#was barely paying attention then noticed him dodge

[axvwriter]

Who is he?

This random npc from Pomefiore uses evasion. Evasion isn’t that common amongst the spells that the boys use. Who is he and how dare he evade my attacks?

[nomnomnoona]

ATEEZ: The Morning After (aka Round 2 from the night before) HYUNG LINE

Adult OT8 imagine drabbles. Minors, please do not interact. You can read the maknae line of this theme here.

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The warmth of the daylight slipping between the split of the curtains hits your cheek as you lay beneath the softest duvet. You toss, attempting to dodge the daylight, but instead the movement wakes you. You stretch, allowing your eyes to gently flutter open when you kick off the covers. The cool breeze kisses your skin and you lightly shiver, not yet fully aware.

As your eyes open, you notice a silhouette sitting against the light of the sheer layer of the curtain. The silhouette was seated quite close to the bed, the duvet spilling out to their feet.

Then the smell of coffee steals away that last moment of slumber as you are jolted by the realization that the relaxed, seated silhouette had chuckled. You remembered who he was.

You look down with a hyper awareness that you're fully nude. In a panic, you reach for the duvet with your legs, but he kicks it aside.

"Hongjoong," you scolded, grabbing the pillow beneath your head to cover yourself up. The bed was now bare. He had completely kicked off the duvet while you sat up, hugging the pillow with your arms and legs.

"Good morning to you too," he chuckled. As your eyes adjusted, you noticed more details. He was in the bath robe of the hotel, one leg crossed over the other, his cup of coffee in one hand, while he held open a magazine in the other.

"Don't you have work?" you asked, trying to scoot to the edge of the bed with the pillow in place.

He wasn't paying attention to the conversation, "Where's the modesty coming from? You had no problem letting me watch you squirm while you were sprawled out beneath me last night."

"I'm sober now," you tried to defend yourself, hoping he didn't notice you blush.

He smirked, "Silly," a scoff followed, "You didn't touch any of the alcohol I ordered."

Hongjoong put the coffee down and stood to walk passed you to the bathroom. He entered and you heard the shower running.

"Can I go first?" you called.

Hongjoong didn't respond.

You walked up to the bathroom, but before you could even reach for the door, Hongjoong opened it and stood in the doorway. His eyes travelled to the pillow you were hugging for dear life.

He reached over to you and your knee-jerk reaction was to flinch, thinking he was going to yank the pillow from you. Instead, he gently placed the end of his bathrobe's tie into your palm, closing your fingers in to hold onto it.

"Get in," he gestured to the bathtub, "Since you can't remember last night, I'll remind you."

Hongjoong turned around and walked towards the tub while you held onto the tie, his robe unraveling in his wake.

.

It came as a complete surprise to you that someone as obsessively clean as Seonghwa made you feel so dirty--but not in the filthy way.

"Come here," Seonghwa had snaked his arms around your waste to pull your body against his. You didn't flinch. You liked it--heck--you loved it. Seonghwa was slender but strong, gentle yet firm. He was the type who made every effort to be in the same rhythm and heartbeat as you were.

If you weren't done, he wouldn't be. If you were at your climax, he would be right there with you. The man's seduction technique was pure synchronicity. He never left you alone. He was always right there with you.

So even if it took him a long time to wake up, you waited for him and stayed by his side to let him know you'd be right there with him too.

"I'm glad you waited for me," he said, his voice now muffled because he had buried his nose in your hair. "I love your smell. This is how I want to wake up."

"What do I smell like?" you asked.

"Sex," he drawled. But before you could reply, his hand was between your legs, "Breakfast?"

"Do we order in or--" never mind. He didn't mean coffee.

.

You stretched and then woke when Yunho's side of the bed was empty. Feeling a bit lonely, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to gain a little more awareness so you could figure out where he was.

You stood up, not bothering to cover up, following the sound of the faucet in the bathroom. It was your first time sleeping over at Yunho's and he had been a bit nervous about you staying over. He had been going above and beyond recently to be hospitable, so you weren't surprised when you found him drawing you a bath.

"You're up," he jumped up, putting the bath bomb on the counter as he all but rushed over and let you sit on the edge of the tub. Before you could even speak, he pulled up a small basin with warm water and a towel, dipping in the towel and wringing it before he reached over between your legs.

"What are you doing?" you said with a laugh, tickled by the way he cleaned your thighs.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep right away," okay. Yunho must have looked up after care. This guy was really going the extra mile. You placed your hand on his.

"I feel comfortable," you assured him. "Come on," you stood, he looked confused as you guided him to stand. He towered over you.

"Take it off," you said with a smile as you tugged the hem of his shirt. "That's an expensive bath bomb," you laughed a little, "We should make the most of it."

With no less than stars in his eyes, he hurried to yank his shirt over his head, toss the bath bomb in, and pull you into an eager, delicious kiss, guiding you into the tub with him.

.

Yeosang was probably the most confusing person you have ever slept with. It was a good kind of confusion, because you were nothing short of satisfied, but confusing nonetheless.

When you had met Yeosang, he was almost the textbook definition of "baby girl". He was sweet, gentle, and he even had a delicate laugh.

A few drinks down the line, he was beginning to flop onto your couch like a stuffed animal. You had offered him your couch for the night because he was much too drunk to drive. On top of that, you were also absolutely enamored with him. He was so beautiful, so fascinating to watch. You could have watched him sleep.

And then he pulled off his long-sleeved sweater.

His forearms were practically carved as his veins moved with every motion of his fingers. His arms were solid as rocks and your inebriated memory reminded you that your eyes tried to follow his veins from his forearm to his bicep to his neck.

You were seated next to him on the couch, stunned silent as he threw his head back, irritated that he chose to wear such fitted jeans tonight. Yeosang began to roughly yank his belt off, but failed.

Your last memory was the moment he grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his buckle, his almost baritone voice demanding, "Take it off."

"What happened?" was his next question, 11:00 in the morning, clutching his temple as he sat across you at your dining table.

You poured him a tall glass of water and shrugged. You were intoxicated, sure, but not so much that you would forget the way he flat out fucked you senseless. You could still feel his iron grip on your hips. It was as though they were about to bruise.

Of course, it was wonderful. You would do it again in a heartbeat. You knew that he was someone who could get it from you anytime he asked.

You turned around and brought over toast, eggs, and a few sausages when your eyes locked with his. Your heart skipped a beat because he just had the most knowing smirk on his face.

He remembered.

"I'll have one egg," he said. "But if you're not yet sore," he pushed his empty plate forward, "I'll have two so I have enough energy to make sure you bruise this time."

Without a second thought, you straight up poured all four eggs you made onto his plate.

.

Maknae line here

[sarahs-library]

hi! i hope your having a good day 😊 you said you were taking requests so i have one if you dont mind! could you do something were az and reader are interrupted after they accept the bond by someone, maybe elain and she's upset and it causes issues? thanks!

Hey,

This is my first request so please be gentle with me if it isn't exactly what you were looking for. Also I'm sorry this sat in my inbox for so long, I wasn't sure exactly how to go about writing this one; I eventually decided on making it as dramatic as possible. 😅 So in true form, this is written mostly from our drama king Rhys' POV but there is some Reader POV fluff at the end. I wasn't sure where you stood with smut, so I've kept it relatively open to interpretation at the end.

Get Out!

Maybe being so secretive about your relationship with Azriel wasn't the best idea after all.

Word count: 5,090

Rhys POV

Rhys adjusted his grip on the blade in his hand as it clashed with Cassian's, the keen of metal against metal filled the training room. Sweat burned his eyes as he heaved air into his lungs. Cassian's grin bordered on feral as they separated, circling each other. Rhys hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd trained properly, but he could feel it in the ache of his muscles.

"Fatherhood making you soft, Rhys?"

Rhys rolled his eyes, hoping that Cassian didn't notice he couldn't muster more of a response between gasped breaths and fending off his attacks. They'd been at it for hours. Cassian was right, in between High Lord duties and trying to spend every possible moment with his son, resolute on not missing a single milestone, Rhys had certainly neglected his training regime. And now his brother was making him pay for it.

A blade whistled dangerously close to his face. Rhys managed to bring his own up in time to stop the blow as the force of it reverberated down his arm. He ducked out of Cassian's reach, staying firmly on the defensive while his brother eyed him with mirth. Cassian made a show of surveying Rhys slowly as he began to advance again, eyes trailing down his body and settling for a moment on the tight muscles of his abdomen. He clucked his tongue in disapproval.

"Just because Feyre loves you, doesn't mean you can let yourself go so much." Rhys dodged as Cassian swung towards his side, levelling him with a strike of his own which was blocked with ease. Cassian smirked at him as their blades locked, Rhys bared his teeth in a snarl as he forced Cassian's blade back.

A gentle caress against the fortress of his mental shields stole his attention away from his brother for a moment. Cassian smacked the flat face of his sword against Rhys' thigh, a strike that would likely leave a nasty bruise. Rhys opened the antechamber in his mind, built like a house of worship over the foundations of his mating bond with Feyre. He managed to send a small, gentle caress in return before he was drawn back to avoiding Cassian's blade.

Rhys, where are you? There was an undercurrent of worry flowing down the bond to him. It took his attention immediately. He signalled to Cassian, lowering his blade and taking a deep breath.

Training with Cass at the House. What's wrong? He was already moving as he answered, racking the blunted practice sword and retrieving his shirt from where it had been tossed earlier in the session. Cassian mimicked his movements before heading to the pitcher of water to pour two glasses.

It's Elain, something's happened.

What?

She's inconsolable. She says...that Y/N attacked her.  Surprise sparked in Rhys.

Are you sure? It didn't make any sense. You were so gentle. A junior healer under Madja's tutelage, brought in to assist with Feyre's pregnancy. You'd been visiting the River House regularly to do milestone checks on Nyx. During that time, both he and Feyre had struck up a friendship with you. He'd never seen you so much as raise your voice.

It's all she's said to us, Nesta is furious. Rhys' eyes drifted to where Cassian stood, gulping down his glass of water.

"We're needed at the River House."

Cassian raised a brow at the seriousness of the tone as he moved across the training room towards his brother.

"What happened?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. But we should get back before Nesta goes on the warpath." Cassian considered for a moment before taking to the skies, seemingly spurred by whatever he felt down his mating bond. Rhys launched himself after his brother before sending a reassuring message to his own mate.

We're on our way.

Elain sat nestled next to Feyre on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as her sister rubbed soothing circles on her back. Nesta was pacing in front of the fireplace, the swish of her dress and hard clack of her heels against the hardwood felt too loud in the otherwise silent room. Rhys stood for a moment in the doorway, assessing the scene in front of him as Cassian passed him to join Nesta. She ignored him, continuing to pace.

Rhys approached his mate and Elain, settling himself on the arm of the sofa at Feyre's side. He casts an assessing gaze over the middle Archeron sister. Her other arm, the one not wiping at her face, was laid in her lap as Feyre held a compress of ice over the wrist.

Rhys let out a low sigh, running his hands through his hair as he worked through possible avenues of action. He reopened his mental connection with Feyre.

Has she said anything else? Feyre turned away from her sister where she sat staring into space.

No, Madja's on her way though. It's strange, she said she hasn't seen Y/N in days, she was supposed to be visiting her family in the Day Court. None of this makes any sense, why would Y/N do this?

Unease sat heavily in Rhys' stomach. Could something have happened to you on your travels? He thought of Braillyn and the manipulation the crown had afforded her over the minds of others. The Dread Trove was safe, was this a different horror Koschei was responsible for? Was he trying to target his family through you? It would make sense, you visited the River House regularly and both he and Feyre had left Nyx unattended in your care on more than one occasion.

He felt Madja's approach as she let herself in, inclining her head towards himself and Feyre where they sat. She settled herself on Elain's other side, reaching for her arm. Feyre moved her hand and the compress away, revealing a slight bruising and swelling on the skin underneath.

"We need to find her, she can't just attack Elain like this." Nesta's voice cut sharp as a blade across the room, Elain's tears starting fresh at her words. Madja lifted her gaze from where she was assessing Elain's wrist, tilting her hand in gentle exercises to assess the range of movement.

"Perhaps you can continue this discussion outside?" Rhys caught the pointed look the healer gave him. He nodded, standing and placing his hand on the small of Feyre's back as she did the same. Nesta watched them for a moment before stomping towards the door; disappearing into the foyer.

Feyre shot him a look, grey-blue eyes filled with worry as they moved to follow her out. Nesta continued to pace outside the room as they shut the door, the low sound of Madja's soothing voice travelling through the wood.

"We have to do something."

"Nesta, we shouldn't do anything rash." Feyre's voice was firm as she addressed her, switching smoothly from comforting sister to High Lady of the Night Court. "Not until we have more information."

"Well she," Nesta gestured towards the closed door and her distressed sister, "isn't saying anything. So I say we find Y/N and get her to tell us what happened."

Rhys was inclined to agree, but held some reservations as to what exactly Nesta deemed an appropriate method of finding out information when it pertained to the middle Archeron sister.

"Feyre's right, we shouldn't be hasty about this." He met Nesta's eyes, filled with burning silver fire. "You're too close to this," he continued. "Why don't you go back to the House, blow off some steam and we'll discuss this later when we know the full story." Cassian moved closer to Nesta's side, a comforting hand on her arm as she stared Rhys down. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Rhys recognised the mind-stilling technique she favoured to keep her grounded.

Her eyes were still bright with anger when she opened them again, but she seemed calmer than she had been before. She gave a small nod. Cassian tucked her under an arm as they made their way to the front door.

"We'll send for you when we know something." Cassian nodded to Rhys over his shoulder but Nesta didn't turn back to look at either of them. The door closed with a thud behind them.

Feyre looked at where her sister and brother-in-law stood a moment before. She turned, making her way down the hall Rhys study.

"What do you think we should do?"

"I'll search the city for her, we could send a note? Ask her to meet us both?" Feyre nodded in agreement.

"We should make contact with Az." Rhys considered, reluctant to disturb his brother when he'd asked for a rare week off to visit his mother in Illyria. The request had been sudden and abrupt. Az had sent word close to midnight a few days prior. He hadn't written much, other than he needed some time away from his duties and that he'd reach out to Rhys later on in the week. He had been concerned at the out of character behaviour, apprehensive that something serious must have happened. Azriel had evaded requests for more information; saying that he'd brief Rhys on his return.

"When we know more," he paused with Feyre on the threshold of the study. "I don't want to call him back when it may turn out to be nothing serious."

Feyre hummed in agreement.

"I just...I don't understand, why would she do something like this? We gave her access to our son, Rhys. She didn't seem..." Feyre trailed off. Before she could continue the sound of a throat clearing came from the kitchen door. They turned in tandem, both sets of eyes fixed on the twins that appeared out of the shadows there.

"We...We think this may be our fault." Nuala's voice was quiet as she spoke for both of them, hands clasped together tightly as they stood before their High Lord and Lady.

