watch yourself,” James jokingly warns Mason.

But Mason doesn’t seem all that phased by your clear irritation. “So he’s coming over tonight?”

And you think your mind might be playing tricks on you, but Mason seems jealous. 

“With his sister, yes.”

But you’re not interested in having this conversation with Mason in the kitchen, so you excuse yourself. 

For the first time since the moment you landed on this island, you have something to look forward to and you don’t need Mason, or anyone for that matter, ruining it for you. 

☀️☀️☀️

At your request, Eleanor and Maya came to your room to help you put together a look for tonight. Eleanor was the stylist, Maya the make-up artist and hairstylist. The transformation is like something out of a coming of age film, and you’re not mad about it.

“Who are you? And what have you done with my sister?” 

If B/N was standing close to you, you’d shove him.

“What’s the occasion?” he inquires.

James can’t wait to tell him about Alex, which starts discourse on the nature of your relationship with your guest. They’re all like the annoying older sibling, teasing and prying, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t entertained. 

It’s Edward who comes to your rescue, extracting you from the chaos to pull you to the kitchen, where he makes you a drink.

“For courage,” he says as he hands it to you. 

All eyes are on Alex and Charlotte when they arrive, and you’re tense. Jaws clenched level tense, nervous to see how your villa mates would interact with your guests. It’s your brother who makes the first move.

After introductions are made, Edward offers your guests drinks, and the rest is history. For the most part, Alex and Charlotte, stick with you, but every now and again, someone will walk over to make conversation. 

When it’s time to eat, everyone makes their way over to the dining area. Alex takes his place on the seat to your right, and Mason insists on taking the left chair. 

“So, Alex,” Maya starts and you already regret it. What is she going to say? “Where are you from?”

Phew. 

Maya’s question launches an interrogation. Suddenly, everyone at the table—minus Mason—is a detective with questions. Where he was born. Where he’s studying. What he is studying. Future plans. All of it, they want to know, and they’re relentless in their pursuit to the answer.

Eventually, you have to interject and remind Alex that he doesn’t have to answer their intrusive questions, but he assures you that it’s fine. 

“University College London, hey? That’s not far from where you’re studying, Y/N,” Eleanor notes. 

Despite spending nearly three hours with the twins this afternoon, the topic of your studies never came up. 

“Is it?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She’s at the Chelsea College of Art and Design.”

Alex turns to you, “What are you studying?”

“Interior design.”

“Ah! An architect and interior designer, a match made in heaven,” Jordan observes.

You pretend to not hear Mason scoff beside you. 

What crawled up his ass and died? 

Despite Mason’s clear sour mood, it’s a good night. You weren’t sure how the night would go, but it went smoother than you had anticipated. Even your brother, whose reaction you dreaded the most, was pleased.

And as the night wraps up, you’re glad that you invited the twins over.

When you walk them out, you notice that Charlotte walks ahead of her brother, and you make nothing of it until…

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow? Because if not, I’d like to take you out.” Alex’s nervous as he asks the question. 

The two of you are standing in the middle of the driveway. The backtrack to your moment are the cicadas and the distant music coming from the villa. It seems there will be another party tonight.

Your face heats up from the nerves. It’s not your first time being asked out by someone, but it still gets to you. You tell him that you are in fact available to hang out, and the two of you exchanged numbers.

And then he asks to kiss you. So in the middle of that driveway, the two of you share a chaste kiss. 

What you don’t realise is that Eleanor and Maya are watching the whole thing unfold from the window, and so when you come into the house, they greet you with a million and one questions.

“When are you seeing him again?”

“How was the kiss?”

“Was he a good kisser?”

“Are you in love?”

Uh… “You saw that?!”

Neither is apologetic, despite the clear horror in your tone. There’s only one question on their minds: is the summer fling on?

You laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Well, when are you guys hanging out again?”

“Tomorrow.”

Your answer pleases them. They both squeal from excitement, and you almost can’t believe that the two women in front of you are approaching 30.

☀️☀️☀️

After the night you’ve had, you can’t sleep but you know better than to sit out on the balcony because Mason and Jordan were flirting again tonight, and you think you saw them kiss by the pool, but that could’ve been the lighting.

Either way, you weren’t going to risk it. 

In your sleepless state, you did what anyone in your position would do—get on a late night call with your best friend. 

“Wait… when did you meet a guy?”

You hadn’t told Claire about Alex because up until tonight, you didn’t see the point in telling her about him. He was neither a friend or potential romance/fling. You explain that to her, but she’s dissatisfied.

“Well, is he hot?”

You wouldn’t use the word ‘hot’ to describe Alex. You find him cute, but you don’t want a repeat of the ‘nice’ incident, so you search your mind for a more suitable adjective. 

“He’s charming.”

Claire laughs, really loudly. So loud, you have to pull your AirPod from your ear. “Charming? What, is he ugly?”

“Claire, no!” you join her in her laughter, careful not to be too loud as you don’t want to wake the house. “No, he’s actually really cute.”

“I don’t trust you anymore. Does he have an Instagram?”

He probably does, doesn’t everyone have it at this age? But you unfortunately don’t know his last name.

“Okay. Where’s he from?”

You don’t know the answer to that either. Do you know anything about this guy? “He’s studying in London, though.”

“Okay, that’s something.” And Claire likes the sound of that. “If everything goes well between you, you could have yourself a boyfriend when you get back.”

Uh, she’s definitely jumping the gun, but you don’t tell that to her. You let her bask in her fantasy. 

“At least one of us has got something exciting going on in their life. From now on, I’m living vicariously through you.” She goes on to tell you that she hates it at her grandmother’s cottage. “There’s virtually nothing to do. The other day, I started–”

“Claire, could you hold for one moment?”

You think you heard a knock sound from your door.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just thought I h–”

It sounds again, but it’s clearer this time. 

“Someone’s at my door.”

“At this late hour?”

You climb off of your bed and pad across the room to your door. You figure it’s Maya or Eleanor back to interrogate you some more. 

“It could be Eleanor.”

There are so many possibilities for who might be standing on the other side, what you don’t expect is for it to be Mason. 

He’s still dressed in what he was wearing at dinner, and he seems distressed over something. And you’re ashamed to admit that you’re concerned, and that your immediate response is to want to help make it better.

“Can I come in?”

His simple question catches you off guard. “Hey, can I call you back in a bit?”

You don’t wait for Claire’s response before you hang up. 

The right thing to do would be to turn him away. That’s what a normal, sane person would do, but your curiosity has always outweighed your normality and sanity.

“If you’re here to insult Alex, I swear I’ll–”

“I’m not here to insult your friend,” his voice strains ever so slightly at the word ‘friend.’ 

Seriously, what’s his beef with the guy?

“Then why are you here?”

Mason looks over his shoulder then back to you. “Please let me in.”

Your mind cautions against it, but you’re deaf to its warning. You don’t listen to it much, your mind, at least not when it comes to boys.

“Only if you promise to behave.”

“You have my word.”

And that’s good enough for you. You move out the way to let him pass, and once he’s inside, you close the door and lock it. The last thing either of you need is your brother, or anyone, walking in and getting the wrong idea.

You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that this is wrong.

But that thing about your curiosity and the fact that despite everything you have internally said about Mason, you’re fascinated by him, drawn to him in a way that makes no sense to you. Infatuation is weird that way. 

“You journal?”

Mason’s standing at your desk in the corner, examining the objects littering the surface. There’s a journal, a pen, half drunk bottle of water, and a few of your beauty products. 

“Sometimes. I haven’t done it in a while though, so I’m trying to get into it again.” 

You brought out the journal for two reasons tonight: first, to document your first kiss with Alex, and secondly, to vent about Mason.

“So, what brings you to my room, Mason?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

You think the answer vague and leaves you with more questions like, “Can’t you read a book? Listen to a podcast? Music? Watch a video on YouTube…”

Have sex with Jordan. You don’t say that option because you realise that it’s petty—there’s no reason to bring Jordan into this.

“Yeah, but then I thought I’d come see if maybe you were also up.”

There’s something about the way he says that. 

“What, did Jordan kick you out of her room, then?”

And you instantly hate yourself for asking that, and hate what it insinuates. If you wanted to show him that you had no feelings for him, that’s no way to show it. 

With a smug smile, he responds, “No, she didn’t kick me out.”

“Well, I am. So please leave.”

“But I only just got here.”

“Yeah, well you disturbed my call.” 

At some point, earlier in your conversation, you noted that he sounded tipsy. If you didn’t know better, you’d probably miss it. You attribute his strange mood to that, and in another scenario, you’d be fearful, but you trust Mason. 

“I’ll be silent, I promise.”

Your face twists in disapproval.

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” There’s a brief pause, and then, “Oh, you were on the phone with Alex just now.”

“No, my friend Claire.” 

“Were you telling her about me?”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was telling her about Alex, actually.”

“What about him?”

God, how old is this man? And why on earth are you flattered by this stupid behaviour? Seriously, what’s wrong with you?

“That’s none of your business, actually.”

“So what’s the deal with you and Alex anyway?”

You really hate this question, not because it’s Mason who asks it, but because you genuinely don’t know what to tell people. Just a few hours ago, Alex was nothing but a friend, and sure, you shared a kiss, but surely that doesn’t change anything.

Or are you the bitch?

“Who wants to know?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious. Want to know if I still stand a chance.”

A chance? A CHANCE? “Mason, I’m really tired and I’m not in the mood for mind games.”

You watch as he moves from his spot at the desk to your bed, where he takes his seat at the end of it. Usually, a bench sits where his feet are, but Maya moved it earlier.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Why? Are you kicking me out already?”

“Maybe.”

“But I didn’t say anything to offend your friend.”

“Yeah, but Claire… she’s expecting me to call her back.” And because you don’t care anymore, you add, “And I’m really not sure why you’re here.”

“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”

“And I gave you options to help with that.”

“And I appreciate the recommendations, but–”

“But nothing. Mason, if someone walks in here, all hell will break loose.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re doing anything?” and cheekily, he adds, “Unless you want to.”

That prompts memories of your pool encounter. The feel of the tip of his fingers floating across your skin; the scent of him, one you can only describe as Mason; and the way he made you feel. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“How old are you?”

His brows knit together, and he seems perplexed. 

“My brother’s 29, Eleanor’s 27. How old are you?”

“23.”

That makes him four years your senior. Age is nothing but a number, and whatever, but that’s a significant gap to you. But then again, you’re also jumping the gun here. Should this happen, if it happens, it would be nothing more than a summer fling.

Who are you kidding? A summer fling? Girl, this is the same man who was hooking up with Jordan just days ago.

“Well, I turned 19 this year.”

And surely, he must know that. I mean, you know that your brother doesn’t go around telling people your age, but surely he could see it. 

All he can say is, “Fuck.”

And you agree. Fuck.

“Well, are you just going to stand there?”

“As opposed to doing what?”

“Sit with me,” he says. And when you make no movements, he adds a polite, “Please.”

Bad idea. You don’t trust yourself around him. Frankly, you think he should leave the room before you do something you’ll both regret, but the truth is that you like having him here, sitting at the end of your bed like that.

He’s so handsome, and there’s a certain glint in his eyes, probably from the alcohol in his system, and his hair’s so inviting. You just want to run your fingers through his locks. 

“What are we going to do?”

It’s a rhetorical question because there’s nothing to do. For one, your brother would have a coronary. Not to mention the age gap, you know Claire wouldn’t approve of it. And his thing with Jordan, and your thing with Alex, and everything.

But his smile, the sound of his laughter… 

Your legs begin to move to Mason of their own volition. You stop before him, and for some time, the two of you just stay like this, your hands in his hair, his hands at your hips. 