"How could this possibly be your fault?" Feyre didn't hide the surprise in her tone. Their dark eyes were unreadable but Rhys didn't miss the glance they both gave towards the closed door where Elain still sat with Madja.

He opened the door to the office, gesturing in invitation to the twins to follow Feyre and him in.

Rhys sat in the high-backed chair behind the desk, Feyre perched on his lap as they listened to Nuala and Cerridwen's tale.

"Azriel instructed us not to tell anyone where he was when he sent word. She saw us putting together a basket, asked us who it was for. We didn't see any harm in telling her we were making it for him," Cerridwen's face was grave as she spoke. "Elain wanted to help, so we baked the bread together. She went to the garden after that, and Nuala left to deliver it."

"I know she didn't follow," Nuala cut in, her voice shaking. "I would have noticed if she had."

"Perhaps she saw where you went in one of her visions?" Feyre supplied. She bestowed her a small comforting smile, Rhys could feel her sympathy for the twins through the bond. They cared about Elain; even without his daemati powers you could read the guilt they shared.

"But it was here? In Velaris?" Rhys asked. Nuala looked at her twin, a silent conversation happening between them, before she nodded her head. Rhys' stomach turned to lead. Azriel had lied to him about where he was. Rhys knew that Azriel had his secrets, maybe more than anyone else in the Inner Circle. But he'd never known him to be overtly dishonest, not with his family.

"What happened after that?" Feyre's voice was gentle as she pushed for more information.

None of this makes any sense.

I know. Feyre squeezed his hand, the one that she had clasped between both of her own beneath the desk, as she sent reassuring waves down the bond.

"We were both preparing lunch after that. We didn't see her again, until you did." Feyre had shown him the memory as he'd flown towards the house. Elain bursting through the front door, arm clutched to her chest and tears streaming down her face. She hadn't said anything as Nesta had taken her into her arms, demanding to know what had happened.

"Would it be possible that Elain met Y/N on the way to...where Azriel is?" Feyre addressed the question to the room but it was Cerridwen that answered her.

"I don't think so, my lady. It's...out of the way, you wouldn't stumble upon it by accident." Rhys didn't miss the look Nuala sent her, dark eyes on fire. Cerridwen sunk back into her chair, realising that perhaps she'd said too much. Rhys pressed though, he couldn't leave it.

"So that would mean that either Y/N followed Elain from the house on purpose or she was there? With Azriel?"He suspected it was the latter, and the twins certainly knew more about it than they were willing to share. They both looked down, pointedly avoiding Rhys' gaze.

"We promised, my lord."

"We could do it together if you want?" Feyre's hand toyed at his neck, tracing the Illyrian tattoos etched into the skin. They'd dismissed Nuala and Cerridwen back to their duties while they discussed the next step to take. They had both agreed that reaching out to Azriel was the best course of action, to follow the lead of his potential involvement before they took any further steps concerning you.

Rhys was torn. He wanted Feyre to be involved, but it felt too personal. Azriel hadn't lied to her. But he had to him, his brother, his High Lord. Azriel, whom he had always trusted. Feyre would moderate his temper, if the need arose, but a dark volatile part of him didn't want that.

A quiet knock sounded on the door. Feyre called out for Madja to enter, already sensing her standing on the other side. Her smile was reassuring as she moved to stand in front of them at the desk.

"A nasty sprain, but no broken bones." Some of the tension seemed to leave Feyre's shoulders as she let out a relieved sigh. "I've recommended she rest it, keep it elevated," Madja continued, "it should be back to normal within a few days."

"Thank you Madja, we appreciate you coming out of you way." Feyre's tone was warm as she spoke to the elderly fae.

"It's my pleasure, my lady."

"Did Elain say anything to you? About what happened?"

Madja frowned, before shaking her head. "Nothing that made much sense. She mentioned a door and being pushed, she didn't say any more than that." Madja took a step closer to the desk, worrying the fabric of the apron she wore between her fingers.

"If I may..." She paused, waiting for further invitation to speak. Rhys gestured with a hand for her to continue.

"I've known Y/N since she was a girl," Madja's voice wavered as she spoke, in all the years Rhys had known her he'd never seen her close to tears before. "She wouldn't do something like this it's not in her nature," Madja paused before quickly adding, "not to discredit your sister, High Lady." Rhys watched Feyre as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she listened to the healer.

"This situation is highly unusual, Madja. We need to speak to the parties involved, gather more information." Rhys speech was clinical, playing High Lord rather than concerned brother-in-law.

"I'll take my leave then."

I should see to Elain. Feyre slipped off his lap with a parting brush of her lips against his cheek before following Madja out of the room. Rhys rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and lowered his head into his hands.

After taking a few minutes to collect himself Rhys began using his power to comb through the city, brushing past the minds of his citizens as they went about their daily lives. It took longer than he thought, identifying the distinct signature of his brother, as recognisable to him as his own after 500 years. Cloistered on the outskirts of the city, the surrounding land reserved for farming crops with very few residences. He felt another presence there, one less familiar to him, yours.

Rhys brushed a talon against Azriel's mental shields, a teeming cluster of darkness not unlike the shadows he wielded, and waited. The tick of the clock as the seconds passed by had Rhys on edge, he was considering pushing again, this time more firmly, when the shadows created a small opening just big enough for him to slip through.

Rhys didn't bother with a greeting. His mental voice was harsh, more than he meant it to be, as it reverberated around the dark antechamber.

You have ten seconds to explain why you are not in Illyria, and why my mate is consoling her injured sister before I come and find you, and we have this conversation in person. Conversation was a very polite term to use for what would inevitably become a battle of wills, and potentially blades, between the High Lord and his Spymaster.

Don't you fucking dare, Rhys. Azriel's voice was ice. The hostile rage that bubbled underneath shook Rhys out of his own for a moment. It was like its own living thing, driven by base instincts to defend against a threat at all costs. The force of it almost pushed him out. Rhys bridled his own surprise and rage down.

Okay, Rhys' voice was soothing, carried on a night-kissed wind. I won't do that Az, but you need to talk to me.

The storm of Azriel's emotions seemed to calm a little, Rhys could feel the effort he was putting in, wrestling for control that was usually so militant. He waited for his brother to speak for a few moments before continuing.

Why don't you start with where you are, and why Nuala and Cerridwen are involved?

He thought that Azriel was going to hold fast in his reticence. Instead his voice, missing some of the frigid quality it had before, answered after a few beats.

I own a property on the outskirts of the city, I've been here since I sent word asking for leave. Azriel paused before continuing, Nuala and Cerridwen were just doing what I asked, they don't need to be a part of this. Rhys should have expected this. Azriel always knew how to toe the line between answering what was asked without giving any substantial information.

And what is it that you asked them to do for you? Because they wouldn't tell us, because of some promise they made to you.

They delivered some supplies to me.

Supplies?

Food and other basic necessities.

And is there a reason you couldn't retrieve these for yourself? Why you're sequestered away in some property we're unaware of with one of our healers? Rhys tried to press against the walls of Azriel's mind to see what else he could feel or sense but it yielded nothing. Are you injured Az? Worry bloomed. As out of character as it was for Azriel to lie to his family, if it was because he was injured and didn't want any of them to know, to worry, Rhys could rationalise that.

No. Rhys could feel Azriel's attention, drawn away to whatever was going in outside his mind, still only half maintaining their communication. Is Elain okay?

Are you talking to Y/N? I know she's there with you.

Azriel hesitated before answering. Yes.

Elain is saying that Y/N attacked her, is that true? Did you see what happened?

I did, but it was an accident Rhys. She didn't mean to.

She says she was pushed. I'm not sure how that can be considered an accident, Azriel. Rhys tried to keep a handle on his agitation, but this conversation was going nowhere quickly. Why don't you show me what happened, then we can put this whole thing to bed.

A tidal wave rose, angry and biting as it chased Rhys towards the gap in the barrier he entered from. Rhys retreated back from it, shocked by it's sudden appearance.

No. Azriel's snarled response rebounded around his head.

Fine, I'll take it up with Y/N if this is how you're going to act.

Wait, don't. The emotion receded as quickly as it came, leaving Rhys toeing the edge of the empty chamber. Leave her out of this Rhys, it's my fault.

Oh? She's assaulted a member of our Court, Azriel.

She's my mate, Rhys. Rhys thought for a moment that he hadn't heard him correctly. But it made sense, the instinctual frenzy of emotion that seemed eager to slip his brother's control. We didn't tell you in the beginning, we wanted to get to know each other without any added...pressure.

Az, this is wonderful news...unexpected but wonderful. But we wouldn't have pressured you, either of you, into anything.

I know, I just...I was being selfish, Rhys. And we were so caught up in each other. I said I'd talk to you when I got back, I was going to tell you then. Rhys didn't hide the happiness he felt, letting his brother feel it freely, It was a bit spur of the moment, deciding to accept the bond. That's why I asked Nuala and Cerridwen for help, they knew where we were.

I'm happy for you, Az. Rhys allowed himself to bask for a moment in the joy that he could feel from his brother as he spoke about you. A part of him wanted to leave then, to retreat from his brother's mind and leave him to enjoy this special, if volatile time, as a newly mated male. But there was still a piece of this puzzle missing. What happened with Elain?

It is my fault Rhys, I should have sensed her coming. But we were preoccupied. Azriel's discomfort put Rhys own teeth on edge as he continued. We were in the living room and Elain opened the door, Y/N panicked and slammed it with gust of wind.

Panicked?

We were...indisposed.

You're joking, Rhys barely managed to choke the words out as he tried to contain his laughter.

Its not funny, Rhysand. He could almost see his brother grinding his teeth in agitation. By the time we made ourselves decent, Elain had already left. I was going to come to the house to see if she was okay, but Y/N is really upset that she may have hurt her. Rhys understood what he didn't say, that he couldn't leave his mate like that.

Tell her it's just a sprain, nothing serious.

That's a relief. If we're done here- Rhy's didn't allow Azriel to finish, already taking his leave.

Rhys watched the sun set set over the Sidra as he ruminated on the strange events the day had taken, and how he was going to defuse the tension from this morning before Azriel returned, likely with Y/N in tow.

Your POV

Steam curled into the air from the water of the bath. The heat soothed the ache in your muscles, ones that you didn't even know you had were making their displeasure known, as you adjusted your position to lean back against Azriel. His arm slipped around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest as scarred fingers traced circles over your midriff. You sighed in contentment as Azriel continued his ministrations, feeling his smile against the skin of you neck. He brushed the sensitive skin with a delicate kiss. Neither of you spoke as you sat there, enjoying the comfortable silence and basking in the feeling of the new golden thread that tied you together.

Azriel reached to the edge of the tub where the basket of toiletries lay, filled with your favourite scents curtesy of the shadow wraith twins, and grabbed a soft cloth and a bar of sweet smelling soap. You groaned as he began to gently massage the lather on the cloth into the skin of arms and shoulders, adjusting slightly to give him better access. You turned your head, resting it in the cradle of Azriel's shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes.

Over the few months that you'd known him, you'd come to admire his stoic beauty. Rich hazel eyes framed by thick lashes and dark brows. His sharp features and full lips that erupted butterflies in your stomach every time he gifted you with an alluring smile or tantalising smirk. As your relationship had progressed he'd become more open is displaying his emotions with you, less prone to cloaking himself in his shadows. But you'd never in that time seen such open contentment displayed on his features.

You watched as his eyes tracked the path his hand drew with the cloth against your body. You brought a hand out of the warm cocoon of the water to trace the map of markings across his shoulders, following the trail up his neck with tender kisses. Azriel's chest rumbled his approval. The flare of his wings sent ripples across the surface of the bath as you let a soft breath out against the delicate shell of his ear.

"It appears my little mate is rather insatiable." Azriel sighed, feigning exasperation as he moved the cloth lower, down off your shoulders to brush the top of your breasts.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The hand on his shoulder reached to brush a single fingertip against the sensitive membrane of a wing as you smirked into his neck.

"Careful." Azriel growled, taking the circles he was tracing on your midriff dangerously lower. Even though the past few days had been filled with nothing but Azriel, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your tongue, there was a burning pit of desire that demanded more. You felt as though you could live a thousand more years and never tire of the feeling of him holding you in his arms. The thought of leaving the little bubble of bliss you'd created here was like a cold water shock. Thinking of the potential repercussions you'd face of what happened earlier left the sting of bile in the back of your mouth.

Azriel's hands stilled as he sensed the shift in your mood. You buried your face into his neck, closing your eyes and letting his scent calm your racing heart. Azriel abandoned the cloth to place his hand on the back of you head, carting his fingers through your hair. He made a low soothing noise.

"It's okay," he continued to massage his fingers against your scalp as he spoke. "It was an accident, no one is going to blame you."

"Elain will, she probably hates me." Your voice broke as you tried to hold back the guilt that had been plaguing you, such a start contrast to the joy and ravenous hunger.

"She'll understand. The others will too, Rhys actually found it very amusing."

"Oh cauldron boil me." You could imagine it now, the smirking good natured jibes from the high-lord and the likely even less subtle innuendos his general would deal out to you.

"Come on," the fingers dancing through your hair stopped. "Look at me." Part of you wanted to continue to hide as the anxiety and embarrassment coiled inside of you, but as Azriel moved to cup your cheek you lifted your face away to look at him. His eyes were soft as he took in your face, so close that you could see flecks of green and gold constellating around the iris. His thumb rubbed gently against you cheek.

"I just want to stay here for the rest of our lives." Azriel smiled gently and hummed his agreement, leaning forward to press his lips against the skin of your forehead.

"Unfortunately, I think we'll be missed." He considered for a moment before adding. "And I wouldn't put it past Cassian to break down the door and drag me back to civilised society." You loosed a small smile at his attempt to make light of the situation, but it still did nothing to quell the apprehension and doubts.

You'd so desperately wanted to make a good impression. It had all been planned out. After the week was done; once you and Azriel had returned to your normal lives, he would have announced the mating bond to his family. You'd planned to host a dinner, let them get to know you outside your capacity as a healer. Hoped to create the foundations for meaningful relationships. Instead, you'd ruined it before you'd even started, injuring the High Lady's sister and forcing Azriel to do damage control on your behalf.

"I'm just...I'm sorry Az, I know how important your family is to you. I can't believe I've screwed this up."

"They are important to me." He agreed, thumb stroking gently against your face. "But so are you. I've waited centuries to find you, and you're so much more than I dreamed you'd be." Tears welled in your eyes at his declaration. "I love you, and I know my family will love you too." You reached up to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, despite the gravity of the situation feeling his lips quirk into a smile against your own made your heart sing. You parted, and he began to trail kisses across your cheek.

"Rhys and Feyre already like you, they trust you with Nyx. Everyone else will fall victim to your charming smile and witty sense of humour, I'm sure." He murmured in your ear as he traced his nose against the soft skin of your neck.

"We'll face them together when the time comes." He whispered the promise into your skin as he paved a line of tender kisses to a particularly sensitive spot he'd discovered in the last few days, taking extra care to pay it the most attention.