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 7

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8

AN: Damn we on part 7? That happened fast. I just realized that this series is going to be longer than I thought. ALSO, highly suggest clicking on the link to see the readers dress bc it adds to the plot and it was hard to desribe lol.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavier SA in this one again, a little bit of exhibitionism, jealously, Smut 

Word Count: 6,009

“If you don’t stop right now Rhys is going to kill you for being late!” I giggle watching Cassian pepper kisses all over my neck through the floor-length mirror. I had simply asked him to button up the back of my dress for me but now he couldn’t keep his hands off me.  

“Rhys can wait,” Cassian smirks nibbling under my ear, the scruff of his morning beard tickling my skin. 

“I’m sure he can, but it might seem a little suspicious that you’re late considering you’re the most punctual person I know,” I smile running a hand through his hair. 

Cassian doesn’t stop pressing loving kisses all over my shoulders and neck. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my hips. His strong chest behind me kept me upright as I watched him ravishing me in the floor-length mirror. 

“Cass,” I protested, turning in his arms knowing if I didn’t my newly buttoned dress would be unbuttoned and on his bedroom floor in an instant. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed as I threw my arms over his shoulders to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I promise you can kiss me all you want later,” I laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“What about anywhere I want?” he grins, kissing me again.

“Hmmm, maybe,” I tease, tilting my head to the side. Cassian’s hands gripped my waist tighter. 

“C’mon princess don’t make me beg,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the shell of my ear. 

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle to hide the change in my heart rate, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees general.” I tease. 

“You know I’d crawl to your bed if I had to, princess,” he teased back and the air in the room had become thick and warm.  

I push away from him a little, “Cass stop I know what you’re trying to do! Go talk to Rhys before he comes up here to see what’s taking so long!” I laugh. 

“Fine, fine,” he shakes his head and follows me out of his room into the hallway. 

“What does he want to talk to you about anyways?” I ask as we walk idly towards the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Probably just catching up on the Illyrian camps I visited with Az earlier.” 

“Well remember. Nothing about you and I, as far as he’s concerned Eris and I are counting down the days until the wedding.” I remind him as we round the corner to the kitchen where Azriel sips his morning coffee. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Azriel mused, not looking up from his book. 

“Hello Az,” I smiled at the shadowsinger. 

“I promise to paint a lovely picture of newly engaged bliss, even though I enjoy it,” Cassian assures me as we stop at the door to the balcony. 

“Thank you,” I say cupping his cheek. “Now go before Rhys loses his mind,” I say pushing him out the door. 

“Ah ah ah not without one of these,” he smirks, pulling me in by my waist for a kiss. Gods I would never get tired of kissing this male. 

Without another word, Cassian pulled away and flashed me a charming smile before flaring his wings and taking off into the air. These past few days I had grown to see a new side to the Illyrian that I had never known before. For one, I had never known him to be so sweet and loving and two, I had never seen the male smile so much. Not that I could complain, he did have one of the most dashing smiles I’d ever seen.  

“You two are adorable but you make me sick,” Azriel laughed from the kitchen table beside me. I turned my head to find him watching me intently. He tried to mask his face in disgust, but the love in his eyes was a dead giveaway. 

“There will be loads of women fawning over your pretty face tonight tonight.” I teased ruffling up his hair. “And you’re a wonderful dancer. I’m sure you’ll find your person soon.” I continue waltzing towards the library.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Azriel teases taking a bite of an apple. 

I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head as I exited the room. 

Cassian’s pov: 

“Cass please sit down,” Rhysand says motioning toward the plush chair in his study, one large enough to accommodate wings of course. 

I had known the bastard for hundreds of years and never once had I been afraid of him. But I hadn’t spoken to him since everything happened with me and y/n. I had made sure to keep my mental shields up but I couldn’t stop the irrational fear that Rhys’ next words were going to be, “Are you fucking my little sister?” As he poured us each a glass of whiskey I couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back. 

“I hear you’ve been keeping y/n satisfied,” Rhys drawled, handing me a glass. 

Oh shit

“At least that’s what Azriel said the other day when I asked him how you guys were doing with going back and forth to the Autumn Court all the time.” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at my blank expression as I grabbed the glass of whiskey from his hand and sipped it eagerly. 

Azriel that motherfucker. I could practically see his smug face as he told Rhys about how “satisfied” I was keeping his little sister. I would be thoroughly kicking his ass today at training. 

“Yeah I mean it’s a pretty simple task taking her back and forth.” I shrug trying to shake whatever tension I had from my shoulders. “But she seems to have no quarrel with me, except for one time when I messed up her hair because I flew too fast but that’s about it.” I smile remembering the cute angry look on her face that went along with her messed-up updo. 

“Ever the little princess,” Rhys rolled his eyes and relaxed into his chair. “Is she happy with Eris?” 

I tried to look collected as Rhys asked the question I had been dreading. The entire flight here I considered telling him everything. I thought that maybe he could help her, or at least talk to Beron. But then I thought about how I would have to explain why I cared so much, and Rhys would be much less inclined to help if he knew I was fucking his little sister. Hell if y/n ever did figure this out would Rhys even allow me to be with her? I was a bastard after all.  

Then of course there was y/n. She would never forgive me for betraying her trust, and I wasn’t willing to lose it. More importantly, I thought back to what she said the day that Eris first tried to take advantage of her. 

Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me…

Cauldron how those words had struck me like lightning when she said them. The poor girl had never been given free will to make her own choices until recently. First, she was closed off from the world because of her beauty, then she was under the mountain. Now she was engaged to Eris and I’d rather die than be another person who tried to control her. 

“She seems to be,” I reply to Rhys. “I mean she did agree to marry him.” 

Lies 

Lies 

Lies

“And Eris? Will he be a suitable husband for her? I’ve heard stories of him, some good, some bad. I was hesitant at first to let him near her till I remembered what others have said about me.” he says with a hint of sadness. “I thought I’d give him a chance, in hopes that Feyre will give me one someday.” 

My heart broke for my brother, “I’m sure she will brother,” I say warmly. “But Eris seems quite smitten with y/n. He’s already sent her a large trove of dresses and jewels.” 