You sighed and arched your back, allowing him greater access to your neck and chest. Azriel's affirmations had quelled the storm within you, leaving heat and hunger in the wake of his lips.

"But, we've got a few days before anyone is expecting us back. And I have plans for you." Azriel's voice turned husky at the end, the heady promise made your toes curl as you pressed yourself closer against him.

"Oh?" You breathed as his lips began to chart a course across your chest, skimming across the tops of your breasts. You felt more than heard as he hummed an affirmation against the delicate skin. "And what would those plans be?"

Azriel's wings flared as your hand found his hair, winding the strands between your fingers. He stopped lathing delicate kisses against your skin to look up at you through dark lashes, eyes light and mischievous. His grin was positively wicked, canines flashing in the light.

"Why don't I show you."

[reidintoit]

cruel summer - j.m.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: thigh riding supremacy

warnings: smut, language

an: more than happy to provide a part two :’))

wc: 1.4k

You were desperate. Completely and utterly desperate. And that was putting it lightly.

For the past hour or so, you had been sitting around the bonfire with the rest of the group on your boyfriend’s lap. While this usually isn’t a problem, tonight, JJ wouldn’t stop moving. 

Each time his leg bounced up and down, you felt the stitching of your jean shorts brush against your core. At one point, you did your best to readjust but were immediately sliding back down as his leg continued to bounce relentlessly.

At first, you tried not to pay much attention to it, believing it was just JJ being restless. Which was probably true, but it quickly turned into something more. 

-

“Ow!” Sarah exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and smacking her leg. “Fuckin’ mosquitos, I’m going inside!” 

You hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation going on around you or the fact that it had gotten significantly darker out. 

“I second that. These fuckers suck.” Kiara agreed, getting up to follow Sarah’s lead back into the house. 

You glanced down at your legs, examining for any possible bites. You weren’t itchy, but even if you were, you weren’t confident that you’d have noticed. In fact, you had no clue what anyone had been talking about for the past hour.

“You guys coming?” John B asked, breaking the silence while throwing the last piece of firewood into the pit. 

You looked back at JJ, who shook his head in response to John B without breaking eye contact with you. 

As John B walked away, you started to get hot. Maybe it was the fire burning a bit higher or the fact JJ hadn’t stopped looking at you. Either way, you needed to get the hell out of dodge. 

“I should.. probably go inside too. Bugs, yeah?” You struggled to form a proper sentence as you stood up.  

“Y/N, wait.” JJ demanded, reaching out to grab your wrist, “Sit on me.”

“JJ, I have been sitting on you for the past-”

“No, I mean, take off your shorts and sit on me.. please?” He repeats himself.

You look down at JJ, who seemed to be completely serious about wanting this. 

“J.. what about the others? They’re right inside.” You pleaded. 

JJ glanced over at the Chateau, hearing nothing but Lizzo blasting from the speakers, then back at you. “I don’t believe they will hear a thing, darlin.” 

You bite your lower lip, taking one last glance around before slowly unbuttoning your shorts. You allow them to fall onto the ground, stepping out and slipping your fingers on the sides of your bathing suit bottoms.

It’s obvious JJ noticed how ruined your bottoms are after rubbing against him for the past hour. The once pastel pink bottoms have a very prominent dark spot.

Suddenly, you feel your boyfriend’s fingers grazing the dark spot between your legs, getting a feel for just how wet you’ve been. “God damn..who’s got you like this?”

Instead of answering, you place your hands on JJ’s shoulders, sitting down on his thigh, and damn near gasping at the sudden contact. 

JJ wastes no time slipping his fingers under your bottoms and pulling them to the side. “You’re soaked, baby,” he whispered, pushing his leg up into your bare pussy without warning and hearing a sharp moan escape your lips. 

“You’re gonna ride my thigh until you cum, think you can handle that?” All you could do was nod in response at this point, feeling his hands fall to your sides. 

“Words Y/N.” he demands.

“Yes, yes. Please.”

That was all JJ needed before gripping your sides and pulling your hips forward, encouraging you to move. You needed no further guidance, finding a pace that you knew was going to get you off quickly. 

“JJ..” you whined softly.

He looked so incredibly hot like this. Watching you unravel on top of him had him painfully hard. He didn’t care about himself at this moment, just wanting to witness you use him. 

“Such a slut, hm? Riding me out here..” he praised.

You whimpered in response, his words sending a flutter into your chest. The knot in your stomach tightened. You could feel your boyfriend’s intense stare as you fucked yourself on his thigh. You couldn’t focus on anything but how you felt. How slutty you felt at this moment. Sitting in your boyfriend's yard in your bathing suit top, grinding against his leg.

You rolled your hips against him, whining at the feeling of your clit against his thigh. Your pussy getting wetter and wetter with each roll of your hips. Your grip on JJ’s shirt tightened as you rocked against him, panting and incoherently mumbling. 

You didn’t notice as he tore his eyes away from your face and down at his thigh. It was glistening from your arousal. 

Your pace increased as you got closer, using your free hand to grip JJ’s arm. 

“J - I - Please..” you whimpered, struggling to remain coherent as your hips grinded into him. 

“Doing so well. Come for me, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “I- fuck, baby, baby,” not being able to finish that thought before waves of heat rush over you. 

You practically collapse, burying your face into JJ’s shoulder as you ride out your orgasm. There was less friction as your cum coated his thigh, making each roll of your hips messier and slippery. 

“JJ, JJ, mmph-“ You cry out as his leg suddenly bounces up into your clit. 

“What baby? What’s wrong?” JJ asks, grinning from ear to ear. He’s incredibly proud of making you fall apart without touching you. 

“Again… please?”

JJ leans back into his chair, hands making their way back to your thighs, gripping into your skin. You felt your face get hot as he continued to admire you. 

“You want to get yourself off on me again?” You nod in response, leaning toward pressing your lips against his. A desperate attempt to get what you want. “Once more. Then you can fuck me.”

JJ looks past you, noticing no change in the volume of music from earlier. Whatever fun the pogues we’re having inside didn’t come close to this. 

JJ’s grip on your thighs slowly moves up to your hips, “60 seconds,” he says as he leans forward to kiss you, “Go.” 

You waste no time going back to the pace from before, failing to break the kiss. Your cum on his thigh was the perfect substitute for lube. 

You feel JJ kiss you, taking in your bottom lip and gently biting as you whine into his mouth. Your eyes remain sewn shut as your head is up in the clouds. You weren’t going to last long again.

“15..” he reminded you. 

It took one last roll as JJ jumped his leg into you for you to cum. Your head rolled back as you came, crying out without a worry of getting caught out here. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! JJ, fuck me.”

[jockfootstories]

Finding it embarrassing but deep down exciting at the same time, when your friend would do this to you in an almost empty study hall. He knew you had a foot fetish, was cool with it, so cool with it that he began having you sniff and lick his feet when you were at each other’s houses. But lately, enjoyed teasing you more daringly about it during school. Goofing around with him, you ended up on the floor, him standing over you. You tried to get up but he’d push you back down with one of his Van’s, keeping his foot on your chest. You noticed no one really paying attention to the both of you so you let it carry on. Him grinning down at you, say’s teasingly,”You know you like it down there, controlled by my feet.”    “Yes,” you faintly reply back with a smile.   He raises his eyebrows, grin widens, as you see him slip off one of his Van’s exposing his bare foot.    “No, don’t do it,” you say.  He smiles bigger, a thrill rushing through him, as he lifts his bare foot up, and brings it down on your face. You turn your head some so the bottom comes down on the side of your nose to dodge the direct contact. Your friend slides his foot over and tilts your face back upward before properly cushioning it on your nose, rubbing your face with the bottom.  “Smell it.”  You take a deep sniff, the odor of his foot driving you crazy, but still resist cause you don’t want to be super embarrassed by just taking it. You struggle with his foot some then see your other two mutual friends come over. “Need some help Kyle?,” one of your mutual friends asks.   “Yes,” your friend responds. You immediately feel both your wrists being held down and feel both of your friends shoes keeping you still. “Ahhhh no,” you jokingly muffle out as your friend diligently wipes his foot and toes all over your nose, making you breathe his foot odor while your friends watch.  Both of them unaware of the mutual situation you and your friend have and think this is just him ribbing you. You hear your friend snicker, feeling your face wiggle under his foot, “Yah, smell it. Like it down there don't you?” You lay there, humiliated, as the boys watch on before your friend finally lets you up. You get up, a bit flustered, as you try to act all disgusted.  Kyle leans in covertly and says,”How’d my foot smell?”    You faintly say back,”Good, but that was embarrassing.”   He smiles and says,”Nah, you liked it. What till you sniff ‘and lick 'em after school foot slave.”  

[ddejavvu]

for the multiverse Monday: reader and rockstar! Sirius have been dating for some time and even though it's not something public he always leaves something out, like some part of the reader accidentally appearing in a photo or interviews with double meanings that imply that he have something with someone <3

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius's livestream is still going; in fact, you've been watching for the past forty minutes. He'd offered to plant you front and center before the camera and introduce you to his fans, but in a toothpaste-stained sweatshirt and granny panties, you're not eager to show yourself off to the world. Instead you're nestled snugly in bed, blankets tucked under your chin as you burn Sirius's image into your mind.

His hair's bundled up atop his head in a sloppy bun of your own creation, held together with a bright pink scrunchie. He's known for his less-than-bland stage outfits, but you've seen a handful of comments about the hair tie already, wondering if it's really his.

"Yeah, anyways, doesn't matter what the waitress said." He drawls, finished recounting a story about a fan he'd met over breakfast, "Can't remember, really, but the guy was fantastic, and yes I did pay his bill."

He dodges a praise-filled comment, "No, no, 'm not an angel, don't exaggerate. Just bought a guy breakfast. More of a grandma, really."

Sirius is an angel, to you. Maybe a fallen one, what with his dark aesthetic and fiery eyes, but miraculous and heavenly either way. He clears his throat, somewhat overwhelmed by the attention he typically loves so much. He shifts in his seat, and the commenters catch his mistake before you do.

onceyougoblack: ARE THOSE CONDOMS???????

siriblxck: not the condoms in the back 💀

blacksangel: sorry guys i guess i forgot to tell him to put them away after last night 🤭

There are, in fact, condoms behind Sirius. He'd shifted on the couch cushions just enough to expose a large box of condoms behind him on the dining table, the most convenient place to store them so that he could pick one up on his way into the house. He notices the comments and lets out a sharp bark of laughter, reaching back to push them out of frame.

"Sorry, sorry," He snickers, "Jesus, m'gonna get booted off the platform for that. Listen, better safe than sorry, okay? You can make fun of me all you want but I don't have an STD and neither does- well," Your heart stutters in your chest as you see his lips begin to form your name, then stop, "Uh, anyone else. Christ, can't really come back from that one. I'm gonna-" He stammers, staring at the endless scroll of comments, "Uh, I'm gonna end the live. Wrap it before you tap it, mates, g'bye."

It's barely two seconds after your screen goes dark and informs you that Sirius has ended the live video before you hear his footsteps racing towards your door, then he bursts through, flooding the room with light.

"Did you see that?" He pants, eyes wide and grin enormous as you nod.

"Yes, I did, you're going to be hearing about that in every interview for the rest of your life, Sirius."

"Can't wait to be grilled by talk show hosts," He snorts, and you're afraid his smirk may never fade, especially not when he slides beneath the covers and his hands instantly find the curve of your ass, "Hope they saw the 'extra large' label."

[cable-knit-sweater]

Before The First Light

Rating: T Word count: 884 words Tags: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, nightmares, minor injuries, Steve Rogers needs a hug, (light?) angst

Written for @catws-anniversary || March 26 prompts: on your left, PTSD, endurance

He’s running. 

Steve’s running so fast that even with the serum coursing through his veins, his lungs are starting to burn with the strain of exertion. He barely pays any attention to the bullets whistling past him, dodging and weaving to avoid them, almost just on instinct. It is on instinct. There isn’t much time to think about anything but getting out.

The place is a fucking maze though, so it’s taking longer than he’d planned.  So much for that damn song, he thinks, almost laughing at the irony. So much for being the man with a plan.

He presses on, through endless corridors twisting and turning, Hydra soldiers hot on his heels. Steve thinks that maybe they’ve finally figured it out, judging from the screaming and cursing. That he’s just a diversion so the other Howlies could go to work. 

By now, they’ve definitely set the place to blow.  By now, Steve should’ve made his way out. 

A bullet grazes his shoulder, but he tries to ignore the searing pain as he pushes himself harder, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Suddenly, he’s outside, the building exploding behind him. He’s hit with a blast of air, pressure, heat, but it just propels him forward faster. There’s still no time to think. 

There’s more cursing and shouting. This time it’s not in German though.

 It’s in a heavy Brooklyn accent, his favorite in all the fucking world. 

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Are you tryin’ to get blown to pieces? For fuck’s sake Rogers!!”

“Just brushing up on my German,” he yells back as he gets closer and closer to the source of the cursing and shouting. “You know, they’d call you an Arsch-”

“Don’t you even think ab- fuck, Stevie, watch out! Three at your 9 o’clock!” 

Steve twists and turns to the right, still running towards the treeline that Bucky is shouting at him from.  He doesn’t slow down or turn back - he’s made that mistake before and gotten an earful - as Bucky takes out the Hydra goons with his rifle.

He doesn’t slow down or turn back until he gets to Bucky’s position. That’s where he draws the line. Steve’s not ever going anywhere without him. 

By the time he comes to a stop, Bucky has taken care of the last stragglers, and Steve collapses against a tree. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Bucky grumbles as he drops down from a tree branch. “What the fuck?”

They start running again, side by side, Bucky on his left like always. There’s no benefit in sticking around. There might be more Hydra soldiers out there, and the other Howlies will definitely give them shit if they take much longer catching up to the group. 

“Hmm.”

“I was this close to coming in and dragging your ass out. Did we not have a plan?” 

“I was fine. I am fine, stop bitching, Buck.”

Bucky pushes his shoulder against Steve’s, and he winces. Of course, Bucky notices. “Fine, huh? I’m thinkin I should just tie myself to you so you don’t go runnin’ off making stupid ass decisions.”

“What makes you think I won’t do that with you tied to me?”

“Good point,” Bucky huffs. “You’d probably enjoy it, and then you’d just drag me int-”

The rest of his sentence gets cut off by a blood curdling scream. Steve’s heart stops. It’s Bucky. 

****

Steve jolts awake. 

He’s drenched in sweat, his senses still reeling. A little disoriented, he scans his dimly lit room, heart hammering against his ribcage, the image of Bucky lying motionless on the ground, blood staining the fabric of his uniform, still seared freshly into his mind.

It’s hard to ground himself. It seemed so real for a moment, like it was yesterday. But he’s not waking up in a tent in the French countryside, or on his cot back at SSR headquarters in London. He’s not waking up with-

He wakes up alone, in his DC apartment, and it’s never felt more suffocatingly small.  

With a heavy sigh, Steve swings his legs over the edge of his bed.  His muscles are protesting with the weight of exhaustion that still clings to him, but there’s no point in staying in bed. It’s not like he’s gonna get much more sleep now. He knows what images he’ll see if he closes his eyes.

Instead, he forces himself out of bed, switches out of his sweat-drenched clothes and into his running gear, and makes his way out of the apartment as quickly as he can. 

Running - ironically, given tonight’s dream - will help. Just to have a moment, an hour (or two) to not have to think, that’s all he needs. It doesn’t matter that it’s barely light out. He’ll be at it for a while. 

Maybe he'll try a different route today. Make his way south towards the Potomac, run a couple laps around the Mall before it’s run over with tourists.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. The sunrise over the Mall will make a pretty sight. Not enough to dislodge the dream still haunting him, but he doesn’t think anything ever will be. 

He doesn’t take much time to warm up, even if he knows he should. Soon enough, he’s running full speed.

He’s running. 

Steve’s running fast, but his lungs don’t burn. His heart, though. His heart aches.

[schemmentis]

Swing

Prompt: What if reader has a bit of anger issues and Melissa tries and help/calm her.

Warnings: Minor descriptions of violence, anger issues

Word Count: 2.3k

“Sure, Hon.” Melissa answers the man next to her asking if she'd like another drink. Who is she to deny a man willing to pay for it? Even if he is pretty clearly just trying to buy his way into her pants. Until she has to completely shut him down, she'll take the free margaritas.

At least, she is happy to do so until this round. She barely has the cold glass in hand before he's leaning too far into her space. Gently but with no mistaking her force, she presses on his shoulder until his ass hits his own stool. “Not so fast, sweets.” Her tone is warning though she tries to keep some bit of flirtation to it. Hopefully just enough to keep him on the leash so she doesn't have to deal with an angry, drunk man instead.

This is how you met Melissa Schemmenti. She'd been sitting at the bar next to some guy when you found your own seat at the counter, a few stools down. You hadn't paid them much mind. Other than the side eye as you had passed.

You were only human and the redhead's legs were definitely on display in her outfit. You noticed. But you tried to do so respectfully. A glance from the corner of your eye as you passed by and nothing else.

You had glanced their way down the bar top a few times. When the man had drunkenly gotten loud. Though he only ever seemed to be ordering another round, and after a few he was only ordering for the woman. You guessed because he knew he was close to being cut off by the bartender himself. Once or twice it had been because the woman had laughed. A little too forced, a little too loudly. Still, her voice from what little you'd heard was pretty.

Otherwise, you'd kept your attention to your own drink and one of the TVs hung up behind the bar. You weren't here to be social. You were just here for a drink or two, some time to yourself to unwind before going home.

It was difficult though, at this point in the night, to keep your attention to your own bubble. The man had stood, in the corner of your eye, to get the bartender's attention for the latest margarita for the redhead. Then you'd seen, from that same corner of vision, one of the women's hands come up to push at his shoulder. It was then you'd twisted on your stool to properly look down the counter.

The man's volume had risen significantly. It was impossible for you to miss the language and names he was throwing around. Obviously for not getting his way. It wasn't until his hands had gripped at the woman’s hips, attempting to tug her off the stool she sat on, that you couldn't just sit aside any longer.

You'd gotten to your feet, taking the few steps down the counter until you were stood just behind the red headed woman. “I didn't hear her ask or agree for your hands on her.” You'd said, glaring at the drunk man.

The woman's mouth had opened once she'd looked over her shoulder at you, about to speak. Before she could the man had gotten to his own unsteady feet and stood square with you. “And I don't remember askin’ for your input, bitch.” He’d slurred. “So go on back to whatever Bachelorette party you're here with and leave me and my lady alone.”

“Your lady?” The woman had echoed, incredulous.

Neither you nor the man had registered her speak, your attention too focused on the other. “I think it's probably better if you went home. I don't think she's going to want another drink from you now that you've groped her and all.”

You hadn't done or said much, but it was enough. The man had swung on you first, and you were at least twice as sober as he was. It was easy enough to dodge and return with your own.

After that, the bar staff swiftly intervened. Thankfully, the bartender had seen it happen and knew you didn't start it so you weren't kicked from the bar. Though you wouldn't have been too upset if you had been.

“You alright?” You'd asked with a glance back to the redhead, still sat on her stool. Almost as if it hadn't happened at all.

“I'm fine.” A hand had waved whatever worry you had away as she calmly sipped what was left of her margarita. “Ain't nothin’ I haven't dealt with before.” She glanced back to you, a bit of a smirk on her features. “Look at you, though, a regular knight in shining armor, huh?”

“I wouldn't say that. I just couldn't sit there and watch it happen, though.”

“Ah, you'd have just seen me break out moves from my old self defense classes, Hon. Thanks for the assist, though.”

“You want another?” You'd ask with a gesture at her almost empty glass.

Now, she fully smirked your way. “You gonna try your hand at it now?” She teased you.

You shook your head. “Not like that. I'm having one more after all that and then I'm heading home. Figured I could get you one more to make up for the trouble.”

“Trouble you didn't cause.” She'd said, though she waved you to the stool next to her before she looked for the bartender. “One more, Jimmy! Put another of whatever she's having on mine too, would ya?” She called with a thumb in your direction.

“I said I would get yours.” You murmured with a small smile as you leaned elbows against the counter.

“Yeah, well, I decided I was gettin’ us both. Tough shit.”

You laughed. You nursed your last drink much slower than you usually would, drawing out your conversation with Melissa as you'd learned her name and introduced yourself. You'd shared and learned a lot about each other over that last drink with a swap of phone numbers ending your night.

From then, you and Melissa had texted throughout the next week, occasionally sharing a phone call to catch up on your days a little easier. You went to dinner the next weekend. You spent even more time together as time went on after that.

Melissa had thought her temper was bad. She knew she could snap when she was in a bad mood. Even worse than just snapping if she was really pissed or hurt. It was something that had taken a lot of time and work for her to reign in. Though it still could get the best of her when emotions ran high.

She thought her temper was bad. Yours could be much worse. You never started conflicts but you definitely never hesitated to participate in them when they happened around you though. She'd joked when you first met about the white knight in shining armor bit but sometimes you really did live up to the trope. If you saw something, you just could not pretend you hadn't. Even for your own benefit.

The closer the two of you got, the more she saw of it. The more, too, she got to be on the other end of it. You never meant it, and you certainly were never supremely rude or hurtful to her. You were rude enough though that it hit her wrong every time. Even if she didn't think you meant it, every time it happened it piled on. Every time you had snapped at her, or sarcastically commented on something. It all added up.

“Would you let it go!?” Melissa huffed, in a sudden outburst one night.

The two of you returned to the bar you'd met in. Not for the first time since. Tonight though, you'd sworn you saw some guy making unwanted moves on someone else in the bar. Not unlike the night you and Melissa met.

Except tonight, Melissa had looked at the table you pointed out and seen nothing but a young couple on what looked like a first date. Sure, the guy you kept harping on about was a little loud but the one he was with wasn't adverse or being harassed or anything close to what you perceived. He just looked shy. Though very much like he enjoyed the other man's attention.

Plus, she'd known you'd had a rough week. Yet you refused to talk about it. Instead, letting everything fester. Until now. You were looking for an excuse to let loose. She could tell from a mile away.

“But Mel he's—”

“But nothin’! You're just lookin’ for a fight!”

“What? I am not, you're being ridiculous.”

“If I'm being ridiculous then you're being delusional, Hon.” She deadpanned.

You scoffed. “I am not. What, you just think I'm gonna tell the guy to back off and then give the other one my number like I did you?”

Melissa blinks across the table at you. “You think this me bein’ jealous?”

“Yeah. I do. ‘Cause there's no other explanation for—”

“The other explanation is exactly what I just said and that you're picking a fight. I didn't let you with some stranger so now it's gonna be with me.”

“I'm not picking a fight!”

“If you're not picking a fight then you need to check your attitude.”

“My attitude?”

“Yeah, Hon, your attitude. You're acting rude as hell. To strangers. To me. To everybody.”

You took a deep breath, staring back at Melissa across the table. She'd never said anything like this to you before. You'd never thought you were being rude. To anybody but certainly not Melissa. You know though, she isn't one to just say something. Melissa says nothing just for the sake of saying it. So, she must be hurt to be calling you on it.

Slowly, you deflate in your seat. The longer you look at her face, the longer you go over moments you thought Melissa was just not in a great mood with how she responded to you. The more you replay so many moments through your mind, the more you realize she's right.

“Shit,” You breathe out, running a hand through your hair. “I'm sorry. I didn't even realize—” You stop yourself, shaking your head. Not realizing isn't an excuse. Nothing is. You really didn't, though. “I never wanted to treat you like that. I'm sorry.”

Mel softens across from you. A hand reaching across the table to grasp one of your own. Her thumb runs over your knuckles soothingly. “Thank you. For apologizin’.” She says. “I believe you didn't realize or want to…so I forgive ya. But we definitely need to work on it, don't ya think?”

You nod, your hand turning to grab Melissa's back and squeeze lightly. “Yeah, I don't want to be making you feel that way. And it's kind of tiring always ending up in some sort of fight or argument.”

Melissa laughs. “It is, ain't it? Don't worry. I'll help however I can, Hon. We'll figure it out.”

It isn't easy. You learn that pretty quickly. You and Melissa still butt heads from time to time except now she calls you on what you're doing much more frequently. In the beginning, it's almost more exhausting how often it happens. It feels like almost every other time you try to speak she's correcting you. Which is frustrating in its own right.

Sometimes you slip, doubling down on what you said before. Sometimes you and Melissa have a complete fight about it. After you both calm down, the two of you always end up standing on opposite sides of the room, sheepishly working your way back together.

It takes a lot of work, and time. You aren't perfect but you get better at catching yourself. At thinking just a little more before you say things.

Despite the rough patches, it brings you and Melissa closer than before. It deepens your relationship in a way you hadn't expected. Her unwavering support even in the worst of times makes you love her even more.

Eventually, she introduces you to some of her friends from work. Not all at once. You meet Barbara first one night after work. You basically have a double date with her and Gerald. You like them both. Seeing her with Barbara, like partners in crime even just sharing an appetizer, makes you smile. Gerald makes you his, though it really turns into you both admiring and gushing over your partners.

Janine you only met because Melissa had forgotten something at home that you'd brought to the school for her. That night, Melissa tells you she'd been keeping you as far away from Janine as possible. She'd been worried Janine would be “too much sunshine” for you. Months ago, she probably would have been but you'd found yourself charmed at her warmth.

Jacob you met when out to dinner one night. Surprised by the younger man recognizing Melissa and striking up conversation. For her part, Melissa looks annoyed on the surface but you notice the twinkle of amusement in her eyes when she introduces you and Jacob seems surprised when she says the word ‘girlfriend’.

It's after that meeting with Jacob that Melissa reluctantly agrees to a game night. Only once you've said you'd be happy to meet everyone and think it would be fun. Apparently they're all anxious to meet you now that Jacob has let the cat out of the bag so to speak.

You promise Melissa you'll be on your best behavior. She laughs and says it isn't you she's worried about. It's that sentence that tells you how far you've come. If you're a little more affectionate over the course of game night, Melissa certainly doesn't complain. She only matches you step for step, like she has from the beginning.

[sseniita]

breaking generational trauma*

*ig the name is staying

pt 1

“Oh shit, she is related to you.” 

Hero readjusted Eloise on her lap, not paying attention. “I told you to stop swearing in front of her.” She looked back to the villain’s holographic screen, numbers, graphs, and codes she didn’t understand but were practically the villain’s mother tongue. The hero sneezed; it was cold in the villain’s lair. Wait- what did he just say?!

“We’re related?!” the hero exclaimed, rolling her chair closer to the villain. 

“It certainly looks like it. Her DNA and yours are almost identical.” The hero considered this, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter-” the villain shook his head. “sister?” he shook it again.

“More like a clone.” He said, much to the hero’s disappointment. 

“Will she be normal?” The hero hoped. 

“Don’t know.” The villain said quickly. “Since the procedures performed on you when you were little were practically radioactive, it changed your DNA into something very different than your original one - that’s the one Eloise’s is similar to.” 

“What’s that mean for her then?” 

“I’d have to do some more tests, but that suggests a high probability of having powers. At least eventually.” 

The villain noticed the hero begin bouncing her leg, by proxy, also bouncing a smiling Eloise up and down- at least she was enjoying this. 

“Look- it’s just a primary hypothesis. I can’t be sure of anything just yet.” 

“It’s been a month.” The villain sighed at the desperation in her voice. The dark circles under her eyes were worse than usual. She’d stayed at the villain’s place about 5 or 6 days a week, in that time she barely slept, obsessing over Eloise and what her next step should be.

“Hero, this takes time. We’re in no rush. No one knows she’s with us.” 

“Yet! Last night another hero asked me where I was all night.” 

“Well, what’d you tell them?” 

The hero sighed in embarrassment. “I told them I was having tummy issues.” She uncovered Eloise from the blanket to stand her up on her thighs, looking at her intently, it seemed as if all her issues disappeared in a second. “You’re lucky you're so cute." She told the baby. "And that you are literally me, apparently." But she wasn't. Sure, they had similarities, but no way Eloise was a clone. There was definitely something else going on that they'd get to the bottom to eventually. These thoughts were interrupted by Eloise spitting and giggling.

They stayed like that for a while, listening to Eloise babbling incoherencies. They read somewhere they should encourage a baby's babbling by nodding and repeating oh’s and ah’s. Finally the hero's exclamations isolated the villain’s- he quickly stopped. 

“How do you know that?” She asked, carefully. The villain hummed in question, prompting clarification. “About my DNA, the procedures, how’d you know that?” 

The hero could have sworn the villain stilled- stuttered even. As soon as she noticed it, it was gone. 

“It’s pretty obvious from your DNA sample, Hero. Your DNA doesn’t look the way it should. Shouldn’t be stable- yet it is. Obvious signs of some sort of radiation. People aren’t just born this way.” He spoke in quick, short sentences, very unlike him.

She ignored the way he dodged her question. The villain knew more than he was. It was no secret how extensively trained he was in medicine, engineering, and lord knows what else; proved by his ability to recover the hero from certain death, his insane contraptions and robots, and how he was able to keep up with her- in short, the villain was the smartest person the hero had ever met.

Furthermore, fighting him one on one was also unnecessary to know he was a force to be reckoned with- he always says he doesn’t work out- preferring to explain how making robots and machines are laborious tasks. No way was the hero believing that the villain got like that through daily activities when the hero trained almost five hours a day and looked nothing like him. This proved two things; the villain was totally the hero’s type, and that he could lie. Both were equally important for different reasons. 

“What’s DNA supposed to look like?” She tried, pointing to the diagram on the screen. “Looks like the ones in textbooks to me.” 

“To untrained eyes, yes.” 

“What’s yours look like? Can we compare it?” 

“My, asking to look at my DNA? That’s a bit intrusive if not forward, hero.” 