Not entirely a lie.

“I hope you’re right Cass,” Rhys said with a sad smile. “But I’m glad my sister is happy. After all she’s endured she deserves it. Will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, referring to the engagement ball. 

“Have you ever known me to pass up free drinks and beautiful women?” I chide leaning back in my own chair.

“I suppose not,” Rhys laughed, slamming back his whiskey. 

y/n’s pov: 

Cauldron boil me.

That was the only thought that raced through my head as I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror. For once my lady's maids didn’t get a chance to select the perfect dress for me to wear tonight, as Eris had specifically labeled a dress in the trove he sent me. The dress I now wore. 

The fabric itself was beautiful, swaths of chrome of molten gold. It draped and cascaded down my body perfectly, the only problem with the fabric was that there wasn’t enough of it. The high slit and the low back left little to the imagination. Even the top of the dress was skimpy, with only three thin pieces of fabric holding the garment together. 

As I exited my bedroom to the foyer to meet Cassian I could only hope that the fireplaces would be roaring on both ends of the vast ballroom tonight as I was already freezing. I find Cassian already waiting for me (per usual), in a night court black jacket that has him looking like pure sex. The only color adorning him is the two red siphons on his hands. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gawks at my dress, eyes raking up and down my nearly bare body. 

“What don't you like it?” I tease doing a spin for him. 

His arms pull me close to him, hands wandering all over my exposed skin. The familiar touch of his hands soothes the goosebumps on my too-cold skin as I feel myself leaning into him. 

“That’s what he’s making you wear?” he scrutinizes, looking me up and down again. 

“Unfortunately yes,” I sigh looking down at the dress myself. Gods I hated this. 

“That bastard’s going to have his hands all over you all night,” he grits, turning his head to the side like he doesn’t want me to see the simmering in his eyes. 

I reach up to cup his face turning his gaze back to mine, “Cass I know that this isn’t easy. If the roles were reversed the female would be dead by now,” I laugh trying to ease the mood. “If you don’t want to come tonight I’ll understand.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” he says, placing a hand over my own that rests on his cheek. 

“Cass-” 

“I’m going y/n,” he assures me. 

Secretly and selfishly I was glad he was coming. I would never make him do such a thing. Especially knowing how Eris is going to be. But there was a comfort in knowing that he would be present. A comfort in knowing that at the slightest hint of a scared glance, he would likely burn down the whole court for me. 

“Cassian?” I whisper. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“Kiss me,” I say, referencing our first kiss, hoping it would bring a smile to his face. 

“With pleasure,” he smiled before leaning in for a kiss. 

I took every moment and committed it to memory knowing that soon it would be Eris’ lips instead, and they wouldn’t be as tender and sweet. Soon it would be Eris’ hands on me, and they wouldn’t be as warm and strong. I savored every taste of Cassian I got, somehow in that moment falling even deeper in love with him. Cassian kisses me like I’m the air he breathes. He kisses me like every female dreams of being kissed and gods I’ll never get enough. 

“When we get home,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you to rip this dress off me and fuck me on every single surface in this gods forsaken house.” 

“Be careful princess. You don’t want me at attention in public.” Cassian purs in my ear holding me closer. 

“Maybe I do,” I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“Cruel, wicked female.”

Unlike the last ball when my brother and I arrive, we are one of the first people there, as the ball is being thrown in Eris and I’s honor. I spend the first hour or so making polite conversation until the rest of the crowd shows up. Thankfully the second they do the dancing is in full swing giving me ample time to converse with others as Eris sits on a dias at the end of the room. A place normally reserved for the High Lord alone, but it seems Beron wants to show off this union.

“She’s not here again,” I say to my brother. 

Rhys was one of the first people to dance with me tonight and I had never accepted an invitation so happily, well besides Cassian. When my father taught me to waltz Rhys was always there to help me. We must’ve spent hours dancing together while growing up. Dancing with him now was like living out the old days I so dearly wished for. 

“How do you know?” Rhys asked me as he spun me around once more. 

“I checked the guest list,” I say sadly. “It sounds like she and Tamlin never even leave his mansion.”

“Oh,” my brother says sadly, halting his search for the infamous cursebreaker. 

“You should call upon your bargain Rhys. Give her time to get to know you,” I tell him as he lifts me slightly and resumes the dance in time with the others. 

“I don’t want to force her to love me,” he admits sadly. 

I can’t help but feel my heartbreak. Sure Rhys wasn’t always the best at first impressions given his reputation, but he was an amazing brother and an amazing male. “Rhys please, she’s your mate. Maybe if she meets me I can help her see how amazing you are,” I say hopefully. 

“If Tamlin is what makes her happy I won’t stand in her way,” he explains to me and it’s like a punch to the gut. Before I can say anything to ease his pain a voice cuts in from beside me. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Azriel asks politely. 

“Not at all brother, just don’t step on my dear sister's toes,” Rhysand jests, passing my hand to Azriel’s.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel smiles before leading me up into a waltz.

“What no crowds of women falling all over you?” I tease him as he gracefully moves around the dancefloor. 

“I’m actually using you to get away from a particularly nosey one,” he nods his head to a giddy blonde in the corner. She looks far too young for him and way too energetic to catch Az’s interest and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Glad to be doing the royal duty of helping my citizens,” I laugh as he spins me in a circle. 

“If you really want to help you could give me a kiss,” he tilts his head so his cheek is on full display for me. 

“Who would come after you first? Eris, Cassian, or my brother?” I roll my eyes. 

“Don’t forget Helion, he's here too,” Azriel laughs and sure enough, out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the High Lord of Day. 

“By the cauldron, I’ll never know peace,” I sigh as Az picks me up and twirls me around.

Even though it was the same ballroom as last time this one felt smaller. Every move I made felt more and more observed and scrutinized. On one end I had Eris sitting on a dias watching me like I was a pet he had let off its leash. On the other side stood a very grumpy and brooding Cassian who wouldn’t take his eyes off me and Eris, like he was waiting for the prince to make one wrong move. Never mind the rest of the guests who gawked at my dress or the ginormous ring on my finger.