“Ah, my bad. Should I have asked to take you out to dinner first?” The villain was almost taken aback. Almost. He didn’t respond. She took note. 

She sighed, putting that topic to rest- choosing to believe him, what other choice did she have?

“Let’s head back to mine,” the hero wished he’d said that the same way he did in her dreams “are you staying overnight? I have a meeting later with other villain. I can drop you off though, dinner is in the fridge and I’ll be home by 11.” 

Hero got up, Eloise still babbling in her arms. “Sounds good. And, um, thanks. For all of this” she said. The villain had a habit of putting a hand on her back to lead her out, it gave the hero butterflies every time. This time was no exception.

The villain had stayed true to his word, he arrived home to a dark and quiet apartment, locking the door and moving around as quietly as he could. He followed the sounds of Mozart playing through the stereo through the open guest room door, simultaneously taking off his jacket and loosening his tie. Peeking quickly into the bedroom, he saw the hero and Eloise cuddled together on the puffy bed, toys thrown around, and window open allowing the curtains to billow in the wind. As he moved in to close the windows, he stepped on a toy which said a loud 'the cow goes moo' awaking both the hero and Eloise. The hero instinctively grabbed Eloise as she scanned the room for any danger before laying her eyes on the villain. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. Eloise started crying. 

With a sigh that turned into a yawn, the hero got up to turn on the lights and begin to rock Eloise back to sleep. 

“Nice one, Mr. stealthy and secretive villain.” She joked. 

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. 

“It's my fault for falling asleep before cleaning up.” She said over Eloise’s cries. She held her closer, shushing in-between yawns and bouncing her to no avail. The villain stared guilty at the hero’s dark circles and slumped shoulders. Her eyes were half lidded as she tried her hardest to stay awake. The villain knew anybody outside looking in would immediately label the villain as a deadbeat dad and husband. 

He usually gave the hero the honors of changing, feeding, playing with, and putting Eloise to sleep, preferring to stand on the sidelines and buy diapers or bring the hero bottled milk. Aside from once or twice a week when the hero had stayed at the Hero Dorms to avoid suspicion- where the villain had spent the whole nights awake, anxiously making sure Eloise was still breathing- he hadn’t had much time taking care of Eloise. After a night of keeping the baby alive, the hero had previously asked how the villain's mother took care of him. She seemed oddly excited to hear about villain's upbringing, he wished he could tell her some amazing story about a loving mother and ways he was raised but all that came out was an undignified 'I don't know.' The hero had insisted, leading to the villain acting curt to get her to drop it.

After that, he kept his distance mostly because the hero looked so striking and dooming to the villain as a mother, among other things. The villain wouldn’t be able to disillusion himself if he took on the role of father. Not to mention Eloise was an adorable child. Curious, social and playful; she had won over the villain’s heart. But this won’t last forever, he’d remind himself, don’t let yourself get comfortable. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked.

“Hmm? I was just sleeping.” 

“More than 3 hours?” 

“At a time? Or in one night?” 

The villain sighed at the confirmation of his suspicions. He had definitely gone soft. With the hero being half asleep, it was easy to peel her off and take Eloise into his own arms. 

“Hey-” she reached for the baby. 

“You need the rest- you're saving people for a living, remember? I’ll take her tonight.” 

“Oh. Are you sure?” She lowered her voice, Eloise was finally settling into the villain’s arms, cries subsiding. “She- she might not let you sleep.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.” 

“Oh um. Ok. But let me know if you need anything! I’ll leave the door open-'' the villain was at the door frame as the hero scooched herself to the other side of the bed. 

“Yes. Good night.” 

“She likes to use your arm as a pillow! The bed pillows are too puffy for her.”

“Anything else?” he asked sarcastically. 

The hero looked nervous, grabbing a pillow to hug. 

“Uh- no. Sorry. Ya, goodnight.” The villain began to walk to his own bedroom. “Um! You know what? She’ll wake up around 2 anyways! Why don’t I-” hero called out, making her way over. 

“Do you not trust me?” The villain finally asked, as if the hero truly had any reason to trust him. He was a villain, she was a hero. They both seemed to forget. “You always get like this when I take her for the night.” The hero looked mortified. 

“Huh? No! No, that's not it at all, it’s just…” The villain raised an eyebrow. “I just have nightmares without her. I get anxious when I wake up and she’s not there. If something- anything- happens I know I’ll be right there to do something.” She stuttered. The villain only stared indiscernibly. 

“Uh. I’m sorry. You’re right.” She quickly gathered her things. “I should go then, I’ll leave her with you. I’m sorry.” As she walked past the villain he stopped her with a gentle arm on her shoulder. 

“Do you want to sleep with me?” 

The hero short circuited. “That seems inappropriate.” She stared at a sleeping Eloise. The villain, awkward, retracted his hand.  

“No, Hero. As in, do you want to share a bedroom? That way you can sleep soundly 5 feet away from Eloise and I can take care of her through the night.” 

“Oh.” The hero reddened. “Yes. Of course that’s what you meant.” The hero could only hear the villain chuckle in the darkness. “Um. Are you sure? You said you didn’t want any part of this. I’ve thrown way too much on you-” 

“I insist, hero. Takes a village to raise a kid, right? Besides, You desperately need sleep. I planned something big, I need an even bigger, stronger hero to stop it. I need you to be at your peak.” The hero could almost hear his smirk. She practically swooned, glad it was too dark to see much of anything. “Ah. Of course. So this is all self regarded?” 

“Of course.” The hero felt the familiar hand at her back as the villain led her into the bedroom. She quickly took a spot on the left side of the bed and waited for the villain to bring in the crib. By the time Eloise was tucked into it, the hero was fast asleep, covered in blankets and snoring softly. The villain crawled in slowly, finally getting used to the hero’s slow, if not constant, movements beside him before Eloise woke up exactly at 2 am. 

The next morning the villain woke up with dark circles under his eyes- barely rested-, his spit up on shirt across the bedroom floor, and the only thing keeping him warm was the hero's embrace, with her thigh on his stomach and her head on his chest. It was the best night he’d had in years. 

[hanasnx]

profighter!anakin

WARNINGS: sfw | no established relationship | reader has a date/situationship | maybe a little ooc for the sake of the au but i tried my very best to maintain characterization | reader is mentioned to wear a dress and black heels and has shaven legs | blood mention | your date has he/him pronouns | anakin pressures you a bit | this fighting league has almost no rules | action and boxing violence.

You and your situationship were supposed to have date night tonight, and you were excited for something romantic. Instead, your date enthusiastically shows you the tickets he won to a pro fighting match that’s supposed to be "the match of the season." You are uninterested, doesn’t matter if it’s front row seats.

Nevertheless, you try to be a good sport about it, and decide to go because you don’t want your night to be totally ruined. It's just not a sport that’s ever hooked you.

Your company for the night can't believe their stroke of good luck, exclaiming how you can "smell the sweat from here" as if that'll somehow appeal to you. Unexpectedly, what does appeal to you is the fighter that comes in announced. Youngest in the league, hotshot ANAKIN SKYWALKER from the dunes of Tattooine is introduced and he’s cute. Cuter than you thought these guys would be. You’d think from the hits to the face these guys take, Anakin would look like a sandbag but instead he’s gorgeous. You don’t dwell on it really, you barely watch the match while your date screams next to you at fouls and ref calls. It's a while of you staring at the stringy black heels you wear. The crowd stirs, and Anakin gets kicked out of the ring, landing right at your feet.

You're startled, and before you lean forward to help, he picks himself up by his fists on the floor. The expanse of his muscled back widens with each heave, and a mix of drool and blood spatter the ground underneath his head. He inclines his head up, hazy eyes trail up your smooth crossed legs in a black dress, so close you can feel his hot pant against your skin, and you freeze as he meets your gaze. He grins- a dopey, toothy grin. Cheeky as if he wasn’t just thrown out of the ring. The scar along his temple has reopened, blood trickling his face.

Hastily, the staff picks him up off the floor but he keeps looking at you. Lulling, intoxicated from adrenaline and brain-fog; he winks at you. Your date notices and even though you dismiss it your heart is fluttering. Your date is considerably less enthused for his favorite boxer Anakin Skywalker.

When the next round starts, Anakin will not stop looking at you. You’re embarrassed about it—looking anywhere but him—but he’s determined to nab your attention.

Lazily, he dodges his opponents strikes. Your eyes widen. What once didn’t interest you, interests you greatly, gesturing to him to focus on his opponent but he scoffs in response to your external expression of worry for him.

A glance to his contender, and it's clear he's running out of steam. He's an older gentleman, and Anakin is too swift for him. The rounds have dragged on long enough, it's time to finish it. Yet, Anakin takes the opportunity to single you out. That unwavering eye contact breaks as he motions to himself, following his hand with his gaze. As if to say, "You like what you see? Am I doin' alright?" Now painfully unaware of the company you keep, you chuckle about it and shake your head at him.

He tilts his head. A playful countenance about him before he's rudely awakened by a lunge from his opponent who's caught his breath. Anakin blocks a fatal blow to the neck, and jabs his padded knuckles into the nose, knocking him back. It's well placed because red blood pours from the orifice and Anakin shoves him back to give himself some wiggle room. His finger points to you, another signal to ensure you're paying him mind, and to convey who his next move is for. The circumstance distracts the enemy, and Anakin seizes it. The flat of young Skywalker's foot smacks against his temple. The fluid from his nose spatters against the mat as he tumbles to the ground cold. Showcasing his arrogance, Anakin doesn't bother waiting for the ref to count, and leans against the rope on your side. Deft fingers brush through his jaw-length sweaty curls. In the lighting you can see how the salt sprays into the air from the act.

He completely disregards your date, and you've forgotten all about him as well. "What are you doing after this?" There's no charm to his words, no handsome smile, a question that could've just as easily been interpreted professionally. Yet a potential co-worker wouldn't have implied he'd knocked a guy out for your affection.

Somehow, you feel comfortable with him already. "Going home." you answer honestly. There's no way you'd be persuaded to go to your situationship's place after this.

Anakin bows his head to eye you down through his brows, a curl to his lips. "No, you're not." Definitive phrase that causes a defiance to flare up in your chest. It dulls as that crystalline gaze drinks in your form once more. "Looking like that?"

You open your mouth to interject, the need to continue entertaining him driving your thoughts, but you're cut off by your own warning. "Behind you!"

Just in time, thanks to you, Anakin pivots on his heel. His newly rejuvenated opponent giving it all he's got in one, good punch. A yelp emits from you before you even realize you cared that much, rising from your seat to watch Anakin's back collide with the mat, skidding across it. He rolls out of the way when his enemy stomps onto the space he occupied mere seconds ago. As close as you can get, you take it, and before you know it you're shouting with the rest of the crowd, cheering Anakin on to overcome it.

He's able to land on his feet, but he stays evading. Infuriating side-steps that rouse you like nothing else.

"Hit him!" you call, and Anakin regards you with a furtive glance. As if he was waiting to hear your voice.

He lets the guy back him up to the ropes, dodging his jabs quicker than you thought possible. Since you're near to him now, he shouts over his shoulder, "When I finish the match, you'll come with me to the after-party. Deal?"

Your date's had enough, grabbing hold of your shoulder, finally reminding you of his presence.

Anakin takes your silence and puts his enemy into a hold. "Deal?" he reiterates, more urgently this time. He won't let you dwell on it too long and he doesn't want your date getting in the way of what you choose.

The audience exclaims its disapproval for Anakin stalling, and the pressure of it gets to you knowing you're the reason for the hindrance. You push your date's hand off. "Deal!" The reply coming off more desperate than you meant it to.

Not another second passes before Anakin throws his enemy off, and pitches a right cross so mean it should be illegal. Using his own momentum against him, there's no question as to why his body drops to the ground like dead weight. Your ears go deaf from the sound of the crowd, covering them to protect them from the pain while your date excuses himself out and you watch Anakin's back heave in violent pants, letting the referee raise his thick and swollen arm to the sky in victory.

[snowmist-hashira]

kimetsu academy/gakuen au where muichiro is rlly popular w the girls but he only has his eyes on you. like you two are in the same friend group (tanjiro, zenitsu, inosuke, genya and kanao) and they notice how you've been crushing on muichiro for a while. but you're afraid that muichiro has his eyes on someone else until he confesses to you after words of encouragement from his friend group

[Chapter title: Heartstrings Intertwined]

[Requested] Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list:♠ Information ♠ Word count: 2,128

Artist: えい

Link; Pixiv

Phew. Finally finished~ I've been preoccupied with my own drafts and ideas, but I had a great time writing this one. It's been sitting in my inbox for quite a while as it is the oldest, and I apologize for the delay. But I hope you enjoy it, Anon! Time to make my third cup of coffee of the day.

The lunchtime chatter filled the air, blending with the occasional laughter and excited voices. Y/n made her way through the crowded hallway, dodging students and backpacks as she went.

Y/n walked past the locker area, she noticed her friends; Tanjiro and Muichiro nearby. Curiosity piqued, she paused her tracks and approached them. Just as Muichiro opened his locker, a cascade of enveloped letters spilled out, some of them landing near Y/n's feet. Reacting instinctively, she picked up one of the letters intending to return it, only to discover that it was a love letter. With a bemused expression, she glanced at the pile of letters scattered on the ground.

Y/n felt a mix of curiosity and deadpan as she looked at the pile of letters scattered on the ground. She glanced at Tanjiro and Muichiro, who seemed unaware of the situation as they gathered the rest of the fallen letters, Y/n decided to help them out.

"Um, Muichiro, this letter fell out of your locker," Y/n said, holding up the love letter.

Muichiro blinked in surprise and took the letter from Y/n's hand. "Ah, thank you," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible.

Tanjiro asked, "Muichiro, why do you have so many letters in your locker? Are they all... love letters?"

Y/n's surprise grew as Tanjiro seemed unaware of Muichiro's popularity among the girls. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion. "You don't know, Tanjiro?”

Muichiro stood out among his peers in the academy with his unique hair, with strands from black to mint, added to his allure and made him easily recognizable. Furthermore, his cold and stoic demeanor have intrigued others, his reserved nature has sparked curiosity and interest among his classmates.

In addition to his captivating appearance and demeanor, Muichiro's skills in shogi and unexpected athleticism contributed to his popularity.

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle softly before speaking, “He’s quite popular.”

Tanjiro scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression on his face. "Well, I knew he was well-liked, but I didn't realize it was to this extent.

Muichiro, who had been silently listening, sighed softly. "It's not something I pay much attention to.”

‘Aah, what a heartthrob.’ Y/n thought to herself, she couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and sympathy for the girls who were infatuated with Muichiro.

Including herself.

A soft sigh escaped Y/n lips, her gaze lingering on Muichiro. The hidden feelings for him resurfaced, accompanied by a wave of longing and uncertainty. She had been keeping her affection for him hidden, fearing the potential consequences it might have on their friendship.

Y/n had convinced herself that Muichiro wouldn't share the same romantic feelings, and she didn't want to risk losing the connection they had built. She treasured their friendship dearly and didn't want to jeopardize it by confessing her emotions.

Adding to that, seeing the attention Muichiro received from other girls made Y/n question her decision. What if he actually had feelings for someone else? What if he wasn't open to the idea of a romantic relationship?

“Y/n.” Muichiro called out which seemed to snap Y/n back to reality. “Have you eaten? Let’s go to the cafeteria.”

A grateful smile graced Y/n's lips as she nodded. "Sure.”

As they reached the cafeteria, they approached their friends' table, Y/n smiled at the lively scene before them. Zenitsu's loud voice filled the air, Inosuke playfully teasing him, Genya scolding them both, and Kanao attempting to restore some semblance of calmness. It was a familiar sight that always brought a sense of warmth and camaraderie.

Taking their seats, Y/n felt a sense of belonging among this boisterous group. She joined the conversation, sharing a laughter and light-hearted exchanges, it was a group with unique quirks and dynamic but it fitted well.

Glancing at her side to where Muichiro was seated, Y/n couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as she noticed Muichiro's choice of food— She couldn't help but find it amusing.

"You really love your Furofuki Daikon, don't you, Muichiro?" Y/n chuckled lightly, a teasing tone lacing her words. "I swear, I think I've seen you eat it more times than I can count."

Muichiro's stoic expression softened into a small smile as he nodded. "Yes, it's simple, but it's one of my favorites. The taste is comforting to me."

Y/n tilted her head, glancing at the dish, “It seems easy to make.”

“You will?”

She turned her gaze back to Muichiro, slightly surprised by his question. "You mean, you want me to make it for you?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

Muichiro nodded, his expression serene. "If it's not too much trouble,” he added, “I think anything you cook will turn out delicious, Y/n.”

Y/n's cheeks flushed even deeper at Muichiro's sincere compliment. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of surprise and delight at his words, it took her aback, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words.

Her heart skipping a beat, a mix of flattery and nervousness flooding her. She hadn't expected Muichiro to make such a request, and it left her questioning the depth of his intentions. Could it be that he was not oblivious to her presence, after all?

Y/n nodded with a shy smile. "Sure, Muichiro. I'll give it a try."

Muichiro's smile grew slightly, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Y/n. I look forward to it."

The entire group fell silent, their eyes fixed on the interaction unfolding between Muichiro and Y/n. There was a tacit understanding among them, except for Zenitsu, who couldn't help but express his curiosity.

"Hold on, Y/n, do you have feelings for—" Zenitsu began, but his words were swiftly halted as Tanjiro placed his hand over his mouth, silencing him, as he attempted to prevent Zenitsu from blurting out something that could potentially disrupt the delicate atmosphere.

Y/n's eyes widened further in surprise as the realization sank in that Tanjiro's interruption seemed to indicate his awareness of her hidden feelings for Muichiro. A mix of emotions flooded her—vulnerability, curiosity, and a touch of nervousness.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the rest of the group exchanged glances, their expressions reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she realized that her secret might not be as hidden as she had thought.

On the other hand, she couldn't help but find the contrast between Tanjiro's obliviousness to Muichiro's popularity and his apparent awareness of her hidden feelings quite amusing. Internally, Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Tanjiro, who seemed unaware of Muichiro's admirers, somehow appeared to have an inkling about her own emotions.

With a small, appreciative smile directed towards Tanjiro, Y/n silently conveyed her gratitude for his understanding, he nodded in return.

Little did Y/n know that her friends had picked up on more than just her hidden feelings for Muichiro. Unbeknownst to her, they had also noticed Muichiro's subtle shifts in behavior whenever he interacted with Y/n.

They had caught glimpses of Muichiro's small smiles, the change in his demeanor, and the softness in his tone whenever he spoke to Y/n. They had witnessed these subtle signs that hinted at Muichiro's own feelings for her.

It was a language of emotions that went beyond words, one that Y/n couldn't decipher for herself.

After finishing lunch, Y/n stood up, bidding the group farewell and making her way to her supplementary classes, Muichiro's gaze remained fixed on her retreating figure. A glimmer of longing danced in his eyes, his heart yearning for her presence to linger just a little longer.

Tanjiro caught the wistful expression on Muichiro's face. He couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and warmth at the sight of his friend's subtle affection towards Y/n.

Deciding to offer a gentle nudge of encouragement, Tanjiro spoke up, his words directed at Muichiro. "Tokito-kun, why don't you confess your feelings to Y/n?"

Tanjiro's words hung in the air, surprising Muichiro and causing a faint blush to tint his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated that their group was aware of his feelings for Y/n, but the expressions on their faces confirmed that they had indeed noticed his affections.

Muichiro's gaze shifted between his friends, his voice soft yet determined. "I've been hesitant to confess, unsure of how Y/n would feel."

“Stop backing out, Y/n has already-“ Zenitsu was exasperated by the fact that Muichiro and Y/n seemed oblivious to their mutual feelings, and he couldn't help but express his frustration, because he lacks the romantic prospects. It felt like a double blow to his heart.

However, before Zenitsu could finish his sentence, Genya swiftly took action. He grabbed Zenitsu's hair and covered his mouth with his hand, silencing his outburst. “Shut it!”

“OUCHHHH!”

Tanjiro couldn't help but sweat drop at Zenitsu's typical loud outburst, his friend's tendency to speak without a filter often leading to unexpected situations. He glanced back at Muichiro, who seemed completely oblivious to the almost-disclosure from Zenitsu.

Taking a deep breath, Tanjiro decided to redirect the conversation, steering it away from Zenitsu's almost-revelation.

"A-Anyways..." Tanjiro stammered, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Regardless of what Y/n says, I think she would appreciate your honesty. You never know what might happen unless you try."

Muichiro blinked, seemingly taken aback by Tanjiro's words. The realization slowly dawned upon him, and he nodded, a determined look in his eyes.

As soon as school ended, Muichiro made up his mind to find Y/n, his heart racing as he spotted Y/n in one of the empty classrooms, her presence illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. The sight of her, framed by the window, created a serene and ethereal atmosphere, as if the universe itself was aligning to make this moment more significant.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Muichiro approached the open doorway. He hesitated for a brief moment, admiring Y/n's silhouette against the backdrop of the colorful sky.

The sound of his footsteps interrupted Y/n's contemplation, causing her to turn and meet his gaze. There was a mix of surprise and curiosity in her eyes as she noticed Muichiro's presence.

As the seconds ticked by, Muichiro felt his heart beating in his chest, the weight of his confession resting on his shoulders. He took a step closer, the sunlight casting a gentle glow upon them both.

"Y/n," Muichiro began, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of anticipation and surprise crossing her features. Her attention was solely on Muichiro, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited his next words.

Muichiro continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/n, I... I've fallen in love with you."

Muichiro's heartfelt confession lingered in the air, he couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through him. He lowered his gaze, his cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, his heart pounding so loudly that he feared it might burst from his chest.

His vulnerability laid bare before Y/n, Muichiro's mind raced with thoughts and emotions. The weight of his confession magnified the intensity of the moment, leaving him feeling exposed and hopeful all at once.

He wondered how Y/n would respond, whether his feelings would be reciprocated or if his heart would be met with disappointment.

The seconds stretched on, each passing moment feeling like an eternity, until finally, Y/n broke the silence.

Her voice, gentle yet filled with warmth, reached his ears, drawing his gaze back to her. Taken aback by the vulnerability he saw reflected in her eyes. Her orbs, usually filled with strength and determination, now held a softness that mirrored his own. His heart skipped a beat, captivated by the sight of her blushing cheeks and the delicate hint of anticipation that lingered in the air.

With a soft smile, Y/n spoke, her voice carrying a mix of affection and vulnerability. "I've been carrying my own feelings, unsure if they were shared or reciprocated. But the truth is, I've fallen for you too."

A surge of relief washed over Muichiro, his heart soaring with joy at Y/n's response. The blush on his cheeks deepened as he met her gaze once again, their unspoken connection now acknowledged.

Their gazes locked, and a wave of understanding passed between them. Without needing any more words, Muichiro reached out and their hands intertwined, fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces. It was a gentle and comforting embrace, conveying more than words ever could.

Time stood still as they stood there, surrounded by the soft glow of the setting sun. The world around them faded into the background, their focus solely on each other.

In that moment, everything felt right.

[lunarmoonanons]

Porcelain Doll

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Quirk: Porcelain Doll

This Quirk gives YN the appearance of a high quality porcelain doll. Her skin is porcelain and her eyes are big and shiny. This quirk leaves YN pretty delicate in many settings and excursions. Though her arms can pop off like a doll they can be easily reattached, yet cracks in the porcelain have to be repaired by a healing quirk.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN rolled her eyes as hard as she could, hoping that the annoying concerned student who carried her would somehow sense her annoyance. Shoji was annoying with how much he cared about the Gen ED student in his arms. It wasn’t like YN would break apart in his arms but she was more delicate than the average student. Her quirk left her at a disadvantage, and made others treat YN like a porcelain doll. Which she was, but she could still hate her treatment. 

Such was the predicament she was in now. YN was just enjoying her lunch with Shoji when she fell and cracked the porcelain around her ankle almost all the way through. Which would need to be fixed by Recovery girl. YN could walk/hop to her office by herself but Shoji and his annoying caring for YN’s safety and wellbeing decided he needed to carry the “fragile” girl to the nurse’s office. He ignored the complaints from the girl and carried her bridal style to the office. 

“I can feel the eyeroll you know.” Shoji stated not looking down at YN. 

“Good. I hope it feels sucky. I hope you feel as ridiculous as I feel with you carrying me like a damsel in distress.” YN snarked and crossed her arms. 

“Well I don’t so enough with the attitude.” 

“I don’t need to be carried. I could’ve hopped to the nurse's office.” YN complained. 

“Then you would’ve fallen again and cracked another leg. It is easier for me to just carry you.” Shoji responded. 

“I’m gonna get you back for this. You’ll see.” 

With that there was silence again. It wasn’t a long walk to the office, but when Shoji carried YN it felt like an eternity. YN liked Shoji alot. Like alot alot. But she hated to be treated like a doll, even if she was one. Shoji usually treated her like a normal person, but he was also always concerned with her safety and wellbeing. They were friends and of course friends cared about each other, but YN hated to be babied. 

Eventually, finally, they had made it to the nurse’s office. No one was there but YN knew they just had to wait a few minutes. But Shoji still hadn’t put her down, so YN was starting to get a little irritated. Just when she was going to complain again, Recovery Girl patted her way into the office and finally Shoji put her down. 

“Ah YN. Are you cracked again?” The old woman asked. 

“Yea. I was hopping around and fell wrong on my ankle.” YN explained and showed the crack that made Shoji wince when he saw how deep it was and how it nearly made it all the way through her ankle. 

“It’s good you didn’t walk here, We don’t want to cause more strife.” That made YN smirk then she grabbed Shoji’s hand. 

“I had my LOVER, Shoji, carry me like a bride all the way here.” YN teased and kissed his palm. That made Shoji stiffen, he always blushed when YN complimented him but this was making his whole face go hot and red. 

“Well how about you sit down and we’ll fix that up for you.” 

The two didn’t pay much attention to Shoji after that. YN got her ankle fixed and another lecture about being more careful. YN barely noticed her friend staying stiff and red. YN didn;t usually tease Shoji and when she did it was never as intimate as she just was. Shoji tried to go through all the things he wanted to say in his head. Finally YN was done and she patted Shoji on the arm and walked out. Shoji following. 

“So what was that?” He asked staying a step behind her. 

“What was what?” YN dodged. 

“That! That kissing my palm and calling me your lover.” He barely raised his voice but it did make her turn around to him. 

“Did you like it?” YN asked. 

“Well… kinda but what does that-” 

“Then I’ll do it again one day. Maybe tomorrow.” YN turned around again.

Shoji was still red in the face. But he followed nonetheless. He did like it when she kissed him, and he wanted to do it himself. So He just had to wait for her to kiss him again. YN was still so delicate in his presence and arms. He ran forward and picked YN up again. Both laughing and smiling at the embrace. He was strong and she was porcelain.

[muvaginger]

Hii so I have a request, I've been scared to ask but now I got a sudden confidence, so can I request a story where m! reader is a sub! shy soft guy who works at the butterfly mansion and shinobu has an eye on him and likes to tease him because he gets flustered alot (Im sure canon shinobu definitely likes sub!boys) so once he was treating a fem! patient and this patient kept flirting with him Infront of shinobu which she didn't like so after the patient leaves shinobu fucks him dumb with only her hand and he was very desperate, submissive and was begging for her forgiveness so she uses her tounge and be more gentle which made shinobu more mean to him ....I've been fantasizing about this alot, I finally got the courage to ask hope you can do it I'd be so thankful 😭 (love your kny imagines especially the rengoku ones)🫶🏼 love youu🫶🏼

Hello there, Anon! 🫶🏾

I can definitely do this for you! Bare with me since this is my first Sub! Male fic! I struggled with wether to make this into a mini Drabble OR an imagine and it just fitted best as an Imagine so here it goes!

Hope you enjoy! ☺️

“Mine”

Dom!ShinobuKochoXSubMale!Reader Imagine

CW: 18+ NSFW Content, Pet Names, Bullying, Oral (Reader Rec), Handjob (Reader Rec), Degradation & Overstimulation

Shinobu Kocho has taken a liking to you.

So much so that every time she gets the chance, she’ll purposely put you on projects or errands around the mansion that only she can oversee.

She loved how timid, shy, and overall quiet you were, Always getting your work done without saying much. Hell, she didn’t until one day she saw you get frustrated. That’s when she started to pay more attention to you.

People wouldn’t notice you were there unless something flustered you. And if it wasn’t for the fact that she saw you that day getting upset over a task you were dealing with, she wouldn’t have either. But who could forget how adorable you acted over something so trivial? She couldn’t and from that day on, she made it her goal—no, new hobby—to make you flustered.

Of course you didn’t notice it as first. You were too busy to notice the blatant favoritism and attention she showed you and only you. But just recently after treating one of the many female patients residing in the mansion did you notice.

Per your usual day to day routine, you watched over and care for the residents of the Butterfly Mansion, providing them with excellent care. Not that you paid attention but from time to time, patients would flirt with you out of pure boredom. Well, this encounter was about the same.

The patient was being extra touchy and you being too shy to speak up, try to dodge and endure as much as you can to get the task done. Little did you know, Shinobu was close by watching the entire ordeal and to say she was perplexed would be an understatement.

She wasn’t pleased and soon you’ll find out why.

About an hour later while you were cleaning up the room, you hear a familiar voice call out to you. A voice that you have grown fond of call out your name. You turn to see her standing there, door clicking shut behind her. She spoke plainly at first, asking her normal questions and then started teasing you.

“I saw what happened earlier, Y/N. Couldn’t handle the heat?” She said teasingly. Garnering a flushed and embarrassed expression from you which sent waves through her. The way your eyes diverted and how you tried to steer away from the conversation made this once innocent interaction turn lewd.