“Eris is looking at me like he’s about to have me incinerated,” Azriel laughs in my ear. 

I can’t help but roll my eyes, on the next spin I see the prince doing just that. “That’s his way of saying he wants me back.” I sigh. 

“You want me to dance us away from him?” Az asks sweetly and quietly. 

“No, no I’ve already been avoiding him for far too long. He’ll come down here himself in a moment,” I say as the music stops and I bow to Az. 

“Good luck then princess,” he bows to me before he saunters off to where Cassain sits gripping a goblet of wine tighter than he ought to.

Like I’m either a blessing sent from above or a curse from below the crowds parts for me as I make my ebay towards Eris. The men gawk and lick their lips, the women gossip and whisper to one another. Once again I felt like a painting displayed at a museum, I was beginning to hate balls. 

“Have I told you how delicious you look in gold, my pet?” Eris says as I take my place standing next to his chair.  

“At least a dozen times tonight,” I sigh, snatching a glass of wine off a silver platter. 

“Come here,” Eris says, patting his lap and I know better than to disobey, not when all of Prythian is watching us. 

“What, I don't get to have my own throne?” I grumble, adjusting my dress from where I sit on his lap. The damned thing is one gust of wind away from exposing me to the whole room. 

“Wall ornament my dear, wall ornament,” he reminds me, lips trailing down my neck. “And how beautiful you look perched on my lap,” he smirks. 

“Yes and I’m one gust of wind away from flashing the whole room,” I grit, adjusting the dress once more. 

“Good, let them see what I get to indulge in,” he grins, lifting my goblet to his own lips. The overwhelming urge to spill the liquid all over his pressed jacket is strong but lord knows what would happen next. 

“Prince Eris,” mused a female voice drawing both of our attention. “I came to offer my congratulations to you and your future wife.” 

The woman standing before me was nothing short of beautiful. Her skin is fair and covered in freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes the color of the evergreen trees found in the winter court. Her hair is unbound and the deep auburn. She looked at Eris with a certain coldness and in that moment I realized that they might have been lovers at one point in time. Her eyes flitted to mine and my blood ran cold. She looked at me like I had taken her future away. I suppose I had. If Eris had any feelings for her he certainly didn’t show it.

“Thank you for your well wishes Lady Adarna. We hope to see you at the wedding next week,” he chided leaning back in his chair once more. 

The woman simply bowed and waltzed away. I mentally hoped she wouldn’t go near Cassian. Not that I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust her for one moment.

As she scurried off to join a large group of lords and ladies conversing I watched as Eris’ eyes trailed her entire backside. His lips twitched up as if recalling a fond memory. Now was the perfect time to execute my backup plan. 

“She seemed angry to see me on your lap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine. 

“So is every male in this room. You should be used to it by now.” he kissed my shoulder. 

“You fucked that woman didn’t you?” I turn my head to him letting him see the false anger in my eyes. I had to sell it. 

“Many times my pet,” he smiled proudly. “She used to beg me to come to her bed.”  

I scoff at his words, it was too hard to believe that any woman would beg to warm Eris’ bed.

“And you're ready for monogamy?” I raise an eyebrow at him, my question more like a test. Eris had been so in lust with me had forgotten about the other women he once bedded. Surely the idea of monogamy wasn’t one he relished, he needed a reminder. The very concept could be the only thing to stop the wedding. 

“Who said anything about monogamy?” he laughed while taking a sip of his wine. “I’m sure I’ll be insatiable after I deflower your tight cunt, but once you’re with child I’ll be left to my own devices. Someone will have to satisfy my needs,” he said like it was common knowledge. 

By the fucking cauldron this man was insane. But in his words, I saw an opening I never thought of. Maybe I didn’t need to call off the wedding, maybe I just needed to ensure I could sneak out the back door so to say when I needed to. 

“And what about me? Will I be allowed other partners?” I muse playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like it might soften him up. 

Eris barks out a hearty laugh and I already know I’ve lost this fight as his hand trails up my thigh. The fabric of my dress starts to shift and I find myself shifting around to fix it once more. 

“Of course not wife, I won’t have your cunt defiled by any other male,” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You are purely mine, to taste, to fuck, to impregnate all I want.” 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I grumble trying to stand, but his hand on my front flattens and I’m pulled down onto his lap once more.

 My stomach pits as I feel what prods into my backside. He’s undeniably hard and my eyes search for Cassian. I have no doubt that Eris would fuck me right here on this dias just to prove a point to everyone in attendance. I search and search, but Cassian is nowhere to be found.  

“Oh really? Because you’re on my lap, on my throne and you’re wearing my ring,” He purrs lowly so only I can feel his hand dipping under my dress. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve cum on my fingers. So yes I will call you my wife preemptively because that’s what you are ‘Jewel of Prythian’, mine.” 

His hand cups my sex and my breath hitches in my throat. Tears prick my eyes and I put on a cold face. 

I will not cry.

I will not cry. 

I will not cry. 

I feel a finger slip through my folds and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for his finger slips inside me. My eyes search the crowd to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully they are all drunk and lost in conversation or dancing. That is until my eyes land on Cassian’s. I could throw up from the embarrassment of it all. 

Eris quickly retracted his finger, bringing it to his lips and sucking it. 

“Good girl. You didn’t fight this time.” he muses, brushing a hand down my cheek. 

I take the quickest route out, “I think I see Viviane, she wants to speak to me,” I say quickly, standing from his lap. 

“Have fun pet,” Eris smirks, smacking my backside before I saunter down the steps making a beeline for Kallias and Viviane. 

My mind is a mess of a million different voices. Eris calling me his broodmare, Cassian begging me to end all this, the voice of my brother sacrificing himself for me, the sound of the children of Velaris playing in the streets. All of it is like a perfect storm. I could erupt at any moment and I don’t think anyone here would care unless my makeup smeared and ruined the image of “The Jewel” 

Like a magnet, my eyes flit up from my feet rushing through the crowd to find that hazel gaze that always brought me home. 