One thing led to another. You went from sterilizing the room to being commanded to take off your pants, spread your legs and touch yourself while being called everything under the sun.

“That’s cute. You’re already ready to cum and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your slow breathy pants became pleads of release as she talked you through your thrusts. Confessing her deepest and darkest fantasies to you while you fight to not faint from the overstimulation.

Maybe it was the way she speaking to you while bullying your mushroom with her thumb or the fact that she was tease you by licking her lips and getting close to your inflamed cock just to pull back and giggle that made you so hard. But you knew that you wouldn’t be able to take much more and so did she.

It was never supposed to get to this point, her wanted to hear you cry out and beg for release in such a pitiful manner but how can she resist? You looked so fucking cute when you begged. And what made it worse was while you were desperatly fucking into her hand, hot tears stained you pitiful face and it just made something in her snap.

It was no longer a game or hobby to toy and play with you. She wanted you to herself and of doing this makes you submit, then so be it. She couldn’t stand how close and comfortable that woman was and quite frankly, wanted to crucify her for even touching let alone talking to you in which a way. But after this little interaction, she knew that you weren’t anyone else’s but hers.

She keeps egging and egging you on and slowly you slip into madness and she’s drinking it all in. While harshly pumping your cock, she demands you apologize for allowing such a lewd woman or any woman that’s not her to touch you and you oblige while having tears in your eyes. She’s almost satisfied but not until you admit and submit.

“Tell me that you’re mine and I’ll allow you to cum. Go on, my pet. Say it.”

It only took you a few seconds to practically scream out that she owns you. That you were hers and hers alone and no one—and you meant NO ONE- could satisfy you like she could. And wit a pop, the warm feeling of her tongue brushed slightly against your head, sending shockwaves throughout your body. The moan that left you could wake the dead and sounded like music to her ears.

“Mine” she kept saying over and over in her mind. “He’s all mine”

[scribbledghost]

Fated

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,770

Warnings: cursing, mild descriptions of violence, 3rd person POV, enemies to lovers, soulmarks, takes place before the events of The Last of Us while Joel is still a smuggler

Summary: Joel finds a woman holed up in an abandoned pharmacy while on a job and notices a very familiar mark on her arm.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, Joel thought to himself. It was supposed to be a simple bounty hunt, and look what you ended up with.

To his credit, he hadn’t anticipated the job to begin with - Tess had brought it to his attention, telling him a nearby group of scavengers were looking to nab the person that had ransacked their supplies the night before, and that they had promised to pay handsomely. 

“Said they’ll give us a cut of what we bring back,” Tess had said. “More, provided we bring the thief back with us. The supplies will last us for weeks, Joel. We’d be stupid to pass it up.”

They’d gone into the nearby town, splitting up to cover more ground. Scavenger types were known to be less generous as time went on, and Joel knew that if they took too long to recover the stolen goods, they may as well kiss their promised reward goodbye.

Joel had found their mark holed up in an abandoned, long-ago-ransacked pharmacy near the middle of town. 

“Feral” was the only proper way Joel could think to describe her - she didn’t speak two words to him when he happened upon her, she’d just withdrawn a bit into herself, bared her teeth, and aimed an axe at him. At first he’d wondered if he’d simply stumbled across another innocent survivor, someone who’d been on their own for however many years since the world had gone to hell and had nothing to do with the scavengers’ pilfered wares. But the pile of food and meds behind her had said otherwise.

“Gotcha.”

He’d taken a couple slow steps towards her, gun and flashlight aimed and ready, when she’d spoken.

“Come any closer and I’ll gut you like a goddamn fish.”

She had fight in her, he had to give her that. 

“Somethin’ tells me that stuff ain’t yours.”

“Is now.”

He didn’t have time for this.

“...Look,” Joel had said after heaving an annoyed sigh, “I’ve got my orders, and you’ve got those supplies you stole. There’s a bounty on your head too, but if you just cooperate, maybe we can make a deal-”

He hadn’t had time to finish speaking, because she’d lunged at him, swinging her axe. He’d dodged the first couple of swings, then grabbed the weapon by the handle. 

There, with her arm outstretched, is when he’d noticed it.

On her arm, barely visible in the dark and beneath the layer of grime that everyone had come to accumulate since the infection spread, was a symbol that was all too familiar to him. 

A soulmark. 

Something everyone possessed, and it was said that the other person who bore the same mark was to be your soulmate. It had been part of the reason for his ex-wife’s split from him - she simply hadn’t been able to bring herself to stay married and raise a child with someone whose image was different from hers. At first, he’d done what most others did; scoured the databases, hired matchmakers to try and find his mate. But they’d all come up empty, and after long enough without a lead, he’d stopped trying. He’d gone through the apocalypse not caring in the slightest whether or not someone out there wore the same mark as him.

And now here it was, staring him in the face, on the arm of a woman who was swinging an axe at him like it was her job.

It was supposed to be a simple bounty hunt, and look what you ended up with.

Sensing his distraction, the woman pulled the handle of her weapon against the weak spot in his grip and wrenched it away from him, but by some grace Joel managed to maneuver himself behind her to wrap her in a defensive hold. Her hand struggled in vain, still trying to get the sharpened blade at him, but there was little she could do with her arms pinned at her sides.

“For fuck’s sake, would you wait a goddamn second and listen to me?!” Joel yelled. “Keep comin’ at me with that thing and I will have no choice but to put. You. Down. Understand?”

She continued to struggle a bit longer, though he could tell the fight in her was slowly dissipating. The two of them stood together, the light of his flashlight reflecting off of the dingy tile floor. 

“You can’t have it,” she finally said, referring to the stolen goods. “They took it from me first. I was just taking back what was mine to begin with.”

“Awful lot of shit for one person,” Joel quipped.

“Consider it the interest for loaning it to ‘em.”

The banter almost brought a smile to his face.

Almost.

“Listen,” he finally said, “I’ll cut you a deal. You let me take this stuff back, and I won’t turn you in to the scavengers. You can stay with me an’ my partner. They’ve already promised us a cut of what we bring back, so you’ll get at least some of your supplies back. Provided you share, that is.”

It occurred then that he could’ve been making the stupidest decision of his life so far. Here he was, offering a complete stranger who’d just tried to kill him a place with him and Tess. All because of that fucking tattoo on her arm. 

He tried desperately to rationalize his actions.

He was curious. So what.

The woman was quiet, save for the gears Joel could practically hear turning in her head.

“Tick tock, lady,” he said. “One-time offer. You don’t answer in the next five seconds and I turn you in with the rest of this shit and get a bigger cut of it.”

“Alright, alright, fine!” she seethed. “...Fine.”

“Good. Now, I’m gonna let you go, and you’re not gonna swing that thing at me. Okay?”

“Whatever, just fuckin’ let go of me already.”

He did, and to her credit, she kept her word. From the way she looked at him though, it took every ounce of her self-restraint.

Joel wasted no time in packing up the supplies and hoofing it out of the pharmacy, the woman walking in front of him the entire way as he guided her through the streets to where Tess had told him they’d meet up after their searches. No chance in hell he was gonna let her walk behind him.

“Well, looks like you fared a lot better than I did,” Tess said when he caught up with her. “Let’s get this back to the group then we can be on our merry way.”

She turned and walked a few steps before Joel spoke.

“She’s stayin’ with us.”

Tess stopped, then slowly turned to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“We made a deal,” Joel said matter-of-factly.

“Real fuckin’ funny how I wasn’t consulted on this ‘deal’.”

He should’ve known it was going to be a fight. But there was still that pit in his stomach, the one begging him to know more about the woman next to him who’s grip on her weapon had tightened since Tess began speaking.

He never really did know when to just let shit go.

“It’ll be better for us this way,” he tried to explain. “An extra set of hands, extra lookout-”

“An extra damn mouth to feed.”

“The pros outweigh the cons, Tess. Let’s just take this stuff back to the scavengers and we can talk about it later.”

Tess eyed the other woman, scanning her as if she had some sort of special vision that would tell her if she’d get axed in the middle of the night if she agreed to take on their newcomer. Joel watched as her eyes fell on the soulmark, then ticked over to him. He gave a minute shake of his head, trying to tell her to keep her damn mouth shut. Thankfully she seemed to get the message, because after a few tense moments, she heaved a sigh and turned back around.

“Whatever. I’ll take this shit back to the group, get our cut, then come meet you back here. Try not to get yourself murdered while I’m gone.”

The hour or so that Tess was gone was mostly spent in silence between the two of them. 

Mostly.

“There’s some reason you’re keeping me around.”

“What can I say,” Joel said absentmindedly, “I’m a man of my word.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can believe it, or you can not. Not my problem.”

“Either of you lay a hand on me and I’ll kill you both.”

“I have no doubt.”

Tess returned not long after, made some quip about being surprised to see Joel still alive, and they set out once more with a hefty pack of fresh supplies for their efforts. 

He eyed her as he kept watch later that night. She curled up on her own, in a corner of the room in the abandoned house they’d hunkered down in. And she still held onto that damn axe as if her life depended on it.

In her mind, it probably did. He could understand her perspective - he remembered how he’d felt when he lived alone in the wastes. Survival was the only thing he’d been concerned about. If a pair of strangers had all but forced him to join them, he wouldn’t have trusted them either.

The first few nights were tense, to put things mildly. Joel slept even more lightly than he usually did, keeping his ears honed for any sound of shuffling or the swing of a weapon. After the first week or two without incident, however, the three of them began to relax into a routine.

She didn’t ask about his past, and he didn’t ask about hers. He kept trying to convince himself that he didn’t give a rat’s ass anyway about where she’d come from or who she’d been before the infection spread, but sometimes, when the night was dark and he was on watch alone, the thoughts would nag.

What had she been like? The mark on her arm had been there from her birth, just as his had been. Did that mean they would’ve been better suited for each other before? Or had the apocalypse turned them into each other’s “perfect mate”?

Joel would always try, often in vain, to put those thoughts down before they could morph into something else. Once or twice, on nights when he wasn’t careful, he’d catch glimpses of his imagination. Flashbulb pictures of her playing with Sarah. Of all three of them lounged on the couch watching some forgettable movie, with Joel in the middle and both of them tucked into his sides. 

He always was more irritable after those nights.

Joel was careful to keep his own soulmark hidden from her. Tess, to her credit, said nothing. Not that Joel had expected her to; if there were two things Tess excelled at, it was keeping secrets and keeping out of other peoples’ business.

And, if you really twisted his arm about it, he had to admit it had been a good idea to invite his apparent soulmate along. She handled herself well in a pinch, and knew the ins and outs of keeping her mouth shut and her head down. She’d actually saved their asses on a couple of occasions, alerting them to clickers before they’d realized they were present.

He wouldn’t exactly go so far as to call them “friends”, but he supposed he could if he had to put a word to it. He had her back, and she had his. Same as him and Tess.

But still, Joel continued to convince himself that he didn’t care about her. That he could wake up the next morning and not care if she’d disappeared in the night. It didn’t matter that she bore the same soulmark as he did; none of that shit had mattered since armageddon. She was simply another way to keep himself alive.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Until he did.

Early morning light crept into the window in his Boston apartment. Joel took little time to notice that Tess was gone, though that mere fact alone wasn’t cause for worry. Probably off on another deal. What was cause for worry, however, was the series of heavy knocks on the front door followed by deep, angry voices.

“We want our shit back, Tess!” someone bellowed from the hall outside. “Come out or we’ll break this damn thing down!”

Joel sprang from bed, trying his best to keep quiet. He caught sight of his other companion standing stock-still in the living room, axe in hand. She turned and caught his gaze, and he merely lifted a finger to his lips in a “hush” motion.

“I know you’re in there!” the voice came again, this time with bangs so heavy the flimsy wooden door rattled on its hinges. 

Joel crept forward, putting a hand on her shoulder as he passed.

“Get back,” he whispered, “let me take care of this. And hide the axe. Might set ‘em off if they see you’re armed.”

“Sounds like they’re already set off to me.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said with a bit more force. “Done it before. Just stay back.”

To her credit, she obeyed. He heard quiet footsteps behind him and the soft thunk of the weapon being sat on the floor, hopefully somewhere out of sight but still close enough to grab in a pinch.

Just as another series of bangs sounded, Joel opened the door. There were three of them, huge men with weapons in their hands and scowls on their faces.

“Alright,” Joel said, “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Bring us Tess,” the one in front seethed. “We traded her some meds for a couple ration cards but turns out the bitch gave us expired ones. We want our shit back.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait,” Joel said, “she ain’t here.”

“Bullshit,” another said, “we know she lives here.”

A cold sting of dread slithered through Joel’s body. A group like this knowing where Tess - and by extension he - lived was never a good thing. But that would be taken care of later.

“She does, but I just told y’all. She ain’t here now. Dunno where she is.”

“We came here to get our stuff back, and we ain’t leavin’ until we have it. Get out of the way.”

“She hasn’t been back since last night,” Joel said, doing his best to still block the door. “Your shit ain’t here.”

“Then we’ll just take yours.”

He tried to hold them back, but he was outmuscled and outnumbered. They shoved past him after a brief struggle, then began to head through the house.

At first he was primarily concerned with not losing any of their supplies. Ration tickets, stored food, fresh water, and spare first aid items were gold incarnate these days, and he’d be damned if he was going to sit by and let someone steal them from under his nose.

Then one of the men approached her.

“How about we just take her with us too? Consider it… collateral for rippin’ us off,” he leered at her.

Joel knew that look. He’d seen it a hundred times, and he hated it every time. Now that it was aimed at her, it was as if his conscious brain stopped functioning and handed the controls over to his survival instincts.

Without thinking, Joel shoved himself between the two. Just as the man before him began to say something about “being overprotective of his property”, Joel watched as a glint of silver pierced his vision.

While the two had been distracted, she’d grabbed her weapon, swung it, and caught the offending character in the throat.

The other two noticed the commotion when he fell to the ground, gurgling some semblance of words from around the blood in his mouth. He fell silent after not much longer, while the others ramped up their screams and threats. Joel looked around frantically for something - anything - he could use as a weapon, so she wouldn’t be left to defend herself, but he refused to move from in front of her. 

At least this way if they shoot, they’ll get me instead of her, he thought to himself.

Then, suddenly, between the screams and waving of guns and swinging of bats, Joel heard a voice.

“On the ground!”

He knew it. He recognized it. And he didn’t have to think twice before grabbing the woman behind him and pulling her to the floor beneath him as a handful of gunshots rang out above. After four or five rounds and two loud thuds, the world stopped.

Joel waited a handful of seconds before pushing himself up on his hands. Just as he was about to apologize for laying his full weight on the woman under him, he saw her eyes tick over to his arm.

He blanched at the realization that he still had short sleeves on, and his soulmark was on full display.

Her eyes widened a fraction as she looked back at him. But before he could find something to say, Tess’s voice came as a welcome distraction.

“Can’t leave you two alone for five seconds, can I?”