Cassian was making a beeline towards me. No, not towards me, to my right.

I passed him without so much as a word but as if some strange instinct kicked in, I reached out a hand and felt him do the same. Our fingers grazed each other where no one could see. His touch held a thousand words. 

I am here. I am with you. You are not alone. I love you.

My breathing calmed, my heart rate slowed, and the voices in my head quieted down to the point where all I heard was the white noise of those around me.  

And I was thankful, so thankful, for that simple touch that brought me home.

Cassian’s pov: 

I could kill him. 

I could fucking kill him for touching my mate that way. Cleave his head from his body. Castrate him. Rip him limb from limb and my rage still wouldn’t be sated. 

The look on her face as his hand dipped between her legs is one I wouldn't soon forget. She was so scared, so helpless and I just let it happen.

I marched towards the other end of the ballroom after grazing her hand in mine. I just needed to feel her once. Just needed to remember that she was mine. 

I pushed past the large swaths of curtains lining the room to where I knew there was a door that led to the cool night air outside. I just needed air. I needed to forget. 

y/n’s pov: 

“Well I hope to see you and your new husband visiting us in the winter court soon,” Viviane said, embracing me fondly.  

“And tell that brother of yours that I want to have a drink with him soon,” Kallias smiled putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“I’ll be sure to do both,” I smile warmly. 

While under the mountain, Kallias was one of the people who looked out for me. His relationship with my brother was strong, and since Rhys couldn’t ever be with me Kallias had stepped in as one of my protectors. I had only met Viviane once since Kallias shielded her from the horrors under the mountain, but her warm soul always spoke to me. I was happy to call the mates my friends. 

“I’ll do just that,” I smile, backing away from the High Lord and Lady. 

My eyes flit up to that cursed dias, looking for any sign of Eris’ gaze. Instead, I found him lounging about talking to one of the men who sexualized me at the last ball. My skin prickled at the memory. Their voices calling through my head as I made my way towards the edge of the room scouring the dancehall for another drink. 

Suddenly a hand gripped my exposed arm and pulled me behind the swaths of large fabric that lined the room. My back hit one of the many pillars as another hand was placed over my mouth to keep me from screaming, which I desperately wanted to do until I saw that beautiful shade of hazel that warmed my very bones. 

“Shh, it’s okay it’s just me,” Cassian whispered, releasing his hand that covered up over half of my face. 

“Oh Cassian,” I breathed, placing my hands on either cheek. The stubble from this morning mixed with the warmth of him setting my very soul on fire. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed pulling me into his chest, like he just needed to have me in his arms if only for a moment. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” I said frantically as I inhaled his scent. 

“He touched you,” Cassian glowered and I pulled my head back to meet his simmering eyes. 

My heart shattered right there at the pain within them. He had seen everything. Seen Eris’ hand roam where it shouldn't have, seen him bring that hand to his mouth. Seen him do this in front of everyone and I had instructed the general not to even flinch. It was cruel, I was crueler than even the prince of Autumn himself, 

“I’m sorry Cassian, I’m so so sorry,” I pleaded, brushing a hair out of his face that had escaped the bundle at the nape of his neck. “I’m yours Cassian, I’m yours.”  

“Y/n I-” 

“My heart,” I cut him off, placing his rough hand over the center of my too-exposed chest. “My heart belongs to you Cass.” 

In an instant his hands found my waist, pulling me towards him as his frame backed me into the marble pillar. His lips on mine in a fiery need. I met him touch for touch as I pulled the lapels of his jacket towards me, needing to feel every inch of him on me. Even more than that I needed him to erase every single fingerprint Eris had left on me. 

Cassian. 

My Cassian.

His hands brushed over the vast expanse of my exposed skin leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. I had spent the night so freezing cold from my lack of coverage that the heat of his body against mine felt so delicious. 

His tongue parted my mouth and I felt every inch of him reclaiming me. My hands found that head of hair that I so often found myself gripping as he licked my most sensitive areas. My mind raced to last night where he spent a solid hour coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me. 

A woman laughed loudly from the other side of the curtain pulling both Cassian and I’s heads away from one another. We looked to see if the curtain had been pulled back but found nothing.

My core ground down on the bulge in his pants. Oh gods I needed him. I needed him now. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Tell me to leave and wait till we get home.” 

“No,” I rasped pulling him down to my lips once more. 

I needed him now. Needed to feel all of him, needed to remember that no matter what Eris said or did to me he could never own me. He could own my body, sure. But my heart? My soul? The very essence of me? All of it belonged to Cassian. So much so that it consumed me. 

Cassian’s large hands reached beneath my thighs hoisting me up and pressing me further into the cold marble pillar. It didn’t take much for my dress to part for him exposing my core. My hands went to the ties of his pants frantically pulling them down until he sprang free. 

“Cassian, I need you,” I pleaded with him. 

“Shh I’m coming baby,” he assured me, pumping his cock a few times. 

The woman outside the curtain laughed again but this time neither of us looked to see if she had seen us. Let them see. I thought to myself. At this moment I was beyond caring about who was engaged to and who I wasn’t. Who was a prince and who was a bastard. Cassian had all of me, that's all that mattered. 

Cassian slid home filling me to the brim so harshly that I gasped. A calloused hand flew over my mouth and my eyes met his. His intense stare watching me take every luxurious inch of him could’ve been enough to make me cum right then and there. 

“Shh princess, I don’t like sharing.” he mused, thrusting into me even harder.

His hand fell from my mouth to brace against the pillar behind me as the other arm kept me upright. Every stroke threatened to have me screaming in pleasure. Calling out just how in love with this man I really was. But there were at least a couple hundred people on the other side of that thick curtain and though I hated to admit it, the game we were currently playing thrilled me to my core. 

“Fucking mine,” Cassian gritted through his teeth, thrusting harder for emphasis. This wasn’t just about releasing the tension for both of us. Oh no. This was my general reclaiming what was his, and cauldron if he didn’t have a hand holding me up I would’ve been weak at the knees. 

“All yours Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth as I pressed my lips into his, my fingers digging into the material of his jacket. 

“I love you y/n,” he breathed. “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smiled, feeling myself clench around him, as the knot in me was beginning to let go. 

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear, burying his head in my shoulder. 

It was enough to have me cumming around his cock. My hand flew to my own mouth to stifle the loud moan my body involuntarily let out. My orgasm triggered Cassian's as he let out a smothered low groan burying himself deep inside me

As I tried my best to catch my breath Cassian pulled his head from my shoulder. I looked at his strained face and his messed up hair and began meticulously brushing every strand back into place. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“We did not just do that,” I giggled brushing his hair into submission. 

“I think we did princess,” he laughed looking down to where he was still seated inside me. “I’m sorry I got a little jealous there.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it was kinda hot.” I smile, running a hand down his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

“You two are fucking idiots!” Azriel hissed low coming from around the corner. 

Our heads turned immediately to find a very worried Azirel shrouded in his shadows. Cassian set me down and shielded my body with his growling at Az as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

“A warning would have been nice brother,” Cassian grumbled, making sure I was decent before stepping to the side. 

“You’re lucky my shadows found you before anyone else did,” Azriel argued. “Eris is looking for her,” he says nodding towards me. 

“Shit,” I curse, adjusting my dress and stepping towards the curtain. 

Cassian’s hand finds mine and pulls me back. My eyes snap to him and where there was once lust is now a pleading gaze that has tears threatening to spill from my own eyes. 

“Please don’t go to him, I can’t bear it any longer,” he begs me and gods does it shatter me to my core. 

“I have to Cass,” I say adjusting his jacket so it’s straight.

“Tell him you're ill and then come back to me,” he pleads. “Then we can go home.”

I know deep down that I shouldn't be leaving this early. It had only been an hour or two since the guests arrived and I hadn’t even spoken to Helion. But Cassian looked so broken. So broken and so hurt. I couldn’t put him through anymore tonight, and I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.

“Alright,” I say assuringly, squeezing his large hand. I take one look at Cassian and then at Azriel who looks worried as hell, like if I didn’t leave right this moment we would all be found out. 

So I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and parted the curtain that concealed us. Thankful for the shadows Azirel lent me, I was able to assimilate back into the crowd seamlessly. But as I made my way towards the dias where Eris sat impatiently I swore I could feel Cassian’s anger behind me and it threatened to bring down the room around us. 

Part 8

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , 

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always 

[miinatozakiii]

kiss me

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, suggestive

summary: drabble of kisses with sana, you can't get enough of her.

wc: 1.1k

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬: kiss me by dpr live

a/n: lots of fluff lately i'm just head over heels for this woman.

also, def recommend listening to the song^^ while you read ;-]

-

sana's kisses are your favorite, you can't get enough of her lips on you.

you love sana's soft kisses, they're light and filled with desire.

sana kisses you softly in the mornings, they're basically a part of your morning routine. her kisses are usually scattered all over your face in the mornings; she kisses you so gently and with so much care, as if you'd break if she kissed too hard. 

sana can never keep her lips or hands off of you, even in the mornings when you're both in the bathroom brushing your teeth, she finds a way to give you ticklish, wet, toothpaste-scented kisses all over your cheek or neck; she seriously can't get enough of you.

sana's spontaneity is shown with surprise kisses, whether you're cooking together or lost in conversation about who knows what, she'll sneak up behind you and plant a quick, playful kiss that never fails to make you smile brightly. 

her lips are all over you as she hugs you from behind while you cook breakfast. she mutters sweet nothings into your ear before sleepily pressing kisses all over–which may turn into making out for an hour or two–but you never complain, especially if it's sana.

when sana kisses you on the cheek or your forehead, it makes you melt completely. they're perfect for when you're down or need reassurance, it's her way of saying, "i'm here for you, always. everything will be okay." 

she often gives you quick pecks before she leaves for work just to let you know that she loves you, and sometimes her lips linger for a bit because she doesn't want to leave you–it reminds you that you're the luckiest person in the world. sana's kisses ground you, and they rid of any worry that had been on your mind. 

sana is always the first to kiss you after an argument or minor disagreement. it's her way of compromising with you, and it lowers the tension from any disagreements. though her apologetic kisses are rare, they're tender and are perfect for solving any issues. it's her way of letting you know that she loves you no matter what.

you also love sana's needy, more intimate kisses.

it drives you crazy when her moans are muffled as she kisses you, when she bites your lip so hungrily as you touch her where she's been aching. you love the way she latches onto your neck, kissing and marking it so she can let everyone know that you're hers and hers only. you love the kisses down your body, and the soft pecks she gives you on your inner thighs before she satisfies her cravings. you love it when she kisses you sloppily when you make out, maybe you're in the shower and her tongue roams your mouth so lazily as she holds you close to her, you just can't get enough of her.

sana kisses you in so many ways, she kisses you any time she can and every kiss shared is special to you.

sana loves your kisses too.

your kisses are a statement, and those statements always convey the message "i love you." 

they're so gentle when you kiss her palm as you work, blindly reaching for her hand just to assure her that there's no one else you'd rather be with. she loves when you kiss her like that, they're so tender and loving. she adores your kisses before she falls asleep, you're always the last one to doze off and she doesn't miss your small "goodnight, i love you's" that you mumble each night before kissing her softly, even when she's barely awake.

through the years, sana has noticed your liking towards pressing your lips on her shoulder. you two could be in the bath together, and your lips would plant slow, gentle pecks along her exposed shoulder. whenever that part of her is exposed, sana notices that you cannot take your eyes or lips off of it.

sana adores your stolen kisses, the ones you give when her attention is elsewhere. she could be working on something in the kitchen, papers spread over the counter and the light from her laptop lighting up her face, then your hand would caress her cheek out of nowhere, and you cup her face to plant a small kiss on her lips–she loves your stolen kisses so much–they might be her favorite.