Neither of them spoke to each other as the day wore on, partially due to their focus being on removing the bodies from the apartment and quickly packing up to move to another and partially due to the sheer awkwardness that had developed the instant she’d caught sight of Joel’s soulmark. Thankfully there was an empty apartment nearby for all of them to shuffle into, with all the same shitty comforts of home. 

She was gone when he woke up the next morning. As much as it stung in the moment, he couldn’t blame her. 

“She saw it, didn’t she?” Tess asked over a quiet cup of the world’s worst coffee.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled. “She saw it.”

“Don’t take it personal,” Tess said, “it’s kind of a lot to take in, isn’t it? World went to shit and now she’s supposed to believe she found her soulmate? Her scruffy 'knight in shining armor’? Dunno about you, but that shit hasn’t even been on my radar.”

“Wasn’t on mine either ‘til I saw we matched.”

“Maybe she’s just off thinkin’ somewhere,” Tess offered gently as she stood and walked away with a quiet pat on Joel’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space before she wanders back around.”

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he desperately hoped Tess was right. He fell into a fitful sleep when she didn’t return that night.

Or the next.

Or the next.

The fourth day in her absence, Joel once again woke up without Tess in sight. It was almost a relief - he was beginning to tire of her giving him looks of pity. He knew she tried to hide it, and to anyone else, she could have pulled it off. But not to him. He knew.

He stretched his aging muscles, heaved himself off of the ancient mattress, and made his way from the bedroom into the kitchen. When he got there, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There she was, standing, just… staring out of the kitchen window. His breath puffed from him in a quiet, involuntary gasp. He watched as she turned to him, a sad look in her gaze as the corners of her lips turned upwards in an apologetic smile.

“Hey.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel blurted harshly despite himself.

“Thinkin’.”

“Long time to just be thinkin’.”

“Had a lot to think about.”

He took a few cautious steps towards her, not unlike the ones he took that first time in the pharmacy months ago.

“Like what?”

Truthfully, he was simply teasing her now. He knew full well what had been on her mind, because it was all the same things that had been on his. From the way she turned and shot him a glare, he knew she was aware too.

“You know exactly what,” she said, a grin teasing her expression.

Her grin fell then, and melancholy began to infuse the atmosphere.

“You know,” she said, turning her arm to look at her soulmark, “ever since the world went to shit all those years ago, I’ve spent the entire time hating this thing. Thought it was just a cruel reminder of all the stuff I’d never have. I stayed on my own because I didn’t trust anyone else enough to stick around. But you? I… I trust you. As much as anyone can trust anyone else these days, anyway. I trust Tess too, but… I think I trust you just a little more.”

Joel said her name softly as he put a gentle hand on her back.

“I feel safe around you,” she said, then sighed. “I… I think you know what I’m trying to say here, Joel. Don’t make me spell it for you.”

He knew. He was just trying to figure out how to tell her he felt the same without making a fool of himself.

“And even if that means having to look at my mark on your arm every day and know you don’t, or… can’t feel the same way I do, then… then that’s okay.”

Joel, beneath all his flaws and imperfections and sins, was a man of few words. Fewer still after the infection had spread and he’d lost Sarah. So he settled for the only thing he could think to do.

He reached for her. Pulled her closer.

And he kissed her. 

He kissed her like his damn life depended on it. When they parted, foreheads still touching, he finally found his words.

“...I missed you,” he murmured into the space between them.

“Missed you too,” she answered. 

The two of them stayed that way for a moment, foreheads resting against each other and eyes closed. Taking in a reunion that was so rare since the infection spread those years ago.

“You know,” she said softly after a while, “I don’t think I ever apologized for trying to kill you when we first met.”

A laugh bubbled up from Joel’s chest. A real, genuine laugh; something that had become so foreign to him it almost startled him.

“Don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I probably would’a done the same if I’d been in your shoes.”

They shared a laugh this time, the sound curling around them and softly enveloping them as they stood together.

“Fated minds think alike, huh?” she quipped.

“Yeah,” Joel said with a smile, leaning in for another kiss, “Guess they do.”

[heartstopper-tword]

anything w imogen and nick :) i really love their big brother/lil sister dynamic

A/N: hello anon! yes i love their relationship so much, and i have wanted to write about them for so long :) hope you enjoy!

also if you want to send in any prompts, you can find the list here!

You Deserve Better

It had been a couple weeks since Imogen had ended her relationship with Ben in Paris, and she still wasn't herself.

Before the day of the trip had even arrived, she'd spent hours at home trying to plan things to do with her boyfriend, whether it be with the others or the two of them having intimate time alone together. It was the city of love, dammit. And Ben was her first ever real boyfriend! She wanted to be the best girlfriend she could to her partner. But of course, her plans had been squashed pretty much immediately as soon as she arrived at the busses that day.

Ben had acted cold and distant from the start, hardly sparing her the time of day to even talk to her. He wouldn't show her any affection, unless anyone was paying attention to them, and even then Imogen could tell it wasn't genuine. She'd tried to kiss him a few times while they were at the Eiffel tower, but he'd succeeded in dodging her attempts every time.

Imogen was at a loss. Had she done something wrong? Why was he mad at her? She'd tried to talk to him alone about these few incidents on multiple occasions, but all in all gave up after he'd told her he was fine and that she was just being sensitive about it.

A few times, she'd thought back to when she'd told Nick she was officially with Ben for the first time. She remembered the flicker of emotion on his face, ranging from confused to worried in an instant, but she didn't think much of it at the time, thinking it was just his protective nature coming out like it did around his friends. And then she would think about later on when he'd tried to ask why she was with him at all, seemingly disappointed about her relationship.

She'd been so offended at first, refusing to listen to him try and explain himself, that she'd left him dry by himself out of anger. She'd truly thought Ben was a nice guy, and that he really did love her. But of course, she'd been wrong all along.

She'd be lying if she would say that her confrontation to him at dinner wasn't satisfying. She couldn't have cared less that a little over half her year was present, listening to her complaints and watching Ben's discomfort concerning his toxicity. Sure, his jab at her being a bitch hurt a bit, but she really did try not to let it get to her. All she knew was that she was done. She didn't want him around her anymore.

Even after all of that evening's events, and finally finding her now main group of friends through that trip, Imogen couldn't help but continue to dwell on the fact that her first relationship with a boy was a complete disaster. She hadn't jumped back to her usual, bubbly self like she normally would be, her thoughts drifting back to Ben constantly. It wasn't like she was still in love with him - of course she wasn't - it was the fact that she let someone make her feel so bad about herself, and she stuck around for it.

As quiet about her feelings as she tried to be, she was never good at hiding her emotions. And obviously, Nick had been noticing.

"Alright you," Nick sighed, grabbing Imogen's hand and pulling her away from their group, walking them around the side of the school where they could have a bit of privacy. "What's going on?"

Imogen's eyes were trained on the ground, and she fiddled with her sleeves sheepishly.

"You've been silent ever since we got back from Paris, which isn't like you." he continued, staring her down. "You're not still upset about..."

He trailed off, not wanting to mention said person, but Imogen shifted her weight, shrugging her shoulders. "It's not just about him," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper, "it's just..."

Nick waited patiently, watching as the girl took in a shuddering breath and finally met his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "Why is it that my first relationship had to fail? Why did I get stuck with the jerk who only cared about appearances rather than actual faithfulness to someone?" She kicked a rock by her foot, watching it tumble a few feet. "Am I just that easily manipulated? So much that people can walk over me whenever they want?"

"No," Nick spoke firmly, shaking his head. "It's not anything about you."

"But-"

"Ben's a dick. He likes to use people for his own needs, especially when it makes him look like a saint. I don't even think he has the ability to feel human emotion, which is probably why he's so horrible to people." He wrapped an arm over the girl's shoulder, squeezing her into his side as he spoke. "You deserve so much better than him."

Imogen looked up at him, still looking unsure.

"I just thought I'd found the guy," she admitted sadly. "You know... someone who could treat me like how you and Charlie treat each other. I want someone who could love me like that."

"And you'll find them," Nick assured her genuinely, "It may just take some time."

"How long?"

"Maybe a few months, even a few years. For most people, they don't find their partner right away. You may date a few people before you find the one. But that doesn't mean you're not a good girlfriend for someone. Anyone would be extremely lucky to have you."

Imogen sniffed, moving her gaze away from Nick once again. Nick watched her for a moment, raising an eyebrow at her. "You don't believe me, do you?"

She shrugged, saying nothing. "I don't not believe you, but..."

"Uh uh." Nick gently lifted her chin to look at him again, "No more self deprecation. You are beautiful, kind, funny, genuine, a top notch badass-"

"Nihick," Imogen tried to whine, though her lips turned up into a growing smile as she tried to wiggle away from him.

"See? There's that smile!" Nick chuckled, grinning victoriously. "It'll win over thousands!"

Imogen giggled, a light yet powerful sound, trying to playfully push Nick away from her, but he pulled her into a bearhug, keeping her trapped against him. He dug his fingers into her sides, causing her to let out a startled squeal, her attempts to escape becoming more frantic as high pitched giggles poured out of her. "Nick noho! Stohohop!"

"Not until you say it." He said, dropping both of them to the grass and hovering over her.

Imogen squeaked, trying and failing to grab onto the older boy's wrists, "Sahahahay whahahat?"

"Say..." he thought for a second, his movements pausing momentarily, and Imogen tried to catch her breath. "Say three good things about yourself and I'll let you go."

Imogen whimpered, kicking her legs once in protest. "Nick, do I really have t- wait! Wahahait, gihihive mehehe a chahance tohoho thihihihink!" She threw her head back, laughter overtaking her as she tried to fight off his hands which had moved to her ribs.

"You shouldn't have to think too hard about it!" Nick laughed, though he felt a slight pain in his heart. How badly had she been tearing herself down recently?

"IHIHI- IHIHI'M NIHIHICE TOHO PEHEOPLE!"

"Extremely!" Nick accented, moving one hand to her neck, and she shrieked. "There's one, now give me two more!"

"NOHOHO COME OHOHON!" She shook her head, letting out another squeal when his other hand moved under her arm. "STOHOP!"

"What else are you?" Nick prompted, letting up slightly, and Imogen squeezed her eyes shut. "You're..."

"Fihihine, I'm prehehetty!"

"Exactly, you're gorgeous. Just one more!"

He paused his hands again, pulling back to give her a breather, and Imogen gasped for air. She laid helplessly on the ground, still giggling, and looked up at Nick pleadingly. "I- I don't-"

"And I want to hear you say the last thing I told you specifically." Nick grinned at her, and she groaned. "I don't remember what that was!"

Nick could tell she was lying, her cheeks growing even more rosy, not just from laughing. He continued to stare down at her, putting on a mock serious tone.

"Imogen, don't make me go for your hips."

"NO!" She panicked, her eyes going wide.

But Nick's hands were already moving, and before she could do anything to stop him, he had a hold of her hips and had started to squeeze.

To say Imogen screamed was an understatement, and the loud, high pitched laughter was enough to make Nick wonder if they'd get into trouble for causing such a ruckus.

"STOPSTOPSTOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEASE!" She shrieked, kicking her legs wildly, shoving at Nick's shoulders, but her strength was quickly leaving her, not that she'd had much to fight him off to begin with.

Nick couldn't help but laugh along with her, a sense of fondness overtaking him as she struggled beneath him. He hadn't seen her crack much of a smile since they'd returned to school, let alone laugh once, so this was just as good for him as it was for her. "Say it!"

"NOHOHO!"

"Imogen!"

"OKAY! OKAY! IHIHI'M A TOHOHOP NOHOTCH BADAHAHASS! NOW STOHOHOP!"

Nick pulled his hands away from her, watching as Imogen rolled out from underneath him a few feet away, her arms wrapping around herself as residual giggles fell from her lips. She was staring up at the sky above them, a huge grin on her face.

Nick snickered, smirking in amusement. "You okay?"

"No."

He rolled his eyes, standing and walking over to her, and she squeaked as she saw him approach her. "Calm down, I'm done tormenting you." He chuckled, offering a hand to help her stand and pulling her up from the ground.

Imogen was still breathing heavily as she smoothed out her now wrinkled skirt, a playful scowl on her face. "You're lucky I brought my extra uniform with me today, Nelson. How else would I explain the grass stains on my skirt?"

Nick only laughed, pulling her into a warm side hug, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You believe me now?"

Imogen groaned, though the smile was back on her face. "Yes, Nick, I believe you now."

"Good. Because you do deserve better than him."

Imogen fell quiet again, though this time, it was appreciative. She couldn't imagine what she'd be like without as good as a friend as Nick.

[sideburndanny]

Okay, I don’t know how true this is, but if it is, we only barely dodged a bullet.

I don’t believe for a picosecond that David Zaslav and his yes-men ever intended to bring back the shows they pulled; the fact that they went out of their way to go through all their websites and social media profiles to memory-hole every last piece of evidence that those shows ever existed should have made that loud and clear.

I can just tell how confident they were that nobody would notice or care. “It’s just a bunch of cartoons; it’s not like we’re canceling stuff people actually watch like White People Renovating Houses or Rednecks Doing Nothing in Particular.” They were so confident about their decision that they didn’t even do it professionally, just announcing it out of the blue without telling anyone beforehand and wording the announcement so vaguely that nobody had any way of knowing that the shows would specifically be deleted later that same day.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, since Mr. Zaslav has long epitomized the idea of “failing upward”; he’s the brain trust that restructured the once-aptly named Discovery and Learning Channels to center around trashy, exploitative reality shows, prioritizing short-term profits over any kind of stable model.

He spent years scoffing at other entertainment giants for daring to focus on scripted content which he smugly dismissed as a thing of the past, confident that his primary focus, a niche built on fleeting trends and pandering to very specific audiences to the exclusion of everyone else, would be the future of entertainment and the focal point of all pop culture.

After decades of creating nothing of substance, skating by on the moderate successes of low-risk-low-reward crap, and endlessly patting himself on the back for so doing, Zaslav suddenly had one of the biggest entertainment companies in the world foisted on him by the corporate robots at AT&T desperate to offload an unwise investment, and like a bear cub being handed a PlayStation controller, he didn’t have the first clue what to do with it.

Warner Bros was defined by scripted content that required actual talent and effort to make, and those were nowhere near Zaslav’s wheelhouse. Could this, people thought, be the day that he actually puts in the work to have his company create something of worthy impact to our culture? FUCK NO! Instead, he took the easy route by, quoth John Oliver, “burning down my company for the insurance money.”

Unfortunately, he was so used to nobody knowing or caring who he is that he never once considered that people would actually have reason pay attention to him this time, that if he goes out of his way to destroy the hard work of so many talented people purely out of arrogant refusal to admit he was wrong, of fucking course we’ll all notice!

If the above tweet is telling the truth, we can at least be glad that our voices are being heard and the people at the top can take notice. The HBO Max Purge wound up being such a PR nightmare and made the folks at Discovery so hated among the public that they actually caved and walked back their disastrous decision that they had been so adamant in achieving just the previous day. You can absolutely fuck off if that doesn’t prove that protesting works.