since you're not as big on pda as she is, she cherishes every kiss that you give her in public. it could be a quick kiss on the cheek before you get up to grab the drinks you ordered, or a soft peck to the temple as you wait in line; she loves all of them.

when you'd laugh or smile into kisses AND It makes it hard for you to kiss back, oh how sana adores you. sana falls in love with you even more every time your lips come into contact with her. she lights up at the way you smile when you see her bare face at night right after she removes her makeup, always mumbling something along the lines of "you're so pretty." against her lips. you always pull her close to you, cupping her face in your hand and pushing her closer with the hand on her waist; you kiss her like she's the only thing that matters in the world (and she is).

sana can never get enough of how you kiss her when it gets heated.

your small curses in between kisses that get heated quickly, the way you completely devour her as your hands roam–fuck, she loves them. 

the way you kiss her hungrily brings an aching feeling in between her legs, and when you kiss down her neck to her collarbone while nipping and biting at her skin, it's the best feeling. 

you kiss her lip and she loves the slow, sensual kisses you leave as you trail down to her hips, then to her sweet spot. you savor and cherish every part of her body as you reach her pulsing core, leaving sana weak with your kisses. 

kisses that have her gasping, groaning, moaning, and whining so desperately, kisses that you leave on her inner thighs before eating her out until she loses the ability to walk. sana loves every kiss you give, especially the ones that she receives while you're leaving her weak.

you and sana share kisses that are so similar and so different, they can be so soft and suddenly turn so hungry. 

every kiss is unique, and every kiss you two share is special.

you can't get enough of each other's kisses.

[cleake]

HP Characters Reacting To You Drawing Them

Warning: I didn't read the books, these are my headcanons and personal ideas for the characters. It's just for fun. :)

Harry:

-"Oh! Brilliant! Yeah, sure." -He is a bit shy, but flattered, very flattered -He sits in front of you, with a nervous smile, sometimes adjusting his glasses or hair -You assure him that he looks great and he relaxes a bit, sitting more comfortably -While you work he asks from time to time some questions about your drawing journey and listens closely to your answers -He thinks about how you're going to draw his scar, are you going to make it a key thing, or represent him in another way? -When you finish and show him your work he's astonished by your talent -"Wow! This is really good! I can keep it? Oh! Thanks!"

Ron:

-"You want to draw me? I don't think I'm that special." -He's a bit hesitant at first, he feels like he doesn't deserve attention, since he is not "The Chosen One" -But you make him believe otherwise -When sat down Ron is stiff, looking away from you, smiling nervously -You tell him that he looks great and he smiles a bit more confident -He suggests ideas on how you can present him, and he comes up with some sick propositions -Once you're finished he's so happy that he has something made by someone only for him -"Bloody hell, it's fantastic! You need to show your skill more often."

Hermione:

-"Draw me? Well if it makes you happy." -She pretends that it's nothing, she may look annoyed, but inside she cares -She fixes her hair or clothes when you aren't looking -She sits properly, legs together, hands on her lap, head slightly tilted, and a soft smile on her lips -She is mostly silent but asks you questions about what you are doing at a certain moment, she's curious -She's patient, giving you time to make your art perfect, she knows how hard it can be -She's very supportive when she sees your finished work -"This is lovely!"

Fred:

-"Oh yeah? So my beauty captured you this much?" -He's so happy about it but can help not to tease you -"Are you interested in a more intimate portrait?" -He sits in a confident way, taking a lot of space -He gives you ideas for the drawing, like how he could look good on a broom, or fighting You-Know-Who -After he's done with his jokes he lets you work in silence, just sometimes giggling to himself because of your focused expression -When you sometimes look up at him, he sends you a quick wink -He's very happy when you finish the drawing, he'll show it to his friends -"Thank you, dear, we can repeat this if you want."

George:

-"You got the right twin? Because I am not sharing this position." -He's more mature about this than his twin, but he has it in his nature to make some not-in-place comments -He gives you control, you decide how he sits or holds his hands -He's intrigued by how you work, but stays silent, just looking at you -He hums quietly, gently moving his head, when you tell him to stop moving he winks at you with a smirk, but completes your order -He's moved when he sees your done work, he feels appreciated for him -"Thank you, it's beautiful."

Ginny:

-"That's nice of you." -She doesn't ask a lot of questions, just lets you do your work -She's happy to pose for you, it makes her feel seen -She smiles when you accidentally make a silly face but doesn't point it out -When you're finished she takes a while to admire your work -"It's amazing, thank you."

Luna:

-"I would love to, sitting can be fun too." -She's very calm, listens to your instructions, and is very patient -She asks you how you got to draw, or what inspires you to create, she's nice to have conversations with -She has her glasses on her nose, sitting with her knees to her chest -When you're finished she's very happy -"Oh, it's magnificent. I am so happy to keep it."

Neville:

-"Me? Are you sure?" -He's very self-conscious, and thinks you're doing it out of pity, but you assure him it's not like that -He's very nervous, he doesn't know what to do with his hands, you have to guide him a little bit -He thinks he looks bad at every angle, but you tell him that everything is perfect and that makes him feel a bit more confident -He is so grateful for this art piece, he keeps it close to him at all times -"Wow, that is so pretty, thank you Y/N."

Draco:

-"Why? For what?" -He doesn't feel comfortable with this and is suspicious you have bad intentions -But his pride wins over him and he lets you draw him -He sits proudly with a serious look on his face -He says nothing, just watches you, expecting your work will be not as high as his expectations -But he's shocked when he sees your done work -He keeps it in his room, away from others -"Well that's not as bad as I thought it will be."

Tom:

-"I can agree to that." -He sees this as an opportunity to capture his image for future -He wears his best suit, rings on his fingers, and in his hand a dark book -He sits with his head high, one leg on the other, leaning on the armchair -He doesn't talk but nods his head in approval when you stop drawing for a moment -He's very satisfied with the result and keeps the drawing well hidden -"That is good, thank you for your time